Warning: Graphic depictions of violence/ gore.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or the characters, they belong to Eiichiro Oda.
The One to Carry the Burden
Kid thought he hated Nami's tears before, but seeing her grieve over Finn, hearing her anguished wail, and feeling her body shudder and tremble with her sobs, that had been far worse than the pithy bout of weeping he witnessed weeks before. Her despair was felt by everyone in the camp as they silently went among the injured and dead, doing their best not to show their own losses, but still he could hear them sniffle and choke back their tears. Even he found it difficult to remain stoic. This wasn't the first time he lost a warrior, a friend. It was something they all had to face and expect when they entered battle. But as he held Nami in his arms as tight as he could, muffling her sobs against his chest, her grief seemed to turn into a knotted rope around his neck. The feeling wasn't foreign, but it was the one he hated most of all.
He would rather be angry, but there was no one around who he could take his rage out on.
He cleared his throat and forced himself to breathe. He shut his eyes, buried his nose in the furs covering her head, inhaled as deep as he could, and then let the breath out in a slow exhale. The tightness in his throat eased, but it was replaced by a heavy weight on his chest, like a fist closing around his heart and squeezing with every shudder that raced through Nami's frame.
Hróarr was the first to approach them. His gaze was sympathetic when he glanced at Nami's hidden form, but he said nothing as he knelt on Finn's other side. He shut Finn's eyes, folded the boy's limp hands over his chest, and then sat back to bow his head in silent grief. Finn's death was a blow to the older man, a hurt far worse than any injury his body received that day. He would surely be mourning that day for a long time to come.
Killer came over next with Gunda at his side, her arm slung around his shoulder as she staggered along. Long strands of her hair had fallen free as she fought, obscuring her face until she stood above them. Tears stained her cheeks, mottling the blood and dirt that clung to her skin. Through the mess, he could make out the dark blue and purple of a bruise on the left side of her face, while the right was covered in scratches. Her clothes were stained in blood and torn. Her hands shook and her body trembled, but he couldn't be certain if that was because of her injuries or her grief.
Killer helped lower her to her knees beside them while she kept her head bowed. Kid glowered at the top of her head as she lowered it even more. He heard her sniffle and her shoulders shook.
"Lady Nami," she croaked, her fingers digging into blood damp soil. Nami stirred in his arms, sniffling back her tears and lifting her head when he loosened his hold. "I'm sorry. I failed to remain at your side and protect you in battle. If I had stayed near…"
Nami pushed back the fur shrouding her to let it fall around her waist, and pulled away from him, leaving his arms to hang heavy at his sides without her in them. While she wiped at her nose and red, swollen eyes with one hand, the other reached for the shieldmaiden. Kid sat back and watched as she dragged the woman's head up, shifting closer to her as she did, and eagerly wrapped her up in her arms.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Nami whispered, her voice cracking as she comforted her shieldmaiden. She buried her face against Gunda's neck when she returned the embrace, the shieldmaiden's sob mixed with relief. "I'm so glad you're safe. I couldn't bear to lose you, too," Nami added.
Kid didn't want to interrupt the women as they consoled one another, but as he sat there watching his gaze fell to Nami's shoulder. The dull blue of her shirt was stained nearly black with blood. He had noticed the stain amid the battle, and the broken shaft of an arrow sticking out of the wound. The sight of her injury was enough to make his temper flare, but when he realized it was her left shoulder, memories were kindled that only further fueled his anger.
How much flesh had to be taken before that damn binding mark was completely broken? How much did she have to suffer before she was finally free of it?
"Nami," he grunted, breaking the women apart with his stern tone. "You need to have Heat see to your shoulder."
She sniffed back her tears once more and turned to frown at him. "It's fine for now. You need him to close up your wounds first."
She nodded toward his chest and shoulder, the wounds he had received in battle the day before. He had reopened them, and earned a few new ones in the process. He was ignoring the warm wetness of his tunic beneath his arm, stained not just at the shoulder, but also lower on his side. He vaguely remembered a sword slicing through the leather of his armor and hitting the mail beneath with enough force to make him lose a breath. He returned that strike with a blade through the Saxon's throat, and then forgot all about the injury as he set his sights on the next man he needed to fell.
"They're just scratches," he huffed.
Nami glared at him. He glared back. She then glanced up at Killer, and he followed her gaze to silently tell his cousin not to stand against him this time.
"That shoulder has already endured enough," Killer said calmly. "We cannot have you suffer another fever because we let an arrowhead linger too long." Nami appeared disappointed, but Killer would not be deterred. "I'll see to Kid's wounds in the meantime," he reassured. "Go see Heat."
Any further argument was silenced when Gunda chimed in with her own demands that Nami see the healer first. Nami got a small victory by insisting that Gunda come with her to see that her own injuries were taken care of. As the women stood and left to search for the healer, Kid continued to stare after Nami, glowering at the defeated hunch of her shoulders beneath his fur cloak.
"We were fortunate to make it back when we did," Killer said as he held out a hand for Kid to take.
"Were we?" Kid grunted as his cousin hauled him up, biting back a groan at his body's aches.
He glanced down at the boy, then around at the dead and wounded. Their battle against the village had seen only twenty of their near two-hundred warriors die. Many were wounded, some injured enough that Kid wondered if they would make it back to Noreg, but still they came out with an obvious victory. The camp had held their own well enough, even out-numbered as they were. Still they lost over twenty of the meager fifty they left behind, and might lose more to their injuries before the night was over.
Finn died, and judging by Nami's reaction it was exactly as her dream prophesied. Her visions were not to be ignored or taken lightly, which left them with a grim reality to face in the future.
"Nami is still here and mostly unharmed," Killer reasoned. "We didn't lose everyone."
"She had a vision last night," Hróarr spoke up. "She has spent the last three nights meditating and praying over the runes, trying to learn her craft as she had once learned to navigate. She said death had come, so we were prepared before the Saxon's army came upon us. Without her warning, we would have been caught by surprise, and their larger force easily could have destroyed us. Our losses are tragic, but not nearly as bleak as what she had foreseen. She changed the course of the day. Your arrival made that certain." He glanced up at the hill, brows furrowed. "Where are the rest?"
"I had a dream last night that left me unsettled," Kid explained. "I decided to return ahead of the others. Killer followed after me." He frowned as he glanced toward Lucci who was going among the Saxons in their field. "Oi!" he called to him, waving for him to come over. Lucci scowled, ran his sword through a Saxon's neck to hasten his death, and then came toward them. "I thought you and Kaku were staying with the people in the church?"
"Kaku had stepped out to relieve himself last night and saw you two take off on horseback. He went to that knight's house to see what had happened. Franky told us you were worried about the camp and your lady," he explained, gesturing toward Nami where she sat waiting for Heat to finish treating one of Franky's men. "We decided to follow after you in case your unease proved well founded. It seems to be the case, though unfortunately I missed my chance at a decent battle."
Kid snorted. "Are any of the Saxons left alive to be held hostage? We can return them to their giant friend and maybe you'll get that battle you desire." Assuming Kid didn't steal it for himself. He wanted nothing more than to see that man suffer for making Nami cry.
"I'll see what I find," Lucci said with a nod and turned back to his scavenging.
"Do you truly want to face that giant? I can only assume he was the Lord Urouge the headsman warned us of. What of Nami's vision of you?" Killer asked quietly as he set a hand on Kid's shoulder to guide him toward the remains of a tent.
"I'm not meant to die at that man's hands. She seems certain it's her giant that kills me." Kid glowered. Nami saw today as a failure on her part, but she had been able to change the outcome, however slight it seemed. He would still need to take her prophecy seriously, but so long as she didn't lose heart that day, he was confident that they might be able to overcome it. At the very least alter it enough to see Arlong die with him.
When they reached the tent where his war chest had been left, Killer helped him remove his armor and peel away his tunic. He tossed his wrist guards aside, but took care to keep the gold cross hidden within one. Without the battle to distract him from his wounds, Kid grimaced as he eased down onto the chest. Blood trickled from the open wound of his shoulder, drying into a crust on his chest and arm. The bruising on his side from the day before was darker, he found a new red imprint of his chainmail where he had been struck. The skin had broken from the force, but there was no gash to worry over. When he tried to turn to the right, pain stabbed at him, flared around to his back, and took his breath away.
"How are you feeling?" he asked Killer while he dug through his own chest in search of clean linen. "That hit didn't look good."
Killer grunted but said nothing. Kid watched him carefully as he stood straight. His cousin's jaw tightened with a wince, but he held back any other sign of discomfort.
"Don't look at me like that," Killer huffed when he turned to him with cloth in hand. "I'm not the one who reopened wounds."
"You're still in pain."
"Nothing that will kill me." He went to work on Kid's shoulder, gently blotting around the open wound. "You'll want Heat to close this."
"It's fine," Kid grunted stubbornly.
"Nami isn't the only one who needs to worry about an infection." He sighed when Kid only responded with a glare. "At least let him use the poultice then."
Kid hissed, but didn't argue. Maybe he could convince Nami to treat his wounds again. It didn't hurt as much when she did it.
Killer made him hold the cloth to his shoulder while he went off in search of water to cleanse the wound and see about the poultice. Shortly after he left, Kaku peeked into the tent.
"Lucci found ten Saxons well enough to be held," he informed. "Your healer is seeing to our injured. The women that are capable are helping him, and I've set the men to work on gathering the dead and digging a grave for them."
Kid grunted, sparing a short nod at the information. Hopefully those hostages were of more use against the giant lord than those he left behind in the village. He would find a way to make that man suffer for attacking their camp. "Ask Nami how she thinks the dead should be buried. I have a feeling she'll want us to see our people off properly," he said. Kaku nodded and prepared to leave. Kid halted him with a question. "How is your cousin? Was she badly hurt?"
Kaku shook his head. "She lost consciousness for a while, but she's awake now and fussing over your lady. Well, she's trying to fuss, but she's still groggy so her lectures don't sound as stern."
Kid hummed in amusement. That woman would not let an injury stop her for keeping Nami in line. He waved Kaku off, grimacing when the movement jarred his torn shoulder. Killer returned with Heat behind him just as he was checking his shoulder to see that the bleeding had slowed. Kid growled at the silver container he saw in his healer's grasp, likely the poultice he preferred to use when bandaging wounds. Heat glowered back at him.
"I should be sewing your flesh shut, Jarl Kid." He frowned when he made Kid move the cloth from his shoulder as he came to crouch in front of him. "Or cauterizing it. We'll need to keep this clean until it closes. That might take a week, possibly a whole fortnight."
"It'll be fine," Kid grunted. "How's Nami's shoulder?"
Heat's frown deepened as he took the water from Killer and cleaned Kid's wound. "I need to cut the arrow out. It's embedded deep in her shoulder."
"Then why are you here and not seeing to her?" he growled, clenching his teeth at the sting of the warm water.
"She was adamant that I see to more severe wounds first. She had noticed the blood on your hand earlier and wanted me to make sure you didn't bleed out. The arrow keeps her bleeding under control for now. I'll remove it once I've seen to your bandages." He covered a piece of linen with poultice as he spoke and gently placed it over Kid's wound. Kid bit back a snarl at the sharp jolt of pain, and took a deep breath through his nose as he tried to ignore it. "She spoke with Kaku. She wants to burn the fallen in a stone ship."
"Then that's what we'll do. The others should return tomorrow if they set out at first light today, so we'll perform the funeral then."
"The men are already gathering the stones for it, and Kiwi and Mozu the kindling," Heat informed. "We don't have much ale."
"They should be bringing back a few casks of wine. We'll spare some of our hoard for the grave, too." He paused to groan while Heat began tying a cloth around his shoulder. The pressure on his wound made his arm ache. He would have to take care of it before they leave, and possibly have someone else steer the ship. Nami might be able to manage in good weather, but if they found themselves in another storm, she could have trouble fighting the waves. "Hróarr told me that Nami's been meditating."
Heat nodded. "She was skeptical about it, but after the first night, it seemed something fell in place. Only time will tell if it is enough to help her control her visions, for now they still seem to be coming of their own volition." With the last bandage tied, Heat grabbed his poultice and stood. "The arrow to her shoulder will likely break more of the binding magic. Just as her dream of the Norns beneath Yggdrasil did, I suspect her prophecies will come with more frequency. But with more of her magic within her reach, she may also find control come easier."
"Let's hope she does," Kid grunted.
"Hróarr told me that you had a dream last night that prompted your return," Heat said.
Kid frowned at the wrist guard sitting on the ground and reached down to pluck the cross out. He turned it to show Heat the amber stone in the middle. "I took this from their priest and happened to fall asleep with it in my grasp. When I had the dream, I suspected it was connected to Nami's family and magic. I wasn't going to risk ignoring it if that was the case."
"As I said of her bracelet – the amber is a guide for her magic. It might very well have connected you two after she had her vision. Perhaps her magic used it to call to you."
He immediately thought back to her nightmare in Álasund and how he had heard her scream when others did not. Her magic undoubtedly linked them together. Why it chose to rely only on him, he couldn't yet understand. He wondered if the gods had willed it to be that way, if her family had a hand in it. They obviously guided her to him, so why not weave their lives together through her magic? Maybe that was why he felt drawn to her from the start.
"Go get that arrowhead out of her," he ordered brusquely, waving Heat off, along with his thoughts about the amber and her magic. His healer sighed at the command, but nodded and took his leave. "I want to see who we captured," Kid said as he tucked the gilded cross back into his guard and made to stand, biting back a groan as his side ached and pain took his breath away. Killer was there in a heartbeat, ducking beneath his arm to help. "I should have brought back some of that wine. I could use a drink."
Kid shrugged off Killer's help as they exited the tent, and steadily made his way through the camp, limping as he walked. The bruising on his side made the muscles of his back and hip grow stiff and achy, but he stubbornly endured. It was a reminder that he was alive.
They found their captives bound up around two trees with Lucci leaning on a spear as he guarded them and Hróarr binding their open wounds. They didn't want any bleeding out before he could get his revenge on their lord.
"Your man says Lady Nami stabbed that one when he grabbed her," Lucci said, gesturing to one with the end of his spear.
Kid chuckled. "Did she now? I always knew she was a scrappy fighter."
"She used your knife to do it, too," Hróarr added as he finished tying a piece of cloth to a man's arm, tighter than necessary judging by the Saxon's grimace. Hróarr yanked a knife from his belt and held it out to Kid. "Found it not far from Finn."
"And how'd she come by my knife?" he asked with a snort of amusement as he idly flipped the knife in his hand. He wondered if her magic brought it to her, just as it had conjured her knife when he woke her from the sleep thorn.
"She slipped into your tent last night and borrowed it from your chest. One of your furs, too."
Kid rolled his eyes. Of course she did. The little thief. At least it was only a knife and furs she stole this time, and the former aided her in battle. He couldn't be angry about it.
"The Saxons that attacked Lady Nami in battle meant to take her," Hróarr added. "I noticed they were not fighting her seriously. I heard this one holler to a man on horseback so they could make off with her. Finn ran in to aid her when the rider grabbed her."
Kid slowly crouched down in front of the Saxon, grimacing when the movement sent a jolt of pain through his hip. The Saxon's skin was flushed and pale, his breathing labored. He might have survived the blade in his side, but it had taken its toll on him. Yet he still glared at Kid as if he was capable of fighting while injured and bound to the tree.
He leaned with a pained chuckle. "The woman you tried to take, what interest does your lord have in her?" he asked, his English bit out through a low snarl.
The Saxon remained silent, his glare not giving away his thoughts.
Kid laughed again. "I know my English is rough, but I am sure it's good enough to understand." He glanced up at Hróarr and Lucci. His man nodded his agreement, while Lucci shrugged but seemed to share his opinion. Kid turned back to the Saxon with a grin. "Why were you after that woman?"
Again, he was met without an answer and Kid felt his temper slipping away. He rolled his neck and stretched his shoulder, ignoring the pain as the torn skin shifted beneath his bandages. Steeling himself to the pain, he shot his hand out to grip the Saxon tight by the face and yanked him forward to level his angry snarl on him.
"What? Did my little stray cat cut out your tongue?" he asked while pushing in on the man's cheeks. He forced his mouth to open as though searching for a severed tongue. "I know she's a fierce woman with sharp claws, but she's not the type to cut out a tongue. Then again, she's threatened to geld any man who spies on her in the bath, so perhaps I've misjudged her."
He followed the man's gaze as it warily shifted toward the camp. Nami sat on a log beside a fire, her armor and tunic off while Heat examined her shoulder. She leaned forward while clinging to his fur cloak, using it to keep her front covered. Gunda crouched in front of her, cradling her head and grasping tight to her uninjured arm. Nami buried her face in the fur to hide her pained expression when Heat took his knife to her flesh. She was enduring the slice of the blade with only his cloak and Gunda's hand to provide her comfort; it only proved how tough she was.
The fact she had to endure it at all only pissed him off more.
He jerked on the man's face to bring his gaze back to him. "I don't think you understand the situation you're in. That woman…" He gestured toward Nami with his knife, the blade level with the man's eyes. "She's important to me. And you and your lord came rampaging on my camp, on my people that did you no harm, and hurt them, killed them." He pointed at Nami again as he leaned closer. "You hurt her. You laid your hands on her. You took away someone she cared for. You made her cry. And I won't forgive anyone for that."
He lashed out with his knife and grinned at the blood that splattered over the left side of the Saxon's face. The Saxon's eyes went wide as the soldier beside him coughed and choked around the blade sunk into his neck before falling limp against him. The man trembled and gaped, searched for his voice as Kid brought his bloody knife back. He released the man's face.
"I'm going to make you suffer just as she has suffered," Kid whispered as he wiped one side of his blade on the man's cheek. "Nine is a scared number to my gods." He slid the knife over the other cheek. "I have ten hostages…" He ran the knife over the Saxon's nose, smearing blood down to the tip, and leaned in with a quiet laugh. "Well, I had ten…" The blade continued down, painting more blood over his lips. "I only need one hostage for what I mean to do. Maybe if I spill the blood of nine and offer them to Odin, he'll tell me what you won't." The Saxon shivered as the knife fell past his chin and teased the front of his throat. "I'll bathe you in their blood and send you back to your lord with their heads." He slammed his knife into the man's shoulder and listened to his agonized cry as he twisted the blade inside him. "But you can rest assured that you did not betray your lord's confidence."
"There was a monk," he rasped frantically. "He called himself Dumah and spoke of angels. He told Lord Urouge that he wanted to save that woman from you heathens."
"Coward." Kid pulled away laughing. "So, you all call me a demon, but her an angel? That pisses me off." He slammed his fist into the Saxon's face and slowly stood as the man slumped forward, clinging to consciousness. "I won't argue that I'm a demon to you people. I doubt my own people would compare me to your saints. I'm not a good man." The Saxon picked his head up. His gaze was dizzy and unfocused, blood streamed from his nose, and his left eye was already beginning to swell. "But that woman is no angel. I'm offended you'd even think to compare her to one of your sacred beings." Kid leaned forward, gripping the tree for support, and swung his knee into the man's face to knock him out completely. He heard the sickening crunch of a nose being broken, perhaps even an eye-socket was fractured. Kid spat on the back of the Saxon's head when it fell forward. "No angel of yours can compare to what she is. She stands above them all."
Urouge brought his men to a halt not far from the heathen camp when he noticed they were not being pursued further. They had outnumbered the camp and had the advantage of the high ground coming upon them, but the Norsemen had appeared prepared enough to defend themselves. He blamed the short horn blast their guard managed to get off before he was slain with an arrow. They had just enough time to form their wall.
Breaking through their shield wall had cost him a dozen good men, and he knew they likely would have lost more if they had been facing the healthier, more numerous warriors that had gone raiding to the south. They were fighting the old and young and women, and while they might not be the strongest of them, he knew not to underestimate them. Their weakest were born into battle, warriors that worshiped gods of death and destruction. They would not fall easily to even the best Saxon army.
The possibility of their strongest returning to join the battle would not only guarantee the defeat of his army, it would mean every soldier he brought was slaughtered and fed to their false gods. It was wisest to pull back and retreat. They would need to mend their wounds and reconsider the worth of battling again another day.
When he searched for the silent monk that sent him on his fool's errand and found the man missing, he knew that to attack again would be more foolish than their first battle had been. Yet he still sent his healthiest men out to search for him. The monk might have been captured when he wasn't watching. Perhaps he was felled with a wayward arrow in battle. While Urouge had his doubts, he would rather believe the best in the monk than assume he had abandoned them.
"Lord Urouge," his steward called out. Urouge knelt with prayer beads in hand over one of his soldiers. The man had lost an arm to a heathen axe. He was in agony, but he was alive and that was far better than most of his army. "We failed to find the monk."
"Did you check the camp again?" he asked quietly.
"Our spies feared getting too close, but they reported no sign of the monk within the camp that they could see from a distance. They did see that no other heathens returned from their raids. The camp is still vulnerable."
"They may be vulnerable, but so are we," Urouge said. "We have faced more than enough loss this day, as have those heathens. Leave them to mourn their dead. We will do the same."
"But the woman…"
"Is worthless. I fear we were misled by a godless man. He was no monk. He was a trickster."
"Then should we hunt him down? If he's truly nothing but a blasphemer, we should bring him to justice before our God."
"For what purpose? He may be godless, he may be a devil upon this earth, but we have suffered enough punishment for following his path." Urouge wound his beads around his wrist and stood to face his steward. He forced a reassuring grin for the man and slapped him on the shoulder. "If we find him, we will deal with him, but I believe the evil he means to bring upon the world will not touch us again. We were pawns for his purposes here, but he has no use for us after our failure. That is fine. Let the heathens deal with him. If he is a trickster, I know of stories among their people that tell of fierce punishment for such chaos-bringers. And if they are not enough, may our Lord bring a pox upon that man as retribution for his crimes."
His steward frowned but grudgingly agreed. "What of the heathens, then? They will not be forgiving of us, either."
"Let us return home. We will fortify our walls and the village, call in stronger forces from our friends, and defend ourselves against their revenge should they seek it," Urouge decided.
"We can send a messenger and request peaceful negotiation," the steward suggested. "They hold some of our men hostage. We could ransom a deal and send them off in search of the false monk, point their vengeance where it rightfully belongs."
"There will be no negotiations with them. Those men are pagans. They care only for battle and gold, and they cannot be trusted to keep up any bargain. We would pay them gold to make peace and they would repay it with blood. I will not be caught underestimating them and assuming they will keep to the same laws of civility. I will prepare myself to crush them under my heel and nothing less." His steward bowed his head, but Urouge fought the grim mood with a laugh. "Do not worry. We will not be caught unprepared for the worst. Let's rest an hour, tend our wounds, and make our way home. We are not entirely defeated."
The steward forced a smile as he nodded in understanding.
They were not defeated, not yet. They still have a pulse in their veins and wind in their lungs. They were alive. They would find victory in the next battle. He would personally see to it.
Cavendish woke to the rough spun of a wool blanket. The course material scraped over the skin of his torso and arms, irritating him as he groggily blinked open his eyes. A dim flame flickered to his right, the only light to be had in the plain room he found himself in. With how severely his head ached, it might as well be a flash of lightning piercing his eye.
He groaned as he raised a hand to rub his eyes. His whole body ached, his skin felt tender and bruised all over. His fingers brushed over the bridge of his nose and he grimaced at the tender, swollen flesh.
"Sir," a deep voice spoke up from the foot of the bed. He lifted his head to find Suleiman standing from a chair near the door. Cavendish blinked in confusion. The last thing he remembered was being bound up in the main hall, with an obnoxious heathen that murdered his priest and threw wine in his face. How were they free? "I'm glad you're awake."
"What happened?" he asked, pushing to sit up. The headsman came to his side to lend a hand, but Cavendish batted him away. "Where are those damn pagans?"
"Gone," Suleiman answered bluntly.
"Just like that? They tear through our village and talk of ransom and then leave in the dark of night?" It was too good to be true. And if it was, then why had they let them go? Why leave them unbound? Surely, they had to worry about spies following them to wherever they set their camp. Or that they would send messengers for reinforcement.
"They actually left in the morning," Suleiman explained. "Hakuba took control again, but bound as you were, the heathen Jarl easily knocked you unconscious. You've slept for nearly a full day."
Cavendish stared at him incredulously. "I've been asleep a full day and you are still here? Why have you not followed them?"
Suleiman glowered. "If I had been able to, I would have. Even disregarding my injuries, I was left bound and gagged until a stranger came upon the village to find us."
"A stranger?" He scowled at his headsman, urging him to tell the whole story.
Suleiman sighed heavily. "Late in the night the jarl awoke. I pretended to sleep while he talked to the others in the hall. I could not understand what he said, but he appeared greatly disturbed and anxious. Something was wrong. One of his men helped him into his armor and then ran off with him. They never returned, but two more of them came to the hall from the church. The man who fought me spoke with another heathen, then discussed something with the man he came in with. They left, too, never to return. Before the sun even rose, the heathen army began to load up their spoils on carts, and then left without a word."
"Why were you still bound? Why did none of our servants free you?"
"They were tied up before the heathens left."
"And the citizens of the village?"
"Bound and blockaded in the church. None were harmed except for the men that attempted to fight the heathens. They said the Norman men who left with the jarl gave orders that none were to be harmed, so long as they calmly waited for the army to leave. One of them - the one with dark hair I battled - he even struck down a man that tried to harm one of the younger women."
"Did they take any with them?"
"None."
"Strange," Cavendish mumbled. "We were spared, shown more mercy than I expect of heathens. That was a mistake on their part. We will raise an even stronger army to destroy them should they ever return."
Suleiman chuckled, much to his confusion. "I believe that jarl would be pleased if you did so. He showed an interest in fighting you, as well as Hakuba, again."
Cavendish growled at the mention of that demon. He would have to train. He could not let that demon have free rein. "And what of this stranger? He is the one that set us free?"
"Yes. A poor monk was passing through and had hoped to find a warm church and water for his horse before he went on his way. When he found the village empty, he went to the church and heard the people calling for help. He unbarred the door and freed them, then came here to do the same."
"Our Lord blessed us with that small miracle," Cavendish said with a sigh. "Where is this monk now? I suppose I should thank him."
"He stayed only long enough to help treat some of the wounded while his horse was fed and rested. He has since moved on toward York."
"York? Why would he be going toward the Danelaw?"
"He did not say." Suleiman scowled. "Though, to be frank, the monk said nothing while he was here. He spoke only through written word, and very little at that. He was very strange. He did leave a message, urging that it was for your eyes only when you woke."
He held out a small scroll that Cavendish snatched from him. With a great deal of effort, he swung his legs over the side of the bed to lean closer to the candle at his bedside. It was then he realized he was not in his room.
"Suleiman? Why am in a servant's room?" he asked, glancing around as he untied the parchment and rolled it open.
"The jarl took your room while he was here. He left it in a state of disarray and urinated on some of your clothes."
His temper thinned at that and he crumpled the parchment while he sought to maintain some sense of composure.
"The next time I see him, I will have his head," he hissed. Suleiman nodded in agreement, and Cavendish turned his attention to the message. His eyes scanned over the messy scrawl on the page, squinting at the black ink where it ran together, blurring the words. For a monk, his letters were an atrocity to the English language. "This stranger claims the name Dumah and writes…" He angled the scroll closer to the flame in the hopes it would make the words more legible. "I believe he speaks of Lord Urouge… He attacked the heathen camp and…" Cavendish squinted and leaned in closer. When he finally recognized the words he was reading, he pulled back with a hiss and crumpled the parchment. "He was met with great victory for slaughtering half of the pagans there. He says it is certain that the army will depart from our lands as soon as their dead are buried."
He went to stand, overcome with the urge to chase after this silent monk and force him to rescind his account, but stumbled as his injuries flared. Suleiman caught him before he could fall, but he shoved him away to pace and rant anyway.
"That Urouge will take all the glory. Again! The king will reward him, but he only faced a measly camp, not a whole army! We should call upon the neighboring villages. We will raise our army now and strike those heathens before they can run back to their false gods." He stumbled again and this time could not fight off Suleiman as he picked him up and dropped him back into the bed. Pain lanced through his back and ribs. He arched off the straw mat beneath him and gasped for breath. Even as he panted, he glared at the man standing over him without a merciless frown. "What are you doing, Suleiman? We have a war to prepare for."
"A war you will die in if you attempt to battle as you are," Suleiman said. "I will send a messenger to Urouge to find the truth of the matter. As you say, it was a camp he attacked, and he only killed half of them. If it was a victory, he would have slaughtered the lot of them, not a fraction. For some reason, he retreated before they could all be killed. He likely endured his own devastating losses."
"We still cannot sit idle and allow those pagans to remain."
"Save yourself to battle them another day, when you are well enough to ensure your victory is a certainty. I know you desire the glory of their defeat, but I also know you would rather live to enjoy it," Suleiman reasoned.
Cavendish slumped into the uncomfortable bed with a defeated huff. The headsman had a point. There was no sense in battling for glory if he died. Well, he supposed he could make a name for himself in legend if he died defending a strong ally, perhaps the king, even that Lord Urouge. Still, he would rather live to hear the tales and songs that came of his actions in battle.
Sighing, he waved Suleiman away. "Fine, fine. I will rest and heal and battle another day. See to that messenger, as you said. I will have the truth of their battle at the camp."
Suleiman nodded and turned to leave.
"Oh, and I'm parched. Have a servant bring me a cup of wine and something warm to eat," he ordered as he tried to make himself comfortable in his temporary bed. He shut his eyes, expecting the headsman to silently obey.
Suleiman cleared his throat. "The heathens raided our stores." Cavendish's eyes snapped open at the news. "There is not a drop of wine left in the village."
Cavendish groaned. "Do we at least have food?"
"I'll have the cook see to that."
"Thank you," Cavendish said with a sigh.
He shut his eyes to the scrape of Suleiman's boots on the floor.
"Oh, and they burned your rose garden," the headsman blithely commented on his way out.
Cavendish shot up in bed with a pained shout. "Bring me my sword! I'll kill those heathens now!"
His servants rushed in to restrain him just as he tore open the wounds on his back. There would be no more battle that day, but he swore vengeance for his honor and his innocent roses.
If he ever saw that man again, he would have his head.
Kid spent the afternoon and early evening watching Nami. She had stopped crying as she set about helping the others prepare to burn and bury their dead. At first, he was glad to see her grief ebb, he couldn't stand to see another tear fall from her eyes, but as he looked closer, he realized that she was far worse than before.
She hardly spoke a word to anyone. Every smile she gave Gunda or Heat was forced. Her eyes were hollow and distance. Her movements were sluggish as she pushed herself to gather branches and flowers and berries. She didn't even scold him as he followed her through the forest. She didn't even glare. It was as though she was oblivious to his presence. She even walked right by him on the way back to camp and didn't meet his gaze. He might as well have been a ghost.
He hated being ignored, but he couldn't be angry at her for it. All he wanted to do was cheer her up, to make her smile turn genuine again, to give her a reason to have hope. He even thought to invoke her anger, anything to get a response, a sign of life.
She went to the sea to bathe before supper, Gunda and the other women following her to literally shield her modesty. They sent him plenty of scathing glares as he sat upon the hill overlooking the beach and watched, but Nami remained apathetic to his presence. At least she looked peaceful while wading out in the water, staring off at the horizon, so he left her to finish without him invading her privacy further.
He soothed more of his frustration by slitting another hostage's throat and tormenting the man who first tried to capture her.
When he came back into camp for his meal, Nami wasn't there. Her shieldmaiden told him that she had gone to bed without eating more than a few bites of dried meat and asked to be left alone for the rest of the night. He glared at her tent, considered storming inside and tearing her from her furs to drag her back to the fire with the rest of them. Killer's hand on his shoulder stayed him. He gave up with a huff after his cousin solemnly shook his head.
If she wanted to grieve alone, then he couldn't interfere, no matter how much he wanted to.
Tired from two days of battle and his injuries, Kid trudged off to his tent. He fell onto his furs with a loud groan and tried to find a comfortable position for his aching shoulder. He eventually settled down on his back and forced his eyes to close while he listened to the sounds of their camp. The men spoke in low hushes around the fire. He could hear others walking around, either taking up their guard positions or slipping into their own tents to sleep.
He doubted that they would be attacked again so soon. He hoped they wouldn't. The rest of their men should return with their treasures early the next day, assuming they didn't dawdle around the village any longer than necessary. They would have fresh reinforcements if that lord decided to attack then. But if the Saxons decided to take advantage of their weakness that night, then Kid didn't want to let his guard down any more than necessary.
Still, he managed to doze off eventually. He was aware enough of his surroundings, though, that he roused to the quiet flutter of his tent's flaps and the scuff of leather on dirt. When he felt a touch to his shoulder, his hand snapped out to grab whoever dared to sneak up on him as he slept.
"Kid," Nami rasped through the grip he had on her throat. He immediately released her and pushed himself up to glower while she gasped in a deep breath. She should know better than to sneak into a man's tent while he slept in enemy lands. She was lucky he hadn't gone to sleep with a knife in his hand.
"Nami? What the fuck are you doing?" he grunted.
She frowned at him, her sullen pout just barely visible in the darkness. "I can't sleep."
Kid groaned as he fell back into his furs. He lifted his blankets in silent invitation and shifted to give her room as she slipped underneath. She had the fur blanket she stole wrapped around her shoulders, but let it fall away as soon as she settled into place on his right. He wrapped her up in his arm, tugging her against his side, and released a long sigh when she placed her head on his chest.
He tried to ignore the tickle of her breath on his skin as she let out a content sigh, the warmth of her cheek as she nuzzled him.
He doubted he would ever understand how she could find comfort with him. He was filthy from battle, covered in dirt and blood, not all his own, while she had cleaned off most of the grime on her body. He had spent part of his day opening the throats of hostages, while she helped tend the wounded and prepared to see off their dead with flowers and gifts. He met that day with cruelty and anger, while she opened her heart and bore her grief for all to see. He wasn't a comfort to anyone in their world, yet there she was nestling against him like he was the only comfort in her world.
And he adored it.
"Did you have a new vision?" he asked quietly as his fingers brushed through her hair.
She shook her head. "No. But I keep seeing him… I keep thinking about everything I could have done… I moved, but it wasn't enough."
Kid sighed. "It's not your fault."
"But…"
He lifted his head to glare down at her, cutting her off. "No, it's not." He could see Nami's eyes glistening and her lip quivering. He raised his other hand, ignoring the ache in his shoulder, and ran his thumb over her cheek. It was wet and he felt a tear fall against his thumb before Nami sniffled and buried her face to muffle a whimper.
He shifted where he lay, groaning as he forced himself to roll toward her. At least he didn't have to lay on his left shoulder to face her, but his bruises still protested the position. He ignored the pain and focused on grasping her chin to draw her gaze back to his.
"You have no reason to bear this guilt," he whispered. "You did what you could…"
"But it wasn't enough, Kid," she interrupted, blinking back more tears. He frowned as he wiped his thumb over her damp cheek again. "I thought it was. I saved him from dying by the spear, I moved and he slew the rider. I changed that course, but… it wasn't enough to change his fate completely."
Kid's frown deepened as he thought. He idly stroked her cheek, running the backs of his fingers over her smooth skin. A bruise marred her jaw. There was a cut on her chin. If it was lighter, he would be able to see the splotchy redness of her skin, the swelling of her eyes as she silently cried. She fought hard and was bearing the weight of a fate that wasn't hers to bear. And she called herself a coward.
"If that's the case," he began while leaning his forehead to hers, "then it's definitely not your fault." She looked ready to argue, but his thumb drifted over her lips, pressing to them to silence her. "I'm the jarl. If there is anyone to blame for today, then it's me." Her eyes widened and her lips moved beneath his thumb, just as ready to deny that statement as the last. "And Finn," he added, this time earning a defiant glare. "Hróarr told me what happened, everything he saw. You said you saved him from the spear, but he died anyway. All you see is failure on your part, when you are the one who succeeded. You saved him from the fate you foresaw, after that, his fate was in his control. He made the mistake of turning his back on his enemies. He made the choice to defend you in the first place. His death was of his own making, not yours."
"But…" He pressed his whole hand to her mouth and glared to quiet her. She glared right back.
"But nothing. If you're so adamant about not blaming him, then as I said, blame me. But never blame yourself. It was my decision to bring you here. You told me your vision, I was forewarned, but I still brought you. I still left to raid. You are the one that saved this camp from slaughter. It's because of you that they were prepared for whatever storm came their way. It's because of you that Finn had a chance to determine his own fate. It's because of you that everyone fought at full strength, their minds ready for battle, and held on long enough for me to return." Her tears were falling free again, and he sighed as he brushed his hand over her cheek to wipe them away. "Never blame yourself."
She let out a broken sob, her head bowing to hide from him, and he groaned in annoyance.
"I'm trying to cheer you up here, not make you cry more," he grumbled as he hugged her against his chest. Another sob came with a hiccup while he smoothed down her hair and buried his nose against the top of her head. "Tsh, I ain't good at comforting people, so tell me what to do to make you stop crying already."
He swore he heard a faint laugh, broken and despondent, but a laugh no less. He tried to pull away when she shook her head, but her arm came out from where it had been buried against his chest and wrapped around him to return his embrace.
"You're doing fine, Kid," she whispered, nuzzling his chest again. "Thank you."
He hummed into her hair and squeezed her tight. "If you say so."
They laid in silence for a while. Kid dragged his fingers over her back and through her hair while she slowly calmed. He fought off a shiver when she began to return the gesture, and muffled a delighted groan as fingertips gently teased over his spine. He knew she was feeling better when he felt another sigh tickle his chest. He ignored the flutter in his stomach that came as she melted against him, fought off the urge to kiss away the last of her tears.
His blood lust had been sated, but it did nothing to quell his growing desire for her, and holding her as he was only seemed to make it worse.
"What are you doing with the hostages?" Nami asked suddenly, her voice a careful whisper. "I heard one screaming earlier."
He scowled into her hair. He doubted she would appreciate his honesty when he answered, but he wouldn't lie to her.
"I'm killing them," he grumbled.
He was both relieved and disappointed when she abruptly pulled back, leaning away to stare at him in shock. "I thought you were going to use them as ransom?" she asked.
"They aren't worth a single ounce of silver, let alone gold," he explained. "And they don't deserve it."
Nami gaped, obviously wishing to argue, but too stunned to find the words.
"They attacked this camp with the intention of carrying you off," he explained. "They came here unprovoked, harmed people we both care about, and tried to take you." Her mouth snapped shut to pout. He sighed at the stubborn look that silently begged him to show some kindness, but that was an emotion he couldn't spare. Not this time. He pushed back a hair that fell over her face and let the touch linger as it followed along her jaw. "I'm serious, Nami. Nothing you say will change my mind. Any man that means to bring you harm, I will make them suffer for it. I will get your vengeance for what happened to Finn. Remember what that fish lady said about us? Why it had to be me?"
"But Kid, I don't need any vengeance," she argued, snatching his hand from her face to clutch tight in hers. "And Kokoro also said I am your mercy, that I can stay your sword."
"Not this time," he said firmly. "I will return our hostages to that giant in pieces and force him to answer for what he did to you."
"He did nothing to me, though."
"Because he failed to capture you, but if he had taken you…" Kid growled, squeezing her hand in his. "The hostage spoke of a monk desiring to save you from us. He said they thought you were an angel."
"What?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "That makes no sense. Why would a monk be after me? And think I'm an angel? As flattering as that is…"
"It's an insult," he snorted. "These Christians call us all demons, but suddenly one monk proclaims you angel. You're better than an angel, but to these men there is no better, and it's the only reason they need to take you from the demonic heathens that are surely holding you captive." He sneered in disgust. "And when they take you and see you are no holy creature to them, what do you suppose they'll do to you? Huh? I've heard plenty of tales of the things Christians do to pagans. We revere magic, respect those capable of it. They torture and burn them."
"But… why would a monk say I was an angel if he only intended to see me burn? He could just as easily declare me a witch to incite their attack." Her face scrunched as she thought, trying to make sense of it all.
"How the fuck should I know what he was thinking? All that matters to me is that he wanted you, that he meant to take you from us, and this damn giant willfully helped him in his schemes. I won't forgive either of them for spilling your blood and making you shed your tears. They will pay," Kid growled.
Nami was too distracted by her thoughts to balk at his seething anger, or to continue arguing his decision to punish the hostages for their actions. She relaxed in his arms as she contemplated, and he felt his simmering rage fall away as he watched her consider something.
"A monk?" she asked. "He said a monk came to them for aid? That a monk wished to take me?"
"Yes," Kid grunted. "He called himself Dumah and said nothing of his intentions for you, just that you needed to be captured."
"A monk?" she repeated, much to his annoyance. He was about to bark at her to snap out of whatever stupor she was in, but as she blinked up at him, he saw the genuine concern she felt as it mixed with her confusion. "I saw a monk."
"What?"
"Shortly after you left for the raids, I felt someone watching and saw a shadow in the trees. When he moved, I recognized him as a monk. Then he vanished. Gunda had the shieldmaidens do a sweep of the forest around the camp to search for him, but he was already gone…. I had a feeling that he was an ill omen."
"And it turns out you were right," Kid huffed.
"That isn't the only time I saw him, either," she continued. "The vision I had last night - he was in it. He was shrouded in black and shadows, and his hand was dripping with black blood. He reached for me." Kid frowned at that, but Nami wasn't done. "And then he turned into a swarm of flies."
"Flies? Why flies?"
"He was surrounded by death and destruction. Death attracts flies," she reasoned, though as her eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, he could see that something else nagged at her mind. "Flies…" she muttered, but then shook her head as if dispelling the thought. "And I saw him again during battle. When they captured me, they hailed to him where he stood out of danger. I saw him nod, and I knew they meant to take me, but I hadn't thought he was behind it. I still don't understand why."
"Did you see his face? Did you recognize him? Maybe he's one of Arlong's men."
Nami shook her head. "I saw nothing but shadows. And Arlong's not fond of Christians. He's only ever willingly worked with one."
"Could be a disguise then," he suggested.
"Maybe… But, that isn't like Arlong. I don't think it's him."
Kid hummed. "I'll have everyone keep their eyes open for any monks lurking around." He played with her hand as he smiled down at her, hoping to reassure her worries. "When the rest of the men return in the morning, we'll hold our funeral, and then prepare to leave… After I've dropped what's left of our captives off with their lord."
Nami glowered at him. "Kid…"
"I already told you, there is no swaying me," he interrupted.
"Just… don't do anything reckless. You're injured enough as it is. I don't want anyone else to die," she pleaded.
His smile softened and he leaned in to press their foreheads together. "I promise to behave, but I'm still delivering those captives in pieces to their lord." Her frown deepened, but he nudged her head with his. "I swear I won't let any more of our people die here. I'll have a chat with that lord, see what else I can learn about this monk, and then we can leave with our treasure and our lives and put a whole sea between us and that man."
"I can't exactly imagine you having a polite chat with an English nobleman, Kid," she said flatly.
He scoffed, feigning offense. "I will have you know I was having a very companionable chat with a knight just yesterday." She didn't look to believe him as he chuckled. "It's true. He stabbed me in the chest. I killed his priest. Then we bickered a bit over some wine and I tried to invite him into bed so I wouldn't be lonely without your company."
She rolled her eyes, but to his great relief he saw that she was fighting off a smile. "You're instilling me with so much confidence in your diplomatic abilities," she said sarcastically.
"I know. I could be an envoy for our people," he joked.
"An envoy that will throw us into an endless war."
He snorted, shrugging the comment off. "We're already at war. We've been at war with these people for generations now. Me pissing on a knight's clothes ain't going to make it worse."
"You pissed on his clothes?" she asked incredulously.
Kid shrugged again. "He turned me down. I felt a little petty after having my heart broken like that."
She let out a derisive laugh. "I'm starting to think I should accompany all of you when you visit this lord."
"No," he said, all humor lost as he glared in warning. "You're staying here where it's safe."
"If you don't plan to do anything reckless when you meet with this lord, then I should be in no danger if I go with you," she reasoned.
He frowned. "You aren't going to want to see what I do with the hostages. It's not going to be pretty." She glared, but he stubbornly glared right back. "You stay here. I'll do my best not to provoke another war."
"If you're delivering dead bodies, then there will be no way to avoid that, Kid."
"I said I'd do my best," he huffed. "Have a little faith in me here." Her responding glower only made him laugh. "Are you worried about me?"
"Of course, I am," she said, taking him aback with her honesty. "You're heavily injured and that man is a giant. How can I not worry?"
"But he's not the giant you've seen," he reminded. "I promise I'll return safely, and then we can all go home." Her lips pursed to show her uncertainty, and he leaned in closer with a wide smile. "I gotta say, it feels good to have a pretty girl worrying over me."
Nami tried to glare, but despite her efforts it still broke into a smile that made his own grow. It was good to see her smiling again. That was a smile he wanted to protect most.
"I thought you didn't think I was pretty," she teased.
"Hmm, depends on the day. You're prettier now that you ain't sniveling and sobbing with snot running out your nose," he teased back.
She pulled back and punched him in the shoulder. It was a merciless hit that made him groan as he fought off the wave of pain from his injuries.
"You're also prettier when you ain't being mean to me," he huffed.
This time she prodded him with a finger. It wasn't comfortable, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as the punch. He looked down at her adorably puffed out cheeks and sulky pout, and chuckled at her. He pinched her cheek and tugged her closer.
"Fine, I guess you're kind of cute sometimes," he relented. "Even if you hit me."
Her pout deepened, much to his amusement. He released her cheek to wrap her up in his arms, drawing her face into his chest. "Go to sleep, Nami," he ordered, burying his laugh in her hair.
Her shoulders heaved with a huff of defeat as she sank into him. His hand found her hair and swept through the unbound strands to help lull her to sleep. He waited until Nami's breaths evened out, for her shoulders to relax in his hold, and then pulled back enough to examine her face.
Her tears had long since dried up. Her lips gently curled in a peaceful smile. As his fingers drew down her cheek, she turned into the touch with a content sigh. The weight she had been carrying when she came to him was gone, or at least pushed far to the back of her mind. Her despair was no longer dragging her down. He knew it couldn't hold her back for too long. She had overcome too much to let one defeat destroy her. She was too strong, too resilient. He had the utmost faith that she would rise up and find true happiness again.
Her smile grew as his fingers traced down her jaw, and he couldn't help himself.
Leaning in, he brushed his lips to her forehead and whispered into a chaste kiss.
"You're prettier than I could ever deserve."
A/N: Eustass Kid, by some freak miracle, is surprisingly capable of comforting someone in their grief. But only if he really, really, really likes them enough to make the effort. And then somehow manages to get some light flirting in there. The dude is so far gone when it comes to his feelings about her. He's screwed and he knows it.
Oh, and while I do see Kid as being pansexual, I feel he's predominantly attracted to women, especially romantically. His thing with Cavendish is mostly his sick sense of humor (though, in my head, he would sleep with the guy because he is really pretty). But here he's mostly just joking because he came on to Cavendish to get a rise out of him, knowing he wouldn't agree to it, and his comments to Nami are lighthearted, intending to get another laugh from her.
This chapter was going to be longer and cover the funeral, but there was going to be a noticeable tone shift between Kid and Nami after the funeral that I felt was going to be too sudden without the interaction between them in the last part of this chapter. It was also going to jump around a lot and skip ahead a few days, and I feel like it was best to focus on this immediate aftermath first, and then I can wrap up this arc in the next two chapters.
And I hint even more to the monk's mythological reference in this chapter. Like, blatant hint in Urouge's trickster remark. The flies are also related to it. I still refuse to outright state who he is, though. Even if you all have guessed it by now, I'm stubbornly keeping him shrouded in mystery. I do want everyone to reserve judgment on his motives, though, or the reason he is in the fic and playing this shadowy role. He will steadily get more and more development as this carries on.
I've also figured out a way to include another Supernova captain in the next chapter. It is in passing, but he gets to play his own minor role to explain a little more about what this monk is up to.
Oh, and thank you so, so, so much for your reviews last chapter! They all meant a lot to me. I feel much more confidant about the action I have yet to write in this fic, as well as the darker tones. I will not hold it against anyone, though, if it gets too dark for some to continue. Because as I've said, we're only getting started here. Things are just going to get worse in the next two arcs, especially.