I narrow my eyes at Froðe, turning my head to the side and trying to gauge if he's for real. The way he acted earlier in the tavern...making me fucking kneel...this doesn't add up.
As if sensing my thoughts, his lips curl at the edges and a spark of amusement catches in his eyes. But he turns, sets his pack and sheathed longsword against the wall and starts taking off his armor, unlacing his bracers from his brawny arms one by one and then placing them on a nearby chair. I watch him, not moving from my place near the door.
"Were you expecting something different to take place here?" he says casually, with his back turned away from me. His body language and the tone of his voice tell me he has no concerns of me attacking him while his back is turned and trying to escape. Cocky bastard.
I snort in response, flustered by the insinuation, but I still don't trust him. Not really. Back still turned from me, he pulls the shirt of mail over his head, the many links clinking with the motion, then the padded armor underneath. The padded armor temporarily catches the hem of his tunic as he takes it off, revealing a glimpse of powerful back muscles and a few more scars. One in particular looks like it was a gruesome wound, stretching about five inches across his chiseled left oblique. Below his linen tunic, he wears simple wool trousers that are tied with a drawstring around his waist.
"I know this may be hard for you to believe given how the past couple days have been for you, but I mean you no harm," Froðe says, tossing the leather armor onto the pile on the chair. He bends over to unlace and take off his calf skin boots, then places them on the floor next to the chair.
"And you expect me to just...trust you on that?" I fire back.
"Since I'm one of the few people here that genuinely cares for your safety, it would be wise of you to consider it." He looks over his shoulder at me, that smirk ever present. "Are you going to pick a bed or not?"
Still keeping my eyes on him, I step to the closest bed. "Picked one."
Froðe turns back to the task at hand, unlacing his trousers. My eyes go wide as saucers and I wonder how awkward this is going to get, but I'm relieved to see he's wearing linen breeches underneath. After placing the trousers on his pile, Froðe picks up his sheathed sword and prowls to the other bed. He raises an eyebrow at me, still standing alert next to my own, and leans the sword against the headboard before sitting down heavily on the bed.
"You should get some rest fiery one, we wake at sunrise," Froðe says as he leans back into his bed, draping the furs over himself. "Just blow out the lamp first, if you don't mind." He stretches his arms over his head lazily, before turning over and putting his back to me, again. He rests with one arm folded under his head, propping it up like a pillow, his sandy blonde tresses glimmering in the dim lamplight. His giant frame rises and falls with his languid breaths.
I stand there like an idiot for a few more minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Soon enough, Froðe's breathing starts to even out and slow, indicating he is fast asleep. Either this shows that he trusts me enough now that I won't try to escape, or he knows that my outlook is bleak enough that it would be useless. To prove the latter, Torsten's booming laugh sounds on cue to show that at least a few men are staying awake near the fire. Exhaustion picks at my bones, lulling me to the soft embrace of the furs on the bed. I sigh, and unclip the tortoise shells holding my overcoat before taking it off my shoulders. I fold the coat neatly, placing the tortoise shells and beads atop and position them at the foot of my bed. I remove the other layers in turn until just my linen shift remains, then pad over to the lamp to blow it out. Once I do, moonlight sifts in through the window, lighting my way back to the bed. As I turn to make my way over, I glimpse Froðe, lips slightly parted in sleep with his soft waves cascading over his face. The moonlight partially bathes his handsome face, the golden eyebrows I usually see raised in question or narrowed in speculation relaxed for once. He looks like a completely different person than the one I met on the hill yesterday, the illusion of sleep giving him a softer, more gentle appearance. But I know better.
I quietly step back over to my bed and curl up under the furs, which are blissfully soft and warm. Despite my exhaustion, however, sleep does not find me right away, and I lay there staring up at the wooden ceiling, thinking about the hell of a past 36 or so hours I've had. It doesn't seem real...yet, here I am. And so far, miraculously, I am alive, and in a somewhat safe situation. My brow furrows as I glance over at Froðe's sleeping form. There is something Froðe and Skuld aren't telling me, and it has something to do with her visions, I know it. Why else would he care so much about my safety? Put up a front that he would be claiming me as his own in front of his men, but giving me plenty of space once alone in a room together? Even the small gesture of turning away repeatedly may have seemed cocky in the moment, but part of me wonders if he did it for me to feel safer...to change out of my clothes with some sense of privacy. The thoughtfulness of that realization completely throws me. This man confuses me...he's a viking Jarl, a role that is typically maintained by proving oneself exceptional as a warrior and keeping the support of their followers through power and wealth. To do those things in this world, you have to be brutal. Yet, there's this other side of him that I've seen glimpses of, making me wonder who he really is and what his motives are for keeping me safe.
Regardless, I realize one thing needs to change if I end up sticking around with these people and learning their ways. I need to find a way to better defend myself in a world were I'm surrounded by warriors carrying axes and swords, and not rely on Froðe for protection. An idea resolves itself in my mind as sleep finally calls to me, making my eyelids heavier until they eventually close. Darkness takes me shortly after.
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I'm thrashing in a violent sea, waves crashing over one another in a churning maelstrom. The sky rages above me, pelting the sea with rain and lightning crawls across the horizon. The wind howls. But I'm not afraid. I'm...heartbroken...like my soul has been cleaved in half.
But why?
One half reaches for a love that I can no longer see and feel...a deep, longing ache so strong I cannot bear it. The other demands vengeance and retribution...ready to seek justice with a ferocity I have never seen within myself before. I realize now, that the waves that are crashing angrily are doing so because of me. They are me. As soon as I realize this, the sea suddenly calms and the sky clears, revealing a beautiful dawn of deep blues and purples transitioning to vibrant hues of pink, orange and gold painting across the sky. My waves are now more gentle, and I emerge standing as they break me onto a shore of glittering sand. The splashing foam of the sea drapes over me, transforming into a flowing, white gossamer gown that is belted in shimmering gold. My pendant is around my neck, and my hand reaches for it, seeking comfort in something known and familiar. Once I touch the emerald glowing in the gilded sunlight, the ache in my heart ebbs. Why was I upset again? I turn to back to the sea, admiring how the rising sun brushes the wave crests with soft golden strokes.
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A growl nearby wakes me from my reverie, and I turn back inland.
In front of me stand two large grey cats, watching me intently with their golden eyes. They have black tufts on their ears, long legs and short, black tipped tails. Their fur features beautiful patterns of white, black and darker grey lines. Lynxes, I realize. The one on the left, likely the one that growled earlier, claws the sand with one fluffy paw and makes a snorting noise, looking at me pointedly.
I raise an eyebrow, but don't feel threatened by them. Oddly, their presence gives me of a feeling of protection and strength that I welcome eagerly. Instinctively, I kneel down into the cool, damp sand and I hold open my arms to them. The gesture instantly sends them bolting toward me and then leaping into my embrace. The deep rumbles of their purrs sound as they rub their heads under my chin and chest in joy, causing me to laugh and give their soft fluffy heads some skritches. My heart swells with love and familiarity. As I stroke under the chin of one with my right hand, he opens his golden eyes lazily to gaze at me in content. Bygul, the name comes to me. I glance at the other, still butting his head against my chest affectionately. Trjegu.
For the first time since my death, I don't feel alone anymore, and it gives me a sense of hope.
Suddenly, a rumble shakes the earth beneath us, almost toppling me over. Trjegu hisses and growls, looking off into the distance inland, and Bygul stands alert in front of us. The sky above darkens once again, as another rumble comes with it. I stand, ready to face what is coming with my feline friends as the wind and rain pick up. A booming voice echoes through my mind and body, washing me with dizziness.
A storm is coming.
My eyes fly open, and the sounds of howling wind and rain are replaced with the soft clucking of roosters and the shuffling of Froðe redressing by the chair. What a strange dream. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I sit up.
"Sleep well, fiery one?" Froðe asks when he notices I'm awake.
"I want to learn how to use a sword," I blurt.
A blond eyebrow rises in response, as Froðe pauses midway of putting on one of his boots. He is shirtless, so I can see every glorious muscle rippling in the morning light as he stands up to his full height. His hair looks freshly combed and slightly wet, like he bathed recently, and its tied in its usual half braid in the back of his head. The scent of thyme and mint softly wafts off of him. The scars I glimpsed yesterday are also out in full force. The three diagonal slashes on his chest form a raised, paler set of lines that stand out from the surrounding, smooth skin of his pecs. Abs for days jut out below them, and the v-cut indentation formed on his midsection plunges below the tied waistline of his trousers. He wears a fresh pair today, and a fresh tunic lays draped over the chair. Noticing my stare and the elevator eyes I just undoubtedly gave him, his lips curve in a sly grin.
"Is that all you want to learn?" Somehow that golden eyebrow raises even higher and that grin gets even wider.
I feel my treacherous cheeks heat in embarrassment, but I roll my eyes as I ignore the question.
"Will you teach me or not?"
Froðe chuckles darkly, but then considers my request. He looks at me thoughtfully, like he's trying to figure out where this is coming from.
"You said you cared about my safety," I offer. "So...teach me how to survive in this world. It's not sustainable to have to constantly look out for me when you have other Jarl-like things to do, I'm sure."
Froðe snorts, then proceeds to put on his previously abandoned boot.
"You are not wrong, fiery one. I'll consider it."
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We break our fast on porridge, bread and fruit with the others before Skuld comes into the tavern to collect me for more Blót preparations. I note that as we step outside, the long ship is no longer docked on the riverside. Did they take the thralls already? Sadness overtakes me as I realize I wasn't able to do more for them in time, and I pause in following Skuld, cursing my inaction.
Skuld, sensing my hesitation, turns and looks over at the empty riverbank with me.
"I will not lie to you and say that they will manage, as I do not know if they will," she says softly. She takes a few steps closer to me, sinking her staff into the ground slightly damp from morning dew. "But, I will tell you this. We have some young women we are now responsible for, and I meant what I said yesterday. You must also find your inner fire, my little flame, so that you can carve your way into this world." She sets her hand on my shoulder.
"How can one person change a world, let a long a savage practice that's deeply ingrained into a community like this?" I say.
"A simple spark is sometimes all it takes to start a fire, but it needs tending and fresh kindle to keep it ablaze," she says in response. "I will teach you how to find your fire, for it was threaded by the Norns for me to find you and do so."
I furrow my brows. All this talk about flames and fate, just sounds way too cryptic and far fetched for me to fully grasp.
Skuld, undiscouraged by my reaction, presses on. "Since you have come to our world, have you felt or seen anything strange, something you cannot explain?"
I consider her question. "I have been feeling some waves of dizziness lately, but I took that as a sign of exhaustion and stress from everything thats....happened," I say.
"These waves, when did they happen?" Skuld asks, interested.
"Oddly enough, they started when we first met," I say, looking into her charcoal gray, smoldering eyes in bewilderment. Skuld grins in response.
"Anything else? You must tell me."
"I did have this strange dream last night," I say.
Skuld seems to stop breathing, and steps closer to me. "Go on..."
I blink, surprised by her sudden rapt fascination, but I continue. "I was thrashing in a violent sea, in the middle of a storm, but then I realized, the sea was like that because of me. For some inexplicable reason, I felt this terrible heartbreak," I say, grasping my chest with my hand as I remember that deep, awful ache I felt. My fingers feel my pendant under the fabric of my dress, grounding me, and I let them fall again. Skuld tracks the movement with her eyes. "Somehow, I controlled the weather and the sea itself. As my emotions calmed, so did the sea and the sky above. Then I came ashore and I met these two giant lynx cats, and I knew their names."
Skuld's eyes widen, but she says nothing.
"They were...."I wrack my brain, trying to remember. "Bygul and...Trjegu, that's right. Bygul and Trjegu. They were beautiful, with fur so grey it almost looked blue in the dawn light. They were so sweet," I remember fondly, "and were protecting me..." I trail off, remembering the thundering ground and the booming voice.
"Protecting you from what?" Skuld now clutches my shoulders with both hands, eyes frantic.
I shake my head. "I didn't see...but the ground, it started shaking violently, and this deep booming voice told me that a storm was coming."
Suddenly Skuld lets go of my shoulders and grasps my hand, whipping around and taking me off with her in the direction of her new home.
"Skuld...what's going on? It was just a dream..." I say in protest, as her grip on my wrist is tight. She picks up her pace, causing me to nearly trip behind her.
"That was no simple dream, my little flame," her voice is dark and ominous. "It's already started, and much earlier than I anticipated. We must hurry!"
"What? What's started?"
"Your awakening."