Thank you everyone for your patience, heres the next chapter! Next one up by next week, I'm taking a bit of time out each day to spend on this and another story so stay tuned!

Thanks again!

Chapter Seven:

Cinnamon

She was still grinning wide when she woke, but had distracted herself immediately. This had been an odd day off for her, one she could certainly not waste. When she emerged from beneath the heavy furs, she did her very best not to wake the sleeping, curly headed little viking at her side. She placed the warmth back over the sleeping boy, and readied herself behind a wooden screen. A simple, deep blue swollen dress would be fitting for her venture to the markets, and she pulled the grey cloak over her shoulders for extra protection in the early morning dew.

Lofn beamed when she looked at Erik, so peaceful in his slumber. He looked like a doll almost, the porcelain perfection of his features were almost unreal, he would break many hearts and that was a certainty. He would also slay many enemies, but once more this was a matter the brunette had chosen to ignore for the time being. She left the child in peace and sneaked away quietly, assured he would most likely sleep longer than usual given his late departure to dreamland the evening prior.

Her senses were assaulted with the stench of ash and stale liquor and man, a pile of vikings in drink induced slumbers on every surface. There was no need for Lofn to tip toe but she did nonetheless, like a doe in a grizzly hibernation cave wishing to avoid becoming a meal. She caught sight of Ivar, his long limbs splayed out regally in a large chair. He looked as peaceful as Erik in that moment, guiltless and free of acrimony. His handsome face was bathed in serenity, the weight of his responsibility nowhere to be found. It that moment he was not the man of lore and legend, the rampaging ruler and son of Ragnar known for his brutality. He was not a man with a body count beyond rational thought, he was simply Ivar, and in her heart she knew that he had been there her entire life. He had brought comfort and confusion in visions and the same in person but with the added heat of an undeniable fervour.

A hot shiver slithered down her spine, as her mind went back to the night before and her reluctance to pull her own body from his. How natural it was, and the wordless compliance of her own body and heart with his touch, she had never felt such a fire in her bones. Had it not been for the less than desirable atmosphere, Lofn would have certainly hiked up her skirts and pulled him inside but it did not feel right to do so in a gloomy corridor, in the company of a broomstick. Such fleeting moments were meant for the many times after the first, as a quick release of passion with the added frenzied feeling of being caught.

Lofn wanted to go to him then, to wake him and steal him away to his room and not leave for weeks but there was much to do to prepare. She had made a promise to her grandmother to stock up on cinnamon and ginger before the merchants left to restock their supplies. So with final glance, she crept from the longhouse and began her journey to the market completely unaware of the dark glance upon her.

The smell of spices made a smile spread across her face. Lofn was so grateful that a trade route had been established before she had entered this life. Life would be possible without lemons, ginger and cinnamon but it would not be pleasant for her palette. The future she had been pulled from brought many comforts she was forgetting more each day, but the simplicity of citrus and spice was something she could not forget. She mulled over each barrel of goods, examining the "Exotic" products and picked out a large root of ginger, the smell was strong and spicy and more potent than what she was used to. The young woman inhaled too deeply and found herself coughing from the sensory overload, the merchant chuckled softly, his brown skin was a welcome contrast to so much white and grey around her. There was a cheeky glimmer in his chocolate eyes, and Lofn grinned back.

"It is strong, no?" He spoke the Norse language with a melodic tempering. She imagined how beautiful Arabic sounded with his tone, a language she had always dreamt of learning but never had the time.

"Yes, I'm not used to such exceptional quality, where I am from ginger is over farmed, you need so much to even have a hint of it." She was careful to speak slowly as it was clear his grasp on the language was new.

" Oh, you'll only need a sliver of this."

Just at that moment a woman appeared behind him, her green eyes were striking against her beautiful dark skin, but she had a great kindness within.

She spoke a song of Arabic to her husband, whom gazed at her as if she were made of gold and starlight and she felt truly honoured to be in the presence of their love.

"She thinks you will suit this." The moved to the side and let his wife come forward.

The bundle of a pretty, pale blue shiny fabric. Slowly she unravelled it to reveal a gown, embroidered with golden thread stitched alone the collar.

"May I?" She asked softly, astounded by the authentic beauty of the garment.

"Yes. Please" The merchants lovely wife replied.

Up close she could see the intricate work, so delicate and beautiful that it almost took her breath away. The design was Azaleas, golden and glorious.

"She loves Azaleas." The doting husband commented, his eyes never leaving the magnificence of his mate.

"They are my favourite too." Lofn smiled and made a gesture to her woven basket already containing three bushels of the flower. The foreign woman's eyes lit up brightly and she turned to her husband with a joyful lift to her voice. She was almost too over zealous and he had to calm her sudden surge of excitement. He turned back to Lofn whom was eagerly awaiting the translation and smiled brightly.

" My wife would like you to have it."

"Yes, of course, how much?"

Lofn began opening her pouch of well earned coin. She would be willing to give the entirely of her purse for something so stunning and unique.

" No no, she wants you to have it. No charge."

Lofn was taken aback by the lavish offering from a complete stranger, something so pure would have never happened in the time she was from. The young woman came from a society seeped in selfish desire and narcissistic tenancies, so it was quite difficult to suppress her shock. She was speechless momentarily, but still offered payment.

"Please, I must be able to give you something for payment." She offered, and paused. Lofn had the perfect gift to bestow, a new piece of jewelry she had made just last week and was wearing for the first time this morning. She rolled up her sleeve and unclasp the beaded bracelet.

"Take this."

She handed the other young woman the trinket. "There is an Azalea petal in every bead."

The man turned to his bride to relay the message and watched a larger smile form on her lips, she was so grateful and enamoured by the handmade adornment that she held to her chest.

" Thank. You." She spoke slowly and earnestly, the two words had never been so honest. That is until Lofn herself replied the very same words back.

" My name is Lofn."

She put fourth a hand, extending her utter thanks and offer of friendship. This time though, she wasn't met with confusion and instead the hand of the man and counter bid of their names.

" I am Abbas, and this beautiful woman is my wife, Lina."

Lina then embraced Lofn with a kiss to each cheek, thanking her again.

Lofn spent another few minutes learning more about the merchant couple. Soon she had learned that the two had grown up together, only blocks separating them but they had been very much in love for their entire life. Abbas had started his trading business from a small batch of ginger and grown it into something much more at just sixteen years. They were impressive people and Lofn promised all of her business to them. Piling the lovely garment, ginger and cinnamon in her basket of course not before parting with two bundles of sun yellow flowers to Lina.

The fates had informed him of victory before sailing to Kaategaat with his brother, but they had also foretold the presence of beauty amidst the chaos of war. The soot mouthed seer had spoken details that he had scoffed at, his blackened heart beat to kill and conquer and women were but mere vessels for pleasure. But he had seen her from miles out even before docking, 'deep brown waves amidst a sea of gold and white-blonde tresses' the crackled voice of the seer began to replay in his mind. It was an unknown force that snapped his head in her direction and his eyes had not left her since. 'The name and beauty of a goddess,' that was plain for every pair of eyes that sought a gaze upon her. But to Halfdan, a man that knew how to kill a man fifty different ways the thought of claiming a woman's heart was baffling. It would be a daunting task but worth the pot of nectar in the end.

He knew strategy and it would be a skill he would readily employ, mainly so because another had already claimed the dark haired siren. The former crippled boy of Ragnar Lodbrok had made his intentions obvious to anyone with eyes of there own and without the uttering of one word. 'Patience will be rewarded.' He wanted to garrote that damned messenger of the gods. Patience was not something he was accustomed to, when he wanted a new weapon, he built it and when he wanted gold or pleasure, he took it without waiting.

Women are fickle though, elaborate and confusing but within minutes of speaking to the young Lofn, he could tell a difference from the women he was acquainted with. His mother had been a subservient wife to his father and their sisters the same, married off at young ages to breed heirs for other Jarls. Most other women complied with a demand for their body, fear always outweighed reason. He would sleep with a woman a few times only to grow bored with her lack of any substance, but this one was different. There was a fire in her eyes, a defiant nature and resilience that intrigued him. Ultimately, he wanted her body and womb to breed strong sons and brazen daughters but this had been the first time in his thirty one years that a thought beyond quick release had entered his mind.

He almost didn't hear her enter the great hall, but he felt a great shift of energy and woke from a mead driven sleep to find her floating towards the door. Lofn was dressed so modestly for a woman of high regard and when he finally had her, all would know it. She would be covered in gold, silks, jewels and furs fit for a queen but marking her as his own and wearing the spoils of his conquest on her very sleeve.

Halfdan stalked his intended silently through the early morning bustle of the crowd. Jealous of every passerby that gawked after her, envious of every merchant receiving her kind smile. Lofn had lingered at one stand, and he simply watched the exchange of goods and friendly gesture. From his view point she had been gifted a garment worthy of her beauty and had been beyond pleased. He would make note to make the acquaintance of those foreign merchants, perhaps commission gowns, each more extravagant than the last.

The Tattooed warrior began his march forward, to narrow in on his eventual spoil. She wasn't paying attention to her path and mindlessly marvelled over the pale blue dress in her woven carrier. He was several feet from her when it seemed the gods favoured him enough to cast a large stone beneath her feet. Her foot caught and her body fell forward, but his reflexes were so imprinted on every muscle that he caught her form and the basket of goods before every bit fell to the dirt.

"I'm so sorry." she breathed. It was clear she had been caught off guard by the fall, but even more so by her Savior. There was a great bewilderment to her expression. Her cheeks flushed but she made no move to leave his grip.

"Lucky you, I was passing through." He could have sworn he saw a fleeting look of suspicion in her eyes but it was soon replaced with a cloying smile.

"Thank you. Halfdan you have saved me from making a complete fool of myself."

She straightened herself up and politely pushed herself back up, he did not fight her on it as frightening her completely would ruin his chances. Then again, he could just claim her the old way by challenging the younger man and stealing her away. The thought had passed through his head more than ten times in the past twelve hours.

"At your service, Little Wolf." flattery would be implored now, his brother advised it above all else.

She blushed a deep crimson at the nickname but a twinge of playful challenge dashed across her lovely features.

"You assume I am deserving of such a name."

He snickered. " It is part of your name, is it not?"

"Yes, my fathers." She paused " I'm not so much shorter than you."

Halfdan mad his presence more physical, the gap between them was not modest but she had almost frozen in place.

" Yes, but you are still much smaller." he whispered the words, his formidable physique made most cower from the mere presence. " you're the perfect size, little wolf." the last of his words tapered off into almost nothing, audible only to her ears. And her blazing, amber eyes held his for a good moment until a small voice pulled her back to earth.

Lofn regained her composure as Bjorns youngest raced to her and grabbed on tightly as if seeing her for the first time in years.

"Lofie, Lofie!"

A grey haired, ageing woman with fierce eyes of the same hue followed.

" Erik, Amma good morning." Lofn greeted the two.

Halfdan ignored the lingering, weary gaze of the old healer and kept it fixed on the dark haired Dane.

" Amma, this is Halfdan, he saved my pride and new gown from eating the earth just now."

"hmmm." The old woman was dismissive . " That's all well, thank you. Come now, I need help, young Inna has gone into labour."

Lofn was hardly able to spit out a goodbye before her grandmother sped her far from his company. Halfdan laughed to himself, she'll tell the young woman to stay distant from him for sure but he would eventually figure out the concept of patience.