When Edithe walked towards him, to be his wife, she'd looked truly ethereal. A gift from the Gods. He didn't need people to tell him how beautiful she was, he'd known it the moment he'd first seen her and every day since.
Now they were wed and he carried her across the longhouse, his sword still bedded in the rafters. He'd waited a long time for this day to arrive and he intended to relish every moment. The weight of her in his arms, the feel of her skin as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, and her smile when it brightened her face.
Taking his place at the head of the wedding feast, he sat Edithe on his lap and, like he knew she would, she wriggled for freedom.
"Stay," he said, his words not quite a command nor were they a request as his arm tightened around her waist. Like an animal scenting his territory, he wanted to do more than simply marry her. He wanted to possess her for all to see, so there would be no question of her loyalty or his claim.
Surprisingly, she didn't fight him. Instead, relaxing into his lap, her attention caught as people began to pour into the room until it was heaving with life and music.
Weddings were always huge events with more food than anyone could eat and more ale than anyone could drink. His wedding was no exception and Lagertha had done a fine job organising almost everything. He would thank her later but for now, he would enjoy the festivities though Edithe's curious gaze.
Before long he spotted Haedde approaching, a jug of bridal ale in one hand and their loving cup in the other. Sweeping Edithe's hair from her ear, he whispered, "now I must get you drunk, sweet wife."
"Drunk?" she glanced back at him with wide eyed alarm and he chuckled, remembering he had seen her drunk before.
"You look like a fine match together," Haedde praised, placing the ale and cup onto the table in front of them.
"Thank you, Haedde," Edithe said, taking her hand, "I wish you could have been with me."
"I know, child. But I am here now and all morning I have been praying for God to bless you with a good and happy marriage."
Edithe replied to Haedde in her native tongue, her tone and facial expressions giving away none of what was said. But he supposed she was allowed her secrets and he trusted Haedde with them. Even if he didn't always trust Edithe and her runaway feet.
By the time their conversation was over, the room had stilled expectantly. All the guests waiting for the newlyweds to take their first sips of ale and legally bind their vows.
"It is tradition for the bride to serve her husband," Rollo explained, sliding the jug closer to Edithe.
"Hm," she scoffed and he couldn't help but laugh. This would be the first and last time he would expect Edithe to serve him anything and they both knew it. But with eyes watching, she didn't disappoint. Carefully pouring the ale, the full cup requiring both hands to keep it steady as she slowly brought it to his lips. The honeyed ale flowed, sweetly down his throat and he quietly thanked the God's for such delicious ceremony.
"Now it is your turn, " he encouraged, returning the favour, his fingers brushing softly with hers as he grasped the cup.
Without hesitation, she sipped, binding their fates yet again but it was the way she licked her lips which excited him. Or at least, excited the impatient part of him. The part which was only interested in one ceremony and lived for the moment he could take her home and consummate their marriage.
"That will be all for now, Haedde," he said, encouraging her to leave. From the moment they'd arrived in the longhouse, a question had been burning on his tongue and he was impatient to ask it.
"Did you like to kiss me, Valkyrie?" he whispered before pressing his lips to her shoulder, the flimsy fabric of her dress blocking the taste of her skin but not the heat of his kiss.
Edithe's attention was towards the room but he could feel her sharp intake of breath and the way she squirmed on his lap. She didn't answer right away and when she did, her reply did not satisfy. "You are my husband."
"Yes," his fingers hooked under her chin, encouraging her to look at him, "but do you desire me, wife? As I desire you?"
Edithe's cheeks reddened and he found it, as always, impossibly becoming. "Do not ask me such things."
Even under her coy Christian manners, he could see the wild woman who sparred with him in the meadow. That was the part of Edithe he wanted in bed. Not reserve or formality, but fire and passion. When they kissed he thought he'd felt that side of her breathe to life.
"You don't have to pretend with me. You are Viking now. We do not give our gold to the Gods or hold our bodies chaste for virtue. We live for all of life's pleasures." Taking her hand he pressed a kiss to her fingers. "Having you will be the greatest pleasure of them all."
Slowly, she pulled her fingers from his before glancing away once more. But he could see he was affecting her, and feel it in the rapid breaths which fluttered against his chest as he leaned into her, refilling the loving cup. This time Edithe shared the bridal ale only with herself, draining it without pause before slamming it back down on the table.
"Steady now, sweet wife," he laughed, filling it again, "I want you in good spirits, not sleeping on the floor."
"I thought it was your tradition to get drunk," she countered.
He squeezed her even tighter, his lips brushing against her ear. "There are other traditions I'd rather you enjoy."
At that, Ragnar appeared before them, mischief quirking at his lips, "brother, we all know she is your wife, must you guard her like a dog with a bone?"
"While there's breath in my body," he smirked, easing his grip but only slightly.
"You were always the same, guarding your toys, never letting anyone else have a turn."
"Are you asking for a turn with my wife?" Rollo would be a hypocrite if his thoughts did not turn to Lagertha in that moment and they did, ashamedly so.
But Ragnar was playful, oblivious, "just a dance. I think you will allow me the pleasure? Her dress is too beautiful to spend the night in your lap."
Now Rollo's mind raced to another place, his bedchamber, where the dress would spend most of the night on the floor.
"Come," Ragnar extended his hand to Edithe, "dance with your new brother."
If the phrasing of Ragnar's words bothered her, she did not show it. Nor did she take his hand. Although he was fairly certain it wasn't out of loyalty to him.
"You're refusing me, Edithe?" Ragnar's eyes narrowed, his fingers curling back into his fist before his hand fell to his side.
"It would appear so."
Ragnar chuckled, shaking his head, "only you would find a woman who was as stubborn as you are to wed." But Ragnar didn't know the half of it and, when the feast was finished, Edithe did dance.
Dagmar and Hilde pulled her onto the floor, ignoring any protests and Rollo enjoyed the show. The way her body moved, as if she'd always known the dance. The way her skirt caught the air, revealing just a glimpse of her legs underneath. And the way the flowers in her hair cascaded to the floor with every twirl, like wind rustling through autumn trees. If she was not his wife, he would have envied the man who got to keep her.
While he watched, entranced, Ragnar reappeared and took a seat beside him. "With the raid coming up, I'm sorry you will not be able to enjoy a full honeymoon."
"Actually-" he said, his eyes still focused on Edithe "-I am bringing her with me."
"Oh?" Ragnar feigned shock, "I thought you said bringing her would be a terrible idea."
"She convinced me otherwise."
"And how did she do that?"
"She said she was coming whether I agreed to it or not."
They both laughed and he glanced at his brother to see him watching Edithe intently. Feelings of distrust surfaced like they usually did and perhaps it was because of all the dishonorable things, he, himself had done. When he thought about it, the way Ragnar watched Edithe was the way he watched all people he found interesting. His eyes shrewdly examining, learning things which other men would never see.
"What are you thinking?" Rollo asked.
"I'm thinking she is too good for you," he teased before leaning closer as though he was telling him a great secret. "And, I'm thinking if you take her Northumbria, she is certainly going to get you into trouble."
Rollo laughed, raising his cup to the Gods before downing the remains. "Tell me something I don't know."
By now, the night was old and he'd drank enough to make dancing seem like an excellent idea. So with a fresh cup of ale in hand, he got up, toasting everyone he passed as he rounded the tables and made his way to the floor. It wasn't just Rollo who was unencumbered by inhibitions. Laughter and revelry consumed the room. Almost everyone twirled merrily, weaving in and out to the jaunty sound of music and clapping.
Making his way through the dancers, his fingers burned for the touch of Edithe's skin and when he finally reached her, the music stopped playing. It was probably for the best, he was always a terrible dancer anyway.
Brushing her hair from where it had fallen over her cheek, he intended to kiss her but as he leaned in, cheers and shouts erupted all around them. All of them calling for one thing. The bedding.
Even with the bridal ale swimming in her veins, Edithe suddenly looked like a frightened mouse and before anyone could grab at her, he picked her up. Carrying her outside, to where the air was crisp and the shouts from the longhouse dimmed.
Briefly he wondered if Haedde had told her about the witnesses who would lead them home. But there was not much chance of that now. Already members of their wedding party were outside. Flaming torches clasped in their hands to light their way.
In the past, he'd bore witness to many bedding ceremonies and sometimes they were debauched, drunken nights which rolled on for many days. But this was his wedding, and he wasn't lying with Edithe for the pleasure of other people.
Dropping her to her feet, he took her hand and she held him tightly as they walked. Escorted by the others, with light, to their front door.
Dagmar and Hilde ushered Edithe inside and she glanced back at him once, before disappearing from view entirely.
"Wait here Rollo and I will prepare your gentle Christian bride for you," Lagertha smiled softly and when the door shut, his mind became entirely consumed by what was happening beyond it.
"Do not plough her too hard or she won't be able to get out of bed and serve you breakfast in the morning," Rolf advised before splitting into laughter.
"I would rather skip breakfast," Ragnar decided with a grin.
"Believe me, the last thing I'm thinking about is food," he said as he began to pace, his pulse racing, his stomach in knots. Of all the things he'd expected to feel this evening, he hadn't expected nerves. It wasn't his first time being in bed with a woman but it was certainly Edithe's first time with a man. The very thought filled him with desire, as it usually did, when he imagined entering her and claiming her maidenhead.
"More ale?" Rolf offered, thrusting the jug into his path and interrupting his thoughts as they grew less about nerves and more about pleasure.
"I think I would like to remember tonight."
"In that case-" Ragnar smirked, "-perhaps he should offer it to Edithe, to help her forget."
The tips of Rollo's fingers pushed, hard and sudden against Ragnar's forehead, sending him stumbling just as it used to do when they were boys. "You might be King but you're still my little brother and a pain in the arse."
"It is a family trait," Ragnar laughed, attempting to return the gesture and missing, again, just like when they were boys.
But the silliness provided only momentary distraction and soon he was pacing once more, treading a well worn path in front of the house. His mind conjuring a thousand thoughts and his nerves, getting the better of all of them. "Maybe I will have a little bit more ale," he decided, taking the jug from Rolf and finding it empty.
"Come on women, this man is dying of thirst out here!" Rolf shouted dramatically, pounding against the door before doubling over with drunken laughter.
Rollo wondered, why of all men, he'd allowed Rolf to be part of this night but his thoughts were interrupted when the front door did open.
"Come, Rollo," Lagertha beckoned.
This was it.
As he'd requested, the bedchamber was filled with candles and he could feel the warmth radiating from them as he made his way through the house. He hadn't wanted this moment to happen in the dark. He wanted to see her, all of her. Every scar, every dimple, every curve.
She sat in the bed, bathed in their soft glow. The furs clutched tightly in her hands, covering her chest but leaving her shoulders bare. Rollo swallowed hard. All this time he'd waited for her and now she was waiting for him. He didn't want it to be over quickly while the others looked on. He wanted her to be dripping with desire and that would take time and tenderness.
He approached the bed and she didn't flinch. Her gaze remained focused on the wall even as he removed her floral crown and handed it to Lagertha.
"Now leave," he said, glancing at the onlookers.
"I thought you would want to be watched," Dagmar said, her eyes caressing his body as she reached to unclasp his cloak.
He caught her wrist, "don't tell me what I want."
"Let us stay," Rolf encouraged, reaching for Edithe's blanket, "let us see what is under here and watch you mount your pretty bride."
Dropping Dagmar's wrist he moved to stop Rolf but Ragnar already clasped him by the scruff of his tunic, pulling him away.
"I think my brother has made up his mind," he said.
"But how will we know she is truly your wife?" Rolf protested as Rollo corralled them outside.
"I don't care what you know," he said, slamming the door. If there was any question of him bedding Edithe it would be answered when she was heavy with their child and not before. Only a fool would think he'd married such a woman and not laid with her. He was not one of the Christian holy saints, he was Viking and would finally enjoy the spoils of his conquest.
Returning to the bedchamber, Edithe was still sitting in the same position, her hands still clutched to the furs. He eased his cloak off his shoulders and hung it on the peg next to hers.
"Thank you for asking them to leave," she said, a quiver in her voice.
More ale sat on a table in the corner of the room and he poured a cup before turning to look at her, "did I not promise to honour you?"
She didn't answer, she didn't need to. "Did you enjoy today?" he asked, wanting her to relax. Wanting her to remember all the nights they had spent in this room. Just the two of them, talking, sleeping, feeling at ease.
"It was strange but yes, I enjoyed it. More than I thought I would."
He smiled, kicking off his boots as he rounded the bed. "And you have not changed your mind about being my wife?"
She considered the question with more care than he might have liked and he hoped he would not regret asking it. "I haven't changed my mind. I'm your wife to do with… as you please."
"But will you enjoy it?"
"I cannot say."
He knelt by the bed, a long line of soft skin apparent to his eyes where the blanket failed to cover her. He tried not to stare, instead looking her in the eye as he promised, "I will take nothing from you until you are satisfied first."
"What do you mean?" she asked the question with so much innocence that he could not help but laugh.
"Valkyrie," he ran his fingers through her hair, catching a flower and gently stroking it along her lips, allowing the petals to tickle her. "The Gods have truly blessed me with you."
He would be her first, her last and everything in between. A woman who belonged only to him.
