Edithe could not lose Rollo's attention if she tried. Especially this evening when she seemed so at home. His blanket tucked around her shoulders and his favourite cup in her hands.
This was how he'd imagined married life would be, comfortable. He didn't just want a wife so he could fill her with sons and daughters, he wanted nights like these. Companionship and a beautiful face to look upon instead of always seeing an empty chair. Winters were long without anyone to share your fire and he'd spent many of them alone.
So as he watched her with warmth and longing, it did not escape his attention when her eyes trailed up to the rafters, her brow furrowing with curiosity. In an instant, he knew exactly what she was looking at and braced himself for her reaction. Yet she did nothing.
Still, blood ran like ice through his veins and he knew he needed to be more careful if he wanted to keep the smile on her lips. Already he'd stopped himself from telling her about their upcoming wedding. And if he didn't feel ready to tell her that, then he certainly wasn't ready to show her what he'd so carelessly hidden.
Seeing her father's sword now would destroy their fragile bond and he couldn't risk that, not when he felt closer to her favour than ever before. One day he would give her the sword and be happy to do so. But not today. Today he would hide it again.
He served supper, distracting her with questions about her childhood and the evening resumed as if the sword wasn't hanging precariously over their heads.
In fact, she didn't look back to it once and it grew late. Far later than they usually stayed up. He'd expected Edithe to retire to the bedroom but she remained seated, stifling her yawns and forcing her eyes to be more alert.
"I think it's time for bed," he suggested.
Her attention drifted briefly to the rafters, "I might stay up a while."
Of course she would.
How foolish of him to think something had piqued her interest and she had decided to do nothing. Just like him, she was waiting for her chance. Waiting for him to leave so she could be alone with her discovery.
"Then I will keep you company," he smiled, filling her cup once more with ale. Two could play at this game and he had far more to lose.
Usually she only ever drank one cup, half a cup even. This was her third and she looked at it wearily.
"You don't have to do that," she said, straightening herself in the chair and sipping the ale with what appeared to be renewed energy.
He wasn't going to be outpaced by a Saxon woman half his size, not in drinking, not in anything. "I cannot leave you to drink alone," he said, filling his own cup.
At this hour there was little to do but drink or fuck. So they drank. The room comfortably warm, the ale deliriously pleasant and both of them drifting from time to time in their cat and mouse game of staying awake.
They also talked. For hours. Conversation growing easier with every sip of ale and Edithe revealed more of herself to him than she'd done in all the previous weeks put together. She told him about her home, her family and even her arranged marriage.
"I did not want to be sent away," she admitted, filling her cup and frowning as the flagon ran dry. "But I would have done my duty, been bound to a-" she scrunched her face "-boy prince and I suppose I would have been no happier there than I am here..."
She paused, her gaze slowly meeting his, "with you."
Suddenly he wasn't nearly as sleepy as he'd been moments before. Now his heart pounded. His mind spun with questions.
But Edithe laughed, shaking off her careless admission as if it was nothing. As if it meant nothing. "I believe I am quite... drunk," she said, standing on shaky legs.
Rollo caught her stumbled steps and pulled her onto his lap. "You are," he observed, brushing her hair behind her ear so he could look upon her face, "and far too easy with your words."
"Then I should leave before I say something regrettable," she whispered with a girlish laugh, her head butting into his, uncoordinated but gentle.
"Like what?" he encouraged, holding her steady.
Her eyes searched his, more sombre now, "I don't know."
But maybe she did know. He shifted forward, intent on kissing her but stopping short of her lips. He could almost taste the ale on her tongue, almost taste her willingness. But perhaps that was just her drunkenness. She would only hate him when she sobered if he kissed her now.
"Maybe I will ask you something," she said, sinking into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder.
"Anything," he smiled, cradling her tightly.
"What are you hiding up there?"
He laughed nervously, "its a surprise. But I'm not ready to give it to you yet."
Sighing dreamily, her body sank into his, interest in his answer fading away with a gentle, "mmm."
Resting his cheek on her head, he listened to the way her breathing deepened and whispered her name. Once and then again. But she didn't stir. As he suspected, she was sleeping. Curled on his lap, tight in his arms.
For a while, he enjoyed the weight of her body pressed on his. And with the sun peeking in at the window, it was time to get up rather than time to sleep. But he carried her to bed anyway and she remained curled up when he lay her down. Like a kitten who'd spent all of its energy.
He laughed warmly, covering her with a blanket just as the front door clicked open to announce Haedde's arrival.
Rollo rushed to meet her, his finger pressed to his lip. "Edithe is sleeping," he whispered.
"Well, she needs to be measured for her gown. You haven't given me much time, Lord and the fabric you have chosen has little room for error." At her words, the contents of her basket clattered onto the table and Rollo looked at it all in horror.
"You cannot let her see this," he said, scooping it all back up as quickly as it had been poured out, while Haedde watched with raised brows, hand on hip.
"How can she help me sew if she cannot see it?"
With the basket stuffed he reached to grab the sword from its hiding place. Two secrets to keep from Edithe and both of them within reach. "She cannot help you, old woman and you are forbidden to talk to her about the wedding."
"Heavens above, do not tell me you have not told her," Haedde scolded, seeming to forget her position as his slave rather than his mother. Though he did not mind it, he preferred her honesty.
"I will tell her soon enough," he glanced to the bedroom, his heart filled with warmth. Only a fool would tell her today, he still had time.
Haedde sighed, seeming to bite back more reprimands. Perhaps she thought he was a coward but he did not care.
Usually, when he wanted something he took it with both hands but taking Edithe was different. She was not gold or silver, she was flesh and blood. If he pushed her too fast she would pull away and perhaps he would never get this close to having her again.
The wedding was less than two weeks away but each day would only bring them closer if she didn't know his plan. At least that was his reasoning for letting more than a week slip by.
Now the wedding was in three days time and he couldn't avoid telling her any longer. He was ready. He'd almost convinced himself she would be happy to hear the news. But more than anything, he didn't enjoy having a secret festering between them.
"Let us leave before the rains starts," he urged, as Edithe fastened her boots, feeling suddenly impatient.
Yesterday he'd bought her a new cloak and, with the grey clouds looming, she pulled it onto her shoulders. Binding it with an old clasp he'd found in his trunk. He could have bought her a new one, but he liked to see her wearing his.
"You look beautiful, Valkyrie," he smiled, brushing his fingers along the soft fabric.
His compliment caught her by surprise and she glanced away, busying her hands with her sword. "You should not call me Valkyrie," she said and his brow furrowed.
"Why should I not call it you when it suits you so well?" He asked, catching her chin so she would look at him. "The Valkyries choose the fates of men as you control mine."
Her fingers encircled his wrist, pulling him away from her, "I do not control you, Rollo."
"You're wrong," he whispered. Like now, like always, his fate was in her delicate hands and one day she would understand the power she wielded over him. Sooner than she might imagine.
She smiled warily, letting his hand fall in favour of picking up her shield and they headed out. Taking their usual path to the meadow and luckily the sky held.
He'd decided to ask her to be his wife here, where she seemed most at ease and a rainstorm would have forced him to wait yet another day.
"It's warmer than it looks," she said, discarding her cloak.
"Yes."
She eyed him with suspicion, "is something the matter? You've hardly said two words since we left the house."
Had he not? He couldn't say. He could hardly think. Why did he feel like this? Like his stomach might pour out of his throat at any minute.
She unsheathed her sword and by now it was a well-worn thing, heavily splintered and battered by any standards. Perhaps that was why she asked, "when will you teach me how to fight with a real sword?"
Rollo's eyes flicked to hers, his heart hammering in his chest. It was now or never. "When you are my wife."
Edithe laughed playfully, "then I guess I will never learn."
"You will learn before the week is out."
Her smile faltered, her eyes searching his, "what do you mean?"
Steadying his breathing, he softened his words. He wasn't trying to command her. Not yet anyway. He wanted to ask her so she might have a chance to agree on her own. "I want you to be my wife, Edithe."
She didn't say anything, didn't move. He wondered if she'd even heard him. "On Frigg's day, I want to make you mine before the Gods-"
"And what about what I want?" she interrupted, not shouting, not crying. Calm. Too calm. It made him nervous.
"Do I not give you everything you want?"
His words turned over in her mind and maybe she was going to accept his proposal after all. Maybe-
"No," she said firmly, pointing her beaten up sword in his face, her temper seeming to release with sudden ferocity, "I will never marry you!"
"Why? I have been good to you, have I not? Would being my wife be such a terrible thing?"
Edithe swung to strike him but he met her sword heavily with his shield. Most times when they fought he held back, but not today and his strength seemed to surprise her. But it didn't stop her, lashing out at him again and still he repelled her. The third time he knocked her to the ground and she panted angrily.
"You murdered my brother. Your people destroyed my family and my home. How could I ever marry you after all of that?"
"I know and I've said I was sorry for the part I played in hurting you. But it was fate, Valkyrie."
"I do not believe in fate! It was your choice."
"And I would do it again. I would do anything to survive that night and have you for my own. I won't apologise for that. Even if you don't believe in fate, I still gave your brother a good death, an honourable one. It's the greatest honour a warrior can give to another. He is with your God now."
"I would rather he was with me!" she shrieked, throwing the sword at him.
He batted it away with his shield but it still managed to clip his shoulder before it hit the floor. He'd thought she might be upset but he hadn't imagined she'd be so angry.
He edged towards her, wondering if all the time he'd given to help her settle into his life had been a waste. "Edithe..."
"How could you ever expect this of me? I thought-" her eyes watered but she held the tears back as she pushed herself up from the grass. "It doesn't matter what I thought. You're just like the rest of them. You take what you want and treat people as if they are nothing. Just things to do with as you please. You could never understand anything sacred like love or marriage."
"Then teach me, woman," he said, drawing closer to her, "I have been teaching you how to wield a sword. Teach me how to love you and we will see who is the better student."
Anything she wanted he would gladly give. Except the thing she wanted most of all, freedom. He would never let her go. Never let her into the arms of another man. Perhaps it was selfish but he did not care.
"Edithe," he coaxed, reaching to hold her.
"I will not agree to you!" she said, pushing him away, reminding him of the very first time he'd ever seen her. She'd caught his attention in an instant. So wild tempered and fearless, so it shouldn't have surprised him that she acted this way now.
Every part of Edithe which denied him, was the very part which had called to him then and every day since. She was stubborn because she was determined. Pious because she was good. Unforgiving because she was loyal. He could never hate her for having such qualities. Because if she didn't, then she might have caught his eye, but never his heart.
With one last look of contempt, she hurried home and he followed her just like he'd done the day of their kiss. Except this time when the door slammed in his face, he opened it, she could not hide from him anymore.
She needed to understand that this marriage was not a choice. It was a guarantee.
"Go away!" she shrieked, throwing whatever she could get her hands on at him.
"Soon I will be gone-" he began, dodging the plate which came hurtling to his head, "-and it will be better for you if we are married before then."
"Better for you!"
"There is no point fighting this, Valkyrie. If you refuse to marry me then you will be dishonouring me and you will force my hand-" he stopped himself, he did not want his words to sound like a threat. They were merely the truth.
He could not be disrespected by a captured Saxon woman. He would look like a fool in the eyes of Ragnar and everybody else. Already there were those who wondered why he did not simply force himself upon her. There were no consequences for raping a slave, he could keep her as his concubine and nobody would question it.
Taking her in his arms, she became rigid but he held her anyway, his hand smoothing over her hair. "I cannot take back what I have done. But as your husband I will honour you and we will make a beautiful family together."
She did not react, or fight and he held her for a long time in silence. Could she hear the way his heart thundered like Thors hammer? Did she find any happiness in his arms? Was this fate? Or merely infatuation with a beautiful woman.
"So be it," she whispered so quietly he barely heard her at all.
Releasing her, he studied her face, but her emotions were guarded.
"You will agree to marry me?" he confirmed, watching her carefully.
"Yes."
She was saying the word he wanted to hear so he could not protest even if a large part of him distrusted her compliance.
"You will not regret this," he promised.
Still, her face remained empty of emotion. He hadn't wanted a broken woman but maybe that was all the gods had ever destined him to have.
"I will send Haedde to tend to you," he offered and she ignored him, staring out of the window just like she did when he first brought her here.
He was getting what he wanted yet he did not feel satisfied.
"I will give you some time alone." His absence had softened her to him last time, perhaps it would do the same again.
Outside, Solveig was standing unhappily on guard duty. No doubt she had heard almost every word spoken between himself and Edithe just now.
"She will only ever make you miserable," she warned.
"Then we will be miserable together," he laughed bitterly.
She did not find his answer so funny. "Why be miserable with a weak Christian girl when you could have a good Viking woman?"
Solveig was fair with sharp cheekbones and cunning blue eyes. She would be a loyal wife but he did not desire her. The nights they'd fumbled together in the dark had been enough to satiate his lust but nothing more.
"She isn't weak. If she was, I would be standing in there instead of out here with you."
"You will be standing out here on your wedding night," she spat, mocking him.
But her words caused him no harm, only amusement. He laughed, "you may be right."
"Then you are a stupid food, Rollo." A common consensus among every woman he'd ever met.
Watching her storm away in anger, his only thought was that he wished Edithe had bore witness to it. Maybe then she would see the loyalty he gave to her. That he was a man who other women yearned for and not just a heathen.
How easy it would be if he desired another woman but Rollo always seemed to want what he could not have. Resolve burned within him once again and he could thank Solveig for that. Though he was certain she would not be happy to hear it.
He thought of all the times glory had been snatched from his hands or he had been second best to the things he wanted. By the Gods, he was determined to get his way this time.
Thunder clapped across the sky, so loudly the very ground seemed to shake.
It was a sign and who was he to deny the Gods?
