Chapter Two: Opportunity

A/N: Wow, such an amazing response for only one chapter! We're so grateful for all the reviews, favourites and follows. To any of you wondering - don't worry, Bjorn will be in the story soon ;) We hope you enjoy this chapter, please review!

The feast had drawn out for as long as expected, and Karena had clearly had more to drink than Erlendur had first thought. He had followed her when she had skipped outside, to find her twirling in circles, humming and giggling. She let her head fall back as she spun giddily, either unaware that she was being watched or just too drunk to care. After a few more moments of twirling, she lost her balance and staggered, falling down onto the ground.

"Oops."

Erlendur crossed over and hauled his little sister to her feet. She was clearly revelling in the freedoms that they had been given in Kattegat, although Erlendur had the suspicion that their father intended to marry her to one of Ragnar's blood – most likely his older brother Rollo. The thought made Erlendur press his lips together in a firm line.

"I'm dizzy," Karena complained, the words slurred.

"Bed time," Erlendur declared as his younger sister pouted. "Come on. You've had enough for the night."

Karena allowed him to lead her upstairs, glancing around as though looking for someone. If she was trying to find her usual partner in crime, Ari was still at the feast. Erlendur remembered feasts at home, where the two would whisper and get up to mischief together. It wasn't often that he got to spend time alone with his sister, but he relished it when he did. He opened the door to her room and Karena immediately sprawled happily on her bed, stretching her limbs out.

"I'm a starfish," she declared, before she seemed to remember something, rolling onto her stomach and fossicking around under her pillow. Erlendur noticed her thin nightdress on the end of the bed, picking it up and presenting it to her.

"Is this it?"

"Thank you, Erlendur." Karena pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. "Can you help me with my laces?"

"Alright." Erlendur sucked in his breath, walking over and unlacing the back of his younger sister's dress. He was in a dangerous situation, and he knew it. It was wrong for him to desire his own sister, he knew that. But Karena was completely drunk, surely if he just kissed her, just once, she wouldn't even remember it…

Erlendur slid the dress off her shoulders, watching as Karena held up her nightgown. She was oblivious to the fact that he was doing a bit more than just unlacing her dress, and Erlendur couldn't help but trail his fingers down her back. Her skin was smooth and soft, warm to the touch, and he bit down on his tongue momentarily.

"Are you going to put it on?"

"You're here," Karena said, suddenly becoming shy.

"I'm not looking, sister." Erlendur drew back, sitting on the edge of Karena's bed. He was lying, but she didn't have to know that. She didn't have to know anything. He watched her avidly as she tugged her dress off and pulled her nightgown on. It was too dark to see much, but he thought he caught a glimpse of her breasts, just a quick look at a thigh before she had tugged the nightgown into place. He eyed her as she tugged her dark hair out of its braids.

"You have lovely hair," he remarked.

"Thank you." Karena sat down on the bed beside him, clearly oblivious to the fact that he had been staring openly as she'd changed. "I wish it was blonde like yours and Mother's."

"I like it how it is," Erlendur stated, reaching out to touch a silky strand. However Karena was clearly exhausted, as she crawled up the bed and curled up under the blankets happily.

Erlendur was torn between whether he should stay or leave. The wicked side of him said that if he was to do anything…just a light kiss, or even a quick touch…it would go unnoticed by his intoxicated sister. But the good part of him said that it was wrong, that he shouldn't even lust for his sister in the first place let alone take advantage of her vulnerable state. Tugging his boots off, Erlendur decided to stay – but only as a brother. He and his siblings had shared beds many times in their childhood years, surely it was no different now.

Ylva raked her hair back. She'd forgotten what the celebration could be like. They often led to many of the men being drunk, stumbling around the village trying to find their way home. It also often meant that sleeping bodies were often scattered among the streets in the morning. She didn't see why they needed to have such a big celebration for the arrival of Horik and his family, but she had learnt to ignore them over time.

"Hello there." She turned around when she heard a familiar male voice, although it was slightly slurred due to the alcohol.

"Rollo." She greeted him, turning to face him.

Rollo rakes his eyes over her body, making no move to hide it, earning a questioning glance from her. "Ylva. You look lovely tonight."

"Thank you." She was sure the compliment was just due to his level of intoxication, but she saw no need to be rude about it, or question it for that matter.

"I hear you are to serve Aslaug." He spoke slower than normal, as if struggling to form a coherent sentence.

Ylva nodded in confirmation. She had only recently started to serve the other woman, but the two got along and she found herself befriending her. "I am."

"As a maid?" Rollo raised an eyebrow.

Ylva nodded in answer. "Among other things."

"Maybe you could serve me." He smirked, and Ylva knew he had a double meaning to his words.

"Serve you how?" She asked as she raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. She was not used to such attention from drunken males, but she was willing to wait it out and see exactly what Rollo was implying, although she had an idea. "I can go get you another drink..."

"That would be nice. But what I'm thinking of is even nicer." Rollo told her, stepping closer towards her, prompting her to take a step away from him.

Ylva rolled her eyes. She was quickly growing bored of the conversation, as well as finding Rollo to be intimidating. She was only 5'8, while he was broad and stood at over 6'. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps? You don't think it would be?" Rollo was notorious for sleeping around, and Ylva knew it. She had no intention to become one of his conquests, especially while he was drunk.

"You haven't told me yet what you want to do." She pointed out, although they both knew that she knew exactly what he wanted.

"You look like you'd be a good fuck." He shrugged, reeling back as her fist collided with his face, causing him to rub his cheek. He hadn't expected her to do that, he was used to women being more pliant. "That wasn't kind."

"Well, you were quite rude." She countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"By saying you would be good in bed? That's a compliment. But perhaps I'm wrong." He staggered slightly as he moved a step closer to her again.

"Goodnight, Rollo." She told him as she walked away, pushing her hair out of her face and rubbing her arms. It was cold out, and she sincerely hoped that it would be a nicer and warmer day tomorrow.

Karena woke to a throbbing headache and Erlendur's arm draped loosely around her waist. It was hardly uncommon – she had many brothers and sisters, and often it was more prudent that they shared beds. However it was usually one of her younger sisters she shared with, where they would whisper secrets and about the boys they admired. Karena was too old for all of that now, particularly as she may soon be married herself.

Erlendur's snoring did little to ease Karena's headache, and she pushed herself up with a groan. Nausea roiled in her stomach, and she could feel bile forcing its way up her throat. Hurrying over to the window, Karena forced it open, just in time to vomit her dinner up. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, before glancing over her shoulder at her brother's yawn.

"How are you feeling?" Erlendur asked, his tone indicating that he was more smug than he should have been. Karena did not remember everything that had happened the night before, but she certainly remembered drinking too much. Her father had come over and caught her arm, murmuring that she should interact with Rollo. It had been clear to her that Horik saw a potential match between her and Rollo, and the thought made her queasy again. The man was not unattractive, but he was old enough to be her father!

"Sore," Karena sighed, before noting with a frown that Erlendur was smirking. "Is that funny?"

"It amuses me somewhat," Erlendur stated dryly, resting his arms behind his head and closely observing his sister. "I told you to stop."

"I should dress," Karena murmured, watching as her brother simply stretched out further as if he was going to make no move to leave her bed. Feeling self-conscious, she indicated the door. "You can't stay, Erlendur."

With a sigh, Erlendur heaved himself from the bed and walked out of her room. Releasing a breath she didn't realise she had been holding, Karena went through her dresses. No doubt her father would want her to dress to impress Rollo, who he seemed determined to match her with despite her disapproval. She had heard tales of Rollo, as a drunkard, a brute and a womaniser. She certainly did not wish to marry him.

Nonetheless, Karena took out one of her lower-cut dresses and pulled it on. She sighed heavily as she examined her reflection in the mirror. She was so damn small, and sometimes she really hated it. She fastened the ties of her dress to make the swell of her cleavage slightly more prominent. Her breasts, although not non-existent, were quite small. Heaving another sigh, Karena tugged the dress off in frustration.

No, it wouldn't do at all. She wasn't displaying her wares like a prostitute. She would be proper and civil and if Rollo or any of the other men her father was considering for her didn't like it, then that was their own problem. Karena was not about to pretend she was womanly and worldly and something she wasn't.

Ylva smiled as she breathed in the fresh morning air. It was always peaceful in Kattegat early in the morning. She glanced around; smirking when she noticed Rollo sprawled against the side of a building, a bruise on his cheek from the night before. She strode over to him, looking down at him. "Nice bruise."

"Go away." He groaned, squinting up at her.

"Sore head?" She questioned, earning a glare in answer from him. "Have you had any water?"

Rollo shook his head, pushing himself to his feet. "Not yet."

Ylva sighed, looking around and grabbing him a glass of water, handing it over to him. "Drink. By the way, that bruise looks like it hurts."

Rollo drank from the cup, downing it quickly before getting some more. His head was pounding and the light was only making it worse. He instinctively reached up and touched his cheek, feeling the pain flare under his tips, although he had received worst injuries in the past. He had another cup of water before answering Ylva's question, raking a hand down the front of his face. "Only a bit."

"You invited me to your bed last night. Perhaps you should learn to be subtler in your approaches to women. Not all of them are easily bedded." Ylva suggested, examining the side of his face.

"I apologise." Rollo told her, a slight tone of sincerity in his voice. He paused, thinking for a moment before asking her another question. "Was I rude?"

"Yes, and I hit you." She told him, unable to hold the amusement out of her tone.

"I don't blame you..." Rollo chuckled. He wasn't used to women having enough flare in their personality to question him or challenge him. He found it oddly refreshing. "Feels like you hit hard."