CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of child neglect, implied/referenced terminal illness

Significance was not a privilege afforded to the middle child. Her whole life, Astrid had grown up knowing this truth, and her whole life she’d made an effort to ignore it as much as possible. She was a troublemaker, a problem causer, an attention seeker – anything that would get someone to just care about her for a moment. Just a split second.

Sure, sometimes they did, but it was never at the right time. That’s why she’d given away the ring. She didn’t like jewelry, and the value of a piece of metal was worthless in the face of being neglected. Sure, they’d fed her and clothed her, but what about her emotions? The truth was that she was part of a village full of children she didn’t fit in with and adults that wouldn’t give any of them the time of day, especially in her house. Yeah, maybe she’d taken it too far, but what else was she supposed to do? 17, cusping on the part of her life where she would need support to transition into adulthood, and still little more than furniture.

Thank every divine force she was finally out of there.

Now, Astrid was free to sprint through the wilderness, followed by a group of four other people who obviously cared enough to chase after her or lift her up so she could see what they were seeing. Esko, for all his prickly exterior, was fair and forward-thinking with empathy buried somewhere in those eyes. Finner, prideful though he was, kept everyone else tethered to reality, stating the truth plain as day. Olifur was shy but obviously very kind, with a deep wisdom in their words that Astrid would’ve usually attributed to a village elder. Greta was open and bright, wearing her heart on her sleeve and leading with optimism in every situation.

And they paid attention to her. They asked her how she was doing, made sure she got a good sleep at night, and took the time to show they cared. They weren’t exactly perfect, but they were certainly better. So much better.

“Do any of you have a favorite color?” Greta asked idly, moving slowly enough so Astrid could keep up without straining herself. There had been an issue they discovered, which was that as freakishly fast as the Gnome was, her stamina was lacking. “Mine’s deep green, like pine needles.”

“Pond color,” Finner replied from up ahead.

“That’s not a color,” Greta sighed at him. Astrid held back a snicker.

“It absolutely is. Deep blue-green, almost black.”

“So the color of your pond specifically?” Esko asked from up ahead in a tone between genuinely curious and mildly exasperated.

“Exactly. And for the record, it’s actually a small lake.”

Despite the correction, Astrid could’ve sworn she saw a smile rest itself smugly on Finner’s usually neutral features.

“I like yellow,” Astrid decided aloud. “The kind of yellow dandelions are. I think it’s a really underrated color.”

“Yellow is a good choice,” Greta commented approvingly, glancing down at Astrid before turning her eyes to Esko. “Esko, what about you?”

For the first time since she’d met him, Astrid saw Esko stall for a moment. “Uhh…” he began, seeming to genuinely think. “I’ve never really thought much about it. Blue, I guess? Not the deep kind, more like washed-out sky blue. It’s really just most of what I wear.”

He wasn’t lying. The platinum blonde human was clad in a blue jacket the color he’d described, and jeans the color of a stormy sea. It was offset with the muted, autumnal oranges of his scarf and backpack.

“Blue is my favorite, too,” Olifur spoke up softly, having patiently waited their turn. “All kinds of blue. It’s just a really good color.”

Greta nodded like she was a reporter writing down very serious information in an interview. “Alright, favorite bird?”

“Siberian jay,” Esko said immediately. “They used to nest outside my window. As a kid I fed them bits of nuts until my mom made me stop.”

Olifur didn’t miss a beat this time. “Owls. I like the sound they make and the way their faces look.”

Finner only shrugged. “I really haven’t seen that many birds in my life. Most of the ones I actually paid attention to were ducks.”

“Okay,” Greta prodded gently, like Finner’s favorite bird was vitally important information but she didn’t want to tell him that, “So your favorite is ducks?”

“… For the sake of simplicity, yes. It’s ducks.”

“What about geese?” Astrid asked, to which Greta and Finner immediately shared a glance before Finner stifled a laugh with his teeth.

“Oh, come on!”

As Greta indignantly threw her hands in the air, Finner had to pause to laugh for a few seconds.

“You’re just mad that I had to rescue you from a bird.”

“Geese are really mean, okay!?”

“I will award you one point for being correct.”

“In Greta’s defense, you were also scared of the goose,” Esko interjected, sounding not entirely unlike a tired chaperone.

“She tried to climb a tree to get away from it despite Trolls being absolute shit at climbing. Also, geese have handles for necks. She could’ve easily just grabbed it and thrown it.”

Greta pouted playfully at him, to which he paid absolutely zero attention. Any knowledge of birds Astrid had had prepared in her head immediately flew away like one, the conversation having fully derailed itself. Her opinions on birds were, in her opinion, entirely irrelevant in the face of whatever comedy gold this was.

---

While the other three worked on setting up camp, Finner sat with Astrid and conversed with her. The sun was slowly beginning to peek its head over the horizon, and it was time for the Trolls – and Esko – to begin thinking about sleep. Until then, however, Astrid remained full of energy.

“What was it like when you were growing up?” Astrid asked Finner while he watched her weave some dandelions into a chain. “I know you were raised pretty much alone. Did you ever wish you had friends?”

Finner hummed softly in acknowledgement, thinking for a heartbeat or two. “It was nice, honestly. I had a few friends – kids of other families who lived in the general area who I played with sometimes – but I never really felt the need to be around them constantly. I liked solitude. I still do.”

Leaning back, he put his arms behind his body to prop himself up, gazing wistfully at the sky. “It was good. Father and I slept at the bottom of the pond and hid important items in shelves we carved along the sides. There was a little cave in there that we mostly used as living quarters. Father dug it out before I was born and hollowed it out to make an air pocket. It wasn’t huge, but it could probably fit three or four people pretty well.”

“Did you ever learn to read, living underwater like that?” Astrid inquired, plucking another dandelion. Finner followed her lead and gently retrieved a few more.

“I can read, yes. I didn’t really have books, but Father taught me to read words and music. He… taught me everything I know, really.”

A pause.

“We were going to get me my own fiddle when I turned 18. He knew someone he could commission it from in exchange for fish and manual labor, but then he got sick. Some kind of growth in a vital organ that made it stop functioning, I think. He told me I could take his instead, carry on his memory.”

He fell silent, voice sounding close to breaking, and Astrid grabbed his hand and held it in her much smaller one.

“Well, if you ask me, he’s probably pretty proud of you right now. You’re out here as an adult, doing adult things and making friends. I bet he’s watching from beyond pointing at you and going ‘That’s my kid.’”

Finner’s hand, warm despite how clammy and fishlike it looked, gently squeezed hers. “Thank you. I just… I wish you could’ve met him. He loved me a lot.”

Astrid nodded, feeling her own sense of sullenness fall over her at the mention of a loving parent. Finner seemed to notice, softly bending down to gently say “Hey. Are you alright? I’m sorry if I dumped too much on you.”

“No,” the smaller of the two replied. “It’s not your fault. I’m glad you had a loving parent. Mine acted like I didn’t exist… most of the time anyway. I had a lot of siblings who were more important, I guess.”

“… Do you mind if I use some very choice words about your parents?”

“… Sure?”

“They’re shit parents for that.”

“That’s just how being the middle child is. I guess it’s kind of a people-with-siblings rule you probably didn’t know because you didn’t have any.”

“Well then something needs to change with the way the world treats the middle child,” Finner replied in a monotone that somehow brooked no argument but soothed her emotional wounds all the same. “I can’t imagine just… pretending your kid doesn’t exist.”

“They fed me and clothed me and gave me shelter, at least.”

“Astrid, even I know that’s the bare minimum. They’re supposed to do other things, too.”

“… I know. They just… never did.”

A large body pressed against hers as Finner ushered Astrid into an admittedly very awkward hug. He was warm and surprisingly soft despite his seemingly sharp and sturdy build. She buried her face in his chest while he rubbed her back and rested his face against her hat and hair. Astrid couldn’t help but feel tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m proud of you for surviving that,” Finner murmured. “It must have been hell, but if anyone can survive hell, it’s definitely you. And I promise that everyone here appreciates you as a person, just the way you are.”

A sniffle, to which he ran gently claws through her hair. “I… You really think so?” she asked tentatively. Compliments like this weren’t given to her often.

“Astrid, since when have I ever not said exactly what I think?”

He had a point. Despite her incredulity, Astrid conceded, trying to just relax into his embrace. She assumed he would’ve pulled away by now, but he showed no intention of doing so, and instead wrapped his arms tighter around her, his powerful tail coming to rest its tip behind her. He smelled like a pond, but not unpleasantly so. It was pond smell, but it was also unmistakably Finner smell, and it clung to him like a well-made cologne.

It was a smell she was coming to understand as meaning ‘safe.’

---

Astrid’s eyes snapped open in the middle of the day, an odd sound having roused her from her sleep. She rolled over, looking around the shady little grotto they were using as a shelter, and immediately tried to find the source. It was a soft sound, a sort of broken whine that made her feel instinctual alarm. She may have been small, but Astrid already knew she was their little party’s lionheart, and anything that sounded like pain or danger was hers to defend them from. Always. Not just because she was obligated to, but because she wanted to. She wanted to protect.

The little bits of sunlight that fought their way through the canopy above them were dim enough that they didn’t hurt Astrid’s eyes, but bright enough that she could see the way they made Greta’s golden hair glow as she snored softly. Alright. No danger there.

Finner had nodded off against the wall, curled up almost like a messed-up fish-puppy with his hat tipped over his eyes to block out any light. Next to him was Olifur, who was effectively cuddling their lucky watering can and snoring very, very softly. Neither of them seemed to be in any distress either, so that meant…

Esko.

With the speed of a frightened rabbit and yet all the heroic intent of a wolf, Astrid’s head snapped towards the place she knew Esko had laid down in. What if he wasn’t there? What if he wandered off and he was hurt just outside? What if-

No. No, he was there, using his iconic scarf as a pillow. His platinum blonde hair spilled across his shoulders, glowing almost white in the thin rays of light that hit him. He would’ve looked perfectly peaceful if it hadn’t been for the heaving breaths he was taking and the tears rolling down his face in his sleep. As quickly and quietly as she could, Astrid got up and scrambled over to him.

“It’s my fault…”

The whisper was strangled with sadness, and obviously the product of some very immersive nightmare. Astrid felt like she’d been punched in the gut upon hearing it. Esko didn’t cry. Esko never cried. Ever.

Whatever it was, it must have been bad. Maybe something about his home from before she met him. She’d never heard the full story – nobody had, and he didn’t look like he wanted to talk about it at all – so she wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but it was obviously traumatic for him. Maybe there had been an accident, or maybe he got abandoned when he was small, or maybe he was bullied or accidentally killed someone. Not that it mattered. Esko was Astrid’s friend, and she didn’t care what he’d done to get kicked out or whether or not he was to blame. She had her priorities straight, and they started with comfort.

Very, very carefully, Astrid settled in the moss next to Esko. He was slimmer than Finner, and cuddling was harder when the larger person wasn’t awake to use their arms, but Astrid was nothing if not hellbent. She gently moved an arm to rest over her like a skinny blanket, then rested her head under his chin. Her hat scrunched up, but that was a later problem.

For now, she did her best to close her eyes and time her breathing to his, wrapping a little arm around him and curling close. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do.

I’m your lionheart.