Ægir’s Bride Ch. 04

Olaf chuckled too at the reminder of the young man hung over the side of the boat as all of them laughed and poked fun at him. Young fool had taken to his computer looking up and trying half the cures for the malaise that he could find. "Black coffee. The tablets. Water. Orange juice...you went through almost a liter of the damned stuff. And what was that nasty one?"

"Raw egg, tomato juice and hot sauce," Bjorn made almost the same face as he had when he tasted it all those years ago.

"Yeah, I remember. And what was it that finally worked? Do you remember, son?"

He watched the light dawn on the man's face as he whispered, "Papa handed me a shot of vodka."

Olaf nodded, "Funny ain't it? How a little shot of the very thing that caused all that trouble was just what it took to cure it?" He shrugged, "Well, those dishes won't wash themselves. Although sometimes leaving things to soak is just what you need to do. Good night, son."

***

Bjorn stood in the door way. It was certainly a good thing that Sven and Olaf had sealed the whole damned room as wet as the floor was. His niece was laughing as she splashed water, bubbles and damn it, was that his can of shaving foam that he saw laying on the floor next to where his wife knelt.

His wife and kneeling...those possibilities were not ones he wanted to explore with his niece and brother around. He might not be old school high protocol crap like Sven or a sick sadistic fuck like Mikael, but there was not a Dom alive that did not get hard at the thought of his sub kneeling before him.

But right now, he felt like an ass. A total and complete jack ass. As he watched the woman he loved laughing and giggling with the little girl. Damned, she will be an amazing mother. He sighed...is, he reminded himself. It was the only argument that had swayed Mikael. A mother for Monika. So why then did their little family scene bother him so much? Make him feel like an outsider looking in? Like the kid at Christmas looking in the toy store window at the shiny BMX bike that he knew Santa would not bring him this year.

His brother looked up from beside her. "Kirsty was just helping me with Monika's bath, baby brother."

She smiled up at him and his breath caught in his lungs. She was always beautiful to him, but never more so than she was kneeling over that tub with his shaving foam in her hair and a smudge on her cheek. She glowed from within. She giggled, "I may owe you a can of shaving cream. Sorry. I just meant to use a bit. See how she liked it."

"Oh, she liked it," he hated that soft look in his brother's eyes when he looked at her. Just as quickly, he hated himself. This was not how it was meant to be. Their fathers had never fought over their mother. No, theirs was a home with enough love for all...sons and husbands. How had he so easily forgotten his mother's lessons?

"It's okay. I'll just..." Just what? Wait for her in her room? Hell, they had not even discussed it. For all he knew she had changed her mind. Looking at the three of them like that. It hurt. Pure and simple. It felt worse than the anger he had nursed for this man the whole damned day.

Mikael shook his head, "No, we were finished. I'll just take Monika and put her to bed now."

"I'll help," she smiled as if she had always been there. Always belonged. Always been a part of their lives. Wasn't that what he wanted? Damn it, after all this child had been through it was the least she fucking deserved. A loving mother. A real family. He was a selfish fucking bastard and he felt it just then.

His brother shook his head, "No, we have borrowed you long enough. I will get her down." He looked up at him, "You have others, who need you more right now."

"But..."

His brother shook his head, "No, honestly, I have been doing this as often as I can since she was born. It honestly is something I enjoy doing for her. I can more than manage, I promise."

She looked so dejected then that Bjorn was tempted to tell her to just go, but before he could his brother spoke. "Just one more time...drink?" His brother brought his open fist towards his face as if he were holding a cup. She nodded her head with a smile. Then Mikael closed his eyes and brought his steeple hands to his bearded cheek as if he were going to... "Sleep?"

She beamed, "Absolutely perfect."

Bjorn frowned, "Why does Monika need sign language? She isn't deaf."

Kirsty shook her head and smiled at him, "It is not sing language. It is Makaton. I'll explain later. Teach you some too." She turned back to Monika and did something with her hands as she said "No more bath." Then she too made that other sign, "Sleep now."

Then she lifted his niece and handed her off to his brother that was waiting with the towel. "Remember what I said. A bit harder when you rub her off. Just watch her face. Like the shaving foam, she may love it. Or she may hate it. Trust me she will let to know if you watch for the signs."

His brother laughed, "I think I might know a thing or two about watching for women's reactions. I just never thought to use those skills with my daughter."

She shoved him lightly and they both laughed. And Bjorn's chest got so fucking tight he thought a whole fucking pack of elephants were sitting right in the middle of it.

Then his brother was pushing past him with his niece kicking and beginning to protest in earnest in his arms. "I am sure you will take care of her better than I did."

Bjorn wanted to gloat. Wanted to say, 'hell, yeah.' But after the touching scene he had just watched, the words seemed hallow. And it was he, who stared like that truly green-eyed monster at Mikael.

***

It took him a bit longer to settle his daughter this night. But it was because she was excited, happy. She had given Monika that. The woman knew her stuff. And after their little talk, after he quit being such as asshole, she had just stepped into all of it. He could not say taken over, she had not. Instead she had done just as she promised, helped him to bridge the gap. Like Bjorn he would have never thought of sign language with Monika. But it was not...Maka-something. He would ask her again tomorrow. And the other one too...the picture things that talked about.

For the first time since Greta left. The first time since he had begun to notice the subtle and sometimes not so subtle differences between his daughter and other children...he felt hope. Real genuine hope. As the woman...as Kirsty said there was no cure, but maybe with her help...maybe...

If he did not fuck it all up again. Like he almost had last night, today. He could not let that happen again. Could not let himself lose control. Could not let his demons out to play.

This would be better, he promised himself. This truce. Friendship. Partnership. It was what he had wanted all along, right?

A mother for Monika. That was the whole purpose. And while she might still be holding back just a bit, he could see that she was beginning to care for his child. It was all he could have ever hoped for. Wasn't it?

So why did this leave him feeling even more empty than that beast had last night when it tried to break her?

He was not looking as he crossed the living room towards the kitchen. "Sorry, Papa. I was not looking," he apologized.

His father shrugged, "It is fine. I was beginning to give up hope of speaking with you. I won't leave your mother..." Mikael shook his head. Why of all times did his parents have to out the worst kept secret in the world? "I have somewhere to be. But I wanted a word with you, first."

Mikael shrugged, prepared himself for what was coming. Like he told his mother, it was not that he did not deserve it all. And then some.

"Give yourself a break, son. I am not going to lie. Not trying to make you feel better. You screwed up. Have you used Rule Two?"

Mikael shook his head, "A couple dozen times. But it does not help."

His father frowned, "What? She won't forgive you? Things seemed good when the two of you came down to dinner. When you took the baby up to her bath together."

He sighed, "No, she just minimizes it. Absolves me of all blame. Like it was no big deal. Hell, she's practically a vir..." He stopped himself, "She's new to all this."

"Then what's the problem? You recognized that you made a mistake. I know that you will learn from it. And you asked for and received her forgiveness. Why do you still look like a bear with a thorn in its paw?"

"Because I almost fucked everything up again, Old Man. And this time not just for me. Or even just for Monika. But for them too. And do you think that they are going to forgive me as quickly as the little sub? No, my brothers have every right to hate me," he drew in a deep breath.

His father nodded his head, "Mikael, it has never been me or your mother or your uncles or your brother who could not forgive you. You have never failed any of us, disappointed us. It is you. You, who has so much trouble living up to impossibly high standards. You, who cannot forgive yourself, my son. And that is a damned hard place to be. Trust your Old Man, I know that better than you realize."

Mikael looked away, anywhere except the man who had just nailed the whole truth. "Good night, son. I would say try to get some sleep. But my guess is that you will spend most of the night battling demons in your own mind. The Old Man needs to go battle some too...old ones. Too fucking old. Take your Old Man's advice... don't let them pile up on you."

Mikael did not move, did not look up until he heard the door closed. He hated to admit it but the Old Man was right. Even after laying awake for two hours in that damned bed and staring at those fucking monsters from the past that seemed to be mocking him and the mess that he had made of his life, he still felt no different, no better.

Sure, he had done exactly what he swore to those laughing faces that he would. He had negotiated a truce with the woman. His wife. Their wife. Kirsty. And damn it, it was all he could have hoped it would be. She was intelligent. She was compassionate. She was... Not yours. She will never really be yours.

He ran water into Monika's favorite cup and forced himself to walk back up those stairs. He did not need to hear that soft moan as he passed the bathroom. Why the fuck had they not sound-proofed that room too while they were remodelling? He stopped and leaned his head against those closed doors.

"You need to learn to be thankful for what you do have...and stop wanting things you never will," he whispered as he brushed the wood and turned back down the hall to where his daughter was very much still wide awake and ready to play. Maybe she could distract him from thoughts of how fucking wide those blue eyes got when she came all over his face. Of how she would...for baby brother.

***

"Damn him. What is taking the Old Man so fucking long?" She snuck a look at the clock on the mantle. Six minutes? Six fucking minutes was all she had been kneeling here?

She chuckled. 'Be honest, old girl, it is not that your knees that can't take it. You never had any patience.'

It was more than that though. Much more. It was how fucking right this still felt. After all these years. She thought she had come to terms with this need. Hell, they had all even learned to play the games in the bedroom.

But what she had seen in those eyes this morning was not their safe little games. It is Dominant male. Her Dom.

"Goddess damn the fucking bastard," she cursed. Why after forty years...three sons...and all the fucking loss and death they had faced...why could that man still get her wet? She chuckled...her sons would have a fucking cow if they knew she even thought the damned word.

That was just it, she did not feel old. Sure, she had to use glasses when working on the computer or sewing, but loads of younger people wore those. Okay, so she could tell that winter was coming just a bit in her lower back when the breeze blew her coat aside. And she was reminded every damned time, she looked in the fucking mirror. Those lines around her mouth and eyes were not so fine anymore. And where the fuck had all this grey hair come from?

Where had all the years gone? And her husbands? She felt intensely guilty to admit it but she could not even remember Lars face, no matter how hard she tried when she closed her eyes. But she supposed she could excuse that...it had been almost forty years. The man she had barely gotten to know before he was gone. The reminder of how hard this life really was...how nasty a bitch the sea truly was...of why they lived the way they did...why they shared a wife.

"Sweet goddess, please, never let her know this pain," she prayed to her unknown deity, that voice inside herself that had allowed her to make peace with so much over the years.

Andres was not quite so hard to picture. Unfortunately, her memories of him were more of the sad, bitter shell, who had found his peace in the bottom of a bottle. The laughing man-boy whom she had first fallen in love with, the one who tricked her and stuck her with this life...he had sunk beneath the waves of time alongside of his brother.

Her throat still got tight every time she thought of Stig. Her quiet one. While she might see his face in her youngest son, it was her eldest who reminded her most of the man that it had taken over a decade and more pain than any human should have to bear to come to know and love. "Please, goddess, don't let Sven waste all those precious years the way we did."

But it was him. The one whom she had all to herself for the past seven years, the man who had become her best friend, she could not even bear the thought of it. If she had known so much fucking pain...then... She was not certain how she would ever survive it.

She wiped away the tears that had started running down her face some time ago away. She sniffled. How sexy was a sub with red eyes and a runny fucking nose?

Kirsty reminded her so much of herself back then. But stronger...so much fucking stronger than she had been. So much fucking stronger than she pretended to be. Had pretended to the world, her sons, them, him...and worst of all...herself. Petrine...the rock...was all just a lie. A role that she played. Just as they had come to role play something that had once been so fucking precious to them.

Until today...until that look. Had she meant to do it? Had she been constantly pushing his buttons, prodding him, trying to make this happen? She would have sworn not. She would have sworn that she was happy with the co-existence they had crafted over the years.

Until she felt that tingle from the top of her grey head to the tip of her toes. Until she felt the butterflies jump in her tummy. Her nipples harden and...all of the other bodily response that she more than well remembered. Not that they did not. But this was different.

This was so fucking different. And so fucking the same...more fucking comfortable than she could ever remember anything being in a very long time. "Admit it, old woman, you missed kneeling, not because it was a game...but because of who he is. Who you are."

What now? What the fuck now, she wanted to scream. She was not even sure who she was, where she belonged anymore. She had been honest...that damned bed was too big for an old woman and her ghosts. The nights when she could not beg and plead with him to stay at the main house had been the worse. She barely slept laying there...the door open so she could hear Monika if she needed her. She lay there and simply stared at those laughing monsters until she swore they were laughing at her.

"Damn it, I am not ready to be old. I am not ready to let my boys go. Let them go. Him go. What the fuck do I have then?" she cried as the tears streamed down her face so hard that her whole body shook. She had not cried like this since... Since that day...

Then strong, familiar arms wrapped about her and drew her against him. And all of it came out...all of the pain. All of the lies. All of the pretending and role playing were swept away by the truth. Even the strongest of rocks...the mightiest of mountains...crumble sometimes.

***

This was not what he expected. Not at all. It was though what he wanted. What he had hoped they would begin to build towards. Especially as he listened her apologize to them tonight. She had gotten it just right. Realized that it was not what she had done...how she felt...but how she had done it that was the issue. He tried to remember a time when he had been prouder of this woman, more in love with her. Not even Mikael's birth came close. But this...the dykes had burst. Almost thirty years, maybe more of pain were flooding out...and all he could fucking do was hold her.

How long he knelt there holding her naked body as it was wracked with decades of bottled pain he was not certain. He was well past feeling any of the pain in his knees or joints by the time she began to quiet into hiccups. Those green eyes swam in murky waters. They were red and almost swollen shut. Her nose was running as badly as their sons' when they were little. He would have reached for tissues but they were too fucking far. So he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe her eyes and nose.

He sat back then on the cold wood floor and just leaned against the bed. They were both too weary to even climb into the damned thing just yet. He sighed...the best fucking part about a lifetime together was there was no need for meaningless words like... 'Feel better?' or 'I am sorry for messing up your shirt.' Silence was enough.

He just rubbed her back as she leaned into him. He felt more like a man than he had in a very long time just protecting and comforting her. This was what it was all about anyway. A depth of connection that transcended words. Honor. Unconditional love. Responsibility. Trust. That was the true depth of Dom/sub. HURT. On so many levels. The good kind...the bad kind that they had had their share of...and the necessary kind.

"First off, woman, I am not going anywhere. I waited over thirty years to get your sweet ass all to myself. I am not checking out until I have another thirty with you. So no more of that, do you understand me?" he smiled as she laughed and nodded.

"Second, you can't 'let' them go...they went long ago. And no one is trying to take your memories of my brother or your boys...just help you to see what fine men they have all become," he hugged her tighter.

"As for the old part...do you really want to make me sing to you? You have already cried enough tonight. But just to remind you, Rachel..."

"When a whole lot of Decembers are showing on your face,

Your auburn hair has faded and silver takes it place.

You'll be just as lovely. And I'll still be around."

"And trust me, sweetheart, it don't take little blue pills for this Old Man to want to lay you down." He brushed her damp hair back out of her face, "You really are still as beautiful as you were the day I saw you in those damned cut-offs and halter top, hanging all over Andreas like fucking ivy on some castle. I wanted you then...and I'll want as long as there is breathe in my body, woman," he bent and kissed her softly.

"As for what is there for you now? Well, I have a few surprises up my sleeve," he held it up and chuckled, "Maybe not this one though."

She giggled and his heart skipped a beat. "You know I love you, Rachel. I always have." Then he swatted the outside of her bare thigh, "But you don't get out of a punishment that easy." He shook his head, "Just not tonight. Tonight, I intend on doing just exactly what that song says..."

"Lay you down and softly whisper tender love words in your ears,

Lay you down and tell you all the things my woman needs to hear," he sang every bit as badly as he had promised he would.

She giggled and had the effrontery to actually blush, "I think you just want to make me squirm some more."