Amber Curse

by TSValing

In a time of gods and giants, there was no escaping the fate woven by the Norns. A young woman with a mysterious heritage flees an oppressive Jarl, only to find herself in the possession of another. But is the Berserker truly as cruel as the man she's hiding from? Rated for violence, gore, and sexual content. Kid x Nami. One-sided Arlong x Nami.

22. Chapter 22

Warning: Sexual content. Mention of gore.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or the characters, they belong to Eiichiro Oda.

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The First Choice

Kid might as well be walking on clouds, he was in such a good mood. He returned home with fresh wealth and a beautiful woman who filled him with an intoxicating, addictive bliss he never wanted to live without.

Even after a night of restless sleep, he still woke eager to face the day. He had wanted to slip into her bed all night, soothe the urgent need to have her in his arms, but he held back and lulled himself to sleep as he contemplated what his next move would be.

Nami was right, he couldn't force his way and skip all the ceremony if he wanted her to be his. He wasn't after a night with her, he wasn't interested in making her a concubine, and he didn't want to be yet another man used to continue her lineage and tossed away after serving that purpose. He wanted to share his bed with her every night, have her seated at his side every day, and give her the life she should have had all along, one where she was free to choose her fate. But those simple desires were overshadowed by the raw lust that drove him to corner her, seduce her, steal her warm affection every chance he could, and twist his intentions into something they weren't.

She avoided him as much as she could until they returned to Drafn, leaving him to wonder if he had misunderstood what happened between them. Killer told him to give her time, let her adjust to the change in their relationship. He had had time to consider everything he wanted from her on the way back to camp, he was a step ahead of her in acknowledging what was growing between them. Nami had even more to consider than he had. She had her fears and worries to overcome, while he only had to consider how he would win her over so she would never leave him.

Killer had already told him that he would have to take a careful approach, that he would have to court her, just as Nami said when they finally spoke on the matter. His men had nagged him to consider courting a woman when he became a jarl. He had an inheritance to consider, needed to protect his title with a wife and child. The women he knew in the village didn't appeal to him, no matter how much their fathers tried to sway his opinion. There was no advantage to him settling with any of them, either. Another thing Nami was right about—marriage had to be to his advantage, just as much as the woman's. He wouldn't stand to gain anything from marrying any of the women brought before him years ago, maybe a child and a dull marriage, but little else he cared about. And it would have been the same with the neighboring jarls and landowners.

None had felt right and there were plenty of families he had a contemptible opinion of from his childhood. If they were friendly with his father, they were cold to him, but once he overthrew his father, they came to him with adulation and praise he knew was nothing but a farce, an attempt to take advantage of a boy they thought too ignorant to know better. He kicked them out of his hall as coldly as they would have turned their backs on him. He didn't need disloyal boot-lickers clawing at what he had earned, and he certainly didn't need their greedy daughters occupying his bed.

Nami was greedy, but at least she was honest about it. She was kind, too. Genuinely caring. Yet she would never roll over and let him walk all over her. She would stand her ground and speak her mind without fear, and beat his ass if he ever stepped out of line with her. She was the perfect combination of warm and stern. He could confide in her, trust that she wouldn't judge, would console him as he needed, and give him well thought advice to broaden his perspective. If he became too brutish or demanding or obstinate, she would set him back in his place with her own fire and stubborn will. She would challenge him, never let his power get to his head and corrupt him.

She was the type of woman he needed at his side, the only one he felt he could trust to be a partner to him. And now that he realized what she meant to him, he would go to whatever lengths necessary to have her.

He was fortunate he didn't have to negotiate with her family, that was one ordeal he would have loathed, but he still had to win Nami's approval. He had always found the whole concept of courtship dull and useless, but he felt no desire to prove himself to any woman before. He was a jarl. He was strong. He had wealth. What more did they need to see to approve? Nami helped him realize there was more he had to provide than a hall and some gold, at least for her. Even as she tried to look down her nose at him and play the part of spoiled princess with lofty standards, he knew for a fact she didn't give a shit about his title or his wealth. Well, she cared about his wealth, but she could find wealth in another jarl or a king, or just swindle it from some poor sod who couldn't say no to her pretty smile.

Nami cared most about being safe and being free. She cared about having a shoulder to lean on when she was tired from all the burdens weighing on her back. She cared about having a friend she could trust with her secrets. She cared about having a hand to hold as she grieved. She cared about having a home, a real home, filled with laughter and song and people free to live without fear of the man ruling over them.

He had provided all of that for her, but she was set on making him go through the dance of courtship, and he was willing to do it if only to ease her fears of where this path might lead. She would be wary, but he would be bold. She would make him play her game to keep him at arm's length, and he would change the rules to steal her into his embrace. He had set his sights on a treasure he would have, and nothing would stand in his way of attaining her.

Except he still had no strategy in winning her outside of seduction.

If only it could be that easy. Her kisses never failed to light a fire in him, make him thrum with energy he wanted to unleash by taking her to bed and making her scream to the gods with ecstasy. He was certain that it could be that easy—Nami was far from unaffected by his touch—but the easy route was not always the right one.

So, he spent his morning mulling over a course of action. As Nami helped shave the beard he let overtake his jaw in Britain, he set those thoughts to brew at the back of his mind while savoring her gentle, sure touch. He nearly fell asleep to the sound of her sweet laughter and the feel of her fingers combing through his hair to signal she was done. Then she pinched his cheek to wake him and demanded her payment.

He gave her the gold and silver she asked for, and then an extra piece to pay for the kiss he stole before she could escape him. The kiss had been enough to inspire him as he watched Nami flee him, her cheeks burning with a blush he was proud to be the reason for.

He sought the only real charmer he knew for advice and found him brushing down a mare in the stables. Halle was good with the horses. He could be mischievous and sly, but he had a soothing presence that set many at ease, and that ability was not only reserved for women, even if it was what he was known for. He was one of the best men he knew with a lyre and he sang well enough to make a story come to life, or make a woman swoon. He had been accused more times than a man should be of stealing a wife, but as far as Kid knew he was innocent of the charges. At least he swore that he was. It was always hard to tell when he'd give a wink and smile behind a man's back. Kid preferred to think the man was smart enough to keep his dick in his pants when it came to married women, and was just full of shit when he bragged otherwise.

"Halle," Kid called, interrupting the man as he hummed to the mare while stroking over her soft mane.

"Jarl Eustass." Halle eyed him warily as he came closer. "I swear I haven't tried to flirt with Lady Nami at all today," he said suddenly.

Kid narrowed his eyes on him. "I'd hope not, but that ain't why I'm here."

Halle breathed a sigh of relief and went back to his work. "Did you need something of me?"

Kid grunted as he glanced around. He didn't want anyone overhearing this conversation. When he was certain they were alone, he draped an arm around Halle's shoulder and leaned in close. "Don't fucking laugh," he warned when the man met his hard gaze. Halle's brow rose, but he gave a nod and pursed his lips to say he wouldn't. Kid glared a moment longer, then forced himself to relax with a huff. "I'm going to court Nami," he growled lowly.

Halle's lips pursed tighter, his brows rose with delight, and he barely stifled a snort of laughter. He was going to see that the whole damn village knew about this by the end of the day. Fucking lousy gossips.

"Don't mock me," Kid snarled. Halle made a strange squeak, but didn't seem to hold an ounce of fear. He was just trying to hold back his laughter. "Help me think up a gesture, or I'm going to throw you in the fjord," he threatened. "With a rock tied to your neck."

To Halle's credit, he stuffed down his mirth, forcing his expression to turn serious. His hazel eyes still glinted with amusement, but his smile was more honest.

"You wouldn't do that," he said, calling the bluff for what it was. "But, rather than risk it, since this is your relationship with Lady Nami we're talking about, I'd be more than happy to help. What have you done for her so far?"

"Kiss her breathless count?" he asked bluntly.

Halle snorted. "I would say so, but tradition might frown on that. I would count the chest you gave her after the raids as a gift. It was a thoughtful gesture, after all. A personal gift that you knew would mean something to her, and you won it through battle, thus showing your strength, as well as your knowledge of her. Not to mention your devotion to her happiness."

Kid ignored the sense of embarrassment that welled within him at the point Halle made. Had he truly begun this whole courtship before he had even kissed her? He had gathered the parchment and books solely for Nami's use.

Halle hummed in thought. "I know many women who enjoy small gifts. A new string of beads for her brooches. A new comb. A flower."

Kid sneered at the last suggestion and Halle laughed.

"I know many women love to receive flowers," Halle teased. "Lady Nami is as beautiful as any flower I have seen."

Kid growled at him. Halle only continued to laugh.

"You're the one daring to court her. At least you don't have to worry about her family's wrath coming down upon you for this. Well, I hope you don't. Those tales would leave a lesser man worried," Halle placated. "Give the gifts some thought. I assure you Lady Nami would be delighted by anything from you."

Halle's knowing wink filled him with confidence.

And then he imagined himself giving Nami a flower and felt his face heat with mortifying embarrassment. She'd likely laugh in his face at the pathetically romantic gesture that was not characteristic of him.

Was this really what he wanted? Was this really worth the effort?

A quick memory of the warmth of her lips on his and the sweet sound of her pleasured sighs reminded him that yes, this was what he wanted, and so long as it all ended with her in his bed and at his side, then it was absolutely worth the embarrassment.

Just to be safe, though, he needed an emissary.

Decided, he gave Halle a firm slap on the back in gratitude and left him to search out his agent. He had the perfect person in mind, one that Nami wouldn't be able to laugh at, and she would probably love the gift even more if given with innocent hands.

He found the brats in front of his hall. Ingvild was trying to weave something with tiny, clumsy hands while Sind hovered beside her, watching with keen interest. Another little girl, a few years older than Ingvild, sat at her other side, giggling when the colorful strings snarled around Ingvild's fingers. He didn't see Nami anywhere nearby, much to his luck. Usually she would be helping the girl, teaching her how to weave, and he would have to wait until a convenient distraction stole her away before he could enlist the girl's aid.

He crept up, keeping an eye out for Nami, and came to crouch in front of Ingvild. He watched her try to untangle her fingers for a moment, amused when she only tied herself up more, and then helped tug the strings from around her fingers.

"Where's Nami?" he whispered, peering around the children to see if Nami was inside his hall.

"She's making him new clothes," Ingvild said, gesturing to Sind. She then blinked up at him, wide-eyed. "I think she's mad at you. She keeps saying bad things under her breath about you."

Kid tried not to grin, but failed. "She's always mad at me," he reassured. He earned her ire honestly, at least. "But, perhaps you could do me a favor that would make Nami feel better." Ingvild cocked her head to the side, confused. He glanced around again, searching for any witnesses. The only one close enough to hear anything was Ingrid, and the old lady was sleeping in a chair on his porch as if she owned the damn hall. He leaned in closer to Ingvild. "Go gather some flowers and give them to Nami."

The girls' eyes lit up and they dropped the strings they were weaving without a second thought. They took off sprinting away from the hall, leaving Sind behind to stare at them, brows furrowed in confusion. Kid flicked the boy in the forehead to get his attention on him. "Go find Killer. You need to practice your Norse, brat."

Sind scowled as he rubbed his forehead, then stood with a huff to stomp off in search of Killer. Kid straightened with a chuckle and then leaped onto his porch. He settled into a chair next to the old woman, slumping down to get comfortable. Ingrid had a good idea napping, even if it was still early. He shut his eyes to rest while he waited for the girls to return and grace Nami with his token.

A hand smacked him sharp on the back of the head. He sat up, growling at the old woman beside him. She had an eye open, set in a hard glare. She smacked him again when he sneered at her.

"Don't send my granddaughter to court your woman," she snapped. He growled out a curse, earned another strike, and then Ingrid shut her eye to return to her nap while grumbling under her breath about men these days having no sense about them. Kid rolled his eyes and ignored her.

He had plenty of sense. He knew his woman. She'd be more thankful to receive a handful of wildflowers from a little girl than she'd be if she received it directly from him. His hands were more suited to hold a sword or axe, not a bunch of flowers. Everyone would laugh at the odd display, and then his temper would ruin the whole gesture. At least this way he could deny they came from him should anyone else ask. Only Nami needed to know.

He caught movement at the door, a flash of amber hair, and Kid quickly shut his eyes, pretending to nap with Ingrid. He heard Nami huff, then stomp over to him. She smacked him in the back of the head and he bit back a curse as he glared up at her.

"What?" he growled.

"Don't you have work to do?" she snapped.

"No," he grumbled, and sank back into his chair, shutting his eyes.

He bit his cheek to keep from smiling at her next huff. She muttered something under her breath, a series of curses that had him swallowing a laugh.

"Where did the children go?" she asked next.

"Girls ran off a minute ago," he said with a shrug. "Sent Sind to find Killer and practice his Norse." The boy was learning plenty now that he was immersed in their world, but he was still slow to understand. With Killer's help, it wouldn't be long before he spoke the language as well as a native.

Nami groaned. "I just finished his new shirt. I wanted him to try it on and then re-pin his trousers. And the girls were helping weave the trim."

Kid shrugged. "He can try it on later. And the girls will be back."

She let out a defeated sigh and he listened to the scuff of her shoes as she turned to go back inside. He peeked open an eye to watch her walk away, but when he saw her pause and glance over her shoulder at him, he slammed his eye shut. She smacked him upside the head again and didn't back down as he snarled at her. His head was sore from all the strikes.

"Go find something productive to do," she snapped. He growled at her. She growled back. It took every ounce of his control to remain seated in that chair and not haul her over his shoulder and into his room. He could find something very productive to do with her in his bed. When she saw he wasn't going to heed her commands, she gave up with a short huff and spun away, muttering, "Lazy, incorrigible oaf," as she disappeared inside.

Kid sank back into his chair with a chuckle. She was definitely the woman for him.

"This better be a quick courtship," he heard Ingrid mumble beside him. "Or you're going to be saddled with a bastard before you know it and facing the pointy end of her father's sword."

Kid shrugged indifferently. There was no father for him to worry about. No brother or uncle, either. No family, whatsoever. Only a jarl Nami wanted nothing to do with and a tribe of gods that would see him cursed straight to his death and sent to Niflhel if he didn't treat Nami right.

That thought gave him pause. He probably shouldn't risk a lengthy courtship—if only to keep his wits intact. He would need them if he meant to survive his fate.

---

Kid woke from his nap to find a cup of ale set on a small table beside him and two little girls snickering where they sat on the porch in front of him. They had returned to the chore Nami had given them, weaving green, brown, and blue threads for Sind's clothing. Ingrid was snoring in her chair.

Humming caught his attention and he glanced toward the door to watch Nami come outside. She held Ingvild's damaged doll and a knot of yellow thread in her hand. She smiled when she noticed him looking toward her. It was bashful and sweet and she ducked her head to hide a faint blush behind her hair as she took a seat with the girls. The two girls giggled even more when Nami began to hum again. They looked toward him with matching grins, and he understood what their laughter was for.

Nami had gotten his gift and she liked it. Her improved mood told him as much, but the girls' teasing laughter made it obvious that the token delighted her. And he was rewarded for the thought with ale.

He sank back into his chair with a smug grin. He'd have to give Halle less shit about his flirting. The man obviously knew better when it came to women, and Kid wasn't about to belittle that after it helped him. So long as he didn't flirt with Nami any more, then Kid couldn't care less what Halle did.

Kid drank his ale and then decided he had been lazy enough. He stood up, stretching to relieve the knots and tension from sleeping in the chair. His shoulder still ached from his battles, but it didn't twinge as much when he moved. Nami's humming ceased and he looked down to see her watching him through the veil of her hair. Her gaze wasn't on his face, it lingered low, filled with curiosity. She nibbled her lip, then caught him staring, and snapped her gaze away to focus back on the doll she was repairing. Her whole posture was stiff and he spied another blush creeping over her cheeks.

He was already going to gloat the whole afternoon after seeing how much she liked his gift, but witnessing evidence of her desire made his pride swell. He chuckled to himself as he stepped off the porch, grazing his hand over the top of Nami's head to tell her he had noticed her stare. She refused to look at him.

"I'm going to look for the boy, see how he's doing with Killer," he told her. "I'll send him back to the hall for you."

Nami gave a stuttered nod, her gaze intent on the doll as she threaded new hair into its cloth head. He laughed at her shyness and headed off to find his cousin.

Killer had tasked himself to oversee their men cleaning out the ships that day. He sat on the side of a ship with Sind next to him, directing the men as they tidied the lines and inspected the minor damages that would need repairing. Kid could hear his low voice as he ordered Sind to repeat what he said and gesture toward the man performing the task described. They were trying to translate fewer things into English, speaking more and more Norse that he would have to figure out on his own. He would learn faster by associating the words with objects and people and actions, not connecting them to another language.

Kid jumped aboard the ship to sit across from Killer. His cousin and the boy looked up to him, Killer's brow raising in silent question when he noticed Kid's good mood. Kid said nothing, but Killer knew him well enough that he didn't have to say a word.

Killer sighed. "Halle said he gave you advice. I take it your first gift was a success?"

Kid's grin managed to grow wider in answer. Killer snorted.

"The whole village already knows of your intentions," his cousin said. "Halle wasted no time in spreading the gossip."

Kid couldn't find it in him to care.

"You're not angry that the men are talking about you two?" Killer mused, shaking his head to hide his smile. "You're taking this surprisingly well."

"She blushed," he admitted. "And I caught her staring at me like she wanted to shove me down and mount me. I don't give a shit what the men talk about. My girl wants me, that's all that matters."

"Remember, you're not supposed to be seducing her," Killer reminded. "At least not so quickly."

Kid waved him off. "I know," he said, though he had every intention of stealing another kiss before bed.

"Have you given any thought to your next gift?" Killer asked.

Kid leaned back, his gaze drifting up to the blue sky. "Halle mentioned beads for her brooches, or maybe a comb. She does love to comb out her hair every night."

"But she just bought one when she settled here," Killer pointed out. "Nami likes to string her own beads, but you can see if any of the villagers have made new beads to give her." Kid hummed, considering it. "You could always make her something," Killer added.

Kid turned his gaze back to him. "Like what?"

Killer shrugged. "Something unique. Something that reminds you of her, or will remind her of you. You can show off your own craftsmanship skills to her. She knows you can build remarkable ships, but she doesn't know how well you shape wood or metal beyond that. She was impressed with your ship and the decoration of the wale. Impress her with something only for her."

Kid hummed in thought. That wasn't a bad idea. In fact, it was an even better idea than the stupid flowers, and less embarrassing. He should have talked to Killer first.

But what to make for her? That would take some more thought. Something unique to her. Maybe a figure for her family. On the voyage back, he had overheard her talking to Heat about creating an altar to further focus the magic the gods gave her. She could use a figure of those gods as an offering, to venerate those closest to her. He thought to carve her a set of runes, but he knew that was a task best left to her when she was ready. She would need to infuse her own spirit into each one, and she would want to choose the material. She might want to use amber for those, not wood or metal. A figure was the better option. So, which god within her family should he carve first?

He stood and waved at Sind. "Nami's finished some of your clothes. She needs you to try them on. I'll continue your lessons with you at the hall."

Sind nodded and Killer helped him climb onto the dock. Kid sauntered after the boy as he took off running for the hall, eager to see his new clothes.

He thought on his next gift through the afternoon. He watched Nami as she stuffed Sind into his new clothes to see that they fit. She huffed and fussed as she pinned the trim in place around his collar and sleeves, preparing it to be sewn. She snapped at Kid for staring while she hemmed Sind's trousers, but he only continued to watch her. When her chores moved to preparing the night's meal, she smacked him in the face with a wooden spoon and ordered him to do something useful. He grudgingly dragged Sind off to fetch fresh water so they could wash up, all the while silently thinking.

Nami fidgeted through most of the meal beside him while he continued to scrutinize her, searching for inspiration. She shoved his face away when it irritated her enough and he tossed aside his musings to laugh at her red, puffed up cheeks and fiery glare. He turned his staring into a game, annoying her further as he forgot his meal in favor of leaning onto the arm of her chair and staring at the side of her face. She tried to look away, ignore him, but he only leaned forward to put himself directly in front of her. She smacked him away, but he returned a moment later to start over again until she was cursing at him openly.

Once she started yelling at him, the other men joined in the game, all reveling in her fiery reactions. Killer was the first to join. He had silently slipped into the chair on Nami's other side while she was busy hissing at him. When Kid continued his staring, she turned her head away, intent on ignoring him again, only to find Killer leaning on the other arm of her chair—staring. She screamed and slapped him away, then looked forward to find Halle and Axel perched on the front of their table with wide grins and gazes sparkling with amusement as they stared, too. Before she knew it, their table was crowded with men all silently staring at her. Even Sind had crawled beneath the table to perch on her legs and stare up at her. And Gunda had muscled her way in to the group to take a spot in front of Nami, prompting her to whine at the woman for betraying her.

By the time Nami was fed up with the game, every man there had a lump on their head or a red hand-print on their cheek. Kid had received both, but he was too busy cackling on the floor to care about the pain. Sind's cheek was bright red from being pinched hard, but otherwise she went easy on the boy. Gunda received no punishment, only a pout from her lady before she was forgiven with a quiet huff.

Her ire left her when Kid shoved her down by the fire and handed over a fresh cup of ale, insisting she sit with them as they spent the rest of the night joking. Nami laughed with them once she was no longer the subject of their teasing, and even joined in as they threw casual insults back and forth. Sind had slipped into the group once he finished his chores, tasked with helping Gunda and the servants clean up the tables. He crawled between the men until he found his way to Kid, then settled into a spot on the floor between his legs and listened intently to the conversation, trying to keep up with what little of the language he understood.

Kid earned a sharp cuff to the ear when he tried to translate some of the raunchier barbs between the men. Nami scolded him for trying to teach him that language, but Kid just waved her off and assured her that the boy already knew plenty of foul words in English, so it only made sense to teach him a few of theirs. She rolled her eyes and gave up when the others just helped Kid with the lessons. If Sind knew nothing else in their language, he would at least know how to tell a man to go fuck himself in a number of creative ways.

Nami slipped off to her room when the conversation began to die down. The others were tired, taking off to their homes or laying out their furs. Sind had fallen asleep against Kid's leg, and he decided to call it a night there. He carried the boy to a bed of his own and then hurried off to his room, intent on catching a moment alone with Nami before she went to sleep.

He crept around his room as quietly as he could. He slipped off his shoes and tip-toed toward the edge of the curtain, listening intently to Nami on the other side. He heard her sigh and wondered what she was thinking.

When he peeked into her room, he saw her standing at her table, slipping her jewelry off. A pitcher sat next to her jewelry box, filled to the brim with white, yellow, and purple flowers that seemed to have captured her attention. He caught the corner of a smile as she gently placed a beaded necklace into the box he gave her. Two gifts to her sitting side by side, and Nami seemed pleased with them both.

He really needed to make sure his next gift was even better.

He stepped into her room just as she began to take out an earring, drawing her attention to him. Her smile turned into a glower, but she didn't say a word as he leaned against the wall, choosing to keep his distance so he could return to his earlier thoughts on what to make her.

"You're staring again," she remarked with a huff. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

"I'm thinking," he grunted. She raised her brow, urging him to elaborate. "I'm hoping if I stare long enough, you'll inspire something."

"Inspire something?" she asked with a giggle. "And what would I be inspiring, exactly?"

"Another gift," he said bluntly.

Her smile returned as her gaze dropped to the flowers in front of her. "I have to commend you on the flowers, even if you didn't pick them yourself."

He shrugged. "The girls know more about flowers than I do."

"I suppose that's true." She set her earrings into the jewelry box and then glanced up at him. "Thank you for them"—her lips twisted into a teasing smile—"or, I should say thank you for delegating the task."

He snorted. "You're welcome."

"Is your next gift going to be gathered by another emissary?"

He shook his head. "I'll do it myself this time."

"You have me curious," she said as she slipped out the pins that held her brooches in place.

His gaze dropped to her chest as she removed her brooches and the strings of beads between them. She set the pieces down on the table, delicately laying them out in front of her jewelry box.

"Can I get a hint of what you're thinking?" she asked while moving toward her bed and slipping out of the yellow apron dress she wore over a red linen shift. He noticed her white sleeping gown laid out on the bed and crossed his arms to restrain the overwhelming urge to help her undress.

"I'm going to make something for you," he said, digging his fingers into his arms as she began to undo the ties of her shift and slip it down.

She glanced over her shoulder with a bright smile, the top of her red dress gathered against her chest to keep him from catching a peek of more than her shoulders and arms. "What are you going to make?"

He shifted against the wall, sinking down a bit and crossing his legs to hide his arousal as she bent over to grab her sleeping gown. He bit back a disappointed groan when she slipped the gown over her head without removing her shift until the gown covered her.

"Not sure yet," he muttered. "Something sacred to your family, I think."

Nami snickered. "I thought you weren't trying to prove yourself to them?" She sat down on her bed once her clothes were folded and snatched up her comb to run through her hair as they talked.

"I'm not. I'm trying to impress you, and only you. But your magic is important to you, and you received that magic from the gods, so it's just as important I acknowledge them. If it were not for their mistakes, you wouldn't be with me right now," he explained. "I suppose I owe them some gratitude for that."

He could see Nami trying to restrain her smile as she dipped her head, hiding her happiness behind a strand of hair. He pushed off the wall to saunter toward her bed. She sat straighter when he lowered himself beside her. He brushed her hair from her face and listened to her release a long, shuddering breath.

"What gift do you think Freyja would be pleased to have me give you?" he asked as he watched her comb her hair, busying her trembling hands with the task.

She hesitated in giving an answer as she pursed her lips in thought. He grazed a finger down her neck as he waited and tried not to grin when she began to stammer a response. "Umm… perhaps you should look to your own god for a gift," she said quietly. "Rather than Freyja, look to Odin. He was the one who gave counsel to her, likely even led me to you. Maybe you should think about what would please him."

He chuckled. "But Odin is not a god associated with courtship, Nami. He has no place in this."

Nami shifted as he continued to run his finger over her neck, down to her shoulder. He tugged at her gown to expose her freckled skin and traced each faint dot of reddish-brown. There were over a dozen light ones set in haphazard clumps. He knew them all far more intimately than he ever imagined he would.

"Well," Nami began and then paused to clear her throat, "what about poetry?"

He stopped tracing her freckles and looked up at her. She was staring away from him, her cheeks pink with another blush. He narrowed his eyes on her and thought about the suggestion. It wasn't even close to helping him figure out her next gift, but he was intrigued, nonetheless.

"Poetry?" he asked. "Why poetry?"

"Odin is a god of poetry," she said, daring to glance at him then flitting her gaze away. "And Freyja loves her poems," she added with a teasing smile.

He stared at her a moment, then snorted a quiet laugh. "You mean mansongr? Isn't that supposed to be improper? It would mean I know you far more intimately than I ought to," he said, his voice turning raspy as he thought of how intimately he did already know her, and how much more intimate he wished to be. She merely shrugged in response, further intriguing him. "I've never composed anything like a love-poem, only battle songs, and I don't think you'd want to hear me mangle a half-hearted attempt at one. Freyja would be far from impressed."

"I doubt you would mangle it," she muttered. "Or, at the very least I wouldn't hate hearing it."

"Is that so?" he crooned as he began to trace over her shoulder once more. He felt inspired to do something to her when she shifted closer, encouraging his touch.

"You have a soothing voice—when you're not shouting and cursing, that is," she said with a short laugh.

He smiled at the compliment and leaned in to brush his lips over her shoulder. Her breath hitched.

"That poetry is far from my taste," he murmured. Then again, he never knew a woman like Nami to inspire it. She inspired him to do many things he might never have done in the past. He kissed her shoulder and listened to her breath come in a sharp gasp. "I don't want you to laugh at me," he whispered as he pressed a savoring kiss higher up her shoulder.

"I won't," she said, though her lips were pursed to restrain her smile.

He hummed into another kiss at the crook of her neck. She tilted her head, inviting him in. He groaned as he shifted closer, propped himself on an arm set behind her and gently wrapped his other arm around her waist.

"I thought you didn't want me seducing you," he muttered into another kiss.

"I don't," she said, her voice laced with a breathless sigh. "But the flowers were a pleasant surprise. I was impressed to see you taking this seriously."

"So, this is a reward for good behavior?" He chuckled, trailing his lips up to her ear.

Nami hummed. "And I'm curious if you could come up with a decent love poem." She snickered and he pulled back to glower at the mirth in her eyes. "You are capable of incite and thoughtful prose when you wish it. Your argument for why we should ignore every reason against pursuing this was moving and convinced me well enough that I'm willing to give you this chance to prove yourself. But you are gruff and crude and more suited to battle songs than love poems, so think of it as a challenge. I'm certain if you even attempt it, you would impress my family and earn their attention. Succeed, and you might win their favor and blessings."

Meaning they might shield them from the curse that plagued her foremothers. The fact she was thinking of ways to break it pleased him. She wanted this. For all her arguments and attempts to push him away, she still desired to have this relationship.

She turned into him and held his gaze, her eyes alight with mischief. "What would you say about me if you were to attempt a mansongr?"

He rolled his eyes. "Is that what this is? You're trying to pull compliments from me?"

"You've already admitted that you think I'm pretty," she teased, giggling at his annoyed growl. "Even if you delivered the message through a child."

"I've praised you before," he argued.

"You have," she agreed. "And I do like to hear you compliment my abilities more than my appearance, but you're more willing to give those than remark on the superficial."

He glowered. "You're really set on this?"

She nodded. "You don't have to make it a true poem or song, I just want to hear what thoughts come to mind when you look at me."

"I think you should know exactly what thoughts come to mind. I've been pretty explicit in telling you how strong my desire is." He snorted.

"And yet you balk at the idea of saying it now," she said, a brow raised. "You don't have to use flowery language. Use what words suit you best."

He pressed his forehead to her shoulder with a groan. "You do know most men can be outlawed or killed for this."

Nami snickered. "Well, they do say courtship is the greatest danger to a man's life." Kid gave a wry snort of agreement. "It's a good thing I don't intend to bring charges against you, and I have no kin to do so in my stead, either. Compared to most men, you have nothing to worry about but your own pride."

"So, you want to make a fool of me while forcing compliments from me?" He gave her a half-hearted glare. "Cruel woman."

She smiled wide and leaned in to brush her lips to his ear. "What if I offer a kiss in return?" she whispered. "Will you humor me, then?"

The offer had his attention. He pulled back to search her gaze, suspicious that this was another trick like the one she played for his gilded cross. She eased his doubts with a soft kiss, enticing him to give her what she asked for. He still chased after her lips when she pulled away, eager to kiss her more rather than risk saying anything foolish. She let him have his kiss, giggling against his lips as her fingertips gently caressed his cheek. Her touch sent a shiver down his spine and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Nami drew back before he could do more than graze her lips with his tongue and pressed her fingers over his lips to block his attempt at stealing another kiss.

"Say something nice," she urged. His glare was met with a snicker and she brushed her nose against his. "Please."

He pulled her hand away and leaned closer. "Another kiss to inspire me, then," he murmured, sealing his lips to hers before she could stop him. She hummed and closed her eyes, as if savoring his kiss, and when he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open, warm and hazy with an unspoken invitation. "You taste sweeter than honey," he whispered and watched as her eyes lit up. She tried to stifle a giggle, but he heard it leak out and glared. "Don't laugh," he warned.

Nami shook her head and apologized with her kiss. So long as she kept kissing him of her own free will, he couldn't possibly remain annoyed with her.

"As intoxicating as mead," he whispered when she took a breath. She gave her approval in the next kiss, allowing him to deepen it as he grazed his fingers over her cheek. "Your skin…" He frowned in thought, glaring at his fingers as they trailed up her jaw. "As smooth as steel's edge."

Nami snorted again, earning another glare while she pursed her lips to hold in her laughter.

"Shall I stop?" he growled. She shook her head and pressed her lips to his firmly, once more soothing his ire. She truly was skilled in calming him down.

He lost his focus when she parted her lips and boldly deepened the kiss on her own. He groaned low in his throat as she tilted her head and teased her tongue against his. A thrill of pleasure ran down his spine and he dug his hand in her hair as he pressed into her, filling their kisses with his hunger. There was a lingering tang of ale on her tongue that mixed with her sweetness and made him feel drunk on her lust.

Her arms wound around his neck. Her hands slipped into his hair. Her body turned fully into his, bringing her closer as he wrapped her up in his embrace.

She broke the kiss for a quick gasp of air. "Say something else," she said breathlessly before kissing him again.

He groaned at the demand and tried to gather his wits while she overwhelmed him with passion. It was far too difficult to think with her kissing him. He broke from her lips to dart to the side and suckle the spot on her neck he knew would make her moan. He was pleased when she arched into him, her head falling back with a sweet mewl.

"Kid," she urged, reminding him that he had been given a challenge he had yet to overcome. With how pliant she was in his arms, how willing she was to accept his affection and share her own, he would have thought that he had already succeeded, but he knew it wasn't enough.

She tugged sharply at his hair and he cursed at the shock that raced down to his groin. He couldn't conjure a single lucid thought as her nails raked over his scalp, but he grasped for something, anything to give as a compliment.

"Hair as smooth as silk," he rumbled between kisses to her neck.

Nami laughed. "Overused."

Kid growled at her and silenced her amusement as he captured her lips once more. He needed to impress her, but he was losing his senses to his own seduction. He wasn't supposed to be seducing her in the first place. He was supposed to be showering her with gifts and praise and giving her reason to remain with him, to break from her family's rules and stay at his side, hopefully for the rest of his life, if he were fortunate enough. He needed to show her that this was the right path, that she was exactly where she belonged, and that she would find no better life away from his side.

He tried to hold to reason, yet still pushed her down in bed as he devoured her with his kiss. He wanted to give in to their lust, to revel in the rush of feeling that came from her touch. But a voice at the back of his mind tempered him.

Do not seduce her. Not yet. Heed control. Pleasure her. Tempt her. Toy with her. Enchant her. Make her desire you. Crave you. Need you. Ache for you. Make her seek you out freely.

He nestled his thigh between her legs and dipped back to her neck. She mewled and arched into him when he drew his tongue over her ear. She clung to him as he kissed and nipped her earlobe, drawing the soft flesh between his lips to suckle until she writhed in his arms and wrapped her leg around his.

He trailed his hand down to her breast and listened to his name fall from her lips with a soft curse as she pressed herself into his touch. He wrapped his hand around the tender mound and flicked his thumb over the bead of her nipple felt through her gown. She gasped in delight, so he teased her nipple again and reveled in the sweet sting of her nails as they dug into his hair and back.

"To touch you," he whispered into her ear, pausing when her fingers tightened their hold and her breath came in a shuddered gasp, "is to strike flint." She whimpered when he flicked his thumb over her again. "To kiss you," he rasped, groaning as she rubbed herself against his thigh, "is to catch the spark."

He wrapped his lips around her pulse and sucked until she spread her legs wider, allowing him to settle between them with a pleasured moan. Her hips rolled into him, bring his hard length flush against her core. He cursed the cloth separating them, but would not risk removing that barrier. He couldn't take her there, not yet.

"Pressed close, you make the flame alight," he panted as he kissed down to her collarbone. He kneaded her breast and rolled into her, making her gasp and throw her head back with a gentle moan. "To hear your pleasure, sets my body ablaze," he continued while sprinkling hungry nips along the collar of her gown. She clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle another moan as he ground into her harder. "I want my fire to grow into yours," he whispered against her breast. She cried out as he drew his teeth over a clothed nipple and bit down. Her legs wound around his waist when he tugged at the sensitive bud. "I want to stoke your flames," he rasped before wrapping his lips around her breast and suckling her, wishing he could taste her flesh and not the coarse wool on his tongue. "Until it turns into an inferno, burning us as one," he whispered breathlessly as he switched to her other breast.

His hand gripped her hip, drew her into a hard thrust of his hips as he sped his movements. Nami cried out as she rolled with him. Sweat beaded on her forehead. He felt a drop trail down his temple. Her cheeks were splashed with red. Her eyelids drooped heavily until they shut and a shudder ran through her body. Kid gasped for breath as he ground faster, unrelenting in his task.

"Together," he gasped through clenched teeth, "Freyja's flame consumes us, overwhelms us."

Nami's body trembled beneath him, awash with pleasure. He ached for his own completion, but he would not find it with her that night. He couldn't, no matter how much he wished otherwise. She was willing, she was seduced, she was drowning in her lust for him. She would allow him in. And drag him to his failure and demise.

"Give yourself to her, Nami," he rasped sharply before latching his lips to the spot beneath her ear that he fast learned she loved. "Let her fill you with the ecstasy of life."

She went stiff in his arms, arched off the bed, while a keening wail leaked from the hand clamped over her mouth. She shuddered and trembled and bucked into him. He dug his teeth into her flesh to restrain the overwhelming urge to succumb to his own release. He would have his chance. He would curse his decision once he was alone in his bed, easing the pain of his desire on his own, but he knew that for now, it was the right decision to make.

Nami went boneless beneath him, gasping for breath. He could feel her heartbeat pounding through the pulse in her neck. His own beat wildly from the effort of his restraint. He shifted to the side to take his weight off her, hissing as he grazed his painfully hard cock against her, and buried his face in her mussed-up hair as he fought his urges. He was seriously reconsidering his decision when Nami's cheek fell against him and she relaxed with a content sigh. She was perfectly happy with what he did to her, she would be even happier if he just took her right now.

Not yet, that voice whispered within his mind. Let her choose.

"Satisfied?" he grumbled.

Nami hummed and he grudgingly picked his head up to see her drowsy eyes struggle to stay open. As grouchy as his frustrations left him, he still chuckled at her. He had left her very satisfied. The fact she had allowed him to give her a taste of the ecstasy they could find together, filled him with pride and made him hope that he would succeed in having her every way possible. And soon.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek before dragging himself off her. She reached for him as he began to stand, whining "Stay" as she tried to pull him back into her. His laugh came out strained. He wanted to sink into her and remain tangled with her for the rest of the night, but he clung to his resolve and tempered his lust.

"I can't stay," he whispered as he pulled her hands from his tunic. "Not tonight." Nami pouted, drawing another laugh from him as he leaned over to steal a kiss from her lips. "Unless you're ready to throw this courtship deal away and let me fuck you right now."

Nami sobered with the blunt remark, her eyes widening as she let her hands fall away from him. She quickly came down from the high he gave her and he watched her expression turn guarded. When she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him, he knew there would be no crossing that line tonight.

He retreated before he could throw it all away and force his way back into her bed. He stopped at the curtain between their rooms to glance at her one more time. She grazed her fingers over her lips and wore a bright blush while she squirmed where she lay.

"Good night, Nami," he called to her, breaking her from wandering thoughts.

She looked to him and nibbled her bottom lip. "Good night," she said after a moment. "And…" she began to say as she pushed herself up on an arm. He waited, watching as she gave him a shy smile. "I think it's safe to say you impressed her… Freyja."

"Only Freyja?" He forced himself to smirk at her as she blushed. He was aiming to impress Nami more than her family.

"We'll see what your next gift is," was all she said.

She looked impressed enough with the unplanned gift that night, but she wouldn't let a moment of lust sway her decision. It was far too soon. As quick as courtships tended to be, one day was too fast to have a decision made. With all she worried about, he was fortunate to get as far as he had in such a short time.

A spark of inspiration struck him and he realized what he would make for her next.

She likened her abilities to navigating the seas, choosing the best course to see them through the storms. If she was to navigate the fates they were given so that their relationship might prosper, then she would need a blessing of favorable winds, of sunshine as bright as her spirit. A gift of peace and pleasure. And he knew just the god to appeal to for those gifts.

But before he could set to work, he needed rest. And to relieve the pressure weighing heavy in his groin.

He cursed that idiotic voice in his head that stopped him from taking her. He could be as happy and sated as Nami was if he did as he wished. But he feared what might come if he ignored that voice. Because there was one thing he knew for certain—

That voice had not been his own.

---

Nami woke that morning in good spirits, even after the dream that came to her in the night.

She hadn't expected to go so far with Kid, but he selflessly restrained himself from going any further. He had knocked her free of all her senses with only a few touches and kisses, she would have eagerly let him have his way with her if he hadn't stopped after the orgasm that left her head in the clouds and her body filled with a sweet thrum of contentment. Once he was gone, and she stopped remembering every touch and kiss and sensation that set her on fire, she went to sleep with a smile.

Her dream didn't dim that happiness, even if it had reminded her of the reason for her caution. The vision that came to her in the storm had returned, the flashes of images as brief as they had been the first time she saw them. The man decorated with gold seemed further away, and Kid seemed closer. The rats in the ship had come ashore and scampered at their feet, distracting her from the ghost of Kid's touch. She looked down at the rats, tried to kick them away, but one clung to her skirts and nipped her ankle. When she looked up again, she found Kid missing, leaving her alone with the ugly rodent gnawing her flesh until she woke to the early dawn light that seeped into her room.

The vision left her as confused as it had when she first had it, but she had no time to meditate on the images. She would think on them that night, return to her rune study after supper, and hopefully find a better answer.

She dressed and tied her hair up before heading out to the main room to help with the morning meal. Gunda was the first to greet her as she began to set out the cooking pots. Killer grunted a good morning as he got the fire going. The rest of the men were dressing or putting their bedding away, a few looked to have already left to see to their chores.

She didn't give it any thought when Gunda studied her for a moment, her brows furrowed as she seemed to search for something. Nami merely began to take the ingredients of their meal from the servants that scuttled into the room, ignoring the older woman's gaze.

"Lady Nami," Gunda gasped before suddenly taking her by the arm and dragging her from the room. "We must fix your hair."

Nami blinked in confusion as she stumbled behind the woman's longer strides. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing," Gunda whispered. "It's lovely, but"—she tugged Nami into her room and spun around to hiss—"he's marked up your neck again."

Nami squeaked and slapped her hand over her neck. She couldn't find it in her to be angry over it this time. She had invited his attention the night before.

Gunda sighed as she bade her to sit down, batting at her hand so she could inspect the markings. "I understand he's officially courting you, but this isn't supposed to be part of the ritual. You should have told him off."

Nami pursed her lips and tried to look ashamed. Gunda sighed again when she noticed the smile Nami struggled to hide.

"For a woman who was so opposed to even entertaining the thought of a relationship, you are perfectly willing to encourage his advances," Gunda lectured as she untied Nami's hair and began to comb it out. "I am surprised how far your change of heart has gone."

"He made a convincing argument for me to give him a chance," Nami huffed. "He's hardened his resolve and I want to hope for the best."

Gunda hummed. "And I wish both of you success, but you still need to draw the line somewhere and prevent him from ruining your reputation." She swept Nami's hair over her shoulder and began the arduous task of braiding her hair in a thick, heavy plait that would hide the marks. "He seems to favor your right side," Gunda muttered.

Nami snorted.

"Did he bite you?" she asked with unmasked shock and indignation, shoving Nami's head roughly to the side as she ran her fingers over a sore spot at the base of Nami's neck. Nami pursed her lips to keep from giggling as Gunda began to rant. "That ill-mannered brute. If he weren't jarl, I would see him castrated for this. A man is not supposed to let his lust take control, not in a courtship. There are rules and expectations."

She huffed and cursed under her breath as she tugged sharply at Nami's hair, winding it tighter than necessary. Nami hissed and she tempered her anger, softening her touch, and let out a long sigh.

"How long do you believe this will last?" Gunda asked.

"I'm not sure," Nami admitted quietly. "With the life I led in Tingstad, I never imagined something like this happening. I don't know what to expect from him, or from myself. I'm still not certain this is the right way to go."

"Have you had more visions?"

"Last night," Nami said, sighing. "It was the one I had in the storm, though this time the rats were ashore. I still don't understand it. I need time to think on it."

"I'll keep Jarl Eustass away tonight if you wish to practice your runes," Gunda said. "We can talk with Heat, see if he can't distract his friend with some task that will keep him from interfering."

"Thank you." Nami tilted her head back enough to smile. They fell into silence as Gunda continued to plait her hair, folding the long braid up to weave and pin it out of the way while keeping it nestled at the side of her neck. Nami realized that it was too quiet in her room and glanced toward Kid's bedroom. He should still be snoring in there. He never woke before dawn, and never slept without snoring. "Has Kid already woken?"

"He slipped out early. Before dawn," Gunda explained as she made a few adjustments to Nami's braid, fussing with how it laid. "He said he needed to gather some things. He should return for breakfast."

A coil of anticipation and curiosity settled in her gut. He had said that he wanted to make something for her before she encouraged his poetry. Did he still intend to make a gift for her? She had a feeling she would like it far better than the flowers. As beautiful and thoughtful as the simple gift had been, it was too unlike him. Even that gift hadn't been right for him considering he tasked two little girls to gather and deliver them while he napped on the porch. But this next gift he was actually putting his own labor into it and she couldn't wait to see what he had decided on.

With her hair—and reputation—in place, Nami set back to work on the meal. Killer had much of it prepared by the time they returned to the main hall and regarded them with a raised brow as he stirred a pot of oat porridge. She smiled without a care as he inspected her, his gaze settling on her neck. He snorted and turned his attention back to the meal.

"Your hair looks lovely today, Nami," he said with a knowing smirk. Lower, he added, "He will enjoy such easy access to the other side."

She smacked Killer on the back of the head, but he only chuckled.

The morning sped by after the meal. Kid had returned to eat, inhaling his porridge and a slather of cloudberry jam on bread, before vanishing without a word to anyone. He hadn't even bothered to sit down to eat, he was in and out so fast. She chose not to question it, or complain when he didn't even cast a glance her way. His mind was fixed on whatever task he had given himself, and she hoped that she was right about it being a gift for her. She would find out what had him so distracted once he was done.

Once the meal was cleared, Nami went back to work on Sind's new clothes. He had a new shirt and his trousers were nearly done, but she needed to weave more cloth for another set, something more colorful than the drab brown and beige he had been dressed. His green eyes would look stunning against blue, and she intended to make a red and green trim to bring that green out more.

Making clothes for the boy, fixing Ingvild's doll, were bittersweet tasks. She found herself enjoying the projects, seeing the children's faces light up when she finished, and she remembered her days with Bellemere and Nojiko with fondness and a pang of loss.

Bellemere had been the one to teach them how to sew and mend and weave. Her dresses were always in tatters, patched and repaired over years of abuse tending to their farm without help from anyone but the girls once they were old enough. Her nicest dresses were faded, lightly frayed at the hems. She saved new cloth for the girls' clothes, though even Nami was consigned to wearing mended and altered dresses that once belonged to her sister. Their resources were too limited to make new dresses every few months, especially when Nami hit a growth spurt. And Nojiko had once suffered to wear clothes too small until Bellemere made them both dresses that were far too big, hoping they would grow into them and save her the expense of making more.

Nami once fought with her over their bland and haggard clothing. She wanted to wear silk and the finest furs, like the one in the chest that once belonged to her birth mother. She wanted jewels and new beads and brooches. She had been a brat and would forever regret the ungrateful attitude she had shown the woman who sacrificed everything to care for two children that were not her own. The fight had been just before Arlong came, just before the woman who loved them with all her heart was taken from them.

Arlong had spared her the material she needed for better garments. She was able to make her cloak of fine spun wool and silk and her mother's lynx fur. She had beautiful thread to weave her belts and trim and wear dresses with the vibrant colors she loved. She had to make them herself, with some help from Nojiko, and often found herself crying when she realized just how difficult it had been for Bellemere to provide them with what she had. Every year she grew taller, every year her body changed from a child's form to that of a grown woman, and every year she had to remake all her dresses. She appreciated all that Bellemere had taught them and wished she could have thanked her.

Now she would use those skills to provide for those within Kid's hall, especially the child she was still surprised he took in. She would give the boy the clothes she once wished she had, the home she knew Bellemere would have provided if she had the resources. She wouldn't disappoint her mother's memory by doing any less.

As she focused on her work, Gunda sat at a table nearby, spinning new thread. One of Kid's men, Geir, silently sat beside her, his hands held in front of him with freshly woven blue yarn wound around them. Geir was an odd one within Kid's ranks. He resembled Kid a great deal, only he had darker features and was smaller than the jarl. His hair was a rich brown, his eyes jet black, and his skin was an olive color more common in the lands to the south, near the Mediterranean. But he had the same jaw line as Kid, same sharp nose and heavy brow, same scowl, same glare. There was talk that he was related, another bastard gotten by someone in the former jarl's family. Kid wasn't sure if Geir was a cousin or a brother or even a nephew considering the former jarl's eldest son was fourteen years older than him, but he knew well enough that he and the man somehow shared blood and welcomed him into his hall and crew without question.

Geir's mother had been a slave, captured in a raid, and died shortly after giving birth to him. He had grown up as a slave, freed when Kid found him in the corner of the barn with a bloody axe in hand and one of the former jarl's men dead in front of him. He didn't talk, at least she had yet to hear him speak, but he followed orders well and was a strong fighter. He preferred the company of women over men, and Gunda felt safest with him after helping care for him when he was an orphan slave. She told her that he once feared other men as much as she did. Any time there were male guests unfamiliar to him, he hung to the edges of the room, hidden in shadows as he quietly observed the new presence. He had come to trust those that came into Kid's hall, easing his wariness around other people, but he still remained guarded around guests and hovered closest to the women. Gunda said she likened him to a poor, abused dog, mistrusting of any that resembled his abusers, and prone to snapping at any that would do him harm.

He was a shadow of the man Kid had become, but found a safe home within his relative's hall.

Nami couldn't help but giggle at the scowl he wore while Gunda wound more newly spun yarn around his hands. He glared at the yarn roping around over his fingers, but patiently let the woman use him as she needed. He didn't make a single grunt of complaint and continued to hold the strings taught as instructed.

Sind ran into the hall near mid-afternoon. He had vanished shortly after breakfast, leaving her worried that he would get into trouble roaming the village alone. Wire had eased her worries when he came inside for a drink. He had set Magnus—the boy who ruined Ingvild's doll—to work on the pig sty as punishment, and spotted Sind hovering outside the shed Kid used as a workspace for his projects. If he was with Kid, then she knew he would be safe.

She wondered what had brought him back to the hall, and in such a rush. He grinned as soon as he saw her and ran through the clutter of tables in the main room to where she stood at the loom. He bent over gasping for air while she looked at him quizzically. Once he caught his breath, he held something up to her.

Curious, she gently took the small wood figure and held it to the light streaming in from the open door. Her eyes widened at the intricately carved boar that was nearly as large as her hand. Its fur was coarse and bristled, its face set in a stern sneer with its tusks drawn sharply up its snout. The wood was stained a dark brown and flecked with yellow-gold paint over its fur. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the details, from its nose to its tail, and then stopped to inspect a set of runes carved into the chunk of wood the boar stood on.

Freyr.

She smiled as she realized the boar was meant to be an offering, a symbol of Freyr's beloved boar, Gullinbursti. The golden boar that was created by a dwarf Sind's father was named for.

She knew the craftsman without having to ask. Kid's newest ship had shown her his talents at shaping and carving wood, including the intricate designs decorating the wale; she knew he had to be the one who carved the boar for her.

She crouched down in front of Sind to pat him on the head and thank him for delivering the gift. He beamed at her, then pointed toward the front door.

"Jarl is outside," he managed to say. His Norse was improving.

She thanked him again and went to find Kid so she could thank him, too. She stepped over the threshold and peered around the front square, then glanced to her right when she noticed movement on the porch. There she found Kid lounging in a chair, a foot propped up on a stool, while his attention was rapt with another piece of wood he carved at. He didn't appear to have been working on it long, she couldn't even begin to guess what he was attempting to create next. It would be smaller than the boar she held, that was all she could tell looking at the chunk of wood.

So focused on his work, he didn't seem to notice her creep up behind him. His shoulders tensed in surprise when she wound her arms around him, but he relaxed the moment he realized it was her. She caught the corner of a smile as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered and watched his smile grow. He didn't look up from what he carved, didn't even pause in his work, but she knew she had most of his attention. "I'm curious, why the boar?"

He shrugged. "Came to me last night that it would make a good offering to your family. And Freyr's supposed to be a generous god, thought he might be especially happy to receive veneration from a grand-niece."

"That's true," she mused. "Why not craft something for Freyja?"

Kid huffed, finally halting his work to lean his head back and glower at her. "Already thought of that. It's what I'm working on now."

"Did I ruin another surprise?" she asked teasingly.

"Yes," he grunted, but his ire was lacking as she kissed his cheek again. "The boar had to come first. You liken your gifts to navigating a storm, so I had hoped that Freyr would help us fair the storms and bring us good weather again. In a manner of speaking," he grumbled.

She swallowed a laugh at the embarrassment he tried to hide with a stony scowl, and slipped around to invite herself onto his lap. He sat back in surprise, but quickly recovered to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her tight against him, a slow grin spreading over his face.

"I love the gift, especially the thought behind it," she said.

He squeezed her. "Good."

"And you've been working on this all day?" she asked. He nodded as she returned to her inspection of the gift. "You work fast. This should have taken a couple of days, at the very least."

He shrugged indifferently. "Already had a piece carved up close to that shape. And once I start working, I don't like to stop until I'm done."

"So, what are you going to make for Freyja?"

Kid scowled at the piece of wood in his hand, holding it up to assess it. "Not as sure about that one. Either a falcon or a cat, depending on what the wood lets me do." He leaned his head back and turned to regard her closely. "I like your hair," he complimented, catching her off guard with the out of place remark.

"Thank you," she said, running her hand over the thick plait. "Gunda did it"—she paused to feign an annoyed glower—"when she noticed the marks you left on me last night."

Kid's grin was as cocky as ever while he pushed aside the braid to take a closer look. "I really favored your right side," he mused.

Nami swatted his hand away. "She noticed," she said flatly.

Chuckling, he leaned in to run his nose up the left side of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine and she stifled a squeak when he stopped to nip her ear. "I'll have to make sure I give your left side attention tonight. Can't be neglecting any part of your body when I pleasure you," he whispered.

She closed her eyes and swallowed a moan when he kissed beneath her ear, gently teasing his lips over sensitive skin. She turned into him as an ache grew in her breasts, making her eager for his touch, and squirmed in his lap when the ache only spread lower. Kid groaned against her ear while he ran a hand over her side, brushing his thumb over the underside of a mound. It was a fleeting touch, but it was enough to rekindle the need he lit in her the night before.

"Kid," she said with a gasp when his thumb next flicked over her nipple. "Not here."

He groaned in disappointment and eased his hand away, but he continued to nibble and lick over her ear. "May I pleasure you in bed again tonight?" he asked, his voice a thick rasp that made her shiver all over.

"We'll see," she forced herself to say while her whole body wanted to scream an emphatic yes.

A horn bellowed from the docks, interrupting them. Kid went rigid beneath her and she sat up straight to see what the alarm was for. Another sound of the horn echoed through the village, bringing everyone to a stand-still while Killer sprinted to the hall.

"A ship was spotted in the fjord," Killer informed them as soon as he stood in front of the hall. "Merchant ship as best I can tell from the distance."

Nami grudgingly stood from Kid's lap, the jarl grunting unhappily, even as he helped her stand.

"Could you see the flags? Any heraldry?" Nami asked, trying to bury her unease. Maybe it was a normal trading partner? Maybe it was nothing to be alarmed about at all.

"Blue on white," Killer said. "They were too far to see what insignia might be on them. What I could see, it looked like a rodent." Nami's back went straight, her stomach roiled with fear she fought to keep from her expression while Killer continued. "They aren't Norse, though, I know that much."

"They aren't?" Kid grunted as he stood behind her, a hand on her back as he glanced down, scrutinizing her. She idly realized she was shivering, and no longer from the lust he had moments ago inspired in her. Her whole body felt cold.

Killer shook his head. "Frankish… Norman as best I could see."

"Nami?" Kid prompted, forcing her to look up at him. His scowl deepened, brows furrowed, while she felt the terror in her heart blossom and urge her to flee. "Do you know this ship?" he asked, tone laced with a growl.

She couldn't find her voice, so she gave a stuttered nod.

"Is it an ally of Arlong's?"

She nodded again.

Kid shoved her to the door and began to bark out orders. "Go to your room and stay there. Don't come out until I tell you to. We'll deal with them."

She didn't argue. It wasn't the time to argue. She needed to hide. She needed to run. She needed to get somewhere safe.

She fled to her room, trembling with fear as she clung to the boar Kid had given her. She needed guidance now more than ever. She needed to know which way to go.

Because she knew who the rat was, and that meant the storm was already bearing down on them.

---

Oslo

As the Danish ship slipped through the water toward one of the open docks jutting out into the bay, he watched as a cadre of armed men marched out to meet them.

The village was large, spread up into the hills surrounding the bay, and bustling with activity. People scampered around markets, selling their wares. Others were in the bay, fishing or washing or playing. Most of them scattered at the sight of the armed men, keeping their heads down and moving from their path as quickly as they could.

He kept his head down, face shadowed by the black hood of his new cloak, and observed as the captain of the ship hailed the militia. He had spent a decent sum replacing the weathered rags of a monk, instead donning more northern attire in the hopes he would blend with the Danes giving him passage to Noreg. The Earl of Hedeby had been kind enough to warn him of the tension in this village. The man who claimed himself king over the region, despite no support from the jarls or earls in the surrounding parts, was unfriendly toward most outsiders—especially Christians. It was fortunate he was not Christian, not truly, but it was wise to keep his appearances as neutral as he could.

He still donned a silver cross on a thick chain around his neck, gilded with fine rubies fit for a king. It was all he had left of his savior. He would not part with it. It had been a struggle in England to keep it hidden from Lord Urouge and his men. A poor, silent monk should not have such a treasure. His billowing robes at least kept it out of sight, but every night, when he desired a few minutes of sleep, his hand itched to clasp the memento and soothe his mind with the familiar ridges and dips of the silver.

He wouldn't have to hide as much of himself here, but he would have to take care not to raise this king's alarm. Thus the northern cloak with its heavy wool trimmed with feathers and fur around his shoulders. His dark blue tunic had bands of yellow and orange woven around the collar and sleeves, while the black leather of his armor vest was pressed with the weaving knotwork of a snake. He had shaved the thick beard he let grow in place while in Britain, no longer worried about showing his face. The midnight blue hair was trimmed into neat sideburns and a thick tuft of hair at his chin. He left his hair long, but combed and cleaned it as a Norseman would, securing it in a knot at the back of his head.

He would still be questioned. His olive skin and accent would paint him as an outsider, but so long as he shunned any Christian ties, he would likely be permitted, barring he gave good reason for the king to let him remain. If this king was as cruel and merciless as they say, then he had plenty of uses for him.

The captain leaped onto the dock to greet the militia. He wore a slender chain around his neck with Thor's hammer hanging over his breast. Much of Denmark was ceding to the Christians, with kings and jarls converting either for politics or personal reasons, but the clan that had agreed to take him to Oslofjord still clung to their old gods. Their leader had technically converted for the sake of peace beneath their king, but he and those in his territory still bore Thor's hammer, melding it with the Christian cross when necessary. Here they could wear their symbol without hesitation, knowing that the Norse king would favor their dedication to the old ways.

The men greeted each other with a stoic warmth, clasping hands as if old friends while their expressions remained stern. The leader of the militia spoke with the captain of the ship in hushed tones. All the while he watched as they gestured to the cargo and crew, and then they were given the signal to unload the silks and spices and other finery gathered from their trade further south. He stood when the men set to work, slipped between the crew, and made his way to the dock just as the captain waved him over.

"This is the one," he said to the leader. "He's no longer welcome in Denmark."

The man eyeing him closely was tall and slender, built with lean muscle. His posture was rigid and unforgiving, his tan face stiff and unreadable. A small scar ran down his left cheek. To another man, he might have a fearsome visage, but to himself—he didn't much care.

"What crime did he commit?" he asked the captain.

"I'd leave that for myself to tell," he interrupted. "And I will tell your king."

The militia-man turned to face him fully, squaring his shoulders in some attempt to intimidate. His hands clasped behind his back, his head held high, he peered down his nose at him. "Our king does not speak to outlaws, nor does he welcome them without due process. I am McKinley, the leader of his peace keeping forces. It is my duty to assess newcomers. If you pass my judgement, then perhaps I will allow you to see him."

Annoyance burned in him, but he didn't show it as he pushed back the hood of his cloak to let the man see his crooked smirk. He made a move to brush his cloak from his arm, revealing the long, slender sword tied to his left hip. "If need be, I will seek out your king myself, if only so I might deliver him the hearts of his pathetic soldiers," he said, lowering his voice as he spat his insults. "I have no interest in conversing with weaklings."

McKinley's stoic expression broke with a growl, his hand reaching for his sword.

"I'll speak with him," a voice called out, putting a stop to the fight before it could begin. The militia parted, allowing him to peer down the docks to the man standing heads above the rest. He had appeared so suddenly, none had taken notice until he spoke, and at the sound of his voice, all business in the village came to a halt. People dropped to their knees, their heads bent down as the king walked through them. By his posture and bored expression, he didn't seem to take notice of his people at all. They were that far beneath him.

The forces on the dock with him straightened and fell in line, like good little soldiers, unquestioning of their leader.

He strode forward over the dock, unbothered by McKinley's growl as he passed him by, and came to stop a few paces in front of the king. With a mocking smile, he put his hand to his heart and bowed his head in feigned politeness. "King Enel," he greeted without masking the sarcasm in his tone, "it's an honor to be in your presence."

Enel peered at him with a bored gaze as he straightened. He had met Danish and Norse kings in the past, and while most appreciated the finery they received in their expeditions and raids, Enel took that appreciation to another level entirely. He was clad in a light blue tunic made of soft linen and lined with strips of golden silk. A dark blue, woven leather belt hung loose around his waist, decorated with golden rings that clinked together as he moved. His wool trousers were colored a vibrant yellow that rivaled the gold he wore, with strips of dark blue wool that wrapped around his calves. A white knit cap sat on his head, trimmed with shimmering gold thread, only allowing a few tufts of coarse blond hair to peek out around his ears and the back of his head.

His first impression of this king was that he loved gold. From his clothes to the rings on his arms and those hanging low from his ears, he bore gold wherever he could. Even the spear he carried looked to be painted in gold, glimmering so perfectly he wondered if it was made of the precious metal.

"Come," Enel ordered as he turned for the large hall looming further to the north.

The command rankled him, but he bit back a snide retort and followed the king. His militia trailed behind them, their steps perfectly synchronized until Enel came to an abrupt halt and tilted his head back. A pained shout echoed behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see McKinley snatching a man from the ground.

"You dare insult the king?" McKinley shouted, before turning to bow to Enel. "Please carry on. You need not waste your time with this cretin, my lord."

Enel nodded and continued toward the hall. He hung back a moment, glancing between Enel and the man McKinley and his men were dragging away to be shackled in the square. He had heard no insult, at least none from the people they passed by. He had shown the king more insult in his greeting than these people had shown, with their heads lowered and frames quivering.

"Come," Enel shouted, breaking him from his musings.

His time in Noreg would be interesting, that much he knew for certain. He sauntered up the hill to catch the king up and fell in step just behind him.

The king's hall was a truly grand estate, overshadowing all the magnificent halls he had seen in the north. It was a fortress, it's wooden gates towering over the village and cutting his hall off from the masses. It was strange to find such a structure there. Ring fortresses weren't entirely uncommon, especially in villages set along trade routes, but the Norse were typically more hospitable to their own people and opened their halls to invite others in for a meeting or meal. This king appeared not to want anyone in his hall and even kept archers posted on turrets to watch over the entrance.

Servants and soldiers milled in the courtyard before the main hall. Men tended to goats and horses and sheep, women knelt in gardens, all covered in dirt and looking miserable. They stopped to greet their lord, only to be ignored as he led the way into the hall.

The hall was as gilded as the king and for a moment he stopped at the porch to stare at the building in awe. Like any Norse hall, its wood was intricately carved, even the crossed beams at the roof. But with this hall, the carvings weren't left plain, they were painted in rich yellows and oranges and blues, the frame of the door lined with genuine gold. The porch was kept in good repair, its planks sleek and finished, decorated with furs between the odd chair or table.

Within the main feasting hall, the ceiling was lofted, walkways built above the main level where more guards stood watch. The support beams were decorated with swaths of rich silk and linen and strings of golden beads. Sconces hung down all around, brightening the room and making the gold within glow, giving it more warmth and light than the crackling fire at the center hearth.

Other than the few guards standing in the loft space above, there were only four others within the room, seated at tables beneath the great dais and throne built to one side. Enel greeted them, unlike all the others he passed. He noticed they were dressed in finer clothes, themselves, though not nearly as rich as their king. They each wore a gilded charm on a string around their necks—Thor's hammer on proud display on all the king's men.

Though, to his bemusement, a tall silver cross stood behind the large throne. For a king who loathed Christians so much, it was strange and amusing to see that symbol remain.

Enel shed whatever noble visage he gave off as soon as he reached his cushioned throne. He collapsed on the seat lazily, stretching out to rest his crossed feet on one arm while propping himself up on the other. A woman hurried over, clad in a plain wool dress, and offered the king a cup of drink. Enel smiled, a gesture of gratitude he didn't expect from the arrogant man, and took a sip before taking the next thing the woman offered—a little yellow-orange cloudberry that he ate straight from her hand.

"I have been expecting you," Enel said as he chewed.

"You have?" he asked as he helped himself to a chair before the throne. He was offered no food or drink, but he could see that this king was not prone to following the same rules of hospitality others would. Or perhaps he would, but not until he had decided whether he would kill his guest or not.

"I have been plagued with visions of a storm," Enel said. "I foresaw you as the harbinger of a great trial, one set before me by the gods to prove to them that I am truly greater than they."

He raised his brow at that. He was far too familiar with men that viewed themselves greater than any god. He should do very well within this village.

"Does that mean I have your welcome?" he asked.

"No," Enel said frankly. "Not yet, at least. What crime did you commit to be exiled from Denmark?"

"I was minding my own business, enjoying a cup of ale in the middle of my journey, when a drunken slob decided my boots would be his privy. I took offense, naturally, and so took his hands, and then his head. Apparently, his kin were not pleased to have him delivered with his head between his legs and his hands sewn to the stump of his neck. I suspect the rude gesture I fixed them in only made their ire worse," he explained with a twisted grin.

Enel snorted into his cup. "You are severely lacking in manners."

"So I've been told, but you are not one to talk," he said, gesturing around him. "I am a guest in your hall, yet I have nothing to drink."

"You are not a guest in my hall, yet. Nor will you be given a drink until I deem your worth in this place," Enel said flatly. "You are not a Dane, though you have borrowed some garb. Where do you hail from? What is your name?"

He smiled wryly at the questions. "I am afraid I cannot give you my name. I have made many enemies in many lands, and it would not be wise of me to give that name freely." Enel's brow rose, but he continued before he could question him more. "As for my homelands, I am Andalusian on my father's side, and Norman-Italian on my mother's."

"A Moor?" Enel asked, his gaze sweeping over him then. "Or a Christian?" he asked, pointedly narrowing his gaze on the cross hanging from his neck.

"I would not say that I am either one, at least no longer. My family was slain by Christians, claimed to be heretics, and I found no welcome from my father's people in Al-Andalus. This"—he lifted the cross from his cloak to let Enel appraise it better—"is all that remains of the first man to show me kindness after the loss of my family. I keep this trinket in remembrance of my own savior, a mortal man, not an imaginary crucified deity whose followers have only ever shunned me as a monster." He gestured to the cross behind Enel's throne. "I am not the only one holding on to a Christian symbol, despite my anger toward their people."

Enel glanced up at the cross towering above him and smiled. "Mine is a reminder that their god could never supplant me. I sit upon his throne after killing his weak king." He set his gaze back on him, lips curving in a dark smile. "I may claim the title of king, but I am a god. It is my destiny to rule over all of mankind."

"And I do hope to bear witness to this great destiny unfold," he said with a mocking lilt Enel waved off.

"Tell me, harbinger, what might I gain should I offer you a safe haven in my lands?" Enel asked.

He bowed his head. "I only desire to live peacefully. I will bring you no trouble, and I will offer my own wisdom and skill to your kingdom however you desire to use it."

"What wisdom would that be?"

"My parents were great healers. My father, a doctor familiar with anatomy and surgery, was taught by the Muslim scholars of his homeland. My mother was a healer known within her church, gifted with a knowledge of herbs and remedies. I have continued their practice and expanded my own study to surpass theirs. And, if you have no need for a healer, then the abilities that led to my exile should prove useful for you," he reasoned. "You have people here who dislike you, at the very minimum. You have men who exact your punishments, yet your enemies persist. I can help you with them. Help question them, learn what nefarious schemes they seek to hide from your sight."

"I already know of them. They do not bother me," Enel said lowly.

"But what of this storm you have foreseen? I am the harbinger of this. Should you not be wary that sending me away would bring you a great calamity?" he argued.

Enel stood abruptly and slowly descended to the main floor. "I would not send you away. I would kill you. Only a fool exiles his enemies."

He wasn't intimidated by the threat, merely grinned up at the king. "I can promise you that I am not your enemy. I am here to be your ally, to aid you in achieving this great destiny you have foreseen."

"You are a trickster," Enel said bluntly. "Clad in false politeness and unveiled mockery."

"I have been called a trickster many times, but does your family not claim lineage from Thor? Does Thor not wield such great, awe-inspiring power as to even hold sway over the trickster, Loki?" He stood so that Enel could not tower over him any longer. The words he spoke came bidden from a place in his mind that he could not say was his own, a voice whispering in his ear what reasons this king would prefer to hear. "Was it not Loki who secured Thor with his mighty hammer? Who even helped him reclaim Mjolnir from the giant who dared to take it?"

Enel's expression turned thoughtful, his gaze distant. He stood in silence for endlessly long minutes, his mind off somewhere else. He waited patiently for Enel's thoughts to return to him. When he snapped from whatever haze stole his mind away, he laughed.

"I have my answer," Enel said cheerfully while turning back to his dais. "You are correct. Thor would not have his power without Loki's aid, though Loki would not have brokered for that hammer if he had not thought to shave the beloved Sif's head. He only got the hammer out of fear for Thor's wrath. And so, you will aid me as I see fit, for fear of my own wrath." Enel collapsed onto his throne and grinned down at him. "But tell me, if you cannot share your name with me, what shall I call you instead?"

He smiled a thin smile as Enel waved for his servant girl to fetch him a drink. "Corazon," he said, ignoring the knot that formed in his heart and swallowing the lump of regret in his throat. "You may call me Corazon."

---

A/N: I have mixed feelings forcing Kid into a courtship, but social mores of the time kind of dictate it. His attempt at poetry is due to the importance of the practice in Norse society, though, yes, love poems were heavily frowned upon, even outlawed in some instances, especially when the couple was not married. But a man with a gift for poetry and story-telling is highly respected. There's even a tale of a man who composed a love poem about a queen, which naturally pissed off the king, but when he went before the king and was asked to recite this poem (and likely lose his head for it), he instead gave a moving poem praising the king's exploits and won the king's favor, so he was forgiven for the slight. Others would not be lucky, especially if they did what Kid did in the middle of a courtship. If she had male family members, or took exception to his interest, he'd be dead. But, as I said in the fic, Odin is a god of poetry, and Freyja loves mansongr - like, easiest way to curry her favor is to write her love poetry/songs. And I do still insist that Kid is talented with words, when he wants to be. Granted the songs he would compose would have lyrics more like 'Shaman's Harvest' when it came to love songs, but he'd still be talented at it.

There is a really fun tale behind the creation of Gullinbursti and Thor's hammer (among other treasures) and Loki is, naturally, involved, but it is a longer tale and I don't want to bog these notes down with another myth. Just know that Eitri (or Sindri) was the dwarf that made Gullinbursti, Mjolnir, and Odin's golden ring - Draupnir. It was in a competition Loki had created to get out of trouble for shaving Sif's head, and if Eitri won, he would lose his own head. Loki had turned himself into a fly to distract Eitri's brother at the bellows, thus 'ruining' Mjolnir by making it with too short a handle.

And, obviously, yes, mystery monk is Law. There. Now you know. Even though he's still not going by his name. The dork is actually really excited about this role in my head, he keeps inspiring me to come up with more things for him to do. And thus make this arc become that much more graphically violent. Seriously, this guy is ready to play his part in this arc.

And yes, his heritage in this fic is mixed. I picked Andalusian for his father because Cape Trafalgar is in that region, also because it gives him the Muslim background I wanted him to have for his medical experience and teachings. His mother is Norman-Italian because the village Flevance seems to be based on is in Italy (Casale Monferrato), also it connects Law to a very Christian/Catholic region. I will slowly elaborate on him and his history in this arc, so look forward to that.

I will make a lot of references to Loki with Law, obviously. Flies were one, but the feathers on his cloak are another. Obviously Law has his feathered sweater in canon, and I was drawing on that imagery in part, but it also ties to Freyja's feathered cloak, which she has lent to Loki on a few occasions (either to get out of trouble, or to help fix the trouble that he for once did not create). Loki is very central to this plot, but keep in mind that he is not necessarily 'evil'. In fact, he tends to do more to benefit the gods than trouble them in the stories (even if the benefits are to get himself out of trouble). The story behind Sif's hair - he only needed to replace her hair, but he goes above and beyond and gets dwarves to craft gifts for Freyr and Odin and an extra one for Thor. Some pagans would even say that Odin is less trustworthy than Loki because he can turn on you when you least expect it in order to bring another great warrior into his hall. Also he has been known to use Loki for the sole purpose of weasling out of his own deals. Loki doesn't become a true evil until he kills Baldr and the events of Ragnarok ensue.

Lastly - for those that don't follow my tumblr and miss my announcements: I will be going to England to visit eileithyia-ya (if you follow LawNa fics, you should know her) come mid-May. I'll be gone for two weeks and it's set up to be a very busy trip (we're even making a pop over to Oslo for me, yay~), so I have no plans to write while I'm away. And since this is my first trip out of the country, I will probably be returning home very exhausted and barely conscious, so I don't plan to write again until I've recovered. My hope is that I'll be getting back into my routine after a week or two, but I wouldn't expect any updates from me until mid- to late-June, July at the latest. Who knows, I might return full of fresh inspiration, at least for this fic, considering so many of the places we're visiting have a connection to the Vikings (mostly York and Oslo), and just barely scrape together the energy to write once I've gotten over the jet lag. In the meantime, I'm going to try to get one or two more chapters updated on this fic before I leave (that should have me through the fluffy parts of this arc and leading into the big drama). But we will see what I manage to accomplish in the next month.