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Exposure

Summary:

When Sigurd's brand appears, it's handled quite well.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Ethlyn’s shriek echoed through the second floor.

Sigurd pulled his nightshirt back down, changing out of his pajamas going to have to wait until he found whatever had frightened Ethlyn. He didn’t need to take a single step to do so though, finding her in the doorway of his room and her look of alarm directed at him. His panic split into annoyance and embarrassment. “Can’t you knock!?”

“Can’t you get up on time?” She shot back. Her response should have been enough to dispel any remaining worry but her still knit brows and frown keep it around as well. “What is that?”

“What’s what?”

Ethlyn marched across his room and pulled his shirt back up. “That!”

Sigurd pulled the neck of his shirt out to look for whatever Ethlyn was referring to. It didn’t take long to notice the strange mark in the middle of his stomach. It wasn’t red and didn’t itch like a rash nor was it dark enough to be a bruise or hurt when Ethlyn poked it. It almost seemed like an old scar though he’d never had a scar or injury there to begin with. “I dunno.”

“Maybe it means you’re going bad, like when fruit gets weird spots,” Ethlyn suggested.

“People don’t get weird spots when they go bad, just when they get old.”

“Then why do you have one?”

“Ethlyn! Sigurd, have you seen-” Sigurd and Ethlyn both looked towards the doorway just as their father appeared in it. He stared back at both of them as he caught his breath, confusion growing as he did.

“Sigurd’s turning bad,” Ethlyn called over to him.

“No I’m not!” Sigurd objected, making sure he was louder so their father would know he was right.

“Makes more sense than an old person spot.” Sigurd stuck his tongue out at Ethlyn and had the gesture immediately returned.

“Let me see.” To both of their surprise, their father sounded completely calm now. Ethlyn kept Sigurd’s shirt lifted as she moved out of the way, an even greater surprise following as their father beamed at the sight of the mark. “That’s the opposite of a bad mark. That’s Crusader Baldr’s brand.”

Sigurd’s shirt and mouth dropped in surprise as they both took in their father’s revelation. They knew Crusader Baldr’s brand would appear on one of them sometime during their lives but when that would be was impossible to guess so the thought hadn’t crossed their minds often. Sigurd felt as if his mind was trying to make up for that now, suddenly filled with thoughts of wielding Tyrfing and the same mark one of the gods had given Crusader Baldr now being on him as well. “Mine looks just like yours? And Grandfather’s? And Crusader Baldr’s?”

His father chuckled. “It wouldn’t be his brand if it didn’t.”

Sigurd put his hand over where his brand was. He couldn’t feel it through his shirt but knowing it was there was enough to send a hum of excited energy through him, drowning out whatever his father and Ethlyn were saying. The gods chose him to get Crusader Baldr’s power. He was going to be just as amazing and powerful as a Crusader. He was going to use Tyrfing one day.

“Can I try using Tyrfing now?”

No.


“Sigurd, stop touching your shirt.”

“Sorry.” Sigurd dropped his hand to his side as they entered Castle Dozel’s Great Hall. He’d probably been told more than once why they had to dress up and come here but he had no idea currently. This wasn’t the only thing that had escaped his mind recently, most of its space taken up by excitement over his Brand and thoughts of wielding Tyrfing. Any moment he didn’t have something to do, he found himself tracing his brand, having done so enough times by now he didn’t need to look to know he was doing it right. Though he still wished he could feel it through his shirt.

The Great Hall was already filled with people, mostly adults Sigurd didn’t recognize. The first he did was Duke Lombard, who was standing at the head of the room with his sons. The older of the two looked the happiest of the three by far so Sigurd guessed whatever they were here for had to do with him. It seemed they’d soon find out as his father put his hands on Sigurd and Ethlyn’s backs, gently pushing them forward toward the platform. 

Sigurd let himself be led until just as they’d passed halfway across the room, he spotted another adult he knew. He also knew Duke Ring’s daughters very well, excitement building at the thought of telling his friends about his brand. He dashed over towards them, possibly hearing his father call his name as he left his side but that thought was soon lost to his excitement.

Sigurd weaved his way through the crowd until he spotted an identical set of golden curls and dresses of House Yngvi’s yellow and green. “Brigid! Edain!”

His call caught both of the twins’ attention, turning towards him with just as identical smiles. Their younger brother shrunk back behind them, only an eye peeking out around Brigid’s elbow.

“Hello Sigurd,” Edain greeted for the group.

“Guess what happened! Guess what happened!” He waited half a second before answering. “My brand showed up!” 

Brigid and Edain both perked up, even Andrey curious enough to poke the rest of his head out. Their excitement made his swell and Sigurd yanked up the bottom of his shirt without a second thought. “Look!”

“Sigurd!” 

This time Sigurd definitely heard his father and he didn’t sound happy.

If Brigid also heard him, she didn’t mind his tone, leaning in to take a closer look at Sigurd’s brand. “That kinda looks like mine.” She leaned back and grabbed her skirt, pulling it up to her thigh and sticking her left leg out to draw attention to the mark on her knee.

“Brigid!”

Edain hurried to push her sister’s skirt back down at their father’s scolding, Andrey scrambling to hide behind their father’s legs. Sigurd looked up at Duke Ring just as his father reached them. Both of their faces were red but lacking the anger from their voices. Behind his father, he could see Duke Lombard did look angry though his younger son was doubled over from laughing. The older’s happiness had disappeared, face drained of color as if he might pass out. Duke Arvis was in front of him, keeping his younger brother turned away and giving Sigurd a look incredibly similar to the one Ethlyn would when she thought he’d done something stupid. His shirt was yanked back down and he turned to find Ethlyn giving him the look he’d just been thinking of.

He was starting to think this had been a bad idea.

Notes:

Happy Christmas or any other winter holidays you celebrate! I hope you've enjoyed this, especially SigurdsWife. I'm very glad I got to be your Secret Santa