"Your bath should be ready shortly," Frigga continues, her eyes twinkling as they move from me to Astrid. "I've taken the initiative and selected suitable dinner attire for both of you."
Frigga gestures to the servants. "Leave everything as we discussed," she instructs them. To us, she adds, "I'll leave you to settle in.” She smiles as she meets my gaze. "It's good to have you home."
With a graceful nod, she turns to leave, the servants finishing their tasks efficiently before following her out. The door closes behind them with a soft click.
"Your grandmother has impeccable timing," Astrid murmurs.
"A skill honed over millennia," I agree, reluctantly releasing her.
Once they've departed and the servants have finished arranging our bath and refreshments, Astrid begins examining my chambers more thoroughly.
"So this is how a prince lives," she says, trailing her fingers along the carved wooden posts of the massive bed. "Do you have servants who dress you too?"
I move to the table where a simple breakfast has been laid out. "Grandmother does.” I flash her a wide grin. “But only on formal occasions. Are you hungry?"
“Haha, very funny.” She joins me, dropping into a chair, her muscles clearly tired from the run and the transformations. "Starving, actually."
We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes. I watch Astrid eat with undisguised pleasure, enjoying the sight of her becoming comfortable in my space. Our space.
Here's the revised section with Astrid's reaction to Nimue's age and a conversation about Fen's age and her new longevity:
"So," she says eventually, setting down her cup. "This Queen Nimue. Tell me what I need to know. I'd prefer not to embarrass myself."
I lean back, considering where to begin. "Nimue is among the oldest of the Sirens. Their queen for nearly a millennium."
Astrid chokes on her drink. "I'm sorry—did you say a millennium? As in a thousand years?"
I nod, watching her process this information.
"She's a thousand years old?" Astrid sets her cup down with a little too much force. "And I thought dating older men was just a figure of speech."
I can't help but smile at her shock. "Age works differently here."
Her eyes narrow suddenly. "Wait. How old are you exactly?"
I hesitate, realizing I've never actually told her. "I'm... past five hundred."
Astrid stares at me, mouth slightly open. "Five hundred years old? Five. Hundred. Years."
"Five hundred and twenty-eight, to be precise," I admit. "Though that's still relatively young for my kind."
She pushes back from the table, standing to pace the room. "I'm mated to someone who was alive during the Renaissance. Who probably met Leonardo da Vinci."
"I didn't, actually," I say, following her with my eyes. "Though my grandfather did. Said he was brilliant but terrible at finishing things."
"Not helping," she says, running a hand through her hair. "I'm thirty-three. Thirty-three! I'm practically an infant to you."
I rise, moving to catch her hands in mine. "Age doesn't matter the same way here, Astrid. And besides, you're not entirely human anymore."
She stops pacing, looking up at me. "What does that mean?"
"The wolf," I explain gently. "And our bond. You're Asgardian now. Your lifespan will be... extended."
"Extended," she repeats faintly. "By how much?"
"I can't say exactly. But likely a very long time. Most Asgardians live thousands of years."
She sinks back into her chair, looking stunned. "Centuries. I'll live for centuries."
