Good Morning, Smár Einn!

Thank you to Mel and Jill!

.: Tuttugu ok Sjau :.

I sleep when we return to the farm. Everyone leaves me alone as I head straight for my bed roll, curling up on my side. Once I'm alone and in the dark, I can't help the tears from coming. I'm utterly lost in this world, and no matter how fast I think I'm learning, it's not fast enough.

The next morning, I wake with an aching head and tired eyes.

Edvard is not present at breakfast, and when we all separate for our daily chores, I follow Eydís silently. She puts me to work, chopping up roots. I do as I'm bade, silently grateful that Eydís has never tried to hide the true nature of who I am to her. She's always treated me like the help, and there is something honest and appreciated in that.

When the sun is at its peak, I finally give in and ask Eydís where Edvard is.

"He's gone to the village," she says distractedly.

I watch as she carefully pounds a poultice.

"He's gone back?" I ask, my voice thin. He must have left the moment we returned last night. Why would he do that?

Part of me—a very self-centered part—thinks I'm to blame for his sudden departure.

"Eydís," I say slowly, looking up from my work. She glances at me. "Do you consider me a þræll?"

She pauses, clearly surprised by my question. I'm a little surprised myself, but I need to know. Eydís won't lie to me.

"You should be," she says slowly. "It's how these things are done." She pauses, eyeing me. "We haven't brought you into our home to be a member of our family, and it is indecent for an unmarried woman to live with us unless she is a þræll."

I swallow hard. "So these are my options," I say quietly.

Eydís pushes the hair back from her eyes. "You can always become a beðþrællr," she says, shrugging.

I recognize the word for bed, and my eyes go wide.

"No," I say quickly, assuming the worst of the position.

She nods, shrugging lightly.

"This is our way," she says again, like it's something I should just know. "My sons are good men," she says. "They could have bedded you when you first came to us. It was their right, but they wouldn't."

My throat goes tight. "Why?" I ask, even though I'm not sure I want to talk about this.

"My sons know of Lofn, the goddess who grants permission to such unions. They would not disrespect her by forcing you, and since you did not know our language, they could not tell you of their intentions." She looks me over. "You wouldn't have received such courtesy in other households."

My mouth goes dry. Am I supposed to thank her for not getting raped when I arrived in this new world?

"So what is to become of me?"

Eydís pauses, looking over at me. "No one can know the will of the gods," she says slowly. "Nor can they know the true nature of a heart."

I don't get it.

When I don't respond, she shrugs and turns back to her work. I feel confused and disheartened, and I hate that such a strong part of me wants to seek out Edvard.

I know I'm not ready to talk to him though, and even if I were, he's gone to the village.

So instead, I return to my work, trying to process all that I've learned.

…

Edvard still hasn't returned by the time supper is done. I'm worried, though I don't voice anything out loud. I don't want it to be too obvious how utterly obsessed I am with him now.

"He won't be back tonight," Rúna says, coming to sit with me. Her baby is at her breast, and I glance at her quickly.

"Who won't?" I ask, my voice cracking over my pretense.

Rúna smiles.

"Edvard went to the village for business. He may be gone for many days."

My heart drops to my stomach.

"Oh," I say, hating the hollow feeling in me at the thought. I'm still not sure how to be around him, or even what to think about him, but I know that he brings me a degree of comfort that no one else does. When he's around, I'm safe.

Rúna smiles as she leans back in her seat, her child suckling gently in her arms. She looks blissful, as if everything in the world is right.

If only I felt a fraction of that.

"He cares for you," she says slowly. I glance at her face, a question on my own. "Edvard. He and Josurr got into a terrible fight when you first arrived. Josurr wanted to bed you, but Edvard wouldn't allow it." She grins. "He says it was in Lofn's honor, but I know he has bedded women on the raids before. I doubt that he stopped to ask them their permission."

I blush scarlet. I don't want to know this about him. "He forces them?" I croak.

Rúna laughs.

"You have seen him. I don't think there is a woman that could resist his beauty. He may not need their permission because it is likely they come to him willingly."

I feel as if I'm going to be sick. "He's had much experience," I whisper, looking down at my fingers.

Rúna hums.

"Perhaps. That's what makes such a wonderful lover though."

I look up at her in shock and she grins. "Edvard desires you," she says, as if it's a matter of fact. "That he hasn't bedded you yet suggests he has another idea in mind for you."

I frown at her, but she just offers me a cryptic smile in response.

"I-I'm not…" I swallow hard. "I haven't…"

She nods, clearly understanding. "Women are not afforded such opportunities before marriage." She scowls, shaking her head. "But it matters not. He will want you no matter what you know or do not know."

This is probably the most embarrassing conversation I've ever had, and I'm pretty sure I'm only understanding about half of it. Rúna is using words I've never heard before, and I'm having to guess to fill in the gaps.

"I don't want to be a þræll," I say quietly.

She shrugs.

"There are worse things than to be a þræll to a family as good as this."

Perhaps in her world, but in my world, I am vehemently against slavery in all its forms.

"If I were to become his…" My throat goes tight at even the thought of saying the word. "A… beðþrællr, would I be his? Or would I be shared?"

Rúna smirks at me. "He may claim you as his own. He found you, so by rights you belong to him."

"I don't belong to anyone." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Rúna grins and continues as if I haven't interrupted her.

"As his property, he can control who you have contact with. It would be up to him whether you were to be shared or not."

I shudder, hating this conversation more and more.

"Stop," I beg, bringing my feet onto the bench and winding my arms around my knees.

"Worry not, Bella," she says gently. "Edvard is a good man. He will make things right."

…

Three days pass without sight nor sound of Edvard. I'm anxious, though I'm apparently the only one. He's never been gone this long, and I have learned so much in his absence.

I've taken the time to consider my options, weighing what I know of this society and trying to untangle the growing feelings I have toward Edvard.

His absence has made one thing abundantly clear to me: I care for Edvard beyond the friendly way I care for the rest of the family. It may be a childish crush, but it doesn't feel so simple. I've never been in love, and I don't think I am, not yet anyway, but it doesn't mean I'm not on the road to something akin to it.

It's terrifying.

I'm restless in the house when the food is cleared, so I head outside to sew in the garden. It's midsummer, or near it at least, because the days are growing longer and longer still. I know it's late, but it's still bright enough to stitch.

I am humming a song to myself as I work, focused on making each stitch as strong and clean as I can, when the gentle footfalls of a horse on the path catches my ears. I look up, my heart racing in my chest as I wait for someone to appear on the road.

A minute passes, and the footfalls grow louder. I set the sewing down, climbing to my feet, just as I see Edvard on his horse turn the corner.

I'm off like a shot, not caring what I'm leaving behind, only minding what is ahead of me.

Edvard dismounts his horse in time for me to launch myself into his arms. He laughs as he catches me, barely taking a step back as the full force of my body collides with his. He smells of woodsmoke and honey, and oh how I've missed him.

"Smár Einn." He groans, lifting me off my feet to breathe me in. I cling to him, furiously blinking past the tears that wish to fall.

He's home, he's safe. Thank the gods.

I'm utterly overwhelmed by seeing him again. The feelings I'd been able to convince myself weren't that big yet come racing to the surface, screaming in my heart.

I can't deny myself any longer.

My lips find his cheek, getting scratched lightly by his beard. I feel him shift in surprise, turning his head to look at me. When he does, I take advantage of his angle, pressing my lips to his.

I don't know which of us lets out a cry of surrender, but his arms tighten around me, bringing me absolutely flush against his strong body. I'm clinging to him like a vine, desperate to feel him.

He tastes of blackberries and ale, and underneath that, the sweetest taste I can think of. Something rich and warm, like amber.

I don't think I can get enough of him.

"Gods." He groans, wrenching us apart. I'm still in his arms as we both suck in deep lungfuls of air. "The temptation of you." He moans, his head dipping back toward me, inhaling into my neck. I let out a whimper, tilting my head back, allowing him access to me. I feel his beard scratch at the sensitive skin at my throat, and I shudder in his arms.

"What has overcome you, Smár Einn?" he asks.

I shift my head so that I'm looking back at him.

"I missed you." It's the simplest truth, and the smile that it brings to his face takes my breath away. He squeezes me again before settling my feet back on the ground. He keeps his arms around me, leaning down to touch his forehead to mine.

"As I missed you, Smár Einn."

I want to kiss him again, so I do. I can feel his lips pull into a grin as he tugs me back toward his body, kissing me like I've never been kissed before.

This is it. This is where I'm meant to be. Right here with this man, forever.