The mud was drying on his face in a crust. His hands were shaking, but not from the cold. The crows had left a while ago; they had been entertained enough for one day.
"...What are you doing?"
"...Ahh!" Alekke yelped, twisting so fast he nearly slipped again. His sword hit the ground with a dull thud, half-swallowed by the mud.
Signe stood at the edge of the yard, one brow arched like always, her braid was wind-frayed, and the blue ribbon at the end fluttered in the wind.
"Could you please stop sneaking up on me?" Alekke muttered, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
Signe didn't answer. She stepped down from the stone path, boots sinking slightly into the churned-up yard.
"You're bleeding," she said.
Alekke looked at his palm, and he was surprised. Blood and muck. It looked like something scraped off a butcher's block. It was gross but cool. Then he stared back at her.
"What do you want?" he said, crouching down and picking up the wooden sword.
Signe studied him with her arms crossed. "...you're holding the sword wrong, and your stance is…bad. No. Worse. It is wretched."
Alekke scowled, wiping the muck off the wooden sword with his palm. "Are you here to berate me too? I've been getting berated all day, and hell's, I am getting very, very annoyed of it," he said. "... and I'm holding it right; this is how you're supposed to hold it."
"No, you're not. You're leaning too far forward; your back foot's dead. You rely on your arms but not your hips; it's only a matter of time before you break your wrists."
He scowled again, looking away.
"Well, anyways… I… err…" She hesitated, staring at the sword, the words caught in her throat. "Sorry. About yesterday. I didn't mean to call you that. That was rude… I'm sorry."
Alekke blinked. For a moment, he had no idea what she was talking about; nothing surfaced. Then it arrived, like a numbed bruise.
She had called him a bastard.
The word settled between them; it wasn't cruel. It wasn't new. Still, it stung, but that's what a bruise does when it's been there too long to truly hurt. After a while it becomes numb, familiar, and aching only because it's been pressed again.
Signe shifted at his silence; she didn't have much problem with the mud on her boots.
Alekke sighed, not angry.
"It's fine," he said, voice low. "Just… Don't pity me. I hate that."
Signe opened her mouth but quickly closed it.
They both stayed awkwardly silent.
"So," he said finally, his voice flat. "You came all the way down here to apologize?"
"Mm…" She nodded. "Uh… I'll be going now."
Signe turned slightly, as if to go, with one last glance at the wooden sword. Her boots stayed planted in the muck.
Then she started stepping away from the mud, not as clingy on her boots compared to his.
"Signe, wait."
Signe stopped and turned back around. "What?"
He stepped forward, slow and stiff, the mud clinging with its strongest grip. His grip on the sword is loose now.
He met her eyes, and her mouth tightened.
Alekke tilted his head, faintly smirking, but not enough to call it a real smirk.
"You think you're sooo slick, huh? You came down here for more than just an apology."
The wind tugged at her braid again. The ribbon fluttering once, twice, like a banner.
He held out the sword for her.
Signe looked at the sword, then at him, then back again. Her hands were clasped.
She swallowed
"I—uh… I can't, Alekke." She said, her voice low and slightly shaky.
"Come on… yes, you can!" He said, stepping forward and practically shoving the sword in her face.
Both their eyes flicked to the keep, to the high windows where no one stood, but knowing how mischievous the gods can be, they would summon someone there.
"I can't…. I'll get in a lot of trouble."
Alekke sighed.
"If they catch you, I'll say I forced it on you. They'll shout, maybe spank me a few times with the stupid paddle, but who cares?" He let out a chuckle, though it was faltering. "I'm always in trouble anyways, so, Signe, trust me, you're fine."
Signe didn't take the sword. She stared at it, like the sword was a seductive snake.
"No, don't do that!" She said, "And what if people start looking at me weird or whisper about me?" she said, her voice still unsure.
"So what? They already whisper and look at me like I'm some weirdo…" He said. "...And it's not as bad as you think!"
Signe's brow furrowed. She looked down at her boots, then glanced at the sword again.
"I don't want to be like you," she said quietly.
Alekke blinked. "Uhh… What?"
Signe winced. "I didn't mean i—"
"Gods—ughh…! I don't want to be me either, now just shut up and hold the sword already!" He groaned, pushing the sword even further into her face.
Signe flinched, not from fear, but from the force of his frustration.
"Fine…" she muttered, and took the sword.