At last, after several days of sailing, the fleet saw the land and Ragnar ordered the crew to set the anchor near the shore. He sent spies to set the camp up in a safe place and they returned after one day. In the meantime, Rollo became enraged. All this time on a ship and he couldnot find an excuse to rejoin Gisla underwater. He could not even talk to her. He wondered if she found a place good enough for her to hide. He wondered if, on the contrary, she was nearer than he thought.
While waiting for the fight, Rollo felt like a chained wolf. He kept pacing up and down on the deck of the ship or sharpening his dane axe. He could not wait for the fight. His impatience was consuming him.
Finally, the scouts returned. They spoke to Ragnar and he ordered them to set up the camp near the beach. All the warriors put their feet on the ground and started to set the camp. Rollo couldn't help but praise his good fortune. With a camp near the sea, he could easily sneak out and go wander along the shore to call Gisla and talk to her. He praised the gods for this favor.
Once the camp set, the crew lit a fire to keep them warm. The night was falling slowly and many warriors needed to get some sleep in order to be fully focused during the upcoming battles. When most of the men and women were asleep, Ragnar summoned his chieftains and Rollo to explain his strategy. Lagertha was sitting next to him, wrapped in a cloak of white fur, Floki was leaning against a wodden pillar that supported the main tent, Torstein was sitting on the floor and Rollo stood next to his brother.
"Well. Now that we are all here," he said. "I suppose I should give you the necessary instructions for our raid."
"We are listening." Lagertha said with authority.
"Our main goal is to fight Ketill and inflict a horrible defeat on him. I want revenge over the Swedes. It is a matter of pride. I will not tolerate my uncle's name being soiled forever."
"Neither can I Ragnar." Rollo said.
Ragnar smiled at him and patted his back.
"You are probably wondering why I chose this exact place to cast the anchor. Well there is a village, not far away. An important town, with wooden walls. It is not the town Ketill lives in, but I know for sure he cares about it." Ragnar said playing with a knife. "We are going to raid it. We are going to attack."
"And how exactly are you going to do that Ragnar?" Lagertha asked. "If they have walls, surely they can defend themselves. Such an important town is probably well protected. There might be enough warriors to defeat us."
"Ah but here is the trick. At night, you and your shieldmaiden will enter the fortress. You will stay hidden until dawn; when the majority of our troops will attack the main entrance. The guards will be busy fighting us and another smaller part of our crew will attack by the other entrance which you will defend. You will allow them to come in and you will attack them from behind."
"And then what?" Torstein asked.
"Then, Ketill will be informed of our raid and he will raise an army to fight us. We will lead him to this beach and we will fight him there. Archers will be positioned on the ships and they will shoot from there, a part of the warriors will be hidden and at my signal, we will surround them and end them. Perhaps we could also take some of them as slaves and sell them to the Jutes and the Danes. This will increase our wealth."
"So you are planning this raid solely on around your cunning?" Lagertha asked taken aback by what looked like cowardice.
"Of course I am. There is nothing dishonorable in cleverness, Lagertha. Cleverness can bring you fame." Ragnar said with a cold anger, offended the great shieldmaiden dared to doubt his ability to win the battle.
Lagertha shot him a stare full of distrust. She wasn't keen on this tactic. Yet, she could see the advantages she and her shieldmaidens would gain from such a strategy. Rollo moved forward and put this hand on his brother's shoulder.
"I agree with this strategy. This is the only way to grant us a safe victory."
"Thank you brother. I am happy you like it because you will lead the smaller group of the warriors." Ragnar said.
Floki's eyes widened, his face filled with pure rage and he spat on the floor with disdain. He walked to Ragnar angrily.
"Why should you give that treacherous snake the lead? Did you forget how he betrayed us? How he stabbed you in the back? Did you forget that we cannot trust him? What makes you think he will not do this again? What makes you think he will not take our enemies' side and kill us?" he said waving his arms in Rollo's direction.
Rollo's face darkened. He lowered his eyes and looked angrily at the floor. Again, he was seen as a traitor. He clenched his fists and cursed himself. If only that had not happened, perhaps his friendship with Floki would still be good. Perhaps he would have been seen as the better option to lead warriors.
"Floki." Ragnar warned him.
"No Ragnar! You know it is true!" Floki spat. "Why do you trust him so much?"
"Because he is my brother."
"Did that ever stopped him from betraying you?"
"I forgave him Floki. I am only giving him the lead because I know he is a skilled warrior and that he can lead a few troops. I chose him very carefully and based on his skill set." Ragnar said smiling to Rollo.
Rollo returned the smile, his heart was warmed by the fact his brother held him in high esteem. He reminded himself to thank the gods for it later. Floki looked at him with hatred, anger and distrust. Torstein smiled to him warmly and Lagertha gently patted his back.
"Well. I guess it is time for us to get some sleep. Lagertha, you and your shieldmaiden will attack before dawn. Rollo, you will lead your men at my signal. Be all ready for tomorrow. It will be a long day." Ragnar said.
They all nodded. Floki was the first to get out of the tent. Torstein followed him and was soon imitated by Lagertha whose shieldmaiden, who did not went to sleep like the rest of the men, followed as she walked out of the tent. Only Rollo and Ragnar remained in the tent.
"Are you sure about this?" Rollo asked.
"About what?"
"About me leading some of the men. You know they don't trust me. Why would you expect them to follow my lead?"
"Because I told them to." Ragnar said. "Because I trust you."
Rollo sighed, taken aback. Ragnar patted his shoulder and then left the tent to get some sleep leaving Rollo alone with his thoughts.
He trusted him. His own brother who he had betrayed and fought his whole life trusted him. At last, his relationship with him was back to the way it was when they were young and foolish. At last his brother gave him the lead of some men. At last he had regained his trust.
But then, his thoughts drifted to Gisla, the bewitching mermaid. Wasn't keeping her as a secret another way of betraying him. However hard he claimed it wasn't treachery to her or to his heart, he still felt guilty for it. He loved Ragnar. He was his brother. But more than anything he loved Gisla. Whatever he would do, he would inevitably betray his own heart. It was a shattering feeling.
Without really realizing it, he walked to the shore and sat on the sand, looking at the sea lightened by the moon. He shivered and then wrapped his fur cloak tighter around his body. Despite being still in Summer, the nights were fresh, announcing the coming of Fall. Caught up in his contemplation, he did not notice Gisla coming to the shore. She crawled to him and laid beside him.
"Are you alright?" she asked almost as an insult.
"My brother asked me to lead some men." he simply said without looking at her.
"And?"
"My brother trusts me."
"So?"
"How can this be? I don't understand. I am happy but I don't know, it feels strange."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just feel torn."
"Torn by what?"
Rollo sighed and turned his head to look at her. He instantly regretted it. Her pale face was lightened by the moon in such a way she looked ethereal. Her long hair which he had braided framed her face so beautifully his heart skipped a beat. She had never looked more divine than in this moment.
"Gods you're beautiful." he whispered in awe.
"I know." Gisla fiercely said. "Now tell me, why are you so torn?"
"It's nothing. I have to get some sleep. A long day awaits me." he hastily answered.
"I can't believe it! You're leaving me again! Are you going to leave me here and to wait for the tide to be kind enough to bring me back to the sea?" she said insulted.
"Of course not. Will you allow me, your highness?" he said asking with his hands if he could lift her.
She nodded, her eyes burning with pride. Rollo scoffed and lifted her into his powerful arms. He walked into the water until it reached his hips. He gently stroked her hair and pressed her body against his. He took this opportunity to smell her feverish scent and then, as delicately as he would touch the most fragile of treasures, he put her into the water. She looked at him in a whole new way. In her eyes, he found nothing but doubts and questions. He wondered what she might be thinking. He wondered where her anger and her hatred toward him had gone. As soon as this expression appeared on her face, she disappeared into the waves. Rollo smiled and then headed to his tent.
He had trouble sleeping that night. It had been a while since he last fought and he felt apprehensive about the upcoming battle. He spent most of the night staring at the starry sky, wondering what Gisla was up to. Thinking about her hair, recalling all the times she insulted him and proved herself the fiercest woman he ever met. He had no doubt she could outdo Lagertha in such a field. He desperately tried to recall her scent, convinced it was the only thing that could grant him some sleep, but her smell was so unlike everything he ever smelled, he couldn't do it.
The more he thought of her, the more aroused he became. He would have given his life just for her to be human and be with him as such. But she was a mermaid, a creature that belonged to the sea and to a world he did not have his place in. Yet, he wondered if that wasn't one of the main reason why he loved her. He loved the idea of her. He loved the idea of loving a daughter of Ran. Was that all? No. He also admired her strength and her intelligence. He also adored how ravishing and unique she was. She truly was one of a kind.
Rollo silently chuckled. Every time he doubted his love, his uncertainty was washed away as soon as he thought more about her.
At last he fell asleep. His rest did not last long. It seemed that as soon as he closed his eyes, he was woken up by Ragnar. He looked around the camp and it seemed everyone was awake except for him. Rollo cursed himself. What a poor leader he was. His brother had given him a chance to prove himself a suitable leader and he failed by oversleeping. He hoped his father would never hear of this.
"Lagertha and her shieldmaidens are gone. It is your turn now." Ragnar said.
Rollo grunted and stood up. He put his bronze coat of mail and his helmet on, grabbed his belt, tied his dane axe and his hatchet on it, tied his sword on his back and grabbed his shield. He was ready in less than one minute.
Ragnar nodded to him with a confident smile. He took Rollo in his arms and gave him a hug, creating a noise of two parts of metal crashing against each other like swords.
"Good luck brother. I trust you." Ragnar said.
Rollo gave a sad smile. Why had his brother torn his heart in this way? He let go of the embrace and returned the confident smile. Then, he turned away and went to the men he would lead. He was surprised to find some of the best warriors there were in Ragnar's earldom. Apparently, his brother trusted him enough to lead great warriors. Rollo felt even more torn. But he was also incredibly flattered by the favor.
He inhaled and began to speak.
"Ragnar must have told you his plan to defeat the Swedes. As you may know, I will lead the part of the assault. I see among you many skilled warriors. It is an honor to fight with you." he said with confidence.
"We cannot say the same for you, Rollo the traitor." a voice said in the back.
Rollo's eyes began to burn with rage.
"Whoever said it, leave! I do not want cowards or insubordinate men in my ranks!" he said with authority. "Once we attack, there will be no coming back, only victory or Valhalla. Are you with me? Or should I tell Ragnar his men refuse to obey their leader?"
His question was followed by nods and grumbles. But as soon Rollo walked toward the target of their attack, he was glad to see that they followed.
All went according to Ragnar's plan. At dawn they attacked. Of course, Lagertha and her shieldmaidens did extraordinary work. Rollo did not have to wait one minute before the doors opened. On the ground, he saw the guards, throats slit and arrows piercing their chest. He also saw two of the shieldmaidens lying on the ground, a pool of blood around them. With a smile to Lagertha, he ran into battle recalling the exciting feeling of his own strength crushing his enemies, his bloodthirst fulfilled and the adrenaline that usually joined the fight and the slaughter of enemies.
He shouted to his men, encouraging them to slay as many opponents as they could. He yelled the words as he uttered poetry. He tried as much as he could to inspire them. It must have worked, for he heard them chant the end of his favorite poem with him and saw them run beside him to further into battle and perhaps die at his side. Rollo tried as much as he could to help his men. Whenever he could, he saw blows other didn't see and, immediately, he rushed to them and diverted it with his shield. As much as he could, he tried to protect them. He knew how valuable those warriors were. It would be crucial to have them by his side in the upcoming battle against king Ketill.
The space between life and death was where Rollo felt the most alive. The dreadful eventuality of dying made him want to live to the fullest. His mind was focused on the battle and only the battle. He heard himself grunt and roar. He waved his dane axe around him slaying his opponents, cutting them in half, he crashed his shield on the skulls of the enemies surrounding him and became a storm of death and deadly blows. Of course his opponents tried to resist, but it was no use against Rollo's terrific strength. All fell at his feet in a pool of blood. None in his field of vision remained.
He saw his brother and his friends beside him, fighting with the same rage that drove him in battle, slaying enemies and reaching total victory. Within an hour, it was over. All around Ragnar's army were many corpses, too many to count; all of them painted in red with their blood and the blood of their attackers. Among them, many enemies but also a few of allies laid on the ground. Rollo did not weep for them. After all, he knew they were either in Valhalla or Folkvangr, drinking and feasting with the gods and the Valkyries. He looked at his armor and noticed that the fine bronze of it was covered with blood and that the part of his face not hidden by his helmet was red with the blood of his enemies.
A few villagers were kept alive, mostly women. They were tied to one another and Ragnar walked back and forth in front of them. He had his usual grin, the one Rollo knew was meant to impress his enemies. The prisoners were shaking with fear and a few of them were crying. Rollo felt a hint of regret in his chest but he repressed it immediately. This was the law of the raid. He should not have any feelings.
"You are wondering why I kept you alive." he stated. It was not an interrogation, just a fact. "Well it is either to sell you as slaves or, in the case of two people, to send a message to your king." he said menacingly. "You." he pointed to a young man. "And you." to the other man at his side. "You will be my messengers. Cut their ties." he ordered Floki.
Floki complied, a sly smile on his face and the two men looked at Ragnar with fear.
"Go." Ragnar said with fake kindness, waving his arms.
The messenger immediately ran away, panicked, under the laughs of Floki. Ragnar had a grin on his face and headed back to the camp, followed by the prisoners and his men. Rollo stayed a little while longer in the, now destroyed, village. He watched the blood mixing with themud and fire consuming the houses of what was once a prosperous town. He gave a smile. He did good today, and that made him really happy.
Ketill's answer wasn't long in arriving. He returned one of the messengers to Ragnar with the message that he would destroy him and his men, and then sail to his lands to take it for him as well as his wife. He promised he would kill his son and make Aslaug his fourth wife. Of course, Ragnar had not been impressed and he had scoffed mockingly.
In the waiting of Ketill's arrival with his troops, the warriors trained with each other. Everyone was thrilled to fight a king as powerful and famous as Ketill. With this battle, the chances of fame in case of victory were increased. Rollo was one of them. He craved for the upcoming battle. He wanted to fight. He wanted to win against enemies that were stronger than he was. He wanted to prove himself worthy in the eyes of the gods. And perhaps, in Gisla's eyes too.
He spent most days training and most nights looking for her under the moonlight, whispering her name in the sea and waiting for her to pierce his heart with her eyes. Sometimes they talked for what seemed hours. And other times, they kept silent. Rollo always marveled at the simple fact that he was talking to her. He stared at her and was surprised to find that he found her more and more beautiful day after day. He couldn't wait to prove himself worthy of her by offering her souls. He wanted to kill as many men as he could to make her happy.
After an intense week, his wishes were finally answered. Ragnar spies warned him that a large army was approaching. As soon as he heard that news, Ragnar told the archers to get on the boat and to a part of the troops to go and hide in a cove not far from the battlefield. Then, he led his men to the beach. He gave Rollo command over the same men he led when they attacked the village and everyone got into position. Rollo felt his whole body fill with the thrill of the fight. He unsheathed his sword and waited for Ketill to arrive. Ragnar was hidden with the men and only Lagertha and Rollo stood on the beach with their troops. They were the bait.
The waiting for the first strike seemed endless. Within a few minutes the warriors got into position on the beach, the tension rose to a point it could be touched. The men flexed their muscles, the shieldmaiden gripped their pommels so tightly their knuckles became white. The warriors breathed slowly not to make any mistakes and calm their heart beat. Rollo glanced at the sea and what he saw warmed his heart with the strength of a crashing wave. She was here. Gisla was here. She was looking at him behind one of the boats. Only him could see her. Only him turned his head to her. It seemed the sea was calling him.
She was looking at him, confidence in her eyes. Her face was fierce and he instantly knew what she wanted. She wanted war. She wanted souls to give Ran to fulfill her duty. She wanted him to fight.
Rollo had a silent laugh and a (bestial) groan. He would make her proud. He would make her prouder and fierecer than she already was. He hit the metal part of his shield with his sword and roared encouragement to his men. He was soon followed by Lagertha and her shieldmaiden. They all chanted victory and wrath upon their enemies.
At last, Ketill arrived in front of them. He glared at Rollo and Lagertha's troops with disdain and raised his sword. A few archers came in front of him and they drew their arrows. Before he had even time to give them the signal to shoot, Rollo shouted to the archers hidden in the boats to loose their arrows. Torstein was leading them. A few of the enemies managed to shoot their arrows but without waiting even a second, Lagertha shouted 'shield wall' and all the warriors formed it. The arrows shot some of them nevertheless but despite the amount of blood spread, it was only minor injuries.
Ketill dominated his enemies. He was tall, fair haired and as muscular as Thor himself. His men were similar. Rollo heard Torstein order his men to loose and a few seconds later, their enemies found themselves trapped under a rain of arrows. They protected themselves with their shields, just as their opponents did. Ketill's army was large. Three times larger than Ragnar's. The warriors engaged in battle. Rollo waved his sword, slit the members of his opponents, threw spears, piercing two enemies in a single blow. He was back again in that trance that prompted him in battle. All he saw in front of him was places to hit and enemies to slay.
After a few minutes, someone sounded a horn and the remaining of Ragnar's army spread on the battlefield, trapping Ketill and his men who were all on the beach, lured by the bait Ragnar had set. Soon, the fury of the battle filled the warriors and nothing except roars and shouts were heard. The sand was red with the blood the men spread. Ragnar was fighting three men at once and Rollo was by his side, exhilarating by adrenaline, fighting as many enemies as he could. His heart was warmed that his brother by his side and by the trust he showed in him. He laughed and fought and Ragnar returned the laughs.
In the chaos of the battlefield, Rollo noticed someone aiming at Ragnar with a bow and arrow and another warrior running to them with a hatchet in his hand. Rollo did not think twice. He grabbed a spear and threw it at the man with the hatchet and, shouting his brother's name to warn him of danger, he put himself between the arrow and him. He ran to the archer to kill him but he shot the arrow and it pierced Rollo's body right above his heart. He roared with pain and with rage, he cut the archer in half before he had time to draw another arrow.
Rollo turned to Ragnar, smiling and then headed to kill more enemies to kill and carnage to commit. He noticed a few of his opponents were trying to get on the boats and without listening to anything but wrath, he walked into the water to kill them. He felt a sword cutting his back but did not care. He was entirely focused on the battle.
At last he came to his enemies' height, his body half submerged and slayed them with a blow of his sword. He heard some of them fall into the water. Rollo cut them, piereced them, sliced them and took them by their head and pushed them underwater. As soon as he did so, he felt a movement by his feet. It was her. She was here and she was harvesting the souls of the fallen. Rollo looked at her blue tail moving underwater in awe.
His moments of distraction had the same effect as being struck by a sword blow. He had time to kill the unfortunate man who struck him in the back and then began to lose consciousness. He fell into the water with a big splash. It was only when he noticed that a large amount of blood was coming out of his body that he realized how badly injured he was.
He noticed Gisla coming to him, distress in her eyes. She seemed sad. Rollo did not want her to be sad. He waved his fingers at her and tried to call her name. But the sound died on his lips and his muscles became weak. He was powerless. He was dying. At least, he thought, he got to see his beautiful mermaid before his death. He was glad she was here, for she was the one who would harvest his soul. He was happy it was her and no one else who would have it. With one last grin, he lost conscience and fell in the dark and churning waters of a sea red with blood.
Gisla was fulfilled so far. She was harvesting more souls in one day than she had ever imagined. Never had any of her harvests before been so productive. The souls she caught were so many she lost count. And it was all thanks to Rollo.
She watched him, hidden behind a boat. It seemed no one was paying attention to her. Only Rollo did. She noticed his eyes on her in the middle of the chaos. She started at his sight. One second his eyes were nothing but savagery and bloodlust and just when he met her eyes, they changed and became softer. It was as if the monster in him left him in one moment of grace.
Gisla saw him save his brother. She saw him struck by arrows and blades trying to protect him. She saw the amount of blood he spilled and was spilling. She saw the water turn red. She saw the archers falling from the ship and heard their leader, a tall blonde-haired man, give them strength. She swam underwater to grab them and pull them more deeply into the abyss.
She began a familiar dance and ripped souls thanks to a powerful appearance changed and she transformed into the monster she was when she was harvesting souls for Ran's hall. There were so many to harvest she was constantly singing and she never stopped hearing their screams of pain shut by the water. Gisla was pleased. She knew how painful it was for a human to be stripped from his soul. It was ten times worse than being burnt alive. She was happy to watch them fear her. They deserved fear. They deserved pain. They deserved it for everything they ever did to her people and her mother.
She was so caught up in her activity that she did not notice Rollo walking towards her. She only realized he was here when he drowned one of his opponents and gave him to her. He did so with many other men. And every time he did it, he was struck by a weapon. Gisla could not help but worry. She was so worried she could have dropped her harvest and gone to rescue him.
But she didn't. She had a duty to fulfill.
Yet, she still noticed him fighting from time to time. Never had she met a man of such strength and violence. It was as if he held Thor and Aegir's fury in his body and the battle was the only moment he could let it go. Gisla was equally impressed and terrified.
The more he killed, the more she worked. She fed the sea all the men he killed – which was many – and was bustling around in heaving water.
Until she saw him fall. She suddenly caught sight of himt in the middle of her activity. An alarming amount of blood coming out of his many wounds and tore her heart in two, though she did not know why. She saw his helmet fall off of his head and his long hair spread over the water. She saw him try to reach her with his hand and his lips moving to form a word too familiar. Her own name. He was calling her. He was smiling at her. The same grin that annoyed her and made her melt at the same time. He closed his eyes and drifted away, carried by the current.
Gisla's heart sank as she saw the last remaining of air he had, leave his lungs. She looked at him, unable to move. He was dying. He was dying.
She could let him die. It was her duty after all. It was what she had wanted. What she was meant to do. If she did, she would be welcomed warmly by Ran and everyone would chant her name. After all, he was just a poor human. One of the many souls mermaids or Valkyries would harvest. What was he to her, Gisla the princess of the south? What was he compared to the mighty creature she was? What was he compared to Ran's pride and anger? What was he compared to the gods of the sea? What was he compared to her duty?
She suddenly recalled how he had slayed his enemies and offered them to her. She recalled how kind he was to her when she was being mean with him. She recalled all the moments they spent together, both the tender and the harsh. She recalled how safe she felt in his arms. She recalled his laugh, his eyes and his soft gaze he had when he looked at her. She recalled the sweet sound of his deep voice. She recalled how calming he was.
What was he compared to her duty? The answer was simple: he was her help in fulfilling it. He promised he would give her souls and he did. He promised he would keep her a secret and he did. He kept his promises to her. He did not lie when he said he would be loyal to her. He might even have been sincere when he claimed he loved her. Her heart sank more.
She felt hollow watching him drown in the open sea. Each second she looked at him tore her heart in two. She felt she would never feel whole again. She felt as if her soul had been ripped away from her. It was devastating. The water became more volatile and colder around her. She felt so much pain in her heart she was afraid she was going to die. She felt empty. She wanted to go with him.
One of her braids came to wave in front of her eyes.
No. that couldn't happen. She could not let him die. Not like this. She cared about him. For Ran's sake, she might even like him! She was going to save him. She believed in her heart that Ran would not be as angry as she could be. After all, she had brought her many souls today, and it was all thanks to Rollo, the human. She could at least save him.
With determination, she swam to him as fast as she could and carried his heavy body to a narrow tongue of sand between two high rocks. He was losing too much blood. And his body had too many wounds for her to count. She lifted him onto the surface and kept her head underwater. She began to sing a spell to heal him. She supposed it worked because she did not see blood coming out of his flesh anymore.
Gently, she carried him to the shore where she laid his back on the sand. She pressed her hands on his chest to make the water come out. After a few minutes of expelling all the water he inhaled and because he would not wake up, she gave him a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Gently she brushed his lips with her fingers, lingering on the beginning of one of his scars. She pressed her lips onto his and did it repeatedly until she finally heard his heart beat again.
Far away, she heard the sounds of men, chanting. Apparently one camp won, though she did not know which one. But it was of little importance compared to the man she was leaning over. And it was of little importance compared to the violent storm she saw appearing far away. The waves crashed onto the shore with a high pitched noise and the air suddenly became colder. Ran was angry. She was furious. Gisla gulped and felt panic rise in her body. It was as if someone just poured an ice cold bucket of water down her spine. She was afraid. Terrified even. Who knew what the goddess was capable of? She wished she could disappear to avoid the humiliation that awaited her.
But her worries faded as she heard Rollo's low breath. He coughed and opened his eyes. He intenttly looked into her eyes and frowned.
"Don't cry." he said in a weak voice.
"Idiot, mermaids can't cry." she said in a voice broken by sorrow.
"Then why are you shedding a tear?" he asked trying to brush her left cheek with his thumb.
His hand fell to the ground. He did not have enough strength to raise it to her face.
Gisla gently touched her left cheek and discovered with surprise that she was, indeed, crying. Never before had she cried. Never before had her bloodline cried. What was wrong with her?
"Are you alright?" he asked, worried.
"I should be the one asking this!" she protested.
"Nothing I can't handle."
"You almost died you idiot!" she yelled.
"Gisla, it is fine. You can cry. It is alright." he whispered.
With a loud sob, she let herself go completely into his arms, not caring whether or not she would stain her skin with his blood. He was alive and she needed his shoulder to cry on. She needed him. She needed his support and his kind words.
He gently stroked her hair whispering and sang to her. He wanted her to be fine. But in order for her to do this, she had to let go of her sorrow first. He heard men chanting victory far away from where he was. Someone won. He did not know who, but someone won. He should have gone there to make sure his brother was alright, but Gisla was more important. It was the first time she shed tears. It was important to her. It was important to him.
Right now, only she mattered. The rest of the world could wait.
Told you it was action packed. I can only hope I described the battle scenes well enough (and spread enough blood). Anywhoo, I am so happy about the comments you left on the last chapter. It is always a delight to read your kind words. You may have noticed that this chapter is longer than the previous ones; well, starting from now the chapters will be longer (the average length will be 5,000 words long).
I hope you liked this chapter. As always, comments and reviews are more than welcome.