brave in the heart. vikings

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 33

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Days later, Merida could still feel him on her lips. The ghost of Bjorn's weight against her body was forever present, reminding her of the fact that she had run and avoided him ever since. The worst part seemed to be the fact that, somehow, everyone knew. Ragnar was nothing but smug- the egotistical smile never leaving his face when she was in the room. Even Lagertha seemed contented by the knowledge that both Merida and Bjorn had made a mutual move despite their sureness in their want of freedom, whatever that meant.

It was long after the raiding parties had joined together in Kattegat, that Merida spoke to Bjorn again. The dock and the beach were void of people as the main hall was filled with the roaring fire settled in the great hearth, and the boats bobbed calmly against the slight flow of a tide. Of those boats, a few of them belonged to Lagertha's usurper, of which not many were happy about. And joining them also, was Erlendur, son of King Horik, of which many still despised.

It was the weedy boy's wife, who Merida noticed. A beautiful woman, slim and slight, with a beauty that was no doubt gifted by Freyja herself. Her hair was like spun gold, dusted with the bright-whiteness of snow, her face structure and strong, a clear sign of good breeding in Northmen terms. And it was no surprise that the woman- Torvi- had noticed Bjorn.

One night during the entertainment, Bjorn parted from the crowds of drunks and strode to the far south end of the pebbled beach, the coarse sand the only sound besides the tumbling of the frothy waves. It was Floki, who had first noticed his departure, and it was Floki, who nudged Merida his way. She strolled down the sands, a full horn of drink in her hand, eyes already knowing to look for the large boulder that sat close to the jagged ends of the cliff face that cut off the beach.

He was silent as she reached him. His knees were crossed, legs at right angles with his arms draped over them. For a moment, Bjorn's eyes were closed, a blissful warmth waving over his body at the feeling of her presence to his side, as it should be. Merida kept the silence- nurtured it carefully. Sitting with no words shared between them was better than saying the wrong thing, she knew, but Merida could not help but think that she was disappointing him, after all that had happened. It had been her, who had rejected Ragnar's proposal for the two, and it had been she who sought out their freedom, defacing the idea of destiny, and yet she had kissed him and found him again.

But in actuality, she was not disappointing him at all. Destiny and fate was an idea too wild and luxurious to ignore. His own father had become great thanks to the working of predestination, and if Bjorn would marry a princess, then who better than the woman he'd come to admire and respect as much as her? Why wouldn't he want to link himself to the woman he'd sworn to protect, to stay beside until they dropped from the face of the earth? Her proximity beside him felt right.

"I have a confession to make," Merida said finally, saying the first thing that she could think of.

Bjorn paused for a moment, letting the sound of her nervous breathing fill his ears. Then he opened his eyes, let his body remain still, and turned to her.

"What is it?"

"I went again to visit the Seer," she said, matching his gaze but then looking away again, acting as if she was watching the lively lull of the water.

"Did he say anything more?"

"No," she said, her words short and abrupt, clearly irritated. "Nothing different to the last time." Merida paused again and looked up, this time maintaining eye contact. "But there was one thing."

"What is it?"

"A band of knots. A waterfall stained red. A bear's fur matted with blood. An orange city," she first repeated the words he had already heard before. "He said the will of the Gods cannot be changed. That he had seen our futures, that your destiny will lead us to a point where we will lay on the sands and watch our roles unravel."

"Do you have any idea what it could mean?"

"None at all," she said, letting out a brisk and bitter laugh. "Have you ever asked- about your future?"

Bjorn shook his head. "No. I prefer not to know. That way I can live my life as I see it. Without worry."

Merida thought for a moment. She remembered the cliffs of Dunbroch, the crashing waves of the sea a deadly drop below, a setting in which she had once talked with Bjorn about destiny. Then her views had been set in stone: destiny was the chains that kept her tied to Dunbroch, to marriage, to her role as a lady. But now, she wasn't so sure. What if destiny was not the lock, but the key? A way of giving her the life she was fated to be happy with. But underneath it all, how could it be living in a way in which you chose, if everything was predetermined? The premise was an unending trap.

"But is it really living how you see it?" Merida asked, and Bjorn didn't answer. She waited a moment, handing folding into the rough sand before she spoke again. "I will return home soon, I think."

"You will not stay? What about your freedom?" He said, and Merida couldn't tell if his last line was a joke.

"I have no ties. I have not the freedom I want here," she said.

"But you do in Dunbroch?"

"No. But it is not my freedom that I'm concerned about," she said, shaking her head. "Something feels wrong. I must return home. Then I can figure out my path."

"You will not stay?" Bjorn repeated.

She smiled fondly, lifting her gaze to his face. "I will go to Paris if that is what you mean. It is not a sight I want to miss."

"I'm glad," he said. "I'll take a bow and use what you taught me. And perhaps this time you can repay me for saving your life."

"Ah, but you are my protector. I cannot repay you for what you are supposed to do. You will walk beside me always," Merida said teasingly, feeling her shoulder lean in against his.

Bjorn glanced to their touching arms, the only thing separating skin, being the thick materials of their clothing. "Always?"

"Well if that is what you wish," Merida said, quietened by his simple question. She edged away, feeling the heat against her neck and cheeks rise as coldness seeped into her shoulder. "The woman watches you. Torvi. She is beautiful, is she not?"

"It doesn't matter."

Merida let out another bitter laugh. "You think we will die in Paris?"

But Bjorn did not answer with words. A hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her close enough that he could join their lips. The chill that shook her body was washed away in an instant and Merida kissed him back with equal intensity, feeling the heat rise like fire from a pit in her stomach. Their movements were swift, desperate, neither submitting as they pulled closer and closer, the fight for dominance persisting. All unit Bjorn pulled away, his head resting just above the bridge of her nose, his breath hot against her face.

"The first was not a mistake," he began, his voice breathy and low. "Nor was that."

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