A/N- This is a long one and editing it just about destroyed me! Especially since my husband surprised me with a very much longed for puppy! I can't believe it. He's an all black cockapoo and a little rascal. Certainly keeping me on my toes. Everything I read online says he'll calm down by the time he's 2 so pray for me haha. Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy the chapter and if you have any puppy tips please send them to me over on my tumblr page superprincesspea.


Home was nothing more than a blur on the horizon when Edithe first spotted her. Now everything was in focus. Not just the jagged outline of cliffs or the gulls swooping overhead, but driftwood littering the beach and a thousand barnacles clinging onto sea battered rocks.

Beyond that, autumn was in full bloom. Sturdy branches filled with red and orange leaves while the remainder blanketed the ground- so high she was sure they would be up to her knees.

Had it been raining?

Would the leaves be crisp or would they squish into mulch when she stepped on them?

It was a childish thing, wanting to run with abandon, collecting that satisfying crunch with the same glee she'd felt every autumn since before leaving girlhood behind. Yet part of her wanted to do it all the same. Even with a hundred Northmen to watch her. Even with Nessie lost. It would be pure freedom and, perhaps, it would be the last little bit of freedom she'd have for quite some time.

Impatiently, Edithe leaned over the side of the boat, staring at the tiny fish scurrying about in the shallow waves. If she jumped in now, the water would only be up to her waist but she held firm. Waiting until it was their turn to make land rather than giving into impulse and diving overboard. That had been a spectacle for another day, another journey.

"Is she how you remembered?" Rollo asked, startling her.

"Yes, but never quite like this," she replied, drinking in the coastline once more. "I suppose that is one advantage of being out to sea."

"She's certainly a sight to behold," he whispered and something in his voice made her look at him, their eyes meeting. His admiration meant for her and not the view.

In an instant, a thousand butterflies fluttered to life but Edithe forced herself to ignore them. Trying not to lose her head quite so easily. "When will we start looking for Nessie?" she asked instead.

Rollo's brow furrowed, "we've not even arrived yet and already you're impatient to leave?"

She looked back towards the trees, willing herself to see beyond them, "impatient to find her."

"We'll search when it is safe to do so and not a moment sooner."

How long would that take?

Edithe wanted to ask but Rollo was already moving away. His words final and she didn't doubt it. The search for Nessie would be on his terms and, honestly, she was just grateful she didn't have to do it alone. She only wondered if, when the time came, he would truly keep his word and let her go? But that was a question for another day so she pushed it to the back of her mind and returned to watching as the boat finally made land.

This was it. The moment she had been waiting for all morning and anticipation quickly turned to nerves. Northumbria might have been the same but Edithe wasn't and that scared her almost as much as losing Nessie.

Worrying the edge of her cloak, she watched Rollo and one of the others lowering a large plank of wood to the beach. Creating a walkway for them to disembark and despite her trepidation, she was still first in line to use it.

She stepped carefully, the wood slippery underfoot but it wasn't far to go. Only a few short steps and, all at once, Northumbria was beneath her feet again.

Home. Solid ground instead of the endless sway. Edithe paused. Waiting. For what- she couldn't say. But whatever it was, this wasn't it.

Perhaps it was the Dane's scurrying around the beach or the sword at her hip. But the knot in her stomach didn't ease nor did she feel the almighty presence of God. Only the cool breeze blowing off the water and in truth, looking around, she could have been anywhere. This beach wasn't the house she grew up in or the tight embrace of her mother and more importantly, it wasn't Nessie.

Crouching, she picked up a pebble and squeezed it in the palm of her hand before continuing on, walking absentmindedly along the beach. The call of crisp autumn leaves had already been forgotten but the treeline still beckoned her.

Maybe honeysuckle would still be in bloom? Or, perhaps, with the Dane's behind her she would feel a sense of homecoming.

It was already late afternoon so the woods would soon become a dark and imposing place but Edithe wasn't thinking about that. Perhaps she should have been.

A flock of birds erupted from the trees and she looked up just as footsteps began to rush towards her. Turning quickly, she saw it was Rollo who charged desperately along the beach. Brandishing axe and shield, his hair flicking wildly behind him.

Did he think she was running away?

The pebble slipped from her fingers as she held out her hands, intent on slowing him down. But he didn't stop and very quickly he was upon her. His arm securing tightly around her waist, pulling her under the shadow of his shield just as a hail of arrows whistled down from above. Some splitting against the wood overhead, others sinking into the sand around their feet.

Edithe's heart jumped into her throat, her mind racing. One moment she was clinging onto Rollo's tunic like a frightened child and in the next he was pushing her away as men began to storm from the woods.

Northumbrian men.

Defending their land from invaders.

From her.

Once upon a time they could have been her father, her brother, every man and boy she'd even known. But today they were strangers and Edithe watched in a trance, her sword still sitting in its sheath.

Rollo had taught her to fight but she'd never intended to fight against her own people. So, while his axe met with flesh, she did nothing and Northumbrian blood soaked the sand. A whirlwind of commotion as more and more men piled into the fray. Saxon's, Danes. Sword against axe. Utter mayhem.

Edithe didn't know where to stand, where to look, or how to hold herself in the frenzy. But Rollo did. He saved her life again. This time, stopping a Saxon sword from gutting her where she stood before he was onto the next target. A Saxon to her right while Rolf appeared slicing through the one to her left.

Instinct told her to trail behind in Rollo's bloody wake, knowing she would be safest wherever he stood. Yet as she moved, more men charged from the woods, blocking her path. If it wasn't for Rolf, she would have just stood there, too stunned to move. But it was his steadfast hand which pulled her from danger, positioning himself between them and her.

He didn't even think twice about it, he just did it. She would have expected that from Rollo but certainly not from anyone else. Then again, what did she know? She'd never imagined she would wish to see a Dane besting a Saxon. But that was what she wanted, was it not? These men were strangers and Rolf… was her friend.

"Look out!" she called and her warning saved his life but not without cost. The Saxon who caught Rolf's axe, fell at her feet and, horrified, she kicked him away before jumping back and crashing into another stranger. Another Saxon. His sword raising into the air in one moment and an axe tearing through his flesh and bone in the next.

Edithe didn't even know who saved her. All she knew was the blood splattering across her face and the scream which emptied her lungs, its sound muffled by the onslaught.

After making it this far, would she die on this beach?

A few months ago, this would have been a time to pray yet God didn't enter her mind once. Only Rollo. She sought him out but all she could see were strangers, even Rolf had disappeared into the chaos and suddenly she was falling through the air. Landing awkwardly on top of a Saxon boy who was lying on the ground, clutching a wound at his neck.

Edithe recoiled at the sight of him, smooth baby faced skin, blood gurgling from his lips. He couldn't have been much older than Nessie, certainly not old enough to fight against men like Rollo who could snap his scrawny body in two. Yet here he was, dying on the beach without a familiar face to hold his hand.

She reached for him but he jerked away, suspicious of her kindness.

"It's alright," she insisted and his eyes widened, his body relaxing. Allowing her to sooth him in his final moments and then he was gone. Just like that. His life so fragile and his death so meaningless to all who didn't know him.

She pulled back her hand, her fingers slick with blood as they had been the night she'd killed Ake. She'd fought for her life then. Was she really prepared to give it away now? When she was so close to finding Nessie?

God help her. Dane or Saxon, what did it matter if she wanted to survive?

Drawing her sword, Edithe scrambled to her feet and, almost instantly, her blade clashed with another. Then another. It was easier to exist in the frenzy when she gave herself to it. It was like they weren't even people anymore. Just a blur on the horizon and, when it was over, every muscle in her body ached and the smell of blood burned in her nose.

"It feels good to be Viking, doesn't it?" Ragnar's voice gave her a start. Edithe hadn't noticed him in the fray but she hadn't really noticed anything. She couldn't even say how she'd ended up in the woods rather than on the beach.

"I wouldn't know."

"Do not deny yourself, Edithe." Ragnar inched closer, his never ending smile playing at his lips. "Even my brother couldn't have taught you how to fight like that. You enjoyed it."

Shame coursed through her veins. After weeks of training, a part of her had certainly relished every well practiced move. What's more, having her fathers sword in her hands felt natural, like an extension of her arm. It seemed to sing as it glided through the air and knew her targets before she did. It was forged to kill and did so without hesitation. But she wouldn't tell Ragnar that.

Still, he chuckled, his instincts almost always right. "There is always room to improve. Rollo might have strength but he does not have cunning like you or I. If you like, I could teach you to fight like a wolf instead of a bear," he uncurled her fingers to see the blisters which had formed on her palm, "a little less brute force would suit you better I think."

She snatched her hand away, "I would sooner cut off my own head than take lessons from you."

His laughter increased, "always so stubborn, just like my brother. One day I should like to know how he ever managed to tame such a woman."

Edithe met his stare, "he didn't."

"Is that why you do not wonder where he is?"

In an instant, her stomach sank to her feet, the blood draining from her face. When had she seen him last? On the beach? That felt like so long ago now. "Tell me!"

Ragnar grinned, toying with her before he shrugged his shoulders, "how should I know?"

Frustrated, Edithe pushed past him, giving no consideration to why she suddenly felt as though her soul was split in two. She just ran. Despite the ache in her legs and the fire in her lungs. She scraped through the trees and onto the beach and... there he was. Just as she'd hoped but not as she might have imagined.

Rollo always seemed so indomitable to her. As tall and sturdy as a great oak but now he just looked exhausted. His axe swinging loosely by his side, his leg dragging behind him as he limped along.

He was searching the faces of the bodies strewn across the sand. Was he looking for her? In her heart she knew he was. Just as she'd raced to find him.

"I'm here," she called, her voice piercing the silence which now existed in the aftermath.

Relief crinkled into his smile and she matched it with her own. They were alive and perhaps she should have felt sorry for the Christian souls who littered the beach but she didn't. She was grateful it had been them rather than her. Rather than Rollo.

The urge to rush to him was overwhelming and, for a split second, she imagined herself jumping into his arms the way lovers do. The way her mother did when her father returned from battle but such scenes weren't for her and Rollo. Their story would be ending soon and loving touches would only cause more heartache.

So, she walked rather than ran and hugged her arms over her own chest instead of his.

"I should have never lost sight of you," he chastised himself, inspecting her for injury.

"The blood isn't mine."

A smile flickered across his face before disappearing, "still, they might return and you need to stay where I can protect you."

Edithe glanced at his leg to where blood was seeping through his trousers, "it is you that is injured."

"An arrow to the leg is a small price to pay for saving your life."

She thought back to the way he'd run to shield her, "I'm sorry."

"You are my wife," he cupped her cheek, his touch rough but affectionate, "I would gladly give my life to protect yours."

"I'm a terrible wife," she reminded him, feeling utterly unworthy of such dedication.

"That may be so," he smiled, "but you are still my terrible wife."

Why did his words make her stomach knot? Moreover, why did she blurt, so carelessly, exactly what crossed her mind? "One day you will make somebody very happy."

"But not you?"

Edithe laughed nervously, turning her attention back to his wound, "not anyone if you bleed out on this beach."

"It's just a scratch."

"Then you won't mind me looking at it."

"I suppose that's what a wife would do," a smile hinted at the corner of his mouth, "even if she is a terrible one."

Giving him a pointed look, Edithe bit her tongue. Not quite trusting what words might find their way out of her mouth when he looked at her like that. But she could at least offer her arm, that seemed safe enough. Supporting his weight as they walked, slowly, back to the longboat.

Onboard, Rolf was waiting for them along with some of the others and Edithe was pleased to see him alive.

He squeezed her shoulder with a wink, "today I thank the God's that all Saxon warriors do not look like Rollo's wife or I would have been run through and gladly."

Edithe rolled her eyes, "perhaps King Aelle should take that under advisement."

Rolf grinned, "I will tell him when we meet on the battlefield, though by then I fear it will be too late."

The smile which had dared to settle on Edithe's lips, faded away. More battles. How could he want that? How could any of them?

For the second time, she held her tongue, leaving the Vikings to talk and boast while she busied herself further down the boat. She didn't like hearing their plans and she certainly didn't like hearing about the men lying on that beach. So, when Rollo ordered them to start setting up camp, she felt relieved.

"Where do you want me?" he asked, having made his way to where she was idling, blood now dripping over his boot and onto the floor.

"Here will do well enough I suppose," Edithe gestured to the nearest bench. Waiting for him to settle before kneeling at his feet and laying out her supplies with great care and procrastination. For the wound or the simple act of touching him, she couldn't say but very quickly there was nothing more to be done and no good excuses.

So, taking a deep breath, she brushed her fingers over the coarse wool of his trousers, finding the hole where the arrow had pierced through. Then, using a knife, she cut it further, peeling back the fabric to reveal a deep gash puncturing his calf. Bile rose in her throat and for a moment she had to look away.

The truth was, unlike Nessie, she was never very good at healing. She didn't have a gentle hand or much compassion for complaining. Nor did she know the right herbs to make a poultice. But Rollo didn't seem to mind her clumsy ministrations and if she hurt him, he didn't show it.

They sat together in silence, her stitches far uglier than Haedde's would have been, while a whirlwind of activity happened further down the beach. People setting up tents, others making simple fortifications.

Everyone was preparing for another attack but Edithe was putting it to the back of her mind. Focusing all her attention on Rollo. Finding supper for him to eat. Settling him into the tent Rolf had kindly erected. She even fetched a bucket of water for him to wash. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when, upon her return, she found him stripped down and searching for a bar of soap.

Hesitating in the entryway, she watched him. Appreciating the way his muscles moved under his skin. By now, she knew the work it took to form such strength and somehow that made him even more attractive to her eye. Not that he needed it.

She was just about to make her presence known when he caught her staring and a sultry smile spread across his face. His eyes burning into her.

"Let me help," she insisted, feeling only slightly embarrassed at having been caught and certainly more ashamed for allowing him to struggle with his injured leg while she ogled him like a beast.

Rollo, on the other hand, seemed both perplexed and delighted as she took charge of finding his soap then fresh clothes to replace the bloodied ones.

"I can't remember the last time someone took such good care of me," he chuckled as he began to wash his body and Edithe reconsidered helping further. But it wasn't just his injury which forced her hand.

"Don't get used to it," she reminded him and he laughed again before she turned to make up the bed.

It was only furs piled on the ground but compared to the hard deck of the longboat it looked like heaven. Just a pity it wasn't for her. Rollo needed the rest so she would have to make do elsewhere.

Eying the opposite corner of the tent, she shuddered at the thought of the cold, dirt floor before her gaze wandered back to Rollo. His arms and chest were now coated in suds and, despite the very real instinct she had to touch him, she forced herself to look away. Occupying her sinful mind with more practical tasks. Such as rummaging through her own belongings.

She hadn't opened her trunk since Haedde had carefully packed it away and seeing the clothing, which had all been lovingly sewn by the old woman, made her heart hurt. But like everything else, she ignored it and promised herself that finding Nessie would make it all feel right again. It had to.

"Your turn," Rollo called, regaining Edithe's attention before he tossed her the soap.

She caught it, barely, and considered if washing her body in front of him was such a good idea? But her skin was coated in grime and her clothes stained and bloody so, in the end, was it really a choice at all?

Unlacing her jerkin, she kept watch of Rollo who was lounging on the furs. A single candle lighting up his face. He wasn't outright staring at her but his gaze drifted over more often than not.

Could she ask him to look away? Of course. In fact, the words rested on the tip of her tongue but she didn't say them. Instead, she pulled her tunic over her head and let it hit the floor. No modesty, just bare skin turning to gooseflesh in the night air.

Rollo certainly didn't look away from her now, he didn't even blink and, if she was being honest, his attention was intoxicating.

Gliding the soap over her arms and torso, Edithe tried to wash as she usually did but there was nothing usual about this. Her nipples were hard and tight and every touch, no matter how small, erupted a rush of intense tingles. Even the cold water couldn't stop the heat and excitement which pulsed through her veins and, quite frankly, she didn't want it to.

Bending down to remove her boots, Rollo shifted onto his side and with several paces between them, she could still feel the tension in his chest. He was holding his breath and so was she. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only anticipation. The weight of it heavy on her skin as she unlaced her trousers and carefully pushed them down her legs.

Laughter and chatter sounded outside the tent but inside, they could have been the only two people in the world and she rather liked it. Picking up the soap, Edithe sank it back into the water before drawing it steadily over her thighs, her fingers chasing its slippery trail until she was at her toes.

Here, the tingles were certainly not as intense as before but pleasure came from having an audience to linger on her every move. Only, if this truly was a performance then there was only one satisfying conclusion. For both of them.

Tentatively, she brushed her hand, slick with soap and water, across her mound. Biting back a whimper as her eyes locked with Rollo's. If she dared, she could touch that tight bud of nerves which sent pleasure spiralling. But it wasn't her hands she wanted on her body. It was his.

Her fingers dallied a little too long and Rollo sat, poker straight. No more relaxing, no more bated breath. His chest was rising and falling as quickly as hers.

"Are you testing me?" he demanded.

Was she? "I don't know."

He jumped up, his height now seeming to dwarf the tent. Forcing her runaway imagination to give way to the very real prospect of being fucked.

Was that really what she wanted?

He stalked towards her and, while arousal soaked between her thighs, a part of her wondered what had been going through her mind to start this madness in the first place.

"Rollo…" she warned, his body barely an inch from hers. The raw edge of his tunic tickling madly against her stomach.

"Wife," he replied, scooping his hand into the water before letting it drip endlessly down her skin.

Edithe gasped, the cold coming as a surprise when her mind had been preparing for the heat of his hands. But he didn't touch her, he only watched as the water curled over her breasts before racing down her stomach where it disappeared into her thighs.

It was as though he wanted to see all that had just occurred in more finer detail and, when it was over, the water all poured from his hand, he reached down.

Expectation pulsing eagerly for his touch but he didn't reach for Edithe, he grabbed her nightgown from the floor and shoved it over her head with a grunt.

In an instant, her runaway heart sank, her cheeks heating. Perhaps she did want this after all.

"By Thor's hammer," he growled, backing away from her. "I may have vowed not to touch you but I'm no monk. If you tempt me like this again I will see it as an invitation to do with you as I see fit, do you understand?"

She understood perfectly well but humiliation held her tongue. Her body was on the verge of imploding with desperation and all she could do was nod and watch quietly as he fell back into bed.

What now?

Her eyes drifted to the lonely corner of the tent before returning to Rollo who pulled back the furs. A silent invitation for her to join him and certainly a bad idea.

Only for tonight, she rationalised. Realising her mind and body were no longer in conversation with one another. So, trying not to press herself against him, she settled down.

Between the furs it might have been warm and comfortable but there was about zero chance of finding rest. Being near Rollo felt too tempting, too infatuating. Edithe had no idea what had come over her but it didn't seem to be leaving any time soon.

"I heard you fought well today," he said, his elbow steepling to support his head over hers, his manner utterly relaxed in comparison to the way she felt.

How could he talk at a time like this? How was his skin not on fire? "Not really," she said.

"You are here and they are not. That must count for something."

"It counts for nothing." Her words were unexpectedly curt even to Edithe and he raised his eyebrows, wanting more but getting nowhere.

"You're upset?"

Was she? Her emotions had been bundled, mixed and pushed aside so often these past few weeks that she could hardly unscramble one from the other. But Edithe knew enough to know she didn't want to talk about the battle and certainly didn't want to think about her role in it. By now it was clear Rollo wasn't going to give her what she actually wanted, not unless she had the courage to ask for it- which she did not.

"I'm fine," she decided, rolling so her back was to him.

"Liar," he whispered and lust blew over into rage. Whipping her head back, she glared at him.

"That's more like it. I was starting to wonder where you had gone."

She spun back over, agitated. "Then perhaps you should open your eyes and see that I am right here."

"Are you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me," his fingers raked tenderly through her hair. "The Edithe I know would sooner leave me starving in the dirt than fetch my supper and lay out my clothes and she certainly wouldn't do whatever…" his gaze landed on the bucket of water, "that was. Unless of course," his smile broadened into a grin, "she seared out my eyes with a hot poker first."

"You make me sound like a monster."

"Not a monster," he crooned, pressing a kiss to the lock of hair wrapped around his finger, "a goddess. But even so, I know today must have hurt you. Do not pretend that it hasn't. Not with me."

And there it was. Exactly what she'd been avoiding all afternoon. Guilt and regret, so much more unpleasant than lust or anger.

Shaking her head, she wanted to deny him but that didn't stop her tears from betraying her as they tumbled down her cheeks. Rollo made it too easy, made her want to pour her feelings into his capable hands. Knowing he would catch them without question. So she did.

Edithe couldn't recall the faces of those she had killed but she could imagine their loved ones. Sisters and daughters, waiting by the fire for men who would never return. She didn't have to guess what that would feel like. Had she not agonized over that same hurt these many months?

Rollo had bore the brunt of her blame and hated but now, like a sanctimonious little hypocrite, she'd done so much worse. This wasn't a distant land filled with strange people and foreign tongues. Nor did she believe death in battle was a beautiful and sacred honor. This was her land and these were her people, all of them wanting to return home, yet she'd butchered them anyway.

"We had no choice but to defend ourselves," Rollo soothed and he was right, but that didn't make it any better.

"We could have stayed in Kattegat."

"Would you have really been happy to do that?"

Edithe sighed, "no, and I have killed my own countrymen for it. One day I may meet the families of the men lying on that beach and I shall want their absolution though I do not deserve it."

"Why would you think that?"

She hesitated, searching his face. Could she really tell him the truth?

If she couldn't forgive Rollo then how could she expect the same in return? But forgiveness wasn't just a word she could say. It was everything which stood between them and she was a coward. Afraid to admit what she already knew in her heart. She did forgive him. She just wasn't sure when it had happened.

Perhaps it had been too slow to notice. A gentle salve, creeping over old wounds with every laugh. Or perhaps it had happened just now. Lying in bed, side by side, his breathing steady comfort in the quiet.

"Rollo, I-"

His eyes were on her, waiting with interest but she couldn't say it. Not now, maybe never.

"I'm tired. We should get some sleep," she whispered, losing her nerve and resorting back to cowardice. But Rollo didn't know that and the tender way he looked at her didn't change.

"Tomorrow will be better," he promised before blowing out the candle and Edithe wasn't sure she could agree. So she just lay there, listening quietly as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. While she couldn't even shut her eyes.

Instead, she stared outside the tent through a tear in the canopy, wishing the hours away until morning. Everything would be easier then. Wouldn't it?