Fionn and Carolin sit in the silence of their quarters, Fionn sharpening his sword and Carolin’s head down, focused on her weaving. Work stops for no one, Fionn thinks, while for Carolin, it’s more a distraction from their troubled minds. Nothing seems to mend for her, a husband imprisoned in a dungeon somewhere unknown and a cold rift between her two sons. Her momentum is suddenly broken by a banging of doors somewhere, knocking her back into reality. She breaks the silence with small talk.
“Oisins grooming started today… already becoming quite prince like.”
Fionn remains deliberately silent.
“I feel for him, spending less and less time with us. It must be lonely. For you as well, two of you have been each other’s shadow all your lives.”
Fionn grunts. Carolin slaps down her needle and
