Good Morning, Smár Einn.

Thank you so much to Mel and Jill.

.: Tuttugu ok Átta :.

It's difficult, now that we've crossed this line, not to beg him to go further. I've never had sex—I barely have experience kissing—but right now, I don't care. My body and instincts are leading me, and I'd follow them anywhere so long as Edvard was there.

He does eventually stop us, groaning and pulling back from me, gently pushing my shoulders so that we're an arm's length apart. "I must stop, Smár Einn."

I take in a ragged breath. "Why?"

His sharp eyes cut to mine, and I can see the surprise in them.

"Because," he says, taking a careful breath. "You are about to be a woman."

I frown. What is he talking about? I've already gotten my period, which I had to deal with already here. I couldn't believe how much I missed modern conveniences when Eydís had offered me a tightly wound wad of wool to use as a tampon.

"I don't understand," I tell Edvard, because I want to see where he's going with this before I start talking about my period. It may not be a big deal here for them, but I can't shake the stigma of it from my own time.

Edvard smiles, and I forget my thoughts completely.

"I have spoken to Egil, husband of Tove," he says, squeezing my shoulders gently. "He wishes to take you into his home."

I have no idea what he's talking about, and as my blank mind scrambles to figure it out, I start to worry that he means I'm meant to somehow marry Tove's husband. Are they polygamists?

"Edvard," I say slowly. "Did you sell me?" The hurt in my tone is unmaskable.

"No, Smár Einn," he says, stepping closer to me again. His eyes are intense, burning at me. "No, don't you see? You will be a woman."

I shake my head, my tears starting to choke me up. "Edvard, I'm already a woman." It might be pushing things a little bit to call me a woman, since in many ways I still feel like a girl.

Edvard swears and lets me go, pacing away. I can see him trying to figure out how to phrase it so I'll understand, but right now it feels like I'll never understand. "You will be a woman, Smár Einn, no longer þræll."

My mouth pops open in surprise. "No longer a þræll?" I ask in English because I'm too surprised to focus on his language. He understands though and nods. "How?" I ask, forcing myself to ask so he'll understand.

"Egil has bought your freedom," he says, smiling wide. "You will be a woman of his house."

I still don't know what that means. Am I being sent away? Did I do something wrong?

My tears start back up again, and before I can stop them, they are spilling over my cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Edvard asks, stepping close to me so quickly that I instinctively flinch. I see the regret on his face that he's startled me, but it's quickly replaced by his growing concern.

I stare up at his handsome face, his brilliant eyes, his beautiful mouth, and I don't have the words or courage to tell him how I feel, at least not in his language.

"Don't send me away," I whisper in English. "Please, I… I think I…" I choke on the word I really mean, seeking another instead. "...I need you and it scares me because we still barely know each other, but I don't ever want to be away from you now. Please don't."

My tears are thick as they roll down my cheeks, and Edvard groans, reaching down and pulling his arms around my waist. It forces my arms up around his neck, and I cling to him as I cry, trying to come to terms with the big, irrational feelings coursing through me. I can't love him, can I? We've only just had our first kiss.

Part of me argues that it can't be love; that this is just a crush. But I've had crushes in the past and they have never felt like this.

I feel wonderfully, terrifyingly, out of control in his arms.

"Smár Einn," he whispers, his face nuzzling into my neck. I feel his lips press against my neck, and my heart skips a beat as my breath catches in my throat. "This is not sadness." His lips brush along my neck.

My skin is exploding into goose flesh, and embarrassingly, I can feel my nipples, hard and aching, pressing against him. My body is out of my control and I have no idea what to do to rein it back in.

"Egil and Tove will have you of their family," he says gently, pressing another kiss to my neck before pulling back slightly. "You will be a woman of our village. You will have your own wealth, your own choices."

He's a little blurry through my teary eyes, and I blink hard, trying to clear my vision while I process his words.

"Wealth?" I ask, confused.

He sighs.

"It's not much," he says, his face falling. "But it will be enough. You will have the freedom to choose a life for yourself."

I'm struck mute as I realize what it is he's offering me. Freedom. Not just from servitude, but a freedom to command my own life. It's a freedom I've never had, not even in my life back in Forks.

"I get to choose," I whisper, unable to speak in his language as I mull it over.

He seems to understand because he nods, his head dipping down to press his forehead against mine.

"Smár Einn, you will be free."

There is a complicated conversation around Old Norse community dynamics, but I'll break it down quickly. The model I'm using here is found in most (if not all) Old Norse settlements/Scandinavia. Thralls were not considered free citizens, but there is also record of some thralls being paid, being allowed to marry, and of course, earning or buying their freedom. This is a really complicated subject, and not all Thralls were treated equally or given the same rights. Also, because Thralls weren't considered citizens, often they were held to different standards as the Norse, such as women could actively engage in unmarried sex, etc. We'll get more into this conversation as the story progresses, but please feel free to message me with questions or confusions, etc.