Svea really did not want to eavesdrop on the conversation that the god and Thyri were having in her cottage. It wasn’t her place, and beyond that, it seemed like they were about to arrive at a conversation that would want the utmost privacy. Nana had no such qualms about listening in, and provided her fairy with summaries of what Rhaegar and Thyri were discussing. But Svea imagined they would not like that, and waved uselessly for her familiar to stop. Intimate voices led to intimate actions and the girl did not want to stumble upon that going on at all. No, if they were going to make the baby a sibling – and from the white dog’s understanding, that seemed a rather poor idea – that was their business.
Her eyes stayed firmly on the counter where she was cutting vegetables to go with the evening’s supper and she wouldn’t have noticed the deity approaching her if the floors had been carpeted and he didn’t walk with such heavy footfalls. She didn’t dare turn around, however, but remained fixated on the vegetables: carrots and onions and peppers. Only when he spoke to her did she dare look at him, though she spent only an instant making eye contact. Whether he could see the confusion on her face at her words she didn’t know, but when Rhaegar grabbed her hand as though she wanted to be paid for taking care of his consort and son, Svea shook her head.
“I don’t-” she started, but what was pressed to her palm was not currency. Looking down at it, her look grew even more confused. The pendant was like those on the statues at home and in the high temples. Her attention consumed by marveling at the gift, Svea didn’t register that the conversation was not over until the god continued to ask for her help.
As he spoke, Svea turned her head to look over into the nursery, at the sleeping baby whose parents wanted to leave him here. Though she wasn’t his mother, Svea loved him and would have done anything to keep him safe and, considering his ancestry, would have done anything to keep them appeased as well. She nodded, first timidly but slowly gaining confidence. However, as he asked whether she would need anything, Svea’s confidence fell again. She did have a request, a tradition. Since his birth and the time for the ceremony had past, Svea wondered whether the god had ever cared about it at all, or whether the religious leaders had creased it to keep more people devout.
“I can watch over him, keep him here and safe. But… What about his naming ceremony? He’s long past nine days, but he’s nine months now… could he have one?” Her voice shrunk the longer she spoke, as though the words were sapping the energy and fortitude she might have had when she’d started to speak.
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