Ægir's Wife Ch. 11

"One more push, sweetie, and we'll have a baby," she smiled up at them.

Kirsty was beyond words as she nodded. Mikael leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her forehead, "You're doing just fine, lilla gumman."

She turned to Sven, who he noticed squeezed her hand, "Our perfect little sub."

When she turned to him, he knew what she sought. "Everything is just as it should be," and he felt that to the depths of his soul. How could he have ever thought that the cold, sterile hospital with bright lights, antiseptic smells, and uncaring doctors was a better place to greet their babies than the warm, loving home in which they were made and would grow? "Just as it was meant to be."

She started to smile, but it turned into a grimace as her fingers once more tightened like a vice around his. He was not sure whose screams were louder their wife's or their daughter's as the baby slipped easily into the hands of her grandmother who wiped more of the pink-tinged goo from that perfect little visage scrunched in anger at her abrupt entrance into this strange new world.

Bjorn smiled as his mother's tears unashamedly mixed with the goo on the baby's body. "Bjorn, hand me that towel," she nodded towards a stack near the electric heater. He reluctantly released Kirsty's hand, knowing that his brothers would be there. After all those months of just the two of them, alone in London, that too felt right on some visceral level. He quickly grabbed the towels and passed one to his mother.

She rubbed more of that goo from the baby's chest, arm, and legs before wrapping her tightly in the towel. Petrine lifted her tiny burden to Sven, "Take your daughter. Your wife and I have some more work to finish."

A tiny flare of that old jealousy once more raised its head. Why should Sven be the first one to hold the baby? But he quickly pushed it aside as her face once more contorted in pain. He moved quickly back to his place beside her.

It was not though another baby that emerged from her spread thighs but a dark red blob. "Good girl," his mother pronounced as she placed the thing in a bowl he had not noticed before. "Now, we can get back to the real work. One down and one to go."

Things moved so quickly then that in the years to come when he thought back upon it, Bjorn was never sure what actually happened. It seemed that one moment, their mother was smiling at Kirsty, and the next, he was holding another tiny bundle.

The little red face with its tightly closed eyes and its mouth gaping wide seemed capable of producing a prodigious volume of noise. The tightness that constricted his massive chest as he pulled his daughter closer to his heart was unlike anything he had ever felt.

Even when he had first laid eyes upon their wife. No, this was different. The same in some ways, an intense need to protect and nurture. To be a better human being. To be worthy of this gift. It was different, though — in some indefinable way.

He looked up, noting that Sven had begun to calm her sister to little hiccupping whimpers. Bjorn emulated his brother's gentle rocking and crooning, but that only seemed to irritate this one more. He tried bringing her to his shoulder as he remembered Monika liking when she was a baby. That too only met with louder cries.

Something inside of him seemed to speak. He was not sure what. An ancient instinct, something primordial. Or as odd as it seemed, some psychic connection with this little human that seemed to communicate itself inside his mind and heart.

He turned his daughter so that her tiny head rested in the palm of his hand, her butt in the crook of his arm with a leg on either side of his arm. Her little face turned to the side so that she could observe it all.

She quieted. A bit more of that goo came up. A cough or projectile vomit cleared her lungs. She screamed once more but then relaxed. Her eyes seemed focused on her mother and grandmother.

Petrine smiled widely as another red blob slipped into that pan. Bjorn wanted to protest as she reached up and seemed to grab hold of the mound of Kirsty's tummy that had once housed their daughters. She seemed much too rough.

Out of nowhere, as if he anticipated her needs, had done this hundreds of times before, Olaf held out a mug of some steaming concoction. His mother smiled and passed it to his wife, "Drink this, sweetie. It will help the contractions to tighten your uterus, so you don't bleed too heavily."

"Mikael, help her. While I check the placentas to make sure they are intact. Sven, Bjorn, take care of your daughters for a couple of minutes," his mother commanded.

He nodded as he drew his daughter closer to his body, grabbing another of the towels, and wrapping it loosely about her body and his arm. She turned her head. Her eyes met his. And the whole universe was reduced to those intense blue spheres.

Perfect. Everything was perfect. Just as it should be. As it was meant to be. He thought of his latest mental puzzle, the Fatum Project Experiment. The theory that all people exist within their own tunnel of reality, shaped by their qualities, habits, and perceptions. The project sought to disrupt that by introducing random experiences into that tunnel of reality.

But what if your tunnel was perfect just as it is? Did it really matter then if reality was nothing more than a narrow tube of limited existence? Hell, even if we were nothing more than brains in a vat as popularized by those movies, did he give a damn? Why would he want to disrupt a reality as perfect as this moment?

He lifted his daughter higher and began to discuss the complexities of the theories and the universe with her as he paced the room. Those blue eyes gazed into his as if as spell-bound with his words as he was with her.

***

Sven smiled down at Kirsty as his mother finished cleaning and straightening her and the bed. He could barely focus upon his wife's face through the blur of tears that he did not attempt to hide as he held the tiny wriggling blanket in his arms.

The baby had an impossibly fine sprinkling of blondish-red down upon the top of her tiny head and the most piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare directly into his soul - and found him wanting. He had not released her since his mother had wrapped her in the blanket and passed her to him before turning back to deliver her little sister.

He was not sure if it had been minutes, seconds, or hours before he heard the lusty cry of her sister join the chorus of whimpers that had begun to quiet as he rocked her gently in his arms. The passage of time had meant nothing then. It reminded him of that thing his mother had tried her best to teach him something about, relativity, but all he had been interested in then was the sea.

But everything was changing now. As he stared into those old eyes of their newborn, he knew it was time that he did too — past time, in fact.

The three of them had barely made it back to her bedroom before this tiny bundle had made her surprise entrance into the world. It had taken everything inside of him to allow Mikael and Bjorn to practically carry him up the stairs with one on either side and his arms wrapped about their shoulders. His legs, despite all these months of therapy under her less than tender care and supervision, had been virtually useless as they dragged behind them.

He bent and kissed the fuzzy head as his eyes met Kirsten's. The lump in his throat felt the size of a fist as he had trouble swallowing around it. But he forced a reassuring smile to her anyway.

It was more than just his legs that were broken, and he knew it. Those steps had broken the pride that had been his warrior's shield against the perversities of this life. But sitting there holding his baby daughter, surrounded by all the people that he loved and loved him, he knew that it was worth it.

He might not know where he went from here, how he would overcome the insurmountable challenges that loomed over him like the cliffs of the fjord that surrounded the Holding. But he knew that those same cliffs were what had protected this land from invasion and kept it safely in their family's hand for hundreds of years. And he was determined that it would remain that way for these little girls too.

"I know they are not the sons you wanted, Sven."

He shook his head and laughed as he reached for her hand, "It doesn't matter. You are safe, and they are healthy."

She smiled and nodded with that all too familiar look that he had come to know meant that she was drawing a line, "I am glad you see that. Because some things are changing around here. This family has three daughters, who will grow into three strong shieldmaidens, Ran's daughters," she paused for just a moment as she held out her arms for the baby.

He did not want to release the tiny package that weighed heavier than ever upon his shoulders. But he was coming slowly to realize that it was not just his shoulders anymore. That this was a family. A team. Together they would make a way through the turbulent waters.

He kissed the baby's head one more time before surrendering her to Kirsty's arms. She smiled at him before holding out her other arm to take her sister from Bjorn. His heart stopped when Kirsty nodded to Mikael to sit with Monika on the other side of the bed. Her little eyes still half-closed in sleep, having been suddenly woken by her grandfather.

Their wife looked from one brother to the other, "This is not just a new decade or new century. It is a new millennium, a new world. And these girls have as much right as any sons we may ever have to choose their destinies. Ægir's and the Holding are their heritage too. If they want to fish, that is their right."

She looked him directly in the eye when she spoke again, "And no more primogeniture. Who captains the boat is decided on ability, not age. Leadership and responsibility are shared. Not just for them but for us too from now on."

She smiled at Petrine then, "I think one of your countrymen said it well. 'A house divided against itself cannot stand.' From now on, this family fights to save our way of life, not against one another. Am I understood?"

Bjorn was the first to nod. Just as he had been the first to see this one's potential.

Mikael smiled as he too nodded, "Ja, lilla gumman."

Sven tried his best to use his sternest Dom face when he replied, "Seems to me, someone forgets again who is the sub and who are the Doms."

She shook her head and sighed, "No, that I shall never forget. But I am not that shy, confused, and inexperienced girl you met in that café in Tilbury anymore, Sven. Time, experience, and your loves, most of all, have crafted her into a shieldmaiden."

"And while in this room she will always be yours to command, to dominate, she has become so much more than that. I am your wife, the mother of your children, and your partner. Your full partner in all that life throws at any of us," tears spilled from the corner of her eyes as they pleaded with him.

He would have continued the teasing, except that he recognized she did not realize that was what he was doing. Instead, he too nodded as he bent and kissed her softly on the lips, "And I would not want it any other way."

"Now, you figure this out?" It was her turn to tease him. "Oh, and one more thing. These girls are ours. All of ours. Monika too. Children are meant to be loved, not claimed like luggage at an airport. There will be no more...mine or yours in this family. Only ours. Do I make myself clear?"

Sven considered her words carefully. For the first time in history, they possessed the technology to painlessly settle the argument of who's your daddy. No need to look for eye or hair coloring, signs of paternity that were tenuous at best among brothers. A simple swab, and there would be no doubt.

But she was right in this too. It just did not matter. Biology and DNA mattered less than love and responsibility. Shared as one. "Yes, elskling," he replied.

She laughed as more tears slipped down her cheek, "That was easier than I thought. Only one thing left to decide. Names."

Monika jumped up and down excitedly on the bed next to them. "Elsa. Elsa. Elsa and Anna," she cried out.

"Oh, no," the three brothers sighed in unison, knowing they had all been bested by a five-year-old.

Mikael kissed the top of Monika's curls and looked over it firmly at Kirsty, "I blame you. It's all your fault for teaching this one to talk. Now she never shuts up." The little girl had made huge strides since that day when she found the courage to help her friend.

Sven chuckled as he fought back the tears of laughter and joy. He tried to remember a time when he felt closer to his brothers, his family. But he could not.

She had done this for them. In the space of a year, she had taken three shockingly different and damaged men...brothers...and united them as a family. Her understanding, patience, and especially love, had healed them all...even their mother. She had brought them together as nothing else ever could.

He leaned in and kissed her again, "Æ ælske dæ."

She smiled as both girls began to fidget and cry louder, "Æ ælske dæ. You too. All of you. But I think right now; I need to feed these babies."

Petrine stepped from behind her sons' shadows with tears streaming down her cheeks, "Yes, and then get some sleep." She began to fuss, arranging the pillows and babies to make Kirsty comfortable as she shooed them all away.

***

Petrine watched the blues and greens dance across the blanket of the black sky. She wrapped herself tighter in the thick quilt that she had brought with her. She knew that she ought to be back at the cabin with Olaf. But after hours of checking on Kirsty and the babies, making sure that her sons knew what to do, and, of course, cleaning up, she was just wired to rest yet. So, as she had for over four decades, she had climbed the fjord at the back of The Holding.

It had been perfect. The birth was textbook. One of the easiest in her quarter-century as the local sea wife. That was not the problem. The problem was her. She did not belong here. Not any more. As she had told them, she was not the bride any longer.

Where had the time gone? Wasn't it only yesterday that she met Anders at that small café in Amsterdam? She had been traveling for over two years. Her money from the sale of her grandparents' farm was running low. She was tiring of drifting from place to place with no real home, nowhere to call her own. Between steaming hot kisses, she had shared her thoughts with her new friend.

Rachel chuckled as she wondered how that young woman would have felt if she knew that he ran straight back to his three brothers with her every confidence. That her secrets were what had been the deciding factor for them. No one to miss her. No family. Nowhere to go. Adrift. She had been adrift.

Now, she was again. Sure, this place had been her home for most of her life. She had born her sons here. Loved and lost her husbands here. Made a place for herself and her family here among the high, rocky peaks, deep waters, and this stunning light show of nature. But what now? What did she do now?

Tears trekked down her weathered cheeks. Kirsty had adjusted so much better than she had. Stood into her role as wife, shieldmaiden, and sub. The young woman had almost from the first recognized her destiny and grown into it, pulling her sons together as a real family, healing the old hurts that she and their fathers had unwittingly inflicted. No, the young woman no longer needed her. She would just be an encumbrance.

So, what now? It was the question she had been pondering for over a year. Certainly, from the moment the younger woman had arrived. Of course, in those months when their family was divided, when it seemed that family strife was destined to tear this generation apart too, she had done what she could to stand in the gap once more. To make Sven see the truth, to support Mikael and even Bjorn with their struggles. Oh, how she had missed the closeness she had once shared with Kirsty.

But none of that mattered now. Tonight was closure. And a new beginning. One that did not require her.

Of course, she had Olaf. But even he did not need her. When he was not at sea with Mikael and Bjorn, he was holed up in his workshop. Some big project that he would not share with her. Four decades and they were back to secrets between them. She sighed as she hugged the quilt tighter against the bitter cold of the winter night.

***

Olaf stood in the shadows as he crested the rock. He chuckled beneath his breath, where else would he find her? Over forty years and Rachel still ran to the same place every time. Not that he could blame. This place was unique; it always had been. You could see for miles, past the fjord to the open ocean. The years melted away. Time stood still.

Of course, time never really stood still. That was their problem. Too much time. Too much pain. But he would not trade a moment of it.

He could feel it. Rachel's pain rolled off her like turbulent waves of a gale. Indecision. Unrest. Uncertainty. But there was something he could do about all that.

"I knew I'd find you here, old woman," he pronounced as he joined her on the rock that jutted out at the top of the craggy peak.

She held open the quilt, offering him refuge within her warmth. Just as she had for so long. Just as she had his brothers, but it was just them now. Time had moved on. It was their sons' turn now. And they did not need the old folks hanging around. She felt that too. He knew that was what had sent her running once more to this place.

He snuggled beneath the covering, wrapping her in his still-strong arms. He placed a tender kiss on the top of her grey hair as he hummed. "There's so many ways your sweet love made this house into a home. You've got a way of doing little things that turn me on. Like standing in the kitchen in your faded cotton gown. With your hair still up in curlers, I still love to lay you down."

Rachel swatted at his shoulder, "You know I don't do those damned torture devices, old man."

He chuckled as he tried to picture her with a head full of curlers. "You hit your Dom again, old woman, and you will. Sounds like the perfect punishment."

She only laughed as she snuggled closer into his embrace. "When a whole lot of Decembers are showin' in your face. Your auburn hair has faded, and silver takes its place. You'll be just as lovely, and I'll still be around. And since I can, I know that I still love to lay you down."

She smiled as she turned in his arms, "What would I do without your horrid singing?"

He watched the shadows cross her still beautiful visage. He could almost read her thoughts. Of them. His brothers. The other men that she had loved. And lost. But he was not going down that road now. There would be time for that later. He had not come here tonight to reminisce about the old, but to build the new.

He took her small hand in his, noticing for the first time, the deep wrinkles about the knuckles, the thinner skin through which blue veins mapped their course, even a slight swelling of the joints. Yes, they were getting older. But they weren't dead yet. And he intended having many more years with this incredible woman. Beginning now...

"Come with me," he tugged gently.

***

Rachel shook her head, "Not just yet. I promise I won't be much longer. But..."

How could she explain it? Even to him. The man that had always been the best friend she ever had as well as her lover and husband. She had not felt this restlessness in her soul in over four decades. Not since the moment, she stepped off that boat onto this place.

Her granddaughter was right when she redubbed this place, Homdling. It was the only real home she had ever known. So, why this sudden feeling that she no longer belonged?