Saga found it hard to concentrate on anything the next day. It felt wrong of her to sit and do nothing when the knights and Viggo were preparing to leave, but she also didn't know what she could do to help. For a bit, she had contemplated asking Viggo about it, though she had quickly thought better of it. She would only disturb him if she did, and he was busy enough as it was.

As such, she found herself walking rather aimlessly around the castle. Sitting still alone in the bedroom would do nothing except spike her worries. She ventured into the part of the castle on the bottom floor in the opposite direction of the dining hall, as she realised she hadn't ever gone to the end of that side.

She assumed the part of the castle to be empty and cold, but to her surprise, it smelled more and more of different herbs the further in she went. Lavender, chamomile, and a rather bitter scent she couldn't place.

The room furthest in had its door wide open, and faint sounds of bubbling and glass clinking together slipped out from it. Reaching it, Saga looked inside and had to smooth her expression out to not have her surprise on display.

It was a mixture of a bedroom, office space, and work space. A bed stood in a corner; a table was overloaded with parchments and quills. Books lay here and there all over the floor. Shelves overflowed with even more books and parchments. And a bench was covered in various instruments such as scales and drawing compasses, glass bottles, and herbs. By the bench, Hrafen stood and moved an ointment of some kind from a bowl and into smaller glass containers.

"I never thought you had a bedroom," the greatest of Saga's surprises slipped through her lips. With how the mage always was in the library, no matter what hour she ventured there, she had quite frankly assumed the mage had decided to make the library his living space.

"Of course I do. Why would the Lady think such a foolish thing?" Hrafen huffed, then added, with a nod towards another bowl, "Can you stir the lavender mixture? It's about to boil over."

Saga looked over the table and saw the offending concoction. It was watery with a purple hue to it, and indeed about to boil over the edge.

She went to it, took the wooden spoon which lay next to it, placed it in the bowl, and began stirring.

"What is all of this?" she asked while the boiling went down as the spoon swirled around in the liquid.

"Different kinds of ointments and such to help with potential wounds. What you got there will help keep a wounded person calm while someone tends to their injuries," Hrafen explained.

"And the one you are pouring?" Saga wondered next while eying the soft green cream.

"It helps bring down infections and heal wounds."

Hrafen got the last of the ointment into a container, then flicked his hand. As soon as he had, Saga noticed the liquid she stirred simmer down until it stopped boiling completely. Hrafen then brought out a cloth which he covered the bowl with.

"Can the Lady peel these?" Hrafen asked and handed her a bunch of garlic.

"You use garlic for medicine?" Saga gasped. She had never thought the plant could be used for anything other than cooking, and something only the lower classes would use, considering how much disdain it had been talked about within her father's estate.

"It can help with ridding, or at least lessening the effects of various poisons," the mage explained while busying himself with some green leaves Saga didn't know what they were. She was on her way to ask when Hrafen spoke again, "So what made the Lady come all the way down this corridor and to me?"

Saga took the garlic and began peeling to keep her hands busy instead of having them picking at her own nails. She got a clove loose and ripped a bit of the peel off, though after she got the first layer off, the next one stuck to the garlic. With her nails, she got a small piece of it off, and she was about to rip a bit more away when Hrafen placed a cutting board and a knife in front of her.

"It's easier if you cut the end bit off," he told her and took a clove. With the knife, he removed the part which had been connected to the garlic bulb, then proceeded to easily remove all the peel.

Saga mirrored his action on the clove she had started peeling, and on the next while considering how to answer the mage. But as she thought, she found she wanted to tell him the truth, that she even felt comfortable admitting it to him. The mage was blunt, often condescending and rude, but he was real. Saga felt certain he would hear her out, even if he then might answer her with something offensive. Though even the potentially offensive answer wouldn't be a bother, not exactly. It would be Hrafen speaking his mind, being absolutely truthful, without worrying about her reaction.

Though condescending, Hrafen treated her as an equal.

"I just couldn't remain alone with my thoughts, so I was simply wandering about." She swallowed back the worry rising and tightening everything in her.

"It is only natural for the Lady to be worried," Hrafen answered with far more understanding than anything he had ever told her before. "But the Lord will be fine. He always survives, one way or another."

"How can you all be so sure about that? Viggo also keeps insisting I needn't worry, but anything can happen," she exclaimed and cut through the garlic clove with a thud.

"The Lady is, of course, right about that. But she's also not seen the Lord fighting with all he is capable of. And besides, if the Lord would be in any danger, then Saga of the house of Sejd would know it before it even happens. Would you not?" he glanced at her before collecting the leaves he had cut and placing them all in a bowl.

"I can't decide what of the future I'll see," she refuted him.

"But have you seen him in danger?"

She shook her head, as the only recent dream she had had of Viggo had been him safe and sound sitting in a forest with Audun.

"Then you ought to trust your ability, and trust he will be safe."

She swallowed again, but didn't say anything against Hrafen's words. She really hoped he was right, but she found it hard to convince her heart of it. Her insides beat with the rhythm of her worries.

"Those are enough. Put them in here." He stretched the bowl he had put the leaves in to her, and she did as told. Then she watched in silence as Hrafen mashed the garlic and leaves together into a paste.

"You're not being like yourself," Saga pointed out as Hrafen continued to work.

"What could the Lady mean?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're being nice."

A fleeting smile crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had arrived. "You're hurting this poor mage's heart by believing he isn't capable of any kindness."

"You've not shown any before."

"Are you this blunt and honest with everyone, or do you reserve all your truths for me while lying to everyone else?"

His question made Saga smile. It was more like how she was used to Hrafen being. The rudeness. The condescending tone. His previous niceness hadn't sat well with her. A script suddenly changing its narrative. It made her fear that he hid something.

"You didn't answer my question," she said instead of answering his.

"Because you didn't ask any. But I assume by that, the Lady wants to know why I'm being nicer, as she put it, than normal. Well, the Lady is helping me. The least I can do in return is feign politeness."

Saga rolled her eyes. His words were a good reason for anyone but him. Saga doubted something like that would earn his kindness, according to him. But as he hadn't answered her truthfully, she knew he wouldn't even if she called him on his lie. So she let the topic go.

"I want to give Viggo something," she confessed instead. "Something he can bring with him. But I don't know what."

The mage stopped the stirring he had been busy with to turn and look at her with eyebrows raised far up his forehead. "And the Lady is asking me for suggestions? What would I know about what a wife might give to her husband?"

Saga's cheeks warmed, and her eyes turned to a pile of books on the floor. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'll take my leave and not disturb you more."

She turned, but before she reached the door, Hrafen sighed.

"He will not care about what it is. He will treasure it as long as it comes from the Lady. But..." Looking at him again, Saga saw the mage go over to a cupboard from which he retrieved a bunch of bone shards and equipment to carve into the bones with. "The Lady is welcome to pick any of these and carve something into it to give as a token of her care."

The mage turned his back on her to continue his work, but Saga smiled at him. As rough as the mage could be, as uncomfortable as he sometimes made her feel, he truly held some kind of affection.

Then she walked over to where he had left the bone shards out. Her fingers moved over the different pieces, felt them and measured them in her hands. Like when she had picked the bone for her storage stone, the shards spoke to her in different ways. Some felt completely wrong, others more right. But it was one rather long and thin with a loop at one end, perfect to thread a leather string through, which held her attention the most.

She picked it, then thought for a bit about what to carve into it. Nothing in particular came to mind, so in the end she simply wrote an S at the bottom of it.

"Do you have some leather string?" she then asked Hrafen.

The mage turned back to her, his eyes narrowed at the piece of bone in her hands. "The Lady certainly knows how to rob me," he grumbled before reaching for another cupboard and taking out some leather for her to use. "That piece of bone came from a dragon. A complete waste to use it for some silly charm, so make sure the Lord knows to value it."

Shaking her head, Saga decided to not answer him. From the interactions that day, Saga couldn't help but wonder if the mage's insults had more to do with himself than anything about her, and that he, contrary to his words, didn't mind in the slightest that she had picked such a rare piece of bone.

"Thank you," she told Hrafen when she was done threading a leather string through the hole in the bone. "Both for the bone and for answering my questions about the herbs."

She moved to leave for a second time, but again Hrafen's voice interrupted her before she could.

"The Lady seems very used to following orders. Even from those socially beneath her."

"Excuse me?" Saga exclaimed as she swirled to face him. A heavy, dark feeling grew in her stomach.

"Only an observation," Hrafen said, piercing her with his turquoise eyes; the unnaturalness of the colour making the stare more unsettling. "The Lady did not hesitate as I asked her to stir before. Didn't question why she should be the one to peel the garlic. A woman of her status would have at least been begrudging in her assistance, but the Lady rather seemed happy to help."

Saga's mouth felt completely dry, and she found no words.

"From all I've learnt about the Lady," Hrafen went on, "I would assume she was treated rather poorly for being the daughter of a duke, but she also seems adamant about keeping that a secret. My guess is that she fears those around her will look down on her if they knew."

Her brain screamed at her to deny what he was saying, but again, words were lost to her. She only knew he couldn't find out, that Viggo wasn't allowed to know.

"But that's where the Lady is wrong." Hrafen's stare softened. "There is not a single person within this castle's walls who would think any less of the Lady if she told them about her father's treatment. It is more likely they would curse her father out and stand firm by her side. So I hope you will consider telling Viggo, or someone else, exactly how cruel your father's treatment was."

She shook her head. Uncertain what she shook her head for, but she still shook it.

"There's nothing to tell anyone," she whispered to the mage, and caught a glimpse of tiredness in his eyes. Heard his sigh as she hurried away from him. As she tried to escape all thoughts of who she had been before she came to Sinkbek, and her own certainty that they all would see her differently if they knew.