*

Maeve stared at her brother, confused beyond belief. "Asmund? What about Asmund? Is he okay? Is he hurt? Is he-"

"Slow down, Maevey. Just... slow down." Corey ran a hand down his face and sighed. "Come on. We're not having a conversation like this out here."

He took off down the hall, Maeve practically sprinting to keep up with him. By the time they arrived outside of his chambers, she was out of breath and light-headed, leaning on the wall for support. Maybe I'm not as healed as I thought. Corey turned around, frowning. He opened the door and wrapped an arm around her waist, ensuring that she wouldn't fall.

After discarding her cloak and shoes, the princess snuggled into the corner of the loveseat. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, shortening her shallow breath. Corey's silence scared her more than anything. He gave her a brotherly kiss on the head and left for a few minutes, returning with a cup of tea and an ice pack.

"I'm no healer, but these should help, at least for now. We'll get you fixed up later, I promise." He tossed her the ice and set the cup on the side table. "Okay, I'm going to tell you what happened, but you can't freak out."

"All right," she stammered. Her shaking hands gripped the cup as she raised it to her lips and took a sip. The familiar taste calmed her nerves ever so slightly. The tea in Asgard was different than the tea in Vanaheim. This beverage, with its strong earthy undertones, tasted like home. "What's wrong with Asmund?"

Corey let out a long breath, staring down at his callused hands. "He's married, Maeve."

For a solid minute, Maeve forgot how to speak.

Asmund.

Married.

Asmund.

Married.

Asmund.

Married.

"What do you mean?" She finally asked in a breathless voice. "He's Asmund. He can't, I mean, he can't be-"

"Yeah. Yeah, he most definitely can be."

"But... to who?"

He shrugged. "No one knows. That's why it's so bad right now. Papa has him down in the prisons. He says he'll release him if he tells who he married, but he won't sell her out for anything."

"Because it's treason," Maeve whispered. She traced the pattern of the upholstered couch, her fingers trembling. "Right?"

"I'll tell you what happened, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't interrupt, okay?" He asked somberly. "Just let me talk. What I know is a mix of what I saw and what others saw. This all went down a few hours ago. I've been asking around to get a better picture."

She nodded.

"Asmund!"

His head snapped up from the mountains upon mountains of papers piled on his desk and his arm knocked into an inkwell, drenching many parchments in black ink. Corey burst into the study, not bothering to knock. Normally this behavior would bother Asmund, but the worried expression on his brother's face distracted him from annoyance.

"There was a fire in one of the villages," he said quickly. "It destroyed everything. There were casualties, Asmund, and so many injuries-"

Asmund stood, already halfway out the door. "Where? What happened? Tell me while we're walking."

"One of the granaries caught on fire. It spread all over. Their healers were killed in the fire, so we've been bringing the wounded here. We've got the fire under control now, but all of these people are homeless."

Other matters preoccupied Asmund's mind. The royal family could easily relocate a couple hundred subjects. He was more concerned about the masses of people flooding into the healing wing as they spoke. They were always shorthanded. There just weren't enough people who wanted to dedicate their lives to helping others in Vanaheim.

The moment he entered the room, Asmund tuned out the world. This is how the best healers worked: focusing exclusively on the patient. The rest of the world could wait. He ignored the voices around him, ignored the shocked and indignant exclamations of the servants at the sight of their future king aiding them like a normal citizen, ignored the girl who briefly brushed against his shoulder before hurrying to help others. Slowly, the burns resided. Slowly, the moaning stopped.

The healings took hours of careful and strenuous work. By the time they saved the last villager, it was late evening. Asmund leaned against a table, only just noticing how much magic he'd spent once he snapped out of his trance-like state. He was the strongest Empath in the realm, the most skilled healer, and he had shouldered the brunt of the job himself.

"My prince, are you all right?" One of the healers asked, pausing as he passed.

Asmund managed a nod. "Fine."

His bloodshot eyes wandered across the room to a brunette, risking one final look at her before ducking out of the room. He walked away, barely conscious of his surroundings. His chest felt too tight and his head too light. Black splotches danced across his vision as he staggered towards his office where he knew he could safely fall into his chair and lower his illusions without the fear of being caught.

He never made it there.

Guards found the prince unconscious on the ground. No one knew how long he'd been there. The news of his collapse spread around the palace like the fire that ravaged the village hours before, and soon the five other Freysons and Frey himself had gathered in the healing wing, worry in their expressions.

"What happened? Where is my son?" The king demanded of the nearest healer, a brunette woman he vaguely remembered. She flinched a bit at his harsh tone and moved her arms behind her back before speaking.

"He's going to be all right, Your Majesty." Everyone, including the servant girl, seemed to be reassured by her words. "It appears that your son has been exhausted and overworked for some time, and helping us tonight pushed him over the edge. He collapsed due to depleting his magic so quickly by healing the burn victims. It's a very admirable thing. We would still be healing them without his help."

"Can we see him?" Frey asked, cutting right over her careful explanation. Corey cringed at his father's manners and sent the girl an apologetic look, though he also wanted to see his eldest brother. She looked familiar.

The girl seemed hesitant for a reason no one could imagine. "I don't know. He's unconscious, he needs rest-"

"We don't want to talk to him," Hemming said impatiently. "We just want to see him."

"I don't know if that's the best idea, Your M-"

"You don't make the rules around here, lass. That's our job. Take us to him."

The servant girl sank into a deep curtsey and led them through the wing, her hands completely still at her sides. She pointed to a smaller room, where Asmund had been laid on a bed, a sheet covering most of his body. Corey found this odd, considering the summer weather, but said nothing of it. What did he know about healing, anyway?

"He looks terrible," Roscoe whispered, taking in the lack of color in his brother's skin and the dark circles underneath his eyes, his dirty blond curls messy. "He looked fine earlier."

"It's exhaustion, like that girl said," Endre added with a frown. "And he's been hiding it well. I'd bet he's been using illusions to hide it for who knows how long. He can't keep any of them up when he's not conscious."

The brothers and their father fell silent, staring at Asmund's limp body with guilty expressions. Seeing him so helpless didn't make sense. He was always the capable one, the oldest brother, the one everyone went to for help. No one ever thought to ask if he needed help, if he was doing all right. Their blissful ignorance brought him to this.

"Someone should tell Maeve," Vali finally muttered. "She'd want to know."

"Absolutely not," Corey said instantly. "You know how she'd react. She's the youngest one, but she mothers every single one of us. Can you imagine how scared she be? She just got back to Asgard. What if the Allfather wouldn't let her come? He's a right old grouch and I wouldn't put it past him. Then Maeve would worry even more. We can't contact her. Asmund's going to be all right, anyway."

"Corey is right. Besides, we don't need Asgard involved." Frey shook his head as he looked down at his eldest son, an emotion close to worry etched on his face. "The last thing we need is them finding out that we have collapsing monarchs."

Asmund shifted in his sleep, causing the sheet to slide off of him and onto the floor. Vali knelt to pick it up, but his eyes locked on a small mark on his wrist, newly exposed. He drew in a sharp breath and quickly moved the sheet to cover his brother again, but his second of hesitation alerted everyone else in the room to the oddity.

Frey seized his son's wrist and turned it over, glaring at the swirls of lavender and gold. "We need answers. Get me one of the healers. Now!"

"Papa, I don't know if-"

"Get me a healer!"

Roscoe ran out of the room, returning moments later with an older woman. Frey turned his stern gaze on her.

"I need you to wake him up," he growled, taking a menacing step forward. "Now."

"Your Majesty, that's unwise. His magical core is entirely depleted. It would be incredibly dangerous to-"

"Do as you're told, woman, or I can show you the door!"

Eyes wide, she sat down on the bed and gripped the prince's hands tightly. Slowly, some of her energy flowed into Asmund, and he came to with a strangled gasp.

"Everything aches," he mumbled, reaching to rub his forehead. It was then that he noticed the exposed marks on his wrist and the company surrounding him. The little color that had returned to his face drained.

"You'd better have a good explanation for this, boy," Frey said in a dangerous, measured voice.

Asmund said nothing. Corey wondered if he even could. He looked like a dead man walking, pale and trembling and hollow.

"If some woman tricked you into it, we can destroy the mark and destroy her."

"No!" Asmund exclaimed, panic in his normally placid voice. "No, it was nothing like that."

"Then what was it?" Frey hissed. He took a step closer as his eldest stood up, unsteady on his feet. Asmund pressed a palm to the wall to help him balance, but remained silent. His son's quiet defiance angered the king, who grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. With no strength to resist, Asmund groaned, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily. A few of the princes made noises of indignation, but none of them had the authority to go against the king, especially in a matter of treason. "You tell me what happened now, boy, or I swear I'll make you tell me later, and you won't like how I do it!"

"I fell in love!" Asmund shouted, his voice hoarse and raspy. He'd never been afraid of his father before, and even now, the only thing that bothered him was the idea of Frey finding her. He could protect her with his silence. "I fell in love. I'm not going to apologize and I'm not going to tell you anything about it."

Corey stared at his older brother, his best friend, in shocked awe. He had never seen anyone stand up to his father like that before.

"Oh, is that how you want to do this? You want to play games with me, hm? You ungrateful thing, you should have told me while you had the chance," Frey snarled, releasing his hold on Asmund, who sank to the ground, and storming out of the room. All of the princes followed except one, hoping in vain to stop their father.

Corey immediately fell to his knees and offered his brother a hand. Asmund gripped it tightly, his own hand shaking uncontrollably. Their eyes met, and Corey knew that Asmund wasn't playing around. This marriage, this love - it was real.

And he was terrified.

"Come on, I'll help you, but you've got to stand," Corey muttered, wondering if that was asking too much. As someone who wasn't born with magic, he couldn't imagine what losing it felt like, but he knew how Asmund hated accepting assistance from others. If he was practically lifting his older brother to his feet, then it wasn't good. As soon as he was standing, Asmund began to talk quickly.

"Corey," Asmund whispered, fear in his dark blue eyes, "you've got to help me. They're going to kill her. He's going to kill her! You can't let him."

"No, no one's killing anyone," Corey said in a soothing voice, the same voice he'd use with Maeve after their father beat her. "It's going to be okay."

"No, it's not!" He cried shrilly, grabbing him by the shoulders. "He can't find her. You've got to protect her! Please, I'm begging you!"

Corey stared at his older brother. This side of Asmund didn't make sense to him. It was like they'd never met. The calm king-to-be had all but disappeared, leaving behind a frantic young man.

"I'll help, yeah. I just-"

The doors swung open and a group of guards grabbed Asmund, pulling the weakened fallen prince away. He had no strength left to resist.

"Asmund!"

"Corey, please!"

Tears poured down Maeve's bruised and scratched cheeks, stinging the open wounds. She leaned into Corey's shoulder and completely let her guard down.

"That was a few hours ago," Corey said in a dull, faraway voice. He sounded so broken. "I promised him I'd protect her. I don't even know who she is."

"What's Papa done to him?" She whispered, her small form racking with sobs. He pulled her closer and she ignored the aches from bruises, just glad for the comfort.

"I- I don't know. We've all been forbidden from going down there. But, I don't think anything good." They sat in silence for the longest time. "Where's Loki?"

She wiped a few tears from underneath her cheeks, but new ones quickly replaced them. "He really wanted to come, but Odin made him stay behind."

"You know, I almost miss him," Corey said, attempting a feeble joke. It brought the slightest smile to his little sister's face, which made it worth it, at least in his opinion. "You call your father-in-law by his first name?"

"Not to his face. I'm not stupid." She chuckled through the tears. "Asmund's in real trouble, isn't he?"

Corey nodded somberly before standing up. "Yeah. He is."

"Where are you going?"

"We are going to get you properly healed, and then we are going to bed. We'll talk more in the morning, but you definitely need rest."

"Corey, I'm fine-"

"No, you're not," he said, cutting over her. The prince eyed his sister for a moment, then crossed the room to his wardrobe. He pulled out one of his navy cloaks and wrapped it securely around her shoulders. "You need to stop lying about being okay when you're not. That's what he did."

Maeve snuggled into the cloak, grateful for her brother's protectiveness, and nodded. "Okay."

Once they visited the healing wing and all of the princess' injuries had been healed, Maeve found herself back in her old room. It didn't feel right. This wasn't her life anymore. She slipped into a nightgown, wishing that telepathy was strong enough to reach across realms, before pulling both Corey's and Loki's cloaks over herself as blankets and dozing off, only to wake soon after from vivid dreams of Asmund screaming in pain.

That's not real. That's not real.

She had no proof of that, though. In the dark, everything seemed scarier. Maeve reached for the familiar comfort of Loki and instead found a cold half of the bed. Her chest ached with the tightness of anxiety. Instead of faking her way through the fear, she crept out of her room and down the hall, where she poked her head into a bedroom.

"Corey?" She whispered, feeling like a little girl with a nightmare all over again. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

"Yeah."

new chapter, i was very sad writing this, btw

leave your thoughts anyway, i'm hoping to update soon