☾
"I'm confused. So you're not mad at them?"
"No, I am but not really angry, just annoyed," I groaned, trying to explain my thought process to Freyja, who I'd sought out in a dream to vent to. "I would have appreciated some patience, you know? This is new to me."
"You are their leader," Freyja mused softly, her voice rustling the leaves on the trees of the creek, "they have expectations of you."
The creek had left winter too now, and although it was as cold as usual, a sun shone down from the sky, and the water rippled more gently. The trees no longer creaked, and flowers coated the side of the water.
I huffed as a rock sticking out of the creek dug into my back while I leaned back against it. "I have made my decision now, and I can not help but fret that Ingemar is furious with me. I need her support."
"I can not tell you what Ingemar thinks," Freyja hummed quietly, "but I know that the loyalty your people have for you is deeper than you think. You have made friends along the way; you do not stand alone."
I mulled over her words in my head, my hands clasped over my stomach, staring up at the blue sky. She couldn't be wrong because Freyja knew everything. I knew that I had friends and that people cared; these people had gone to war for me. I was just simply coming to terms with being in charge. It was not easy taking Jarldom after my father's rule and the example of Ragnar. I had big shoes to fill.
"I think, sweet child," Freyja spoke, amusement lining her words, "that you need to get out of your own head. You can not be loved by everyone, so do your best, and if people leave, let them."
My heart panged dully at the thought of Saga or Uhtred leaving if I could not appease them. Naturally, Sihtric would leave, too. Ingemar, I would not miss as much, but her expertise was irreplaceable, and the warriors respected her immensely.
I would be very alone after that.
"You think too much," Freyja groaned, "I am done with this. Go back to your world."
I jumped up, looking up to the sky, "I was not done asking for your opinion on—"
"Goodbye, Gyda!"
I shot up in my bed, the bear furs falling off me as I glared at the wall across the room.
The afternoon sunlight streaked through the small window in the room, and it hit my hands, warming my skin and bathing the walls in an orange hue.
With a small huff, I dragged my legs off the bed, my long, black nightdress embroidered with silver thread pooling around my feet. It was a small pleasure of being a Jarl; fine clothes of silk and cotton, gifted by many who wished for my favour, meaning I could wear a new dress or new armour every day.
I moved to the small oak table in my room, sitting down on the chair covered by deer hide before reaching for the letter I had left behind upon deciding to speak to Freyja.
It was a letter for Aelfric, Uhtred's uncle, detailing my supposed desire to form alliances with all neighbouring fortresses. This was the only remaining letter of many drafts, I had burned the rest apart from one. That one letter left Dunholm and rode closer to Bebbanburg every second.
Beside the practise letter was another one. This one was from Edward.
He had assured me that Uhtred was blinded by greed and only needed me so long as Bebbanburg was out of reach. Once he had his home, Edward believed Uhtred would return to his side and swear an oath, or at the very least, he would swear to Aethelflaed of Mercia.
I trusted Edward about as much as I trusted the wind to carry me through the sky, but that did not mean his letter did not inspire anger and doubt. I was already scrambling to make peace with all my allies, I did not wish to feel threatened that they would leave me after I had served my purpose to them.
I groaned loudly, dropping my head into my hands and digging my fingers into my scalp, my elbow knocking into something hard as I wallowed in self-pity.
The smell of wood burning forced me to open my eyes again, and I yelped as both letters on my desk caught on fire, burning quickly from the candle holder I had knocked over across my desk.
I rose quickly, picking up the candle and blowing it out before tossing it onto the chair, grabbing at the edges of the paper and trying to blow it out as well.
A knock sounded on my bedroom door. "Gyda?"
"Damn you," I huffed, staring up at the ceiling where I imagined Freyja would be looking down at me, laughing at her punishment of me for not getting out of my head.
"Gyda, I can smell smoke. Is everything okay?" Sihtric's voice grew a little more nervous, and his heart jumped from behind the door.
I tossed the papers to the floor as the flames licked at my fingers, and I grabbed the pitcher of water I kept on the desk as well, pouring it over the floor.
Smoke rose steadily, and I glared at it before turning my face to the door and smoothing out my dress, "You may come in."
Sihtric's heart leapt again, this time in relief, and a moment later, my door was pushed open, and he stepped inside.
Life in Dunholm was treating him well, too. He adorned the finest dark leathers and new armour, engraved with the emblem of a wolf, which was the new symbol of Dunholm. He had washed and braided his hair anew and he stood before me a new man though it had only been ten days.
He had given me space after I had become angry with him. He had not sought me out but he had left little trinkets at my door every morning and every night: flowers, pebbles, birds that he'd taught to sit and wait, fruit and even, a dagger.
It was difficult to be angry with him for a long time.
"What happened?" Sihtric frowned slightly, eyeing the ash on my floor.
I cleared my throat, tossing my hair over my shoulder with a small shrug, "I decided to get rid of some things."
Sihtric raised his brow slowly, his face turning to the fire pit in the middle of my room, "I see."
I flushed lightly, turning away from him and darting back over to my table, placing the candle where it belonged before I sat down and stared into the mirror. "How can I help you?"
He was amused, the bastard, as he watched me, his hands sliding into the pockets of his armour. "You did not come to lunch."
I picked up my hair brush, "I was busy speaking to Freyja."
Sihtric hummed in response, taking a step towards me, "You did not attend the war council this morning either."
I brushed my hair over my shoulder, running the brush over the ends, catching his reflection in the mirror as he stood behind me. "I have made my decision. I do not need to be there for the details."
His hands crept up my back, featherlight, before they found their way to my shoulders, settling on them and squeezing them lightly. "I have missed you."
My cheeks warmed again, and I looked down, pretending to focus on brushing my hair while my heart beat out of my chest.
His hands slid down my arms, and he wrapped himself around me, leaning as he rested his chin on top of my head. "Are you still angry with me?"
I sniffed simply, speeding up my brushing of the tips of my hair; I was not, but I enjoyed his grovelling.
"Gyda," he smiled against my hair, moving his face so it was beside my ear, his breath fanning it, "I am sorry. I did not wish to put you in a difficult position; I was thoughtless."
"You were," I grumbled quietly, relaxing a little in his hold, "at least you know."
"So, you are speaking to me again, hm?" He teased lightly, his lips pressing into my temple while I moved my elbow back to hit his stomach.
"I do not have to entertain you," I muttered, glaring into the mirror so I could see his eyes in it, "I can go back to not speaking to any one of you."
"Do not." Sihtric murmured, raising his hand to my cheek and turning to my face to the side, his lips pressing into mine softly. He'd been chewing on mint leaves.
I let him brush his nose against mine as he moved back, turning back away from his warm eyes, "Is Ingemar angry with me?"
Sihtric reached out for the hair brush in my hand, taking it from my fingers and straightening out. He took my hair off my shoulder, smoothing it out against my back before running the brush through it. "Why would she be?"
I placed my hands in my lap, fiddling with my fingers, "I openly rejected her plan, forcing her to fight in a way she does not believe in."
Sihtric scooped my hair into his hand, brushing it carefully. "She was being stubborn, and she knew it too. Her and Saga have made lots of progress. We are nearly ready to fight."
My heart lurched slightly, both with anticipation and nerves, "So soon?"
Sihtric lowered the brush to the table, his fingers instead weaving through my hair, separating it into sections. "You have a lot of warriors, and they are impatient. It is in the nature of the Danes to fight from spring until autumn..."
"And then sleep in the winter," I finished for him softly, "my father used to say the same thing."
Sihtric's fingers paused in their braiding of my hair but only for a moment, "He was a wise man."
My father's belongings had been discovered from the camp in the forest. I had bound the entrance with runes and thread, using the tent as the grave I could not dig, so I could remember Brynjar whenever I wanted to. "He was."
Sihtric peeled some leather thread off his wrist, binding it around my hair, "The warriors wish to avenge their fallen. Many want to fight until they can no longer,"
Ingemar's promise of Northumbria flit through my head momentarily, and I shook my head to push it away.
"Did I tie it too tight?" Sihtric asked instantly, his hand reaching to turn my face to him again.
I smiled slightly, looking at the green of his eye, and then, the hazel: spring and autumn side by side. "No, it is perfect."
He matched my smile, bending to press his lips to my forehead, his words a quiet mumble, "Good. The thread is blessed, so keep it in."
I drew back, amusement blooming in my chest as I used his arms to pull myself up, "You blessed the thread? Why?"
He walked backwards, pulling me away from the table, his smile growing, "To keep you safe."
"I am bound to the Gods," I laughed lightly, following him slowly as he made for my bed.
"And?" Sihtric stopped at my bed, tugging me closer so he could place his hands at my hips. "Can I not pray to them to keep you safe as well?"
I wrapped my arms around his neck, clasping my wrist in my hand as I lowered his face to mine, "I do not need the protection of the Gods when I have a man like you beside me."
"Were you not the one who warned me never to speak against them?" Sihtric mused, his lips peppering kisses over my face as he spoke.
"I do not speak against them," I whispered, slipping my hands between the bindings of his armour, slowly undoing it.
"Really?" He hummed lowly, his thumbs turning circles on my hipbone.
"Uh huh," I tried to force down my smile, and I pushed him back onto my bed, "I am simply favouring you over them."
"Is that not dangerous?" Sihtric teased as I moved onto his lap, running my fingers through his hair.
"We will worry about it in the winter... but right now, it is spring."
☾