Chapter Text
The medical world was tough. Ratatoskr had known it ever since she was a child—after all, she grew up in a family deeply rooted in medicine. Overtime hours, complex procedures, heavy responsibilities, and emotional exhaustion; she had seen it all in her father, and eventually in each of her siblings. Even so, the conviction to pursue a nursing career never faded. Ratatoskr had always wanted to help others, and that desire had brought her to this moment:
Her first day working as a nurse assistant at Askr Central Hospital.
Excitement filled her, but so did a sense of duty. Despite her usual clumsiness and nerves, she had done well during her clinical practice. Probably the only reason her father had hired her…Laeradr didn’t accept anything less than perfection—especially from his own children.
Everything will be fine, she kept repeating to herself as she walked through the ivory-colored halls and the scent of antiseptics grew stronger. Her steps faltered a little as she realized how stares and whispers followed her down every corridor. Don’t pay it any mind, Ratatoskr. As soon as she finished introducing herself to the floor supervisor, the work began.
The supervisor, Lucius, let her go on lunch break a few minutes early. As she made her way to one of the break rooms, humming her current favorite song softly to herself, she heard it. The whispers she had ignored earlier—some now became clear. It sounded like two doctors murmuring in the hallway, making no effort to hide that they were looking at her.
“This time they had to settle for a simple nurse, huh.”
“They had to make the nepotism less obvious—even the kitchen staff’s talking about it.”
“They’re shameless.”
Ratatoskr picked up her pace, pretending not to notice the looks, clinging to her humming and faint smile. She knew things like this could happen—but not even a full shift had passed… Her expression faltered a bit, but no—no! She couldn’t let that negativity in on her first day! Working at the hospital was a challenge, and she had accepted it wholeheartedly.
Thankfully, her thoughts shifted the moment she stepped into the break room. Near the coffee machine stood a familiar figure. “Eikþyrnir!”
Eikþyrnir turned instantly, the small creases around his eyes hinting at a smile beneath his mask. “Ratatoskr, how’s everything going?”
For a moment, she thought about how great a hug from her brother would feel right now, but quickly shook off the thought.
“A bit tiring, you know, but nothing too hard. My coworkers have been nice so far.”
“I’m glad to hear that. You’ve got a big heart, I’m sure they’ll see that too.” His peaceful expression changed a moment later, brow furrowing slightly.
“Hey… did something happen?”
Ratatoskr blinked, confused, but then realized her smile had slipped. Oh no.
While Heiðrún had always been the most perceptive of them, Eikþyrnir was the eldest. He knew his sisters like no one else, down to their smallest gestures. A small panic made her want to change the subject, but she knew that would only make him worry more.
“It’s just that… I couldn’t help overhearing some interesting comments from the doctors in my unit. But it’s nothing important! I can handle a little rudeness.” She quickly added that last part when she noticed the faint annoyance in Eikþyrnir’s eyes.
He just sighed, relaxing his posture. “I get it… Some people love wasting time on pointless drama instead of doing something productive. If they cross a line, don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Heiðrún. If she’s not seeing anyone, her office is a good place to get a little breather.”
Eikþyrnir gently patted her shoulder with the hand not holding his coffee as he headed for the door. “See you later, I’ve got to cover an extra shift.”
Ratatoskr waved him off, her chest feeling a little lighter after those words. Everything would be fine.
As she pulled out her lunch, she heard familiar voices in the hallway. She walked closer to the door and barely held back the urge to rush over when she saw them—except they seemed to be arguing.
“It’s unbelievable I practically had to rip the bottle out of your hands. This is an important meeting, Níðhöggr, would it kill you to be on time for once?”
The other just rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic. On time or not, we’ll get the info—what’s the big deal?”
“You’d better hope the elevator isn’t slow. We can’t afford any mistakes. Drill that into your head.” Hræsvelgr replied, grabbing her sister’s arm, and quickening their pace.
Yeah…not the best moment to say hi. Their arguments were a daily occurrence. They knew each other’s weak points and weren’t shy about pushing them—especially Níðhöggr, who found it amusing to get under her twin’s skin.
Still…maybe it was her own doubts clouding her judgment, but something felt different this time. There was a fire in their expressions, like they were genuinely irritated with each other. Was it just work stress, maybe, intensifying everything?
Ratatoskr decided to save the questions for later. Everyone in the family had been tense lately, it had become the norm. She needed to focus on her work.
༄˖°.❦.ೃ࿔*:❧･.
A couple of weeks later, Ratatoskr was in the kitchen helping Heiðrún prepare and serve dinner. For the past six years—ever since the twins had moved out—it had been rare for the whole family to share a meal. With their shifting schedules and their father’s promotion, it had become nearly impossible.
She had to admit she was a little excited. Maybe a family dinner was just what she needed to ease the growing heaviness in her heart.
In recent weeks, life had become a constant struggle to keep her spirit afloat. While most of the nurses and janitors in her unit were friendly, the rest of the staff... not so much. She had always heard vague stories and work gossip from her siblings, especially the twins. But she knew Níðhöggr loved drama, and Hræsvelgr was extremely critical of others. Eikþyrnir and Heiðrún rarely talked about work beyond patients or cases—though she had overheard them murmuring to each other occasionally while drinking tea on the terrace or training in the yard.
Still, hearing stories was one thing. Living them firsthand was another. And those “gossipy tales” quickly turned into mockery, veiled threats, whispers, and unfriendly stares. Ratatoskr hadn’t been prepared for it. But she had to try—for the sake of her patients and her family. Even if she was nothing more than a trembling leaf in the middle of a storm, she had to find her path…
“Ratatoskr? Is the table ready?”
Heiðrún’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Yes! Sorry, I’m still a bit wound up from work.”
Her sister smiled faintly and shook her head, loosening her long braids. “I get it. Just try to relax, okay? That brain of yours needs some rest.”
She playfully tapped her on the head with a gentle pop. Ratatoskr laughed, swatting her sister’s hand away. As they placed the food containers on the table, she let slip the question that had been circling in her mind.
“Is Father coming? We have everything ready, but…”
Heiðrún sighed. “He was supposed to. Maybe something came up at the clinic. You know how he is—can’t help but get involved whenever he can.” Noticing Ratatoskr’s tightened lips, she added, “Don’t worry. Let’s just eat. Hræsvelgr has a night shift; we don’t want to delay her, right?”
The house would become a hurricane of Hræsvelgrian fury if that happened. Her sister was right. Their father took every opportunity to personally handle cases at Yggdrasil, his private clinic, since his role as director gave him “too much free energy.”
They called the others, and soon everyone gathered. One chair at the head of the table left empty, the other occupied by Eikþyrnir.
The only sound in the dining room was that of clinking utensils. Hræsvelgr was reading documents while eating, as she usually did when she had surgeries coming up, reviewing every detail. Níðhöggr rubbed her eyes constantly, dazed, refilling her water glass every minute. Heiðrún and Eikþyrnir ate in silence—she toying with her hair, he with his hands. Ratatoskr didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t what she’d hoped for.
Finally, after a few minutes, Heiðrún broke the silence, a hesitant smile on her face. “So, Ratatoskr, how does it feel to finally be a nurse? Goodness, it’s still a bit surreal. Last time we talked, you were still working on university projects.”
Everyone’s attention turned to the brunette. Ratatoskr quickly tried to keep up. “Oh, well, it’s a big responsibility, but I’m happy to be able to help others! Even if sometimes it feels like I’m running on fumes, haha.”
Hræsvelgr glanced up from her papers. “That’s to be expected. Just don’t neglect yourself. You’re no good to anyone if you pass out on top of your patients.”
“Hræ’s right, eating well is important. And don’t forget to exercise. If you want, I can give you a light but energizing routine you can do anytime.” Eikþyrnir added, nodding firmly.
The concern wasn’t necessary—but seeing her siblings' care made her heart swell. She was about to thank them and ease their worries when Níðhöggr spoke. “Yeah, yeah, that’s all nice, but I’m pretty sure there’s something else bothering our little squirrel, huh?”
Ratatoskr froze for a moment. Was Níðhöggr talking about... but that was just between general practitioners and the nursing staff, right? Her silence was enough for the others to notice, and a gleeful grin spread across Níðhöggr’s face.
“Oh, I knew it. Gotcha, haha!”
“What are you talking about, Nídr?” Heiðrún asked. Ratatoskr noticed how tightly she was gripping her utensils.
“Ugh, you always act like you don’t know anything. Some nurses in her unit apparently complained to management or something—I don’t know. You know, the classic “we’re being exploited” thing they do every year.”
Eikþyrnir immediately looked at Ratatoskr, questions clear in his eyes. “I-I don’t know much either! Lena and Lissa mentioned it a bit… It sounds pretty bad…”
“Ratatoskr, be direct. Are you involved or not?”
“Hræ” Eikþyrnir hissed. “Have a little tact, please.”
She frowned, but before she could speak, Níðhöggr cut in. “Yeah, Hræ, show some compassion. It’s the same crap every year, don’t fill the squirrel’s head with nonsense.”
“Nonsense? You know it’s not nonsense! You’ve seen it, your coworkers love pushing their responsibilities onto others. Just like you.”
“Excuse me?! Don’t give me that. You’ve never cared about what goes on with others at the hospital, but now you suddenly do because it’s Ratatoskr? Is that it?”
Níðhöggr stood up abruptly, wobbling slightly but grabbing the edge of the table for support. Hræsvelgr followed, but Eikþyrnir stepped in—if not physically, then with sheer presence.
“That’s enough, both of you. This isn’t the time.”
“Your brother is right. Fighting over petty matters is beneath this household.”
Everyone turned toward the dining room entrance, startled. There, with a stern face and perfect posture, stood Læraðr—their father.
“Father, you just got here?” Heiðrún was the first to react, shooting a quick glance at the twins before looking back at him. The two sisters sat down again, still visibly annoyed.
Læraðr walked into the room. His presence was heavy, even with his back turned.
Ratatoskr vaguely remembered that, when she was little, her father’s presence had felt warm despite his constant seriousness. Now… well, she couldn’t remember the last time he looked at them with anything other than cold indifference or reprimand.
“I came in through the back door. It was unlocked.” A disapproving click of the tongue. “You’re not children anymore; I shouldn’t have to keep reminding you to close doors. I hope you don’t carry these bad habits into your work—I’d hate to imagine the disgrace.”
She once thought growing up would make her immune to his scolding. But at 23, all she could do was clench her fists on her lap to keep from nervously laughing. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous, surely.
This time, Eikþyrnir addressed him. “Will you be joining us at the table? We’ve only just started, practically.”
Their father barely considered it, more interested in arranging some folders inside his briefcase. “No. I’ll eat later with some colleagues.”
Once satisfied, he turned toward the stairs. “I’ll be in my office. I have things to take care of.”
From the corner of her eye, Ratatoskr saw Eikþyrnir and Heiðrún exchange a glance. With no mask to hide it, she noticed the tightness in her brother’s jaw.
Just as it seemed the exchange had ended, and Níðhöggr had picked up her spoon again, Læraðr stopped halfway up the stairs. “Ah, almost forgot. I hope you all remember how pointless it is to get involved in any sort of stupid drama. I didn’t raise you to cause problems, I raised you to bring honor to this family. No distractions.”
And without waiting for a response, he continued up.
Silence once again filled the house. It wasn’t humiliating like it had been as teens. No—but somehow, it felt heavier. Like a vine wrapping around her chest, making it hard to smile the way she usually did.
None of her siblings looked at each other. They just quietly returned to their food, each in their own time, until the meal ended, and the table was cleared.
When did everything change? Were those memories of laughing, joking, and hugging each other… just illusions? Back when their father’s sharp words were still just a breeze—and not a cold, quiet storm.
༄˖°.❦.ೃ࿔*:❧･.
After that dinner, not much changed. Læraðr spent less and less time at home; Ratatoskr had no idea if he was staying at the hospital, the clinic, or somewhere else entirely. Her brothers stayed quiet whenever conversations veered toward the growing tension at home. Hræsvelgr and Eikþyrnir took on more shifts, Níðhöggr vanished for hours at a time and never seemed to be sober when she showed up, and Heiðrún just smiled, stopping arguments, and reassuring everyone it was only a matter of time.
Ratatoskr, might’ve believed her once, but now…
Now she was running to the storage room to exchange medications. Lissa had accidentally brought boxes of (insert medication/substance) instead of (insert medication/substance), which were running low. Walking across the hospital was exhausting, but at least it gave her a short break from her companions’ constant venomous words. No matter what she did, they only seemed to increase—along with the mountain of paperwork the doctors kept delegating to her.
She wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that wasn’t fair—or even allowed. But she had no one to ask without sounding incompetent. Her supervisor was already too busy. It was best not to disturb her siblings (they had more important things to worry about, after all…), and her father…he’d probably fire her before she could finish the question.
As she adjusted the boxes in her arms, a voice stopped her. “Ratatoskr?”
She suppressed a sigh and turned. It was Lucious, wearing a small smile. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s almost lunchtime, and some of us around here were planning to eat together. Would you like to join us?”
Ratatoskr blinked, surprised. Some of the nurses had tried to invite her before, but she always kept her distance. She didn’t want people treating them differently just for being seen with her—the naive girl who only had a job because it was convenient. But this time it was her supervisor inviting her… and she had a vague suspicion it wasn’t a coincidence.
“Oh, thanks for the invite, but my transportation is a bit complicated. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience yo"
"Don't worry about it. My boyfriend is driving Mercedes and me. You can come with us."
He must be talking about the red-haired man she’d seen a few times outside the hospital. She considered it for a few seconds. Lucious wasn’t the type to push, but she knew he’d back off if she truly looked uncomfortable. Still… she couldn’t quite bring herself to say no. Despite everything, she liked her coworkers. Maybe, just this once, hanging out with them wouldn’t cause any trouble.
So she nodded. Lucious smiled softly and told her he'd be waiting in the main parking lot in 15 minutes.
With renewed determination, she resumed her walk through the hospital. “Everything will be okay” didn’t really resonate with her anymore. But maybe things could get better.
On her way back, with the box of the correct medications in hand, a burst of laughter caught her attention. Pandreo stepped out of one of the offices, waving goodbye to someone inside. That’s when she realized she was in the pediatric ward. When he saw her, his face lit up and he took a few steps back inside the office. Then he returned and approached her.
“Hey Ratatoskr, how’ve you been?” Before she could answer, Pandreo went on, “Your sister says she’d be delighted if you paid her a visit.”
“H-huh??” So Heiðrún was on duty in that office… but she usually avoided distractions, so why—?
Pandreo laughed again. “You remind me of my sister when she was little. And I mean when she was cute.” Without another word, he patted her head and disappeared down the hallway. Ratatoskr just blinked. After a moment, she shook her head and decided she had time to spare before lunch, so she headed to the office and knocked lightly on the door. A soft “come in” answered.
Behind the desk—cluttered with folders, photographs, and supplies—sat Heiðrún, her pink smock harmonizing with the peach tones of the walls. Across from her sat a girl. Her short blond hair had light blue tips, the same shade as her eyes. Judging by the report her sister was holding, she was a patient.
An “oh” slipped out before Ratatoskr could stop herself, and she hurried to correct the mistake. “Excuse me, Heiðrún. I just thought I’d say hi because Pandreo mentioned you were here and I thought you were free, but—”
Heiðrún raised a hand, gently cutting her off. “It’s fine, Ratatoskr. We were just finishing up.” She paused, then smiled. “Actually, this is a perfect timing. I want you to meet Fjorm. Fjorm, this is Ratatoskr, my little sister.”
The girl stood up and gave a small nod, a soft smile on her face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Heiðrún has told me a lot about you.”
“Huh?” Ratatoskr said, caught off guard. Fjorm just laughed.
Heiðrún shook her head, her smile laced with amusement. “Fjorm has a rather big family too. It’s been a common topic since her first visit here.”
The blonde girl nodded. “Two older siblings and a younger sister. It can get chaotic sometimes.”
Ratatoskr chuckled, remembering the mess of mornings when her siblings had to get ready for school, and she rushed for homeroom. The kitchen was a disaster, and the only thing keeping their father from scolding them was the risk of being late.
Just then, a soft alarm echoed in the office. Fjorm’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I should get going! Hríd has a game today, I don’t want to delay him.”
Heiðrún reminded her of their next appointment as she said goodbye. Outside, a young man with purple hair and a girl her age with maroon eyes were waiting for her. When they left, Ratatoskr approached her sister, curiosity piqued.
"That was her brother and Laegjarn, her... friend." The conspiratorial tone in her sister’s voice hinted there was more to it, but she continued casually. "Fjorm was one of the first cases I was assigned. Watching her grow up these past years...it reminds me of you, heh."
Ratatoskr felt her cheeks warm. Heiðrún had moments like this - times when, no matter how grown-up she felt, she was reminded she’d always be the baby of the family. As she looked away, her gaze fell on one of the photographs. It was old. She couldn't have been more than a year old, cradled in her mother’s arms. The twins had inherited her mother’s carmine eyes, and Ratatoskr’s hair was just a few shades darker than Níðhöggr’s. There weren’t any pictures like that at home anymore.
Heiðrún noticed her gaze, and the silent question. "I kept it in my room, where Father wouldn't find it. It's safer here now."
Ratatoskr nodded, unsure what to say. The clouds that had followed her these past few days drifted closer. "Fjorm...is she all right?"
Her sister's face softened. "Oh yes, she usually comes for an asthma checkup. Although her symptoms have been a little different lately...but she’s doing fine."
"I'm glad to hear that." She hoped Fjorm’s family was still whole –happy. Heiðrún must have noticed the shift in her expression; her brows furrowed slightly in concern.
Before she could say anything, Ratatoskr smiled and hugged her tightly. "I have an outing now, but I'm glad I stopped by. See you later!"
And she practically ran off, justifying it to herself by noting there were only five minutes left before lunch.
༄˖°.❦.ೃ࿔*:❧･.
As soon as she closed the door to her room, she slid down to the floor. The tiredness pressing on her shoulders couldn't have been just physical. Even while sitting, she felt short of breath. Maybe she wanted to cry, but she didn't want to draw anyone else's attention, just in case one of her siblings was home.
Lunch had gone well. Initially. Mercedes and Lissa had always been kind, so chatting with them had been easy and fun. Lucious had joined them for a bit too. But the peace didn't last. And soon the atmosphere turned into an electrical net -Ratatoskr enclosed within its perimeter- when Serra muttered, not very discreetly, "I thought she was very privileged to join us."
Mercedes had gently scolded her. But then another assistant, sitting at a nearby table, added, " Yeah, having a criminal for a father is a kind of privilege.”
And Ratatoskr froze. The murmurs were constant, but she had never heard that before. People whispered about how her and her siblings' hiring had been rigged, how shameless Níðhöggr was, how cold Hræsvelgr acted, among other things. But…her father, a criminal? What did they mean?
The comments that began to emerge were quickly shut down by Lucious, who remembered that lunch was meant to be peaceful. Mercedes had rubbed her arm and told her not to worry- she knew her family, and that was what mattered. And although Ratatoskr had smiled gratefully then, her mind couldn't help but wander.
With Læraðr’s increasing absences, the tension between the twins, and the strange glances and whispers shared by Eikþyrnir and Heiðrún that always stopped when she approached…all she could think was—Mercedes was wrong. Did she really know them? They weren't the same family she'd grown up with. Back then, any distance or wall between them was reachable. Eventually, they narrowed. But now…
When the tears hit her arms, she stood up, urgently wiping her face. No. She wouldn’t cry. She was an adult now. She had to focus on her duties. If she just did her job well…maybe the rest would follow.
She approached her small desk, determined to take care of her plants, and then shower, finish her reports, and prepare for her next shift.
But as she reaches the first plant, she noticed five wooden figurines on the floor next to the desk -each shaped like a different animal: a deer, a snake, an eagle, a goat…and a squirrel, the smallest of them all.
Her breath caught for a second.
The tears flowed, quiet this time. She picked up the squirrel and sat down on her bed, every bit of strength drained from her limbs. And as she hugged the figurine, she remembered the sixth, that completed the set, a leafy tree that had been lost long ago.
༄˖°.❦.ೃ࿔*:❧･.
Although they didn’t cross paths often, Ratatoskr knew that the major surgery ward wasn’t far from her own. —two floors above. It wasn’t where she usually worked, her usual assignment was in the ER. That was why the order to assist in a major surgery, under none other than Hræsvelgr, had come as a surprise.
Her hands trembled slightly as she climbed the stairs. She still had time, but her pace was brisk. She focused on preparing thoroughly, hoping that careful preparation would reduce the chance of mistakes.
At the entrance of the operating room, after donning the required equipment, her gaze met a scarlet one. Her body froze, but Hræsvelgr only gave a nod.
“Níðhöggr must have already administered the anesthesia.” A pause, her eyes hardening for a moment. “It’s your first time here, so…I know you’ll do well.”
Ratatoskr nodded, hiding her restless hands behind her back. Before, those words would have filled her with pride—Hræ, in her rough manner, was showing trust in her skills. Now… she couldn’t shake the sharp thought that she was silently judging her, just as their Father would.
Upon stepping into the operating room, however, she took a deep breath and waited for the patient to be brought in. It was a high-risk surgery; she had to focus.
She held her breath as she recognized the soft features. It was Fjorn. Remembering her smile the other day, all she could do was feel grateful that Hræsvelgr was the surgeon in charge.
A few minutes passed. The scalp incision had barely been made when the monitors spiked sharply.
The world froze for a second, and in the next, the word hypotension echoed relentlessly in her mind.
Immediately, Hræsvelgr straightened and, in a firm voice, called for additional IV lines and an urgent blood. Ratatoskr focused on the task, rushing for supplies alongside the other nurses.
The last thing she heard was another assistant’s exclamation, shouting the emergency protocol: “Patient’s has gone into cardiac arrest.”
༄˖°.❦.ೃ࿔*:❧･.
Fjorn was safe.
The team’s rapid response had stabilized her in time, though there remained a risk of neurological sequelae. She had a cerebral AVM, and treating it was inherently risky. The Central Hospital of Askr had the most qualified staff in the region, so her family had approved the procedure. Heiðrún had encouraged them; she trusted her colleagues…her family.
Fjorn had been on the brink of death. Because of a medical error. Not at Hræsvelgr’s hands.
After evaluating the crisis, it was determined that the incident was caused by an anesthesia dose slightly above the recommended level.
The shadow across Hræsvelgr’s face was the only visible sign of her fury. And Ratatoskr…the relief that Fjorn was alive clashed violently with the storm inside her. Hræsvelgr’s phone lit up with an incoming call. It was Eikþyrnir.
Her sister walked away with heavy steps. “Do you understand what this means, Eikþyrnir? It’s been too much—too much!”
She didn’t hear more. Her eyes fixed on her feet, fingers in a tight grip on her lap. The only sound in the hallway was the ticking of a clock, so as soon as the sound of footsteps approached, she looked up. From the opposite direction of where Hræsvelgr had left came another crimson gaze.
Níðhöggr had run there, judging by her heavy breathing. When she saw Ratatoskr, she paused for a moment, brows furrowing with concern.
“Ratatoskr, I…”
Whatever feelings had overwhelmed her until that moment stopped, and without realizing it, replaced instantly by anger—or fear. It didn’t matter—her voice broke into a shout. “I don’t understand!”
Níðhöggr stopped. Ratatoskr stood and, without looking at her, continued. “I don’t understand how we got to this point! I’m tired of not understanding—of not understanding you, or any of you!”
With a sigh, Níðhöggr raised her hands in surrender. “This is a very serious moment, I know. But of course, this wasn’t my intention—it was a terrible mistake and—"
“How can you make a mistake like this!? Lives are in your hands, Níðhöggr. I saw you and the others work yourselves to exhaustion to get everything right, because we have a duty. I’m here because of you. Because I thought I could do it too. To follow you, but—everything has fallen apart, and I don’t know what to do anymore, what to trust in!”
By then, tears had started to fall. She wiped them harshly from her cheeks, but they kept coming. She only wanted to leave, to go home, and wake up in the morning to find it had all been a cruel dream. But it wasn’t, and she didn’t know how she would face the rest once she left that hospital.
“Not in her, clearly.”
Hræsvelgr’s voice broke the silence. Ratatoskr’s vision was still blurred, but the silhouettes on the other side were all too familiar: her siblings.
Níðhöggr’s shoulders slumped, but before she could speak, her twin continued.
“I told you again and again. And don’t try to deny it—your office reeks of alcohol. What will you do, Níðhöggr? You can’t escape, not from this.”
“Still trying to impose yourself, huh? I’ll follow protocol. What else?”
Her irritated reply only made Hræsvelgr scowl deeper. Eikþyrnir then stepped in.
“Enough. Arguing won’t solve anything. Níðhöggr, go on—I assume you’ve already been summoned to the director’s board.”
They all understood the added weight that implied. Níðhöggr only nodded, apprehension in her stance. Eikþyrnir tilted his head, his dark gaze steady. In silence, they watched Níðhöggr walk away. As soon as she turned around the corner, Hræsvelgr exploded.
“That’s it?”
“There’s nothing else to be done—the committee and the board will handle it.”
“You’re unbelievable! You never do more! Always leaving it to others, just following orders.”
Eikþyrnir frowned, then closed his eyes briefly and answered in a still-calm tone. “Isn’t that what we all do? This is a hospital, not a game. Order is fundamental, and you know it.”
The dark-haired woman seemed ready to retort. Ratatoskr had never seen her argue like that, especially not with Eikþyrnir. But…they had never been in such a circumstance before either.
Before she could hear more, Heiðrún placed a hand on her shoulder and gently guided her down the corridor.
Ratatoskr resisted for a moment, but exhaustion won, so she followed her sister’s lead. After a few minutes, they reached one of the exits. The lights of a car blinked as they stepped outside.
“Lady Henriette will take you home. Go and…try to rest, alright? We’ll take care of everything…”
Henriette and her family were old friends. Her children, a few years older than Ratatoskr, had sometimes looked after her when she was a child. So their presence wasn’t strange. No—the problem was that they were pushing her away. Again. Leaving her in others’ hands, as if that would help. But Ratatoskr was tired, and for once, even if she thought nothing would be alright, she didn’t want to think anymore.
In silence, she parted from Heiðrún’s side and got into the car.
She only managed a faint nod at Henriette’s greeting, and at Sharena, who was in the passenger seat. She could feel their worried gazes on her, but she had no energy left. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried by the city’s sounds and the sway of the car.
༄˖°.❦.ೃ࿔*:❧･.
If the previous weeks had been silent and cold, the last two days seemed frozen in time. The sound in the house was minimal—Ratatoskr wasn’t even sure where her siblings were.
Lucious had called, telling her she could take a few days off if she wanted. She accepted. There was no way she could see patients with a clear mind.
That night, however, she heard noise downstairs.
Quick footsteps echoed through the hallway as she neared the door, but when she opened it, no one was there. She decided to go down the stairs.
Heiðrún was in the living room, sitting on the couch with a cup between her hands. Her expression softened as soon as she saw her coming down.
“Ratatoskr… I was worried you wouldn’t come out. Your food’s in the fridge, in case—” Heiðrún left the sentence unfinished, probably noticing her sister’s unease.
Ratatoskr wasn’t really hungry, but she still appreciated the concern. “Thanks, though I don’t think I’ll eat right now. Um… I heard some noise earlier. Did something happen?”
Her sister hesitated for a few seconds, one hand letting go of the cup to play with one of her braids. After a sigh, she looked back at Ratatoskr.
“Níðhöggr came to pick up some things. She’s been officially suspended, so she’s… a bit tense.”
Ratatoskr didn’t wait any longer and went upstairs again. A sharp sense of urgency pushed her to find Níðhöggr. When she passed by the room the twins usually stayed in, she found it empty.
A sudden cold breeze swept through the hallway, drawing her gaze to the small rooftop terrace. It was tiny—barely enough space for a flowerpot and a stool. And at the edge of it stood Níðhöggr.
Her eyes were fixed on the night sky, a glass bottle resting by her side. Even without seeing the label, it wasn’t hard to guess what kind of drink it was.
Ratatoskr sat cautiously on the other end of the stool.
Silence reigned for a while. Eventually, Níðhöggr broke it first.
“Do you have something to say? I imagine Heiðrún already told you the fantastic news.”
The sarcastic tone made Ratatoskr falter. She hadn’t really thought about what to say, only that she didn’t want to leave things as they had been after their last talk.
Her eyes fell on the bottle again, and the words escaped before she could stop them.
“Nídr, why? Even after everything, you still…” she gestured vaguely toward the bottle.
Her sister wrapped a hand around it but stopped just short of bringing it to her lips. Ratatoskr saw her grip tremble before she set the bottle down with a dull thud. She hid her face in her hands.
What came next caught Ratatoskr off guard—even in the darkness, the moonlight revealed silent tears slipping through her sister’s fingers.
“Damn it. I- how ridiculous. I was supposed to have this under control. All of it.”
She still didn’t look up, though her hands had lowered.
Ratatoskr couldn’t begin to guess half of what was running through her mind, but the frustration in Níðhöggr’s posture and those words…
All her siblings struggled in their own ways, but the twins had always been especially closed off—each in her own fashion. Hræsvelgr with her cold perfectionism, and Níðhöggr with her constant avoidance of problems.
Læraðr had always seemed particularly demanding of them. Maybe because Eikþyrnir had never been confrontational, unlike the twins.
A soft sob pulled Ratatoskr out of her thoughts.
Her sister now had her back to her, but it was impossible not to notice her shoulders trembling. Ratatoskr stared, unsure how to comfort her. Part of her was still angry, but seeing Níðhöggr trying to suppress her tears, exhaustion visible in every movement—perhaps years of it—made something deep inside her ache to help.
Her first words came out choked, so she cleared her throat softly and placed a hand on Níðhöggr’s shoulder. “It’s okay if you can’t talk right now… I— and the others—will be here.”
After a few seconds of silence, Níðhöggr calmed down a little.
“Do you know why we chose this line of work, Ratatoskr? Heiðrún was fascinated by Eik’s old pediatrician. When no one could get him out of his depression, that man was the only one who managed to motivate him to keep up with his treatments. Eik was a stubborn kid, you know? He wouldn’t even listen to Mother.”
A trembling smile appeared on her face. Ratatoskr stayed quiet.
“Eik swore after that he’d make up for all the exercise he’d missed because of his asthma. And that he’d help others like him. They knew exactly what they wanted. No matter what…others thought. But me, and Hræ? We just chose what everyone else overlooks, what they can’t afford. Because there were expectations to fulfill.”
Níðhöggr paused for a moment, glaring bitterly at the bottle.
“And now even those expectations have left us behind. And this?”—she lifted the bottle—“it stopped being just for fun in college. It’s the only thing that keeps me from feeling miserable.”
Ratatoskr felt a deep hollow open in her chest. How long had they all been suffering in silence?
Yes, they were adults, and she kept telling herself she had to handle her problems like one. But they had always been there for each other. And when they stopped watching each other’s backs, the cracks widened, spreading far beyond what their hands could hold.
Before she could say anything, Níðhöggr spoke again.
“I guess I was always a ticking disaster. A matter of time.” For the first time, she looked Ratatoskr straight in the eyes. “I know it’s cynical, but only now do I really see it. I’m so sorry, Ratatoskr. Although you’re not the only one I owe apologies to…Just another reason for the ‘I-hate-myself’ list, huh.”
Ratatoskr moved instinctively, reaching out to grab her sister’s free hand tightly. Níðhöggr barely hid her look of surprise.
“Nid, don’t say that! You can get better- this can all get better! I’m still… disappointed, yes—more than I am angry—but that doesn’t change that you’re my sister, and these last few months have been insane and- and-”
By that point, her own eyes were full of tears. Níðhöggr’s startled expression pushed her to finish, voice trembling.
“I just want to see you—see us—get better. I know it’s complicated, I know I might never fully understand you, or our other siblings. I don’t even understand what’s going on with Father. But that doesn’t matter as much as trying- trying to fix it. Together or…apart. But I’ll be there for you! Don’t forget that. As much as I can, I-”
Níðhöggr pulled her into a hug, cutting her off. She no longer seemed to be crying, though her voice still trembled.
“You’re still a chatty little squirrel…” She had never sounded so gentle before. “But you’ve grown. You sound more grounded than even any of us. That’s crazy… I’ll try, I want to. I’ve neglected so many things since-”
She stopped herself.
“Well, like you said, it doesn’t matter.”
Was she talking about their father? Níðhöggr went on before Ratatoskr could ask.
“I don’t think things will be okay anytime soon, but at least I’ll try to stop being the mess I’ve been—or, well, that everything’s been—lately.”
With that, she let go, avoiding eye contact but visibly calmer than when they’d started talking.
Ratatoskr felt her own body relax. At least her sister seemed a little motivated—it was a start. She would keep her promise; she’d be there for Níðhöggr and any of her siblings, no matter how insignificant her support seemed.
No—no more overly negative thoughts. She had to try too. To control what she could and improve what she was able to. It seemed the talk hadn’t only motivated Níðhöggr…
Her sister stood up. “Well, I think that’s all for now. Any longer here and the last bit of sanity I have will leave. See you… maybe. I’ll try—get- get some rest, Ratatoskr.”
With a small wave and the faintest hint of a smile, she disappeared through the door.
Ratatoskr stayed seated for a few moments, processing the moment—and the calm.
That was it. It wasn’t a full calm, there was still worry and doubt rooted deep in her heart, but it was better than what she’d felt these past days. There was a ray of light amid the darkness. She only hoped Níðhöggr would follow through on her words and seek more help.
Then, she remembered the question that had crossed her mind when Níðhöggr spoke earlier. She had brushed past it quickly, as if covering something up. A small thorn of curiosity returned.
Apparently, Níðhöggr also knew more about their father than she was saying.
Ratatoskr shook her head. She didn’t want to ruin what little calm she’d found by diving back into the family’s other… situations. There had been progress—or rather, a chance for progress—with her sister. The best thing now was to sleep… and let it all sink in.
༄˖°.❦.ೃ࿔*:❧･.
“Ratatoskr, do you have a moment?”
After coming back from the hospital, Ratatoskr was preparing tea in the kitchen when Eikþyrnir approached. She couldn’t help tensing up for a moment. She hadn’t spoken with her brother since the incident. The heavy look on his face didn’t help her relax either.
“Ah, um, sure. I was just going to drink this before…” She hadn’t actually planned anything, now that she thought about it.
Eikþyrnir nodded. “Then you can join us outside.”
On sunny days—and when their schedules aligned—Heiðrún and Eik usually had tea together at the picnic table in the backyard. Ratatoskr followed him out, her pinky tapping rapidly against her teacup.
Heiðrún was already sitting at the table, arranging some snacks. When Ratatoskr and Eikþyrnir approached, she greeted them with a small nod. The harmless smile on her face was betrayed by the frantic movement of her fingers toyed with one of her braids.
If Ratatoskr had already been nervous, that gesture made her palms sweat. She hoped they would get straight to the point; the tension between her siblings was obvious.
After a few sips of tea—and with none of them touching the snacks—Heiðrún sighed and began to speak.
“The other day, when Níð came by, I went looking for you to make sure everything was okay.”
Ratatoskr tensed slightly. “I’m sorry, I tried not to listen too much but… something caught my attention. And that’s why we’re here.”
Heiðrún cast a firm look at her brother. “We’re going to tell you what we know about Father. We should’ve done it sooner, but… it was something the two of us made. I’m sorry, Ratatoskr.”
Ratatoskr blinked twice. Hearing someone acknowledge the issue with her father startled her enough that she almost missed the rest of what Heiðrún said. So she had been right—both Heiðrún and Eikþyrnir knew what was going on. She assumed Hræsvelgr and Níðhöggr had some idea too, though probably not to the same extent.
It would be a lie to say it didn’t sting a little, being left out for so long. She had been so busy and then… then everything happened, and looking deeper into Læraðr had simply slipped her mind. Their family had already fallen apart enough without adding him to the list.
“It’s okay, Heid. I really… don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t worry, we’re the ones who owe you an explanation. Eik?”
Her brother avoided her eyes as he spoke. A rare sign of hesitation—Eikþyrnir was usually composed, no matter the situation—. Maybe she wasn’t the only one dealing with unusual emotions lately.
“I… I’m sorry too. It wasn’t something we both decided. I was the one who insisted we say nothing.”
Heiðrún opened her mouth to speak, but Eikþyrnir shook his head and continued.
“I thought it was best for everyone, especially for you. You were about to take such an important step; I didn’t want to worry you. I’d take care of everything—it was my duty. But… all I did was give you more to worry about. I’m really sorry, we shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have left you to deal with things alone.”
The guilt was clear, especially in the way Eikþyrnir’s shoulders sagged. But this was more honesty than Ratatoskr had gotten in days, so she took one of his hands, hoping to show both gratitude and understanding. Everyone had so much on their plate. She could never resent her siblings for trying to protect her.
She hadn’t even noticed the tears spilling until Heiðrún’s hand gently wiped them from her cheek. With a gentle smile, Heiðrún looked back at her brother, urging him to continue.
After taking a breath, Eikþyrnir explained everything he knew. About a year ago, he had begun noticing strange patterns Læraðr’s outings and how long he stayed away. It made sense—Father was a man of routines; he needed them to balance his hospital work and his duties at Yggdrasil. But soon, rumors began spreading among the hospital staff, and Eikþyrnir decided to investigate: following their father, speaking with people frequenting the clinic—slowly unraveling part of the mystery surrounding Læraðr.
Bribes. Eikþyrnir didn’t know how much was Father’s own will or coercion, but it was clear money was moving under the table. Giving priority to those who paid more. Something she would never have expected from her father. The one thing she wanted to believe was still intact in him… his dedication, his integrity.
Their relationship with him had never been good per se, but the change in recent months was noticeable. Every conversation was full of silent expectations and clear reproach—but he was still present. Moments of calm—or neutrality—were common. Now, seeing him at home for more than an hour was rare. But if all this was true… Læraðr was not just distant anymore. He was a stranger.
Ratatoskr blinked quickly to stop her tears. There were priorities.
“Thank you for telling me. I… I don’t know what to think, but—”
A sudden thought flooded her. “Oh! Are you okay? You didn’t put yourself in danger investigating all this, did you?”
Eikþyrnir opened his mouth to respond, but one reproachful look from Heiðrún silenced him immediately.
“Thankfully, no one seems to suspect us. Maybe because we haven’t gone too deep yet… and honestly, I doubt we will. That’s why I ended up involved as well… Eik can be careless with himself, someone had to keep an eye on him.”
Her brother rolled his eyes—a rare gesture—but judging by his posture, he was more relaxed than usual.
“I just worry… we’ve been neglecting each other enough already.” She said the last part in almost a whisper, and guilt immediately clouded Eikþyrnir’s eyes. Ratatoskr shrank slightly in her seat and took a sip of tea.
“Ratatoskr, if you need anything… just tell me—tell us, please. I know you’re still dealing with the shortage of nurses in your area, and we’ve left you handling that alone. I’m sorry.”
Heiðrún nodded. “When you have time, go to him”—she gestured at Eik—“or to me. We’ll help you sort out the whole situation. Even if we’re not directly involved, the problems in that place are never all that different.” She ended with a sigh.
Ratatoskr stayed silent for a moment. Warmth spread through her chest, and her shoulders relaxed for the first time in a long while.
“Thank you… and really, it’s okay. But if you’re planning on being more present then… then you should include the twins too.”
Though shaky at first, her voice ended steady. Ratatoskr wasn’t naïve—she knew their family would never go back to what it used to be. And that was fine. Maybe they had to build something new with the pieces they still had around them. And if all her siblings could help… that would be wonderful.
Talking was the first step—just like with Níðhöggr. And judging by Heiðrún’s smile and the determination in Eikþyrnir’s eyes, they must have thought the same.
“Of course. In fact, I called Níðhöggr recently to talk about a possible treatment. The only one left would be Hræsvelgr…she’s been overworking herself lately.” Heiðrún’s tone was hopeful but worry still lingered.
This time, Ratatoskr was the one to reach out, taking one of each of her siblings’ hands. Her smile came with an ease she had almost forgotten.
“We’ll talk about everything. But if we’re determined, I trust we can handle it—little by little, together this time.”