𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 || ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 - ɴᴏ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪꜰɪᴇᴅ ɢᴏᴅ.

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 —
ɴᴏ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪꜰɪᴇᴅ ɢᴏᴅ.
ᴀᴄᴛ ᴏɴᴇ — ᴏᴍᴇɴꜱ

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

WEATHERED TREES ROSE
out of the earth to brush against the sky, barely-there sun-dappled leaves creating flickering shadows across the dead leaves and pine needles that blanketed the ground in clumps.

The cold wind sent a shuddering movement through the air, invisible to the eye as it shook the branches from their stems.

The leaves lifted in fluid movement, flying low to the earth and catching on her boot. Freyja eyed the orange coloured leaf, tracing a path of the vein-like pattern stemming from the centre before it was brushed away by another gust of breeze.

The ground crunched beneath her boots, twigs snapping, lifeless leaves bursting into shattered pieces.

Scattered eyes glanced in her direction as she stepped beneath the makeshift tent - a measly sheet of fabric held up by four wooden posts and rope.

Stepping in beside the tall warrior, her hand extended slightly to grab ahold of the post next to her. Her fingers curled around it, gripping the wooden flesh as she focused on the path ahead where the trees canopied the narrow clearing.

Seconds later, the newly anointed king stepped within the makeshift shelter. "It is Guthrum?" He peered over Uhtred's shoulder, staring down the endless, winding path where a gathering of Danes rode towards them.

Uhtred grasped the metal plating of his armour and spoke through clenched teeth. "Yes. You can see a bone in his hair."

There was pause of silence before Freyja spoke, her emerald eyes narrowing on the earl in the far distance. "It's his mother's rib."

Beocca glanced to Freyja - something flickered in Alfred's expression. "How endearing." The king trailed off sarcastically. "And the others?"

Uhtred's eyes widened as they settled on the blond giant riding beside Earl Guthrum. "It's Ubba," he trailed off, uncertain as to if he was seeing things. "The big man."

Freyja's hand became a fist, nails piercing into flesh, knuckles flushing white. Her jaw clenched, bone grinding against bone.

Never fight Ubba.

Alfred frowned and looked to Uhtred. "The chieftain Ubba is with them?" There was a look of uncertainty in his eyes having never seen the blond giant before - Uhtred and Freyja were the only two who had.

"You said he was in the north." Uhtred tilted his chin, sharing a knowing look with his sister. Both knew that with Ubba here, the negotiation wasn't going to be as easy - especially when the last time they saw either of the earls, it was their plan for them to kill them both.

"And now he is here." Alfred's voice grew low, words merely above a whisper, his expression a facade of tranquility. His eyes wandered away from the Dane's in thought. "This is good."

He stepped back, moving out from beneath the shelter, allowing for the sun to paint his skin white and his armour to shine beneath glowing hues.

The rest followed him, boots stomping the ground, leaving the two Danes to linger, but not before Leofric spared a silent glance between them - he was the only one who caught the expressions on their faces.

"This isn't good." Freyja slowly shook her head, unable to look away from the approaching Dane's ahead. "With Ubba -"

She was cut off by Uhtred turning to face her, his eyes soft with concern that somewhat masked his internal fear. His eyes flickered from her face to her hand where the blood dripped red to the leaves below, the healed over wounds torn open by the spiral of emotions coursing through her.

Ever so carefully, he reached for her wrist, fingers curling around the limb and forcing her hand to unclench. "I know." He spoke, jerking his chin back to cast another look to the Earls. "I know."

Releasing her wrist, Uhtred clenched his jaw and moved out from beneath the cover, following in Alfred's path towards the tent.

Stepping inside, they instantly became warmed by the flickering flames of candles and lanterns, to see Alfred and the others already standing, waiting.

For a moment, a brief moment, Freyja's eyes locked with Leofric's, as if he'd already been expecting her to walk in then and there. It lasted only a second before she forced her eyes down and crossed the room to stand beside him and her brother.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her visibly tense, her shoulders immediately stiffening and her weight to slightly shift. Her hand instinctively went to rest on the hilt of her dagger - something that failed to go unnoticed.

The first thing she saw was a head of grey hair, darkened to a deep brown the moment the sun was no longer shining on it.

The moment he was fully within the tent, his attention settled on the king, gaze full of curiosity. "So you are Alfred, the king of Wessex?"

Ubba swept his beady eyes across the room, glimpsing upon each face. There was no mistaking the look he lingered between Freyja and Uhtred or the way his eyes slightly hardened as realisation dawned on him.

"I am." Alfred calmly nodded. "You are Earl Guthrum?"

"Yes." The depths of his voice shook the tent, sending a cold chill to descend Freyja's spine. A memory of the monastery overlayed her mind, images flashing in front of her. She could still feel his unforgiving touch as he pinned her against him and whispered in her ear. "If you want peace, you'll have to pay."

Alfred brushed off his words, his eyes flicking up to the taller man who seemed to venture his gaze aimlessly across the tent as he took everything in. "And you are the Earl Ubba? Welcome."

"Speak." Ubba lowly ordered.

Alfred drew in a deep breath through parted lips, his expression showing no ounce of fear as he spoke. "In exchange for an agreed amount of grain, livestock and silver, I propose that you and your ships return to Lundene and remain there. I further propose that you confine yourselves to east Anglia, Mercia and Northumbria. Wessex is Saxon, and as such, out-of-bounds to all Danes."

Guthrum listened closely to the offer and sat himself within the chair opposite to Alfred. When the king had finished, his eyes lifted from the ground and settled on the man. "We'll not be leaving Wessex. We only just arrived."

"Then you will starve." Alfred searched his expression. "You have little food, no shelter and a weakened army."

Something in the corner of the room caught Ubba's attention.

Guthrum shifted in his seat, eyeing the king up and down. "If you believe us weakened, why seek peace?"

Alfred held his chin high. "It is the Christian in me, the will of my god."

Ubba's face pinched, redness naturally crawling to the surface as his head immediately shook. "Oh, I will hear no talk of gods."

"God." Alfred corrected. "There is only one."

Ubba took a threatening step forward. "You will talk of grain, horses, silver and land." Guthrum rose from his seat.

Alfred firmly disagreed. "I will not talk of land."

Crossing the room, Guthrum walked between Alfred and Ubba, approaching the man in the corner. His eyes followed the trailing of his hand, ink scribbling across the parchment of paper. "What do they write?"

Alfred watched him closely. "They write what we speak."

Guthrum glanced at him, brows pinched in curiosity. "Every word?"

"Yes, every word."

Guthrum turned away from him. "Then may I say ass," he trailed off, slowly stepping around the room as he wandered down the line. He stopped short in front of Freyja, his eyes lingering on hers, the scar on her cheek - her body. "Tits, hump," he moved away, continuing down the line, "and turd?"

Freyja glared up at him, using what strength she could into biting her tongue. Her fingers flexed around the dagger.

Alfred drew in a sharp breath, his disdain for the earl clear on his face. "They record history. We are here creating history. People will read of this very meeting."

Ubba's patience wore thin and his arms extended broadly as he snapped. "I'm waiting to hear the terms of your surrender."

"You will be paid for your return to Lundene." Alfred repeated, "there are no more terms and there will be no surrender."

Ubba hastily stood, anger coursing through his veins like an angry god. "Guthrum, here, will not leave Readingum."

"Then I say again, he will starve."

Guthrum stepped closer with each word that left his lips. "We will raid, we will kill."

"And you will lose yet more men." Alfred spoke calmly, like no fear laid within his bones, no fear of the possibility of what they Dane's could do. They were devilish creatures and he stared at them as if they merely children. "Is that your wish, Earl Guthrum? To lose men."

He pressed on their fears, pulling the strings of their limbs, taking control on the situation - gave himself the power. "Your surviving warriors may look to find a new Lord."

Guthrum pressed his lips. "Did you call a meeting to insult me?"

Freyja applied pressure on her tongue to stop herself from speaking.

"I offer peace, and I offer facts." Alfred corrected.

There was a pause, a silence that weaved in through the curtains of the tent, slithering across the room like a serpent, the deathly quietness as sharp as it's poisonous fangs. Everything became stilled, time itself paralyzing.

Freyja could feel the tension rising up, thickening as the seconds ticked. Tick, tick, tick. She tensed as Ubba's eyes landed on her and her brother.

"His head and you can have your peace." Ubba arched a brow, his beady eyes lingering on the siblings. He stepped closer. "And the girl, alive." Once he was within arm's reach, his hand lifted, fingers reaching to brush along the scar on her right cheek.

Freyja immediately stepped back, a jolt in her expression, a flinch in her limbs. There was a look of fear that flashed across her eyes, a look that Leofric didn't mistake as he stepped sideways, his weight shifting as he instinctively placed himself between her and the Dane.

Ubba merely grinned lowly, staring across the warriors shoulder, his gaze piercing in Uhtred's cerulean eyes. "Uhtred Ragnarson. Freyja Ragnarsdóttir. Traitor's." Quickly, his hands shoved against Leofric's chest - the warrior immediately shoving his arms away with a threatening glare.

He made a gesture with his hand as he stepped back, taunting Leofric more before he grasped his belt and straightened his shoulders. "Nothing to say?"

Freyja's eyes narrowed into slits. "Oh, I have plenty to say, but it is too advanced for your negligible brain to understand."

A humourous looked passed through Leofric's expression.

Ubba glared harded, his jaw clenching, face reddened with the blood that gushed beneath the surface of his skin. He took a step forward only to be held back by Guthrum.

Uhtred was the next to speak. "I'll speak to young Ragnar. No other Dane has my respect."

"His head, and the girl for peace."

"You want Uhtred and Freyja here, for peace?" Alfred turned his chin in the direction of the siblings, curious by the offer. "No silver, no grain, no horses?"

"We want silver," Guthrum trailed off, his eyes once again lingering on Freyja. "The girl, and the traitors head."

Ubba grinned. "These are the terms, and you, Alfred - you may remain king. But we will occupy all of the Saxon forts."

Alfred tilted his head. "If you wish to occupy the fortresses, then do it, take them. How many have you taken to date?" He turned his head to the priest beside him. "Father, how many have they taken to date?"

"None, lord." Beocca shook his head.

In the blink of an eye, Ubba's arm swung up, knocking over the table and sending the man stumbling back. Odda stepped forward in an attempt to push the Dane away only he was grabbed by the chain of his mail.

Ubba was shoved away, jaw clenched so tight a vein burst from his temple. "We can take all the fortresses at any time. We have taken the whole of England. And we can do the same with Wessex."

"Let me be clear." The king spoke, glaring through the calmness of his exterior. "I am prepared to return to the sword, we outnumber you. We are many and we are dangerous. But I would prefer to establish a peace. But Uhtred here shall keep his head and Freyja will remain at his side, but I will pay you well to leave Wessex. That is what people will read, that Alfred sought peace. Alfred paid lords Ubba and Guthrum in silver in exchange for peace. It is I, who is seeking an end to the fighting. That is what will be written."

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

FIRE FLICKERED,
flames crackled, embers sparked from the ashened logs and shadows scintillated on the canvas walls of the tent. A dark silhouette connecting to Alfred's heels followed him along, back and forth as he paced.

Leaning back in her chair, Freyja crossed one leg over the other and rubbed her hands together to create some friction, hoping to warm the icy skin. Her emerald eyes swept the interior of the tent, scanning over the faces that surrounded her.

Brida sat to her left, a bowl of white goo housed in her lap. The food didn't look even the slightest bit pleasant, but she supposed it was better than nothing.

"They have been halted but nothing more." The anointed king informed as he strode across the room. "They are not defeated. Our task now is both simple and impossible. We determine what they do next."

"They will do what Dane's always do, attack." Young Odda concluded in an obvious tone, his eyes wide as he stared up at the king.

Alfred waved a open palmed gesture. "How? Where? When? How many?"

Lady Aelswith's expression pinched. "We are supposed to be celebrating a peace. Do we have to talk of fighting?"

"We do, my dear," Alfred's eyes settled on his wife, "because the peace will not last."

A silent glance was shared between the Dane siblings, silent words passing through the passageway of their stare. Uhtred pressed his lips together. "It'll take them at least a year before they can gather a second great army."

Young Odda shifted in his seat, leaning closer to the burning flames and staring across the whisps of fire. "Do you have your word?"

Odda's gaze settled sternly on his son. "Son."

Scooping her spoon through the clump of white goo, Brida held up to utensil, watching as it took a few lingering seconds before it fell back into the bowl. Disgust dawned within her expression as she looked up, eyes rolling across the room. "Is there any meat here?"

Lady Aelswith glared at the woman. "Should she even be here?"

Freyja looked away from the fire in an instant to turn her head in the woman's general direction. Her eyes narrowed, emeralds reflecting the flames that flickered across her skin. "Brida is our guest."

Aelswith glared back, a false smile turning at her lips before her gaze wandered further down the line to settle on Uhtred. "You should have taken up the king's offer of a wife, a lady."

Alfred ignored the bickering and lowered himself into the head chair. His immediately became warmed by the fire and his eyes rolled across the room as he spoke. "What happens next, I believe, is that they will come by land and sea. They will split our army in two, possibly more. Now Uhtred may be correct, this may not occur for a year or more, but what is clear is that we need ships." His eyes settled on Odda. "We are boarded by water yet we have so few ships."

Odda shook his head as his brows pinched, lines forming within his skin. "You'll not get me on a ship. I'll volunteer my son."

"To save our shores, we have to look beyond them. And to serve God - his word must travel."

"Amen. Praise him." Aelswith smiled softly, hands cupped around the bowl in her lapm training off, she gave a pointed stare to the three Danes.

Pressing his lips together, Alfred looked away from his wife and settled his eyes on the siblings. "Uhtred, Freyja, the beasts on the prows of the Danes ships, they are a representation of their gods?"

Uhtred's expression twitched. "No, lord, they are just beasts. They can be lifted from their posts, so not to frighten the spirits of the land."

Beocca scoffed a laugh. "Spirits of the land."

Leveling her knees, Freyja leaned forward on her elbows. She tilted her head slowly to the look at the priest, a glare of boredom in her eyes. "Something to say, father?"

Beocca gulped thickly beneath her stare and frantically shook his head. "No. No, not at all."

A look of curiosity dawned on Leofric features and a frown twisted at his lips. His eyes trailed from one Dane to the other, from Uhtred, to Brida and finally Freyja before he asked the question that had been nagging on his mind. "I would like to know why some of them make their own teeth into points."

Lady Aelswith shifted in her seat, shocked and even slightly disturbed by the warriors words. "They do that?"

Leofric gave her a look. "Some, Lady."

"God save us."

Brida drew in a hesitant breath, her features softening at the fear that wavered the woman's expression. "To show that they aren't afraid. If they can inflict such pain on themselves, think what they might do to a Saxon."

Instinctively, the tip of Freyja's finger traced along the scarring of her palms, a permanent mark she'd brought on herself whenever things felt too much all at once.

As a child, she suffered from dreamless nights and moments of insomnia, moments where it felt like the hardest of battle's to keep herself asleep. It was when the habit began - when she couldn't sleep, when she had to bite her tongue in front of an Earl who thought he had rights to make sly comments about her or even Thyra.

Her mother said she had the blood of an angry red god - quick to anger, slow to think before acting on her emotions.

By the age of eleven, she'd beaten up three of the village children who'd happened to be twice her size. From then on, she was only allowed to fight her brother Ragnar.

She felt a pair of brown lit eyes on her, watching her, following the pattern of her finger - attempting to figure her out.

Freyja didn't need to look up to know they belonged to the man in the chair beside her.

Alfred began speaking. "We will understand them more by the day, I'm sure. Uhtred and Freyja-of-the-Dane's have promised me a year of their service."

Brida looked up, pain evidently in her glare of shock - Beocca's eyes snapped to Uhtred, his chewing pace slowing to observe the Dane's expression. "Is that so?"

Freyja merely stared into the fire, not finding to strength to look up at either Brida or Uhtred. She never promised, not to Alfred at least. She wasn't even there with him on the cliff when the words were said - she was beside Brida, watching as the boats fled the river.

But she had promised her brother, and ultimately, in the end, she was stuck by his side.

Alfred's words continued to echo, like a whisper in an empty room, distant to her ears. "It will be their responsibility to show our warriors how the Dane's approach battle, the construction of their shield wall and the like."

"Lord, if I may," Leofric straightened up in his seat. "The arseling here is barely a man - let alone, the Dane is a woman. You expect them to teach me how to fight?"

"Leofric," the king uttered his name calmly, ignoring the look of offence on his warriors face. "I expect them to teach you nothing. Whip them with staves in practice, by all means."

Leofric's chin lowered into his chest, his eyes dancing from Freyja to Uhtred. "Thank you, lord."

"But our lesser men," Alfred stood, towering over the others who remained seated. "If they can know what a Dane knows - fear can be expelled with knowledge. Regardless how sharp their teeth."

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

THE COOL, CRISP SMELL
of night was beginning to give way to the sun-warmed earth, the horizon filling with shades of deep fluorescent orange and pinkish hues, the pale blue starting to take over the sky as the hours ticked.

There was a taste of wetness that cycled the air, morning dew slowly and slowly retrieving from the sodden touch of darkness as the sun bit by bit crept above the earth.

There was a silence that gave into the sound of morning birds, of breeze that ever so slightly brushed against trees - of incoherent whispers and grumbles as everyone began to wake, preparing themselves for the ride ahead.

Freyja hadn't slept and she could feel the lack of energy in her body, as if she'd been entirely drained of everything that kept her awake, kept her moving.

But no matter how hard she tried, how long she forced her eyes to remain shut - she was scared, fearful as to what she'd see in the dark abyss of her mind.

The smell of smoke was strong, too strong. She carried it everywhere she went, unable to get the stench from her nose, unable to clear it from her head.

A heavy sigh left her lips in the bed of silence, her back pressed against the rough bark of a thin tree. Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, blinked across the woods that surrounded her. There was a low fog that settled across the ground, a blanket of cold air that faintly pooled around her.

Leaves crunched somewhere behind her, crackling into shattered pieces as they were stepped on and immediately, her shoulders tensed and she quickly jumped to her feet.

Freyja unsheathed the dagger from her belt, her favourite - a long blade that curved the length of half of her forearm, symbols and patterns engraved into the steel like vines of ivy that trailed endlessly across the silver. She held it in her hand, steadily gripped as she turned.

Her emeralds eyes locked with a pair honeyed gold.

Brida looked pale, sickly pale, her skin a ghastly shade of white, almost transparent. Her face was sunken, making the dark crescents beneath her eyes more noticeable. She looked like death.

Sheathing her dagger, Freyja stepped towards her, face full of concern. "Brida?" She began hesitantly, her voice unusually soft. "Are you alright? You look unwell." Her eyes scanned the woman from head to toe, her arms extended in preparation to catch her incase she fell.

"I'm fine." But despite the reassurance, her voice was weak, hoarse in tone, trembling. Her eyes closed for a moment as exhaustion swayed over her before she blinked them open and mustered a stern expression. "Freyja?" She stepped forward, hopeful eyes gleaming through her sickly features.

Freyja's hands came over the woman's arms, holding her carefully as she began to sway and stumble. "Yes, Brida?"

Brida's hands rested over Freyja's forearms, her grip tightening every so often. For a moment, there was a look of reluctance that passed over her face, as if she was about to backtrack on her words - as if she were scared of the answer she'd receive.

"We should leave." She breathed heavily, her expression pinching for a moment. "Before they wake - just you and I."

Freyja frowned, the expression deep on her lips and despite her head screaming for her to step back, to let the woman go before she was convinced - Freyja knew that something was terrible wrong.

Not in her words, not in her tone of voice, but in the deathly grey that turned her skin almost seethrough, in the dark circles of exhaustion beneath her golden eyes, in the way she gripped hold of her forearms - as if afraid to let go.

Something was so terribly wrong.

"Brida, are you feeling alright?" She ignored the woman's previous words, voice dripped in concern. Carefully reaching up to brush her knuckles along Brida's forehead, she immediately curled her hand back at the scorching touch of her skin. "You're burning up."

"I'm fine." Brida snapped, her voice a little harsher, but that didn't stop the slightest shift of her weight as she swayed. "We should leave. Please, Freyja - I can't stand being here any longer. They don't need us. We can go, find young Ragnar."

Her heart clenched at the words, a sense of whistful longing for her eldest brother making her expression appear more solemn. Freyja shook her head - she couldn't. She had sworn to her brother, she had made a promise to stick by him, after they shall go find what was left of their family.

"I made a oath." Freyja's eyes reached hers, her grip loosening but still a lingering touch in case the woman fell. Something wasn't right - Brida looked awful. "I swore I'd stick beside him."

Brida arched her brows in disbelief. "Just like he swore to keep you safe? I hardly call this keeping you safe."

"I can't, Brida." Her jaw clenched in frustration, her heart longing to cave into the woman's words, to flee alongside her and search for her brother. Just you and I. The words sounded so promising, so endearing, but she couldn't - not unless Uhtred went with them.

"Now drop it." Her voice turned turned cold, cold like ice, cold like the morning breeze that blanketed the shivering earth, cold like Brida's clammy hands that latched onto her arms in silent plead.

It hurt to pull away, to retrieve so quick it was like Brida's touch had scorched her skin, but she did so anyway, despite everything telling her to hold on, to keep her close, to flee and go find young Ragnar.

It was everything she wanted.

But she couldn't.

She turned away amidst her internal battle, fingers clawing through her locks of hair that had been left in disarray, strands wild and frizzy, falling from the braids that were beginning to unwound after days of holding tight.

Brida whine made her turn back around in a instant, the cry of pain echoing endless through the maze of lifeless trees.

She was half bent over, clutching at her stomach where the pain had rested deep beneath the flesh.

Something of worry passed over Freyja's face and she immediately stepped closer to the woman, palm flat against her back as her fingers curled around her arm. "Brida, what is wrong?" She had no clue, but it was obvious that the woman was in serious pain.

Finally, the stubbornness the woman often held up to protect her facade, peeled away and she instinctively leaned into Freyja touch. Her face twisted together. "I don't know. It hurts."

Freyja pouted ever so slightly, her eyes drifting over Brida's face. She reached up, brushing back a fallen strand of the woman's hair just as a scream left her lips.

Brida gripped her hand tight, practically crushing the fragile bones of her fingers just a warmth gushed between her legs.

Freyja's eyes trailed the blue fabric of the dress, her stare widening as the dress soaked crimson. Realisation dawned on her and she squeezed Brida's hand tight.

"Brida, let me go get Uhtred." She spoke calmly as to not let her voice tremble, her eyes flickering back and forth between Brida's pale face and the dress.

"No." Brida whimpered, frantically shaking her head as she clutched hold of the tree to stabilise her balance, to keep herself grounded through the pure agony that rattled through her bones. "No, don't leave me."

Freyja rubbed circles into her back, knuckles rolling deep into the lower half of her spine. She hoped to ease Brida's, to somehow take it away and absorb it into herself, but she physically couldn't, and she was left watching as Brida cried in agony.

"I don't know what to do, Brida. I don't know how to help." Her voice shook, fear, panic, all that of sorts gushing over her in one large wave, crashing down in a heap. She carefully eased her friend to the ground, hands moving frantically across Brida's body to bring her as much comfort as she possibly could.

She touched her hands, arms, shoulders, fingertips whispering across the woman's waist to shift her body around. When it came to her legs, Freyja hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face before she extended them out across the leaf covered ground.

Brida grasped her hand when Freyja went to stand, knuckles flushing white from the tighteness of her grip. "I need you to stay." Her eyes locked sternly on the set of emeralds and it was the only time her voice didn't shake, the only time she was able to speak so clearly through the pain. "Don't leave me, Freyja."

So she didn't, because how could she when her friend was in so much pain? When her sister sounded so broke?

Brida was her sister, had been from the moment she was taken in by her mother and father, from the moment she shyly watched from the shadows as her mother's fingers combed through her hair, from the moment Freyja saved her from drowning in the lake despite not being able to swim herself.

Brida was her sister.

But nothing could ever make Freyja regret her oath.

Freyja couldn't bring herself to string together the right words, to form a simple sentence of comfort as her emerald eyes flickered down to the blood stained dress. It was a pain that only woman would ever have the misfortune of understanding.

Reaching into the pocket of her trousers, Freyja pulled out an old cloth. Carefully, she held it out for the woman to grab - Brida quickly cleaning away between her legs.

Brida's loud piercing scream made her flinch before crawling across the bed of leaves. Freyja nestled beside her, her arm draping around Brida's shoulders, pulling her close.

It was an hour later when her cries finally settled into the silence of the woods, her head resting against Freyja's chest where she listened to soothing rhythmic of her heart beat.

Thump, thump, thump.

The sound rattled beneath her bones, giving her something to ground herself to.

"Brida." Her name was shouted somewhere in the distance, the familiar tone of Uhtred's voice tangling through the word. "Freyja."

Without so much as moving away from Freyja's chest, Brida carefully reached beside her and folded over the crimson cloth, hoping to hide it from Uhtred's sights.

"Brida." Brida began to shake, her limbs trembling against Freyja's body. A tear leaked down her cheek and Freyja held her tighter, refusing to let go.

The sound of leaves crunched in the distance. There was pause, no names being called, no ground being trampled, and Freyja knew that Uhtred had spotted them once the feeling of eyes ran down her back.

Freyja knew that the worse had crossed his mind by the way his pace picked up in speed and soon, he was appearing around the tree, his eyes drifting from Brida to Freyja.

His sister held his stare for a moment before she retreated her gaze ahead once more.

Brida sniffled, just barely having the strength to lift her head from Freyja's chest. The thump of her heartbeat faded from her ears and her head rolled against the rough tree bark.

Uhtred eyes lingered on the bloody cloth.

"Almost a child." Brida's voice was weak, trembling with shaken tears that stained her cheeks. She attempted to smile, to brush off the pain that lingered over her, but all she managed was a subtle twitch of her lips.

Uhtred stared at her, a mix of emotions flashing across his eyes. "You knew?"

Freyja frowned, her weight shifting as she pushed off the tree to spare her brother a glance. "Uhtred." She called his name, softly, sternly.

Brida squeezed her hand. The Dane woman hadn't quite heard Uhtred's words and her brows furrowed as her lips pressed together.

"That you were carrying?"

Brida shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes once again and she breathed a heavy sigh. "No."

Realisation dawned on Uhtreds face. "You didn't see it in your dreams, when you drank the mushroom ale?" Placing his palm flat against the tree, he used what strength he could to stand to his feet, but even his legs were weak, the limbs trembling as he rose. His eyes swept across the woods silent with death.

Breathing a sigh into his chest, his cerulean eyes caught Freyja's emerald ones, the bright green now a dull forest of pine trees sodden with rain.

"Freyja, will you leave us?" It was his way of wanting to have a moment with Brida, something she understood clearly. "Ride back with the others - we'll meet up."

Brida's hand squeezed hers once again, crushing the joints in her grip. Brida didn't want her to leave, she needed her friend, her sister. It pained to pull her hand away, but she did so anyway and Freyja leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her sweat glistened forehead.

Standing, Freyja carefully approached her brother, her arms wrapping his shoulders, a faint, saddened smile lifting at her lips when she felt him sniffle into her collarbone, his arms trembling as they squeezed around her.

There were no words to say in the silence of grief, no comfort she could give to lighten their spirits, only a simple touch, an embrace to silently assure that she was there, that she felt their pain in a way she could without experiencing it.

Kissing her brother's cheek, she pulled away with a squeeze of his hand and slowly mapped her way towards the distant sound of the camp.

When she broke through the last lot of trees and entered into the clearing, she noticed two things, one - how much her hands trembled and shook at her sides from the overflow of emotions drowning her from the inside and two, - that everyone had packed up and now sat atop of horse back.

They all stood around, watching, waiting, a few whispering amongst eachother. The moment she appeared within sight, eyes immediately locked onto her.

Alfred tilted his head, his eyes running over her once before he searched for Uhtred who failed to appear at her side. "Freyja, where is your brother, Uhtred?"

Freyja pressed her lips together and made her way towards the one out of three horses that weren't mounted.

"He said to ride on without him." She informed, looking at the king from over her saddle. Gripping the reins, she lifted her foot into the stirrup and pulled his up, her leg swinging over. "They'll join us further ahead."

Alfred eyed her with uncertainty, before signalling for everyone to begin the ride. One by one, horses sniffled, heels clicked, and the small army of men tailed behind the king of Wessex.

Freyja lingered, a deep frown pulling at her lips as her gaze wandered back towards the trees. It didn't feel right to leave both him and Brida.

"The arseling will be alright." A voice cut through her thoughts as sharp as steel.

Freyja snapped her attention in the general direction of the sound until her eyes found Leofric's. There was something in his eyes, something she didn't understand at first - it was far softer than the usual glares he gave her. Her mind trailed back to when he placed himself between her and Ubba.

Why did he do it?

She didn't say anything, her lips sealed firmly shut as her gaze fell to her hands. She listened to the heels of his horse as he rode forward after the others before uncurling her fingers to reveal the deep crimson of blood stained skin.

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

WHO KNEW HOW HARD
it would be to train over a dozen soldiers to fight a battle. Saxon soldiers who's blood ran stubborn, who's hatred for Dane's ran deep that even the mere sight of Freyja had their lips curling in disgust.

It was a struggle at first, to get them to listen, like a mother who couldn't get her young children to stop behaving like animals. She could even see the frustrating behind Uhtred's eyes as one of the soldiers spoke back with lack of all respect.

But they needed to stay level headed, to stay calm because they needed to keep their promise - Uhtred's promise - not stand and bicker with the Saxons.

Thankfully, even Leofric seemed to have enough and when his shout came through parted lips, the noise echoing across the open field that was surrounded by dead trees, the Saxons all seemed to obey from that moment on.

They were all scared of Leofric, though she couldn't seem to understand why.

With her feet planted in the ground and a wooden stick she'd borrowed in her hand, she held the shield loosely in front of her, feeling the brush of another's shoulder as her eyes scanned the row of men on the opposite side.

Leofric was amongst them, the chains of his mail glimmering with varying spurts of light and he stood a little in front of his men.

"Stand together." His words were loud, shaking the bones of his men who lingered. There was a synchronised thump as they all ascended forward and formed a proper straight line.

"Shields front." Uhtred ordered and there was no mistaking the faint grin on his lips as his eyes searched for Freyjas. Lifting her arm, Freyja raised the board of wood and locked it with the ones she stood between.

"Shields up." One by one, Leofric's man brought up their shields and held it in front of their body's so only the top half was seen over the edges of the wood.

Taking in a deep breath, Freyja grinned lowly to herself before parting her lips. "Shields together." She ordered as loud as she could muster, her voice echoing through the tunnel of an open field, reverberating across the air. Twisting her arm, she held the shield vertically and shuffled closer to the man next to her to tighten the line.

Leofric's grin was seen at a distance and his dark eyes found Freyja's narrowed ones. "Look them in the eye."

"Closer together. Unbreakable." Uhtred reminded, glaring slightly at a few of the men next to him who refused to get closer with the dane. With a few more shifts of weight and the shuffling of feet, they made an almost perfect line - a wall of shields.

"Are we ready?" Cheers followed the sound of Leofric's voice, loud and unsynchronized as their sticks were thrust into the air. "I say, are we ready?"

Freyja gripped the stick, holding it like she would a sword and with a press of her lips, she gave the next order. "Forward!"

The feet of men stomped the ground like an approaching army, blades of wet grass shaking from the sheer force of their movement. As they moved, the space between either side grew smaller and smaller, closing into a narrow gap before Leofric's voice broke through the thundering noise.

"Kill the bastards." Breaking the line, they came charging towards them, barreling at the speed of wild horses.

"Stand together." Uhtred's face pinched.

Dragging her tongue across her bottom lip, Freyja smiled behind a stoic image. Her grip on the makeshift sword tightened.

In seconds, she felt the pressure of a dozen men slam against her and her knees shook with the need to buckle beneath their weight. But she held tight, teeth gritting together as the men around her collapsed and stumbled, only few managing to keep the wall up.

Swinging her arm, she swiped the stick beneath one of the soldiers legs, the ground shaking as he hit the ground quickly.

She raised her shield and slammed it against another, her eyes catching a brief glance of Leofric before her arm was shoved back and a head was quickly collided against hers.

Freyja fell, the image of his tall stance of a wall against the blinding sun now replaced with the powder blue sky speckled with heavy clouds. Blinking, she couldn't stop the tears from prickling her sight as her nose flushed cold at the touch of pain.

A hand extended down for her to grasp and she was pulled to her feet. She blinked, the image blurry but the sight of Leofric staring down at her was obviously.

Then she felt it, the warmth that immediately dripped from the tip of her nose, staining the grass between them.

It was as if the gods had somehow managed to turn back time over and over in a continuous repeat as they formed the walls of shields and charged at one another with swinging swords.

The pure force of the hit slamming against her made her stumble back, her weight shifting as the shield was knocked away, clattering to the earth below.

Freyja glared hard at the tall warrior before her, towering over her like a tree that shaded her view of the sun, creating a coldness to spread across her skin.

Gripping her makeshift sword, she flung it around to shatter against his, the hit rattling through her bones and jarring her teeth from the sheer amount of pressure.

Her eyes danced over him from head to toe, closely observing the way he stepped around her, the way he held his stick, the way he defended her hits.

Freyja faltered for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she watched him lean back on his weight. From the corner of her eye, his arm raised, the stick flying straight for her head.

Quickly, she ducked, dropping low to the ground to avoid the hit aimed directly for her skull. Lifting her chin slightly, she peered up at him with large, glowing eyes.

The sword came in a down strike motion and she raised hers to meet half way. Her hands gripped either side, teeth grinding together and the moment the wood collided, the stick in her hands cracked, splintering down the centre.

She rolled out of the way just in time to feel a hit against her shoulders, the pain bruising the skin as the wood pelted against her body.

A hiss left the slither of her lips like a snake, spit dribbling from her mouth. Freyja jumped to her feet, fingers curling around the two shortened sticks in her hands.

"Is that really all you got, ass wiper?" She taunted lowly, stepping back to dodge on of his swings. Hit after hit, the two of them danced back and forth. "I expected more."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to have low expectations, Dane?" Leofric breathed heavily, shifting his weight back as the end of the stick narrowly brushed passed the skin of his neck. "Saves disappointment."

Freyja grinned falsely, eyes carefully narrowed. "I'll have to keep that in mind for the future."

There was a pause as silence moved through the passageway of their gaze before a low growl escaped her clenched teeth and she surged forward.

When he brought his sword in a downwards motion, Freyja raised both halves of her stick and formed the shape of an x. She blocked the hit, arms straining beneath the pressure and with a glare, she raised her leg, kicking her boot into his torso.

Leofric stumbled back in surprise though the expression didn't linger long before he swung at her.

They were completely unaware to the silence that washed over the field, so quiet that only the beating of their sticks were heard. Eyes watched them from a distance, smiles on very few.

When Leofric swung at her, Freyja ducked and charged like an enraged bull, head down, arms extending before she wrapped them around his torso. They both crashed to the earth in a heap, their bodies thudding against the shaken ground, her body on top of his.

Eyes lingered and Freyja could feel the pulse of his chest beating into hers. She could feel everything, the harshness of the cold brushing her exposed skin, the hard muscle beneath her palms, the heavy feeling of his hands on her waist.

Then she blinked, her mind reaching the surface of reality and she tore herself away as if his touch was something poisonous.

Freyja stared up at the pale blue sky speckled with clouds. A heavy feeling settled in her chest, an invisible hand grasping ahold of her heart and squeezing till the point of hurt. She took in a deep breath through her nose, smelling the crisp air before releasing it from her lips.

Leofric was the first to gather himself up, and the moment he towered over her, he silently reached out a hand, his eyes completely avoiding hers as best as he could.

Freyja took it, allowing him to pull her up.

A burning sensation spread across her spine, like multiple daggers carving into flesh. The feeling of eyes moved over her and Freyja jutted her chin in the direction. She half expected to see the others, to see her brother standing amongst them with a smile on his humourous face, but all she saw was the endless, evergreen trees of the woods.

She could have sworn she saw something move, a flash of a black silhouette but the moment she blinked, the image was gone, faded beyond her sights.

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

LIT FLAMES OF
candle wicks scintillated flickering shadow's across ivory skin, soft red hues glistening to the surface of pale faces, warmed by the heated atmosphere of the tavern.

There was a incoherent chatter that flowed throughout the room, filled with soft whispers and drunken banter as the ale flooded the veins of those who lingered inside.

Freyja sat silently on the edge of her seat, emerald eyes staring deep into the orange flames as if she were staring into the depths of an endless ocean where the worst of creatures hid.

She could see herself staring back, cold eyes fixed into a glare, scars littered across skin - the perfect reflection of her nightmare.

Freyja could feel herself being lured in by her own eyes, dragging her deep into a dark abyss the longer she stared - she wondered if that was how other's felt staring into her eyes, as if they couldn't escape unless she looked away first.

The tips of her fingers kissed the surface of the chipped, wooden table, drilling a rhythm through the silence between the three.

Beside her, Uhtred peeled a flesh of apple with a scrap of his small knife, his teeth crunching into the fruit as he stared opposite to him.

Leofric chewed the bit of bread between his teeth, his eyes drifting back and forth between the siblings faces. They weren't related by blood by any means, but the longer the warrior stared, the more their features began to morph into one, revealing similarities to the surface.

Their eyes, although different shades, looked identical.

Making room in his mouth, Leofric settled his eyes on Uhtred and spoke. "Brida."

The sound of his voice broke Freyja from her stare and she immediately blinked as if she'd been startled from a dreamless sleep.

Uhtred gave a heavy sigh, his body visibly tensing at the mere mention of his lover and his cerulean eyes darkened on the table. "What of her?"

Leofric clicked his tongue, his eyes drifting in thought. "Well, I'm no seer, but I'd say she's unhappy."

Freyja's brows pulled together, her pointer finger hitting the table in a particularly hard tap. "I fail to see how that's any of your concern." Despite her words, her tone was soft, barely so much above a whisper as she spared a side glance to the man across from her.

Leofric narrowed his eyes, carefully observing her face as much as he could in what little light thay fanned across the left side of her features. The rest remained blackened by the shadows, like a faceless silhouette in the night.

"It's not," he half shrugged his shoulders. "Just an observation."

Freyja looked away.

Swallowing the piece of apple, Uhtred continued the drag the knife across the fruit. "She prefers the company of Danes to Saxons. Nothing wrong in that."

Leofric's eyes drifted. "Well, she's been with the wrong Saxons." Clearing his throat, the soldier raised his tankard of ale to his lips.

Freyja shifted in her seat, legs straddling either side of the bench. Her elbow rested against the table and her eyes traced the whisps of a single flame. "The Dane's have a hunger for life."

Leofric watched, as if transfixed by the sight, as the shadows drifted away and formed a cloak on her back, her features coming into the warm golden light. "Don't we all?"

Uhtred was the next to speak, to break through the silence that briefly settled. "Alfred," he began, "he's serious."

Leofric scoffed, his eyes rolling across the room. "A pious bastard." Freyja arched a brow at his chose of words. "Dislike him by all means, but never underestimate him. He is ruthless. And the man thinks - which is more than you or I could do."

Freyja rolled her eyes, forcing herself to look away. "Speak for yourself, ass wiper." Her lips curled into a subtle sneer before it was wiped away as a figure moved through the shadows to approach them.

Immediately, her shoulders stiffened, capturing the attention of the soldier and her brother, but she didn't pay them any mind as her eyes settled deep in the dark corner as a face appeared behind Leofric.

Aethelwold.

He approached with an uneasy smile and carefully steps, clutching the cup in his hand. "Leofric the warrior, may I sit with you?" Before either had a chance to answer, the boy lowered himself into the space beside Leofric.

"No, you may not." Leofric sighed, knowing his words were utterly useless to the king's nephew. "Do the monks know you're missing?"

Aethelwold hid a smile into his drink.

"Uhtred, Freyja, this is Aethelwold, another arseling." Leofric introduced with hesitancy, discontent with the boys presence clear in his eyes.

Uhtred eyed him up and down with one quick swift of his gaze and spoke into his hand. "Nephew of the king."

There was no mistaking the glare in Aethelwold's eyes as his hand clenched, his head immediately shaking in denial. "No, I am not the nephew of the king. I am the king."

Freyja forced a frown on her lips, eyes focusing on the ripples of her drink. "But yet, Alfred was the one who was crowned." With a half hidden smirk, her eyes locked across the table. "I saw it with my own eyes - not exactly something you can make up."

Aethelwold's jaw visibly clenched. "Alfred likes to pretend, and every bastard appears to be happy with the lie." He trailed off with a forced laugh, forcing himself to look away from the Dane woman and brought the ale to his lips. "What are we talking about?"

"Alfred."

Ale dribbled down his chin as Aethelwold quickly ripped the mug from his lips. "He will not allow me to fight, have I told you that?"

"Many times." His voice showed a lack of interest, boredom clear within his tone and expression. His eyes once again rolled across the room, only just catching a glimpse of Freyja's humourous expression.

"Well, it's true. He will not allow me to fight." Aethelwold shifted in his seat, facing the tall soldier. "I would like you, warrior Leofric, to teach me how to fight, and I shall teach you to," he trailed off, eyes searching across the soldiers scattered and battered face.

Leofric arched a brow, knowing that there wasn't anything that Aethelwold could possibly teach him. "Go on."

Freyja lifted her head as footsteps approached, her eyes catching sight of a brunette woman before her gaze settled back on Leofric and Aethelwold.

There was a small smile on the woman's face as she refilled Leofric's mug. "You will not forget to pay for this." She reminded, pressing on her words.

Immediately, Leofric had turned to face her, and there was no mistaking the glint in his eyes as he looked up at the woman. "Have I ever?" Although it was subtle, Freyja didn't miss the faint twitch of his lips.

"Once or twice." She trailed off with a flirty grin and refilled Freyja's empty cup. With one last parting glance, the woman turned and walked away, Leofric's eyes following along her path.

There was a pause - Uhtred and Freyja raising their mugs in synchronised movement.

"Alfred was caught humping a nun once." Aethelwold blurted as if he were talking about the weather, his voice a casual rhythm across the table.

Freyja choked, ale spluttering from her lips, drool dripping over her chin. Ripping the drink away, she slammed it onto the table and coughed harshly, her face reddening from the liquid caught in her throat.

Her body jerked forward as Uhtreds hand slapped down onto her back, her eyes avoiding Leofric's humourous stare that glimpsed across her.

Aethelwold continued. "What I ought to do is slit his glizzard."

In the blink of an eye, Leofric had fisted the boys hair and slammed his face into the table. He leaned over, lips curled into a sneer as he spoke. "Say that to anyone but me, boy, and you'll be hanged."

Aethelwold's palm slapped the table. "You are hurting royalty."

Freyja arched a brow as the young man's hair was released. Her eyes, a startling shade a green, lit by the shadows of her mind, swept idly across the room. She pressed her lips together, concealing the half smirk that threatened to show. "Royalty? I don't see no royalty." She trailed off, her eyes locking with the pair of glazed over ones. "All I see is a snake."

And he was a snake. He was the type of snake who had the ability to splurt lies and fractured promises, false tales to get those with a weak mind to fall prey to his venomous fangs.

She had picked it the moment she saw him.

Aethelwold's jaw clenched and he glared at her harshly, feeling as if her words were a kick to his ever growing ego. His lips parted to speak before they snapped shut, the ability to reply with a comeback slipping from his mind as the ability to string together words became a difficult task.

Raising a hand from the table, he pointed a stern finger at the woman, a forced smile coming to his lips. "What was your name again?" He didn't wait for her to answer, "Freyja? Well, Freyja, open your eyes because the king of Wessex is sitting right in front of you."

Freyja remained silent in her words, brow arched, eyes flickering between humourous and uncertainty. Everything inside told her to not trust this man.

Uhtred and Leofric looked backed and forth between them, the latter slapping away Aethelwold's hand who had continued to point across the table.

Uhtred raised the mug to his lips. "You are lucky Alfred hasn't had you killed."

"God will not allow." Aethelwold spoke, his eyes staring down into his cup. "I like god."

Hours had been spent drinking away at the supply of ale, hours filled with drunken banter falling from Uhtred's slurring lips. Freyja had stopped a little while ago, deciding it best to remain with a sober mind if it meant either of them getting home.

His laughter rang through the air, loud and bursting from the confinements of his chest - Freyja didn't know what he was laughing for but she couldn't stop the smile that faintly painted her lips.

"I should get him back." She whispered so only her and Leofric could hear amongst the bursting atmosphere. Raising her head, she could see the ale was even taking a slow toll on him, but even his last was no more than an hour ago.

Placing her hands flat on the chipped away table surface, she pushed herself up from the bench and dug into her pockets.

Leofric had stood along with her as if his body was moving on pure instinct. His eyes watched her every movement, a permanent frown on his lips as his gaze followed the movement of her hand.

"Where are you going, sister?" Uhtred drunkenly questioned, his glazed over eyes sweeping just barely across her.

She ignored him. Removing her hand, Freyja tossed a few coins onto the table - nowhere near enough to pay for the liquor her brother had drowned - but it was a start.

Leofric eyes darted to the young man still drunkenly rambling, barely even aware to his own surroundings. "You sure you can manage on your own?"

Stepping out from between the seat and the table, Freyja stepped behind her brother and looked to the warrior. "You offering to me take home, Leofric?" She jested lightly, the small amount of ale in her veins making her feel a little more free.

Leofric's eyes slightly widened at the comment and he coughed awkwardly, his hand brushing over his chin as he avoided her stare. He opted to play along, to fall prey to the joke before speaking. "No, just offering a woman some assistance."

Freyja snorted, her hands settling on the underside of Uhtred's arms. "Perhaps Aethelwold could teach you a thing or two." Before Leofric had the chance to ask what she had meant, the Dane leaned over to speak into her brother's ear. "Come on, time to get you into bed."

With a tightening of her grip, she lifted Uhtred from the seat, easing him up into a stand-right position.

Uhtred barely so much as fought against her, his hands childishly slapping at hers in an attempt to free himself from her grip. "I am a grown man, I am capable of taking myself to bed." His words came out slurred.

Freyja and Leofric shared a subtle laugh, the former searching over her brother's face. His eyes were glazed over, cerulean taking on a deep watery blue.

Her palm slapped his shoulder. "Sure you are, big man." She trailed off with a laugh and angled his body in the direction of the exit.

Sparing one last look with Leofric, she draped her brother's arm across her shoulder. "Good night to you, ass wiper."

Leofric gave a small smile, barely visible in the traces of darkness that lingered upon his face. "Dane."

Stumbling through the bodies and tables that crowded the proximity from the back of the tavern to the very front, Freyja could feel Leofric's eyes following the two of them - for what? She wasn't sure.

Pushing through crowd, Freyja gripped Uhtred's wrist, forcing his arm to stay in place as he attempted to pull away.

"Where are you taking me?" Uhtred furrowed his brows with a frown, his head turning to gaze across the table they previously sat at and Leofric who had settled himself back in his seat but still followed them with his gaze. The sight only lasted a second before it was blocked away behind heads. "I want to go back."

Freyja rolled her eyes, feeling herself slowly sober at her brothers stubbornness. "You've drank their ale supply dry, Uhtred. I think it best you stop for the night."

Pulling Uhtred along, dirt kicked up from beneath their footfalls, cascading over boots.

Uhtred continued to frown. "I wasn't the only one." He shook his head, pouting like an upset child. "You and Leofric assisted."

Freyja pressed her lips together, eyes flickering humourously as she caught a glimpse of him beneath the silver of moonlight. Gripping his waist, she steered him onto the path behind the tavern. "And just by that sentence alone I think you should rest."

There was a pause for a moment as Uhtred searched for words, a comeback to retort - or maybe he was so drunk on ale he couldn't speak. Dropping his chin to his chest, he mumbled above a whisper. "This is kidnapping."

Freyja chortled lightly, throwing her head back to laugh up into the nights sky. "Oh, Uhtred, whoever is dumb enough to kidnap you will bring you right back within five minutes."

She didn't receive a reply as his attention immediately fixed on the gathering of chickens within the centre of the path. He began to pull away, Freyja let him, her shoulders growing tired beneath the support of his weight.

Chicken noises flowed from his lips and he stumbled towards them, making the birds startle and squake loudly at his presence.

Freyja smiled softly. "Uhtred, leave the chickens be." Reaching out, fingers wound around Uhtred's elbow, tugging him towards the direction of the homestead, but he didn't move.

Looking back, Freyja found Uhtred's eyes, more glazed over then before. The cold glare of moonlight reflected against the unshed tears that pooled within his water line. She faced him, her fingers sliding down his arm to grasp his hand.

He was looking right at her.

"Uhtred?" She hesitated, unsure as to whether or not she should speak.

"I'm sorry." His voice dripped with guilt, and after a second, a single tear fell, a fat bead of salt rolling down his cheek, catching in the hairs gathered along his jaw.

Freyja attempted a confused smile, her eyes unsure as she stepped fully in front of him. "What has your drunken mind convinced that you're sorry for?" She reached up, a careful hand wiping at the single tear.

His head fell forward, forehead pressing against her shoulder, immediately wetting the fabric of her shirt. "This is all my fault." His voice was muffled but Freyja heard him perfectly clear. "If it wasn't for me, you would have your family - Ragnar - you wouldn't be stuck here unhappy."

His words were like a hand reaching into the cages that protected her heart, fingers slipping through the gabs and grasping a tight hold of the large red organ. Her chest ached at his guilt and for that, she felt guilty.

She let her head fall back, silver light alighting her features and her eyes fell shut. Breathing in in, the icy air somewhat soothed the tears that threatened the show, but she wouldn't allow it.

Looking back in front of her, she released the breath in a visible white cloud and guided Uhtred's head up from her shoulder.

Freyja forced a smile. "Don't waste your time looking back, Uhtred. It is nobody's fault but Karjartan's."

And hers.

She didn't want to say anything, didn't want to admit to her own blame she set upon herself - she didn't want to replace her brother's feelings with her own. It was her fault. She should have done something, tried harder to fight back, to avenge her family. She didn't, she didn't even try, and for that she will always blame herself.

Uhtred slowly nodded, frantically blinking away his tears, but even they both knew what words they spoke, nothing could take away their own feelings of guilt.

It made Freyja's blood boil, made her hatred for Kjartan grow further more, made the stems of revenge root deeper into her soul.

She was going to kill Kjartan.

Pulling away, she wiped at the last remaining tears on her brother's cheeks and shifted her position to stand beside him. She held a smile on her face, bringing a light to the somber mood and swung Uhtred's arm across her.

"I think you need to rest that ugly head of yours, brother." She half grinned, hoping to push away the feeling of sadness that buried deep within both of their souls.

Uhtred laughed lightly, hugging her closer and he leaned his entire weight. "That i agree on."

Together, the two stumbled towards the door, unaware of the silence that filled the night, unaware of what occurred behind the sturdy wooden door. The moment they open it, everything would change, every thought, every decision made up until now.

The siblings halted.

On the edge of the bed, Brida sat beside the large trunk of silver - Ragnar's silver - what was rightfully young Ragnar's and Freyja's by blood. The brunette haired woman held the silver cup of a chalice stolen long ago from some Saxon, the steel glimmering a rose gold beneath the candle light.

Uhtred's arm fell from Freyja's shoulder along with his expression, and the feeling of somberness came crawling back. "The silver?"

Brida looked up calmly, traces of a smile reaching her lips. "Yes."

"Why?" Uhtred's frowned deepened, bertrayal flashing within his gaze. "Are you leaving me?"

Brida blinked, taken aback. For a second, her eyes skipped over to Freyja, searching across her tranquil expression before looking back at her lover. "Are you drunk?"

Immediately, without thought, Freyja nodded her head, once, twice and a third time before speaking up. "His head will regret it by morning." Stepping from beside her brother, Freyja sauntered across the room towards the single bed in the corner.

Kicking off her boots, she began to unsheath the multiple daggers and knives strapped to her hips and thighs.

Behind her, Uhtred pressed his lips and shook his head with a mere shrug. "Maybe a little."

Sucking in a breath, Brida prepared herself to speak. "We will give the silver to young Ragnar." Her hazel eyes glimmered gold in the candle light, searching across Uhtred's face that remained unreadable. She stood from the bed, the hard wood floors creaking beneath the shift of weight. "Tomorrow, dusk."

Across the room, Freyja set down the last of her daggers to the side table, her hand freezing midway from retracting back to her side. Her head tilting, gaze across Brida through her peripheral vision.

Slowly, Freyja fully turned towards the woman, eyes gleaming with traces of hope. "He's here?" Her voice shook with uncertainty, unsure if she was somewhere between fantasy and reality, between the dream world and the living - she was unsure if this was something the ale swimming through her veins had conjured up to taunt her.

Brida smiled with tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She gave a careful nod, her expression on the brick of joy. "He's here." She confirmed, looking back at Uhtred. "We can tell him the truth."

Freyja slowly lowered herself to the bed, her mind paralyzed, limbs numb to everyone around her. She was happy - more than happy. There was no words to simply describe the feelings gushing through her - but at the same time there was something nagging, something buried deep inside her saying that this was wrong, that this wasn't supposed to be.

Freyja pushed that feeling away, choosing to bury herself in happiness.

"And we can join Ragnar and his men."

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

THE BREAK OF DAWN

approached the clear horizon, alighting the sky in the signature dusty blue before the sun had the chance to rise upon the cold earth and warm it beneath its glistening touch.

But even when the sun rose, there was no warming the earth as a sheet of snow bedded the ground in small heaps, speckled across the dying forest- the lake frozen over in thinning ice apart from the centre where it pooled with freezing waters just waiting to drag you beneath the surface.

The sound of chattering teeth could be heard within the silence and Freyja could feel her gums ache, her shivering limbs just hoping, screaming for even a touch of warmth.

But she argued against herself, forcing herself to remain in place within the branching of a tree base as she huddled beneath the thick furs that surrounded her body.

She was a little further away from Uhtred and Brida, a good enough distance to keep them out of sight, but if she listened closely, she could still manage to make out their whispered voice's weaving through the trees.

Maybe it was selfish of her, but she wanted to be the one to first see Ragnar, just the two of them for a moment, even if it only lasted a second.

From the day he left for Ireland she had imagined this scenario over a thousand different ways - she'd be waiting for him at the docks and she'd run into his open arm's and he'd great her with the biggest hug. He'd wander into their home as casually as one would and greet them as if he hadn't been gone in the first place

Or the one that Freyja imagined most.

She'd sail for Ireland herself and join his side.

But never did she imagine this, in a dying forest, shivering in the cold, so far away from a place she once called home, gone, perished in the flames that took her family.

In some dark, twisted way, she found it funny how the gods can take her dreams and rewrite them in a different light.

A twig snapped in the distance, so close yet so far away as it endlessly echoed through the trees. Freyja snapped her head to the right and spotted a figure carefully riding through on a horse. She grinned, recognising Ragnar even cloaked beneath the layers of furs.

She waited, grateful he hadn't seen her yet and once he was a few feet away she took the pebble she'd been twirling between her fingers and tossed it directly at him.

Freyja bit her lip as it thumped against his head.

Ragnar released the reins guiding his horse through the woods and lifted the hood from his head, unveiling the mask that kept his features hidden.

Lifting his chin, he looked towards the sky, his emerald eyes finding the identical ones that belonged to his sister. "Little fox." He whispered yet she heard him clearly, his eyes wide in disbelief.

And for the first time since the fire, a piece of her heart began to heal over, leaving a scar of a traumatic past.

Freyja grinned brighter than she had before. "Hope you didn't have too much fun in Ireland without me, brother." The feeling that filled her chest was indescribable and she surrounded herself in a bubble of joy in that moment of time as she practically leaped from the tree branch.

Ragnar met her halfway, eagerly climbing from his horse, draping the reins over a branch that stuck out practically close. He faced her, arms opening broadly for her body that came crashing into his chest.

She hugged him tight, burying her face into his furs, her limbs no longer trembling from the cold but more so excitement. She felt like a child again the first time she saw a butterfly.

Ragnar hugged her equally as close, fear stemming within him, afraid to let her go incase she'd vanish into smoke.

Squeezing her eyes, Freyja uttered the words she'd longed to speak. "I missed you." I needed you. She wanted to shout. Why weren't you here?

But no matter how many thoughts crossed her mind, no matter how many truths that summed up the utter feeling of loneliness she felt, all she could say was I missed you - She cursed herself for not speaking up. This was not who Ragnar raised you to be.

Young Ragnar closed his eyes, cheek resting upon the messy braids that threaded through her hair. They were frayed at the edges, strands sticking out, long overdue to be rewound and fixed, but for months, she hadn't had the heart to undo them.

Her mother was the last one to braid her hair.

"You would have loved it in Ireland." Ragnar mumbled above her, his palm flat across the space between her shoulder blades. "It's so green. You should have been there."

Guilt pooled within her chest.

Squeezing her arms as tight as she could muster through the shaking of her arms, Freyja pulled away so only her hands settled on his waist and she was forced to look up.

Ragnar's eyes pried open and lingered on her face. His hands ascended up, brushing over her shoulders until he had her face grasped between his palms.

"I thought you were dead." He spoke truthfully, his words somber with grief of the thought. He looked at her as if she was already dead, as if she had died along with the rest of their family, perished by the wild flames that consumed their home.

And there were times where Freyja believed she had.

Ragnar shook his head, still in disbelief at the sight of her. "When Brida told me you were still alive, I -" he trailed off, unable to string together a proper sentence until he forced himself to relax. "I didn't believe her."

Freyja smiled grimly. "I'm here." She whispered, her eyes staring up at his face. She laughed lightly, repeating the words again. "I'm here."

Ragnar laughed along with her until their joy dimmed into tranquil expressions and reality finally caught up to them. Ragnar's smile fell, his eyes wavered on the edges of something unreadable. "Where is he?"

And just like that, the moment was brought to an end.

Stepping back, Freyja felt the warmth of his arms slip away and her body shivered no longer with excitement as cold replaced the feeling of her skin.

"He's not far." With a tilt of her head, she gestured her brother to follow but before she moved an inch, she gave young Ragnar a specific look. "Ragnar." She waited until she had his full attention before speaking once again. "Hear him out."

She could have said that Uhtred didn't do it. It would have been easy, too easy to spit the words and Ragnar would have certainly believed her, but that was the thing — it was too easy.

This was something they both needed, Uhtred to say the words and Ragnar to hear them from him. In a way, it would bring them comfort — she couldn't explain how, but it would — just like she needed to be the one to see him first.

All Ragnar did was give a single nod. He would listen, he would always listen, to her at least. And no matter what he knew or what he thought he knew, he would take Freyja's advice and listen.

Walking through the trees, they came to a small clearing on the other side of the lake to see Brida and Uhtred huddled close, foreheads pressed together in a show of intimacy.

The moment Ragnar's foot came stomping down of a twig, snapping it in half, leaves crumbling beneath his boot, the couple sprung apart and rose to their feet.

Shock painted Uhtred's expression at the sight of his older brother, his cerulean eyes darting from Freyja to Ragnar.

Ragnar extended his left arm, guiding Freyja back to stand a little behind him and he stared deep into Uhtreds eyes, searching for traces of any lies. "Did you kill my father?"

Uhtred's eyes twitched. "Do you need to ask?"

Ragnar stepped forward, his voice a little louder, a little more firm. "Did you kill my family?"

Brida frowned. "He didn't."

Ragnar barley so much as glanced at her, his jaw pressed firmly shut as he spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm speaking with Uhtred." No brother was said and that was a clear sign of how much doubt had seeded without Ragnar.

Calmly, Freyja looked over the woman, no smile or frown on her lips, no expression in her stare. "Let him speak, Brida" She wasn't cruel with her words, nor harsh, she spoke as carefully as one would to a sleeping babe or a frightened animal. "They both need this."

Brida believed her.

Though, despite her words, Freyja cautionly glanced back and forth between her brothers. Ragnar took another step in the distance between him and Uhtred, his hand meeting the hilt of his sword. "I won't ask a second time."

Brida looked towards Freyja in panic, but unlike her, Freyja remained calm, at least on the exterior. She knew that Ragnar wouldn't go through with it, at least until Uhtred admitted that he had killed their family. Ragnar would listen to what he had to say.

Uhtred, as calm as one would be as if his own brother hadn't threatened his life, unsheathed his own dagger strapped to his hip. The blade sliced the air, steel scraping across the surface. "If you believe that I would kill our father, our mother and our family — " he tossed the knife, the weapon clattering into the muddied earth. "Take your revenge."

Ragnar looked from the knife to Uhtred, searching his expression with uncertainty before the red angry god within his stare dulled to the look of relief.

"I knew it." He breathed. "I knew it." He said louder, releasing the hold on his sword and closing the distance between him and his brother. With visible clouds of air escaping his lungs against the cold, he threw himself at Uhtred, arms grasping him tight. "I had to be sure, I knew it."

Freyja smiled softly at the sight and approached with traces of hesitation. The moment she was close enough, Ragnar didn't even have to look up before he felt the air for her hand and tugged her into the embrace.

His large arms, defined by the years, wrapped around his younger siblings shoulders, his head buried between theirs.

After a few lingering seconds, Freyja pulled away with watery eyes, making sure to still remain close enough so that Ragnar's arm didn't leave her shoulders. "It was Kjartan." Her features darkened at the mention of his name.

Uhtred nodded along with her, his eyes glimpsing over her face before he looked back at Ragnar. "Kjartan attacked and set the fire. If we could have saved them, we would have."

Raganr swallowed thickly, his eyes wandering aimlessly at the news broken to him. "I knew it. I didn't believe a word I was hearing." His eyes settled on Freyja's face, his palm lifting up to cup her right cheek. "There was no mention of you surviving the fire."

Freyja's hand rested over his knuckles, a sad smile tracing her lips. "I was in the tree when it happened. I saw the smoke and ran to help," she trailed off, head tilting in Uhtred's direction. "Uhtred caught me before I could get myself killed."

Ragnar's eyes were grateful as he looked at Uhtred. "You saved my sister."

Uhtred rested a firm hand to the broad stretch of his shoulder. "Our sister." He corrected, a soft smile twitching at his lips. Dropping his hand, he inched back and glanced towards the chest of their father's wealth by the fallen log. "We have Ragnar's wealth, we kept it for you."

Reluctantly, Ragnar released Freyja as his eyes caught sight of Brida. His eyes looked her over, his smile brightening as he reached for her. "Brida." He chuckled in disbelief, pulling her into his arms. "Fully grown woman now."

Brida's face was overtaken with joy, hazel eyes glancing between the siblings. "I've seen this moment in my dreams so many times."

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

EVENING SET ACROSS
the sky in deep hues of flaming orange and sapphire blue, shading the horizon in an ombre effect, darkening the dying woods.

Fire crackled a few inches from her feet, warming the air around her like a heated blanket — or maybe it was Ragnar's body that protected her from the very cold that left her skin feeling like ice and turned her breath into gusts of white fog.

She huddled against him beneath his arm, using his shoulder as a makeshift pillow as she spoke, explaining the death of her family and how Kjartan and Uhtred's uncle were involved.

Falling silent, she looked away from what was left of her family and lingered her eyes on the flickering tongues of flames that licked the crumbling logs.

Ragnar looked upon the side of her face in thought before bringing his attention to Uhtred. "So, Kjartan's story is that the English rose against our father, encouraged by you. He claims to have revenged himself for the killers."

Brida gazed upon his face, gold lit shadow's scintillating across his skin from the fire. "Did you ever believe him?"

"Never." Ragnar pressed his lips together and chuckled. His expression grew serious. "But he is lord Kjartan now. He has three times the men and the ear of Ubba."

Freyja's face soured, lips twisting into a sneer. "He is living every man's dream." She peered up, her eyes shifting from Brida to Uhtred to Ragnar. "He must be punished — by us or by the gods. Him and his Cyclops son." Smiles twitched in humour of the nickname given to Sven.

Ragnar's eyes settled back on the fire and he hummed thoughtfully, fingertips twitching together. "When I kill him, it will need to be planned."

Uhtred looked up. "When we kill him." He corrected.

"It will be dangerous." Ragnar warned carefully, eyes narrowing at the younger man.

Uhtred tilted his head with small traces of a smile. "It must be done."

Brida leaned further against Uhtred's side, eyes piercing at the older man. "Ragnar, we're with you."

Ragnar straightened up, his arm squeezing Freyja's shoulders. "Then you will sail with me?"

Freyja and Uhtred shared a silent look, both knowing that with Uhtred's promise held in place, neither of them were going anywhere anytime soon.

Brida breathed in and smiled, her hand reaching over to clutch Uhtred's in his lap. "I will."

Uhtred slowly turned his head, giving his lover a somber, knowing look. "I have sworn to Alfred." He reminded in a low whisper.

Brida squeezed his hand, shaking her head in assurance. "It means nothing."

Ragnar slowly released Freyja's shoulder and sucked in a cold, harsh breath that left his lungs aching for warmth. "Well, if you have sworn," he trailed off, unable to allow himself to speak the dreadful words. Once again, they were being separated. "Then you must keep your word."

Swiping his tongue across his teeth, his eyes sought out Freyja, searching her face, hoping that she wouldn't be the bearer of bad news. "Will you join me Freyja, or have you made an oath as well?" It wasn't intentional, but his words were a dig that made both Freyja and Uhtred wince.

Freyja looked guilty, and that was enough to bring a heavy sigh from Ragnar's chest. Her emerald gaze locked with cerulean blue, flames flickering within the windows of her brother's soul. "I made a promise to Uhtred I'd stay by him."

Ragnar gave an understanding nod and lifted himself from the makeshift seat. His boots thudded against the muddied ground, leaves and twigs crunching beneath his footfalls as he stalked towards where the orange light ended and the dark woods began.

He stopped when Uhtred rose to his feet, voice loud against the silence, echoing. "I need this revenge like I need water. When the time is right, I swear I'll be with you."

Ragnar smiled. "I know." And with a firm nod, he disappeared into the endless pools of darkness.

Freyja glanced to the space he previously sat, to Brida and her gaze lingered on Uhtred who swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Without a word, she stood to her feet and fled the fire that brought her warmth, her pace quick as she chased after Ragnar.

She came to a still between the tree's to find him untying the reins from a branch. "That's it?" She questioned in confused hurt. "You're just going to leave?"

Ragnar held a casual smile as he turned to face her. He shrugged, leather straps tapping against his thigh. "This place has no need for me."

Freyja furrowed her brows, bottom lip slightly jutting forward, reminding Ragnar of the stubborn child she once was. But that was the thing, Freyja was no longer a child but a grown woman — reminding him of just how much time he'd lost.

She looked more and more like their mother.

"We need you." Freyja whispered the obvious truth.

Ragnar smiled sadly at the ground and shook his head. Lifting his chin, he gazed over her before turning towards his horse. "Go back to your promise, Freyja." And although the words were careful, it was another unintentional dig to her oath.

Freyja stepped forward with a bubble in her throat, not meaning for her voice to shake. "That's not fair."

Ragnar mounted the four-legged creature and looked down at his sister, the somber smile still resting upon his lips. "The gods are not fair, little fox. You will do well to remember that."

If the gods were fair, their family would still be alive. If the gods were fair, Kjartan would have already been punished. If the gods were fair, Freyja wouldn't be trapped in an oath against her will and she'd be with her brother.

Freyja nodded grimly, scoping the ground in thought. "Will I see you again?" She looked up with a hopeful gleam, searching for his gaze through the shadowless night.

The hooves of his horse crossed the distance and he stopp inches away, his chin buried into his chest as he looked down at her. "When the time is right."

And with those parting words, he disappeared into the trees, vanishing from sight and the scar that mended Freyja's heart peeled away from the bleeding organ.

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

word count: 14,259