Lindorm Princess

Chapter 14

The scenes flew by, as I watched Slange grow up in the castle. Initially, he was alone with Björk, and I watched endless memories of them in the library together, as Björk read folk tales and history to him, and taught him on the very same slate I had used. I watched him play outside, hiding in the tall grass, as Björk searched for him. I watched Björk recruit other Landvættir over the years, to the castle, to help clean and cook, and maintain the upkeep.

"The master needs a proper court," he told one, in the kitchen. I could place the Landvættir's features, which were covered in sparrows feathers, but could not remember what his given name was. "He should not feel as though he is disadvantaged because of his form."

"But we are no more than servants," spoke the being. "How could we possibly be both that, and his court? We would be a fraud."

"We must try," Björk said quietly, "or he will be alone. If he is to be heir, he will need proper socialization skills to rule with grace, should anything happen to the King."

"Lord forgive that should happen," the Landvættir drily. "I have only a small parcel of grain to last me the winter now, because they keep increasing the tithe. Their court expenses have gone through the roof now, in order to spoil their second son."

"We will pool what is left together here, in the castle, and we will make it," Björk said, determinedly. "We will seek the support of the humans, to account for the difference. They will gladly give us offerings, as they know little of fae politics, and are content to exchange goods for fair blessings."

The scene wrinkled, and I listened as Slange's voice changed from an innocent childlike wonder, to one of adolescence.

"Why have I been cursed like this?" his whined, voice cracking. Björk sat by his bed, the very bed that I had once shared with him. I touched the edge of the velvet counterpane, and watched as my fingers passed through the fabric.

"Your mother made a deal," Björk said tiredly. "And she did not honor it."

"So I have been punished for the sins of my mother," Slange spit. He was now the size of a large cow, curled up under the sheets. I watched as snow piled in heaps against the balcony outside his windows.

"It is unfair," Björk acknowledged. "Even breaking a deal can have consequences for those we do not intend."

"Unfair?" I heard the bitterness tinge Slange's voice. "I watch my brother in his castle, from the grass. He is in the castle that ought to be mine, with a proper court filled with fae, and plenty of women to be had. He is fair, and handsome, and I am covered in scales. What woman could ever want me?"

I saw Björk stiffen.

"He is still not the firstborn," he said, quietly.

Slange laughed, incredulously.

"What good has being firstborn given me? I have never formally met my own parents. They gave me to a servant, to raise me in exile."

Björk's eyes flashed, and I watched Slange double down angrily.

"You know it's true," he accused. "You should hurry up and figure out how I can be freed of this wretched curse. The sooner I can be in my proper form, the better." He lifted a clawed hand. "My arms are useless, only suited for dragging this hideous body across the ground. I cannot grasp most things, and were a proper lady to see me, she might faint dead upon the ground."

Björk paused, but did not answer.

"I heard you gave your skin away to a wanderer," he changed the subject. "It is rumored that he gained the power to turn into animals."