Of Mutual Trust and Other Myths

Guilty

Ingrid woke up the next morning in the quiet of her own chambers, after a rather peaceful night, in the absence of any dreams. It seemed bizarre, since after what had happened she was convinced it would haunt her at least for a little while. However, after a few minutes of just laying in bed and staring into the darkness of the room, she realized she could not remember any kind of dream. Then, the thought struck her - had the events of the last evening been, in fact, the dream? She pondered upon the idea, before trying to switch to the other side of the bed. It was then the pain in her arm came back to remind her that what had happened was, in fact, real.

It wasn't a crippling pain, but it did radiate throughout her body whenever she put pressure on it. On that note, she tried to get up as delicately as possible, and walked cautiously towards the windows, stretching her arms forward to feel the curtains. When she finally caught them, her fingers travelled to their middle ends of each, and the room instantly brightened as she pushed them to the side.

The sight she was greeted with wasn't as grandiose as the one from the windows of the library, but it had its beauty. Instead, there was a small garden with a two meters high tree in full bloom in one corner. It was the only point of focus, since there were no plants growing in the garden but grass. It looked like an empty canvas waiting for some flamboyant painter to decorate it, or rather finish decorating it - the tree did have its majesty.

She let the cold morning air blow through the window before walking away to get done with her morning routine. It mainly consisted of brushing her hair, arranging it in a low-maintenance hairdo, washing her face with ice cold water and massaging some oil into her skin. Ingrid had read about the oil so many times, and heard the women of Asgard brag about it even more in the few weeks she had been there, so she just had to try it. She wasn't sure what it was exactly, besides being an extract of some plant, but she had found it gave her face a significant glow throughout the day.

Her wardrobe wasn't as extravagant as she liked it to be back on Midgard. While she missed the colorful and short dresses, or the pompous hats and hair accessories, she could not risk drawing any unnecessary attention here. She was, after all, a librarian, and had to play her role well. Therefore, she chose a long simple lavender dress, not for its looks, but for its plainness.

Downstairs, Rangvald was eating his breakfast and mumbling to himself. He was an old man now, and while Ingrid could be considered his apprentice, he did not care much about teaching her things. There was a silent agreement between the two - he let her do her thing, and she let him live the last of his days in peace, doing whatever made him happy. She'd only come to him with important queries, as he was not the one to delegate tasks. At first, she had thought of gathering intel from him, but each time something of importance was brought up, he'd completely stray away from the subject and start telling her stories of his past that ended up having little to no significance. It was as if he was purposefully denying her information, but the part of her brain that wasn't distorted by paranoia told her that it was just the way old age had gotten to him.

He looked up at her with his icy blue eyes as she was walking down the stairs and waited until she acknowledged him. "I made you tea," he informed her. She simply thanked him with a nod and a smile and grabbed the cup he had gestured towards. Ingrid never ate in the morning, and it had taken him a few days of wasted food to learn that. Still, he always insisted on making her something.

"I did something stupid yesterday," she bluntly stated, before taking a sip of her tea. Her eyes were avoiding him, and she was instead looking out the window, but after a few seconds of no reaction, she looked back at him. Rangvald was studying the food in his plate, as if he had found something in it. She continued, "I lost a book."