Hello all, I'm back with another chapter. If you're reading this then thank you for sticking with me! I've seen all the lovely messages which have come through in the last few months and I'm very grateful for them. Its always such a pleasure to see people enjoying my story and it makes me even more determined to get back into the hot seat and write. I know I'm certainly not the only who's had struggles with motivation this last year. It's been tough so if you're struggling still, I feel you. But the sun is shining and the flowers are blooming in the garden and that makes finding inspiration a little easier. Though I won't lie, I've been sitting on this chapter for an obscene amount of time. I don't know what it is but I guess its performance anxiety and today I just told myself to get a grip and get it posted. I really wanna finish and see the end as much as you guys. Anyway, I'll stop waffling and if you've read this then I commend you :) xxx
The last time Viking longboats sailed between Norway and Briton, there had been gentle summer breezes and steady waves. This was different. Even before setting sail, Rollo could feel the call of winter; crisp on the air and billowing in the cloudy sky. They were never supposed to raid this time of year and perhaps it was tempting fate to do so. But the thrill of touching foreign land was impossible to resist. Not only for himself, or even Ragnar, but for anyone with a drop of Viking blood.
For four long days and nights they rode the waves. Stomachs somersaulting as they raised into the sky on the fury of the water before crashing down with an ear splitting shriek. Not from the men aboard but from the ship herself. Her indignation screaming into the sky for anyone who would listen. At times, Rollo thought she would split apart and his heart would tighten for one breathtaking moment before beating excitedly when she didn't.
Then there was the rain, pouring tirelessly upon them. Even the canopy they'd erected couldn't stop the endless deluge. All of them soaked to the skin but none of them looking more pitiful than Edithe. Her stomach poured into the sea within the first hour of their journey and her body curled into a little pile on the deck ever since.
It was hard to keep his distance when he found himself constantly by her side. Even now, he made his way to her, kneeling down to scrape the rain drenched hair from her face.
Had she been like this when he checked on her last? Had her lips looked so blue? Her skin so pale?
It was hard to be certain. It had been pitch dark then and even with daylight trying to push its way through the clouds he could barely tell one colour from the next.
"Edithe," he whispered, shaking her shoulder but she didn't stir and his heart tightened once more. Not for the majesty of the storm but for the frailty of his stolen bride.
"Edithe," he shook her again.
This time she grumbled, her words smothered by the storm.
"You need to get up," he said, bringing himself to his feet while Edithe remained flattened to the deck in a pool of rain and sea.
With a sigh, he leaned down and shook her shoulder for a third time, "come on, get up."
"Go away."
This time he did hear her words and anger swelled within him.
It was no secret Rollo hadn't wanted to bring her on this journey. Had he not told Ragnar? By the Gods, had he not told Edithe herself? If only she'd listened to him. If only she wasn't so intent on leaving him. She could have been wrapped in a blanket by the fire instead of here, frozen and wasting away at the whim of the sea.
With frustrated strides he walked away from her. Towards the belly of the boat where the men were heaving onwards through the storm. The stubborn part of him, the part which always blamed others for his mistakes, wanted to leave her in the cold and rain. She'd asked him to, had she not? But that was only an excuse and, when it came to Edithe, stubbornness was a fleeting emotion. He didn't need excuses to make things easier for himself, his thoughts were only for her and already he was walking back.
Crouching down, he didn't ask her to get up again. He scooped her from the deck and into his arms. She was still his wife and, from the moment he had taken her, her life had been in his hands. If she died on this journey, it wouldn't be because she didn't stay home with Haedde or even because she wanted to return to Northumbria. It would be because of him.
Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he breathed in the salt and sea which tangled with her hair. He hadn't made his wedding vows to break them so readily. He would be the shield at her back, always.
Sitting her on top of a nearby trunk, she slumped against him while he squeezed the excess water from her cloak. After that, he rubbed his hands up and down her limbs, hoping the friction would do something to stop the way she shivered.
A few days ago this intimacy would have seemed impossible. Now, it was a matter of urgency yet it still broke his heart just a little to be close to her in any form.
"Look at me," he said after a while, tilting her chin and smiling when her eyes finally settled on his. "Only a few more days and all of this will just be a bad dream."
Her teeth chattered but she didn't speak. Didn't have time to. Within the blink of an eye, more water sluiced over the side of the boat, soaking away any progress he'd made.
It was a moment of sheer frustration yet it was laughter which rumbled from his chest, trying to make light of the hopelessness hollowing out her eyes.
"The Gods are testing us," he decided, reaching for her cloak to begin the process of wringing out her clothes once again.
"Did I ever tell you the story of the Goddess, Ran?" He asked, certain he had. In the long evenings by the fire, he'd told her every story at least a dozen times. Enjoying the way she'd lingered on each word when she was learning the meaning of them. Then enjoying her smiles and laughter when she finally understood the jokes and silliness he wove into each tale.
He wanted to feel the warmth of her smile once more but her blue lips gave him nothing. No smile or frown, just an air of defeat. It didn't suit her. She was supposed to be a Valkyrie, not a mere mortal to be battered by the storm. He could help her as much as he tried but he couldn't live and breathe for her, she needed to do that for herself.
"Do you want to die, Christian?" he shouted over the clap of thunder, letting her cloak slip from his hands.
She didn't answer. Perhaps she was resigned to curling back onto the deck without a fight but Rollo wasn't.
"I'll take you home if it kills me," he muttered, dragging her from the trunk and deeper into the boat.
Removing Erik from his oar, he set Edithe down in his place and she seemed a tiny thing compared to the giant viking. But he'd seen the way she could raise a sword and there was no doubt, in his mind, that she could battle the storm as well as any of them.
"Now row!" he commanded, placing her hands on the oar which she grasped feebly, numb fingers allowing the waves to jerk it from her without any protest.
"Are you weak, Saxon?" he mocked, putting the oar back into her hands, "are you really going to let a little rain defeat you?"
Again the oar jerked away from her.
"No wonder your people were so easy to kill."
Edithe glared at him, fire seeming to stoke within her belly at least for a moment before it washed away with the rain. "I c... c... can't," she sobbed.
When hope was lost, Rollo was accustomed to giving up. Letting his little brother find the will and the glory to see things through. But there was no Ragnar here. Only Rollo and his men. All of them handpicked because they would follow his orders with little question. He looked at them now. Battle hardened warriors, pulling miserably on.
Like Edithe, they had soaked skin and vacant expressions. By the Gods, like Rollo too. He could feel the damp and misery as much as any of them. He'd hardly slept since their journey began. His stomach gnawed with the hunger of rationed food, his shoes sloshed with water and his skin mottled with drop after drop of freezing rain.
He braced himself against it all as he was accustomed to doing and focused once more on Edithe. Fierce but delicate. She'd probably spent her entire life without a moment of cold or suffering until meeting him. But this wasn't a place to be coddled. Like he'd told her before, this was a test. For all of them.
"So, you're giving up?" he spat, crouching so his eyes levelled with hers. "Just like your brother? So tired-" he leaned closer to her, his words pushing viciously into her ear, "-he welcomed my axe."
Her body shook against his, her chest heaving with another sob. "He wouldn't do that."
Rollo ignored the pain in her voice as he took her frozen hands into his, heating them through. "Of course he would. I've seen it a thousand times. I've even felt it. When every muscle is burning- lifting a weapon becomes impossible. Death feels easier- it is easier. But it's giving up."
His fingers tightened around hers, crushing them, "it's weak. Is that what you are, Edithe? Weak? I could end it right now if that is what you want?"
"Stop," she begged, straining to pull her hand away but he didn't give it up easily. He made her work for it, made her cheeks flush with the fight before allowing her freedom.
"Should I throw you to the sea and let Ran swallow you up in her great net?"
"No."
"Then why are you just sitting there like a child? Are you not the woman I saw slaying Ake? Are you not a warrior, Edithe? Do you carry your fathers blade so you can die without ever raising it in battle?"
The sword was at her hip, buried under the heavy layers of her cloak but she found it, fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt. No doubt her Father and all the men who had ever carried it had found strength in the same way.
"Well," he demanded and a bolt of lightning pierced the sky followed by another crash of thunder. He could almost feel the presence of Thor, almost hear his footsteps in the creak of the planks. Did he wait for Edithe's answer too? "Tell me, woman, are you giving up?"
Her eyes met his with determination but her voice still wavered, "no."
"Then row! Stop being so fucking lazy!"
Her jaw tightened and whether it was a desire to prove him wrong or the will to make it home, it didn't matter. She grasped the oar, hands still struggling for purchase, lips still blue. But when the waves snatched it from her, she took it back. Again and again. Fighting against the cold and misery with every pull. Hardening herself to it. Fighting for survival as though she was Viking.
Edithe didn't need him anymore and, though he knew he should walk away, he couldn't do it. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He wanted to soak her in as if she was the very rain which seeped into his bones. It didn't occur to him that he looked like a fool, hovering around his Saxon bride with love drunk desperation. He only wished he'd done it sooner.
For the rest of the day, he watched her and when the sun set, so did the storm. Finally, peace consumed the sea and every soul aboard. Most of the men took the opportunity to sleep and Rollo knew he should allow Edithe to return to her spot at the stern. Yet he was offering her his hand and she was taking it. Allowing him to pull her from the bench and towards the bow where the canopy ended and the night sky began.
As they stepped out, her head tilted to where the stars were shining after so long hidden behind the clouds. Did she feel the same fascination he did on nights like these? When inky water melted into the sky and the moon seemed an easy destination to sail to.
"I've never seen them so close," she said, shivering in the breeze.
It was certainly a mistake to share such a beautiful night with her but he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want her on the other side of the boat as he'd planned, he wanted her here in his arms as though they were truly husband and wife.
He inched closer, his fingers itching to touch her but she moved out of reach. Her attention turning to the water where the longboat carved a path towards her homeland.
"You should eat a little," he said, breaking the silence.
"I'm not hungry."
"Drink some water then."
"I'm not thirsty."
Did she want him to leave her? Even if she did, he was certain he could not. So he waited, patiently leaning against a stack of crates until the water held no more interest and Edithe turned back towards him.
With the stars as her backdrop, Rollo was reminded of just how desperately he'd needed to possess her the night they met. Like then, he felt the same burning desire to press his lips to hers and claim all parts of her but he suppressed it. Fists bound tightly by his sides.
"You were right before," she said, her voice as steady as the waves and without any idea of how much he was holding back from kissing her. "I was… giving up."
His stance softened, his urges dampening down, "I didn't mean that. I was just-"
"I know what you were doing. But even so, you were right." She pulled her cloak tighter around herself and looked off to some distant place. "I'm afraid."
"The storm has passed. I think the weather will hold," he looked up to check his predictions, "at least for a while."
Edithe laughed miserably, "I wish it was the storm but it isn't. The closer we get to Northumbria the more I have this terrible feeling. Right here," she held her hand against her centre. "I didn't think I would ever get the chance to return home. Not really. But now it's real and I keep thinking… what if I can't find Nessie? What if-" tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "I don't know what I will do without her."
Rollo didn't question whether he should pull Edithe into his arms, he did it on instinct. Stroking her hair and letting her cry, her tears soaking into his tunic while his cloak enveloped them both. It wasn't often he could be a source of someone's comfort and in a strange way it comforted him too.
"You will find her and I will help you," he promised and Edithe pulled away from his arms, wiping her tears on the back of her sleeve.
"You don't have to do that."
He scoffed, "I want to. Trust me, I do not take you home for my sake so I will not abandon you before I see that you are safe."
Her eyes fell to the planks at their feet and perhaps it was a sign for him to say no more but he was done with keeping his distance. He tilted her chin, so she had no choice but to look at him. "Do not think for a moment that I'm giving you your freedom because I don't want you. I want you so much I can hardly even stand to look at you. Remember that, when the time comes for you to leave."
She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out and he didn't let the silence stretch on. He smiled, moving to take a seat on the deck, "come," he offered his hand, "let us get some rest."
Edithe remained where he'd left her, uncertainty written all over her face. So Rollo gestured for her again, fully expecting her to refuse and feeling pleasantly surprised when she didn't.
She stepped forward on wary feet and sat down. Not beside him, where she tried to sit at first, but between his legs as he wanted her to. Resting her back against his chest so he could pull his cloak around them both and bathe in their shared heat.
"That's better," he whispered and she didn't disagree. Instead, she relaxed, allowing their breathing to fall in tune while the world slipped by.
After a while, his fingers found their way to hers, entwining beneath the cloak and she didn't pull away. Could she feel the way his heart hammered in his chest? It was hard to imagine she could not. Hard to imagine what she was thinking about.
Was there a chance she would choose to stay with him? Would they find Nessie and bring her home to Kattegat? Rollo wanted to ask but something stopped him. Perhaps he was learning to think rather than simply act on impulse. Or perhaps, worst of all, he was afraid. So he said nothing, only held her. As tight and close as she could be and, like this, it was easy to forget he would ever have to let go.
