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.

36. Chapter 36

Warnings: Mentions of violence. More one-sided EnelxNami.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or the characters.

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Allies Gathering

He stood on the beach, staring in shock at the fleet rowing through the fjord. Horns echoed off the hills and water, mingled with shouted greetings and curious murmurs. There was a thrum of excitement and relief among those gathered around him.

Six longships fully manned, and a knarr loaded with wood and ore and food—far more than he ever imagined receiving from his allies.

Kid was stunned that Iceberg would send so much to support him, especially after the attempt on his life. He should have kept some men back to protect the village and his hall, sent others out in search of the traitors who tried to kill him. Instead, it appeared that he sent every able-bodied man and woman to Drafn to aid Kid in his war.

"You all right, Kid?" Killer asked at his side as they watched Paulie hail one of Franky's men on the opposite side of the bay where they would tie their ships.

Kid crossed his arms over his chest and clenched his jaw in the vain hope no one else noticed his shock. "I'm going to be in debt to Iceberg for the rest of my life for this," he muttered.

A large hand slapped him on the back hard enough he would have fallen face first into the mud if he hadn't braced himself. He glared up at Franky and his wide grin.

"I'm sure Iceberg would just say not to forget him when you become famous throughout the realm," Franky explained.

"That's just a polite way of saying I owe him a favor. A big one." He gestured at the men unloading the knarr. "He's going to war for me and helping me rebuild. How did he get all these men to agree to this? This war would never touch them otherwise."

Franky shrugged. "A few of them just want to battle. A few hope for some sort of glory. A few are younger sons with nothing better to do in life than fight. And… I am fairly confident most of them just like your girl."

Kid curled his lip in a silent snarl.

"Come on. You already knew that," Franky teased. "You found yourself a pretty girl with fire in her veins. Even if she wasn't a daughter of the gods, she would have plenty of people willing to go to war for her."

Kid hissed his contempt. "So long as they know they can't have her."

Franky laughed. "Oh, they know. Even the ones who didn't join us on the raid heard the stories of what you did to Urouge's men. Doesn't stop them from liking her. They're just going to be more careful about it when you're around."

He growled under his breath but held his tongue as he watched Paulie balance over the makeshift bridge they built over the bay. They bound and nailed logs too small or rotted to be useful for a ship or home, created planks leading to the small island in the middle of the bay, and then across to the opposite shore. The bridge jostled and shifted, was small and slick, but it got single men to and from the ships with ease. They would have to bring the knarrs into the dock to unload the supplies, but the longships could stay anchored in the bay.

"I believe I saw Bonney's fleet heading this way," Paulie called out as he skipped the last section of the bridge. "They were still far to the south and east, just close enough for us to spy them when we entered the strait, but I recognized the boar on her sail."

"How many ships?" Kid asked.

"I counted at least two longships, maybe three, and two knarrs."

At least one of those knarrs would be overflowing with food. Bonney's food. She would not share that with his village, but he would not ask her to. As it stood, he could not afford to feed her more than the first supper to welcome her, and even that would not be enough to satisfy her. It was best if she relied on her own provisions rather than squander what he had gathered for his people.

He hoped she brought enough to last a fortnight, at the very least. He could not say when he would be free to attack Enel. He hoped it would be soon now that he had allies gathering.

"With that, we're just waiting on Gunda to return with news of your sister, right?" Franky asked.

Kid grunted in response as he ignored the burning ache that formed in his chest at the reminder that that woman shared blood with him. Would she even bother to come? If he was in her place, he likely would not. It was in their family to hold a grudge that would last a lifetime.

And if she did come, would it be to reach out a hand in aid, or would she seek to profit from his weakness? Would she come armed and ready to claim Drafn as her own? If it was the latter, then she would regret that decision. He was far from weak with the allies encamped around the village.

"We should send out a hunting party," he suggested. "If I don't have a proper feast to welcome that damn woman, she'll think it's a slight, and with Bonney here, I need twice the meat I'd normally provide for a feast."

"I'll send some of my men out," Franky agreed. "At least Enel didn't hit most of your farmland. Might need to slaughter some livestock to feed the earl."

"That's a last resort," Kid growled. It would be a poor sign for the winter if they had to kill their livestock before midsummer, but if he could win this war and seize a sizable portion of Enel's lands, he would recoup the loss and maybe even see some profit with the first harvest.

Or see enough profit to pay down his new debts.

"For now, someone better get to work on supper for Bonney. I need her army too much to piss her off."

"I'll speak with the servants," Killer said.

Kid grunted as he stared out at the bay, trying to ignore the flutter racing through his veins. His cousin left him after giving his shoulder a consoling pat. An anxiousness was roiling inside him, a constant unease that grew with the aid sent his way. He knew it wasn't the growing debts that unsettled him, they were just a reminder.

"I should have heard from her by now," he muttered to himself.

Franky snorted beside him, reminding him that he wasn't alone. He blushed when a heavy arm swung around his shoulders to squeeze him against his side. "Let's get back to work on the village. It'll keep your mind off the woman you pine for."

He snarled, but grudgingly allowed Franky to drag him from the docks. He wasn't wrong. Work was the only thing that kept his thoughts from drifting to Nami for too long. But it wasn't that he was pining for her—not entirely. Bonney wasn't the most patient woman he knew and the longer she sat around his hall, the more she ate, and the more their shared supplies would dwindle until there were only scraps and a foul-tempered earl.

His half-sister, assuming she did not come to fight, would make the situation worse. She wouldn't care about waiting for a signal that may never come, from a woman she had never met. Tensions would rise with every day he remained bound in Drafn.

He had his dreams, his intervention from the gods to aid him in his wait. Patience came easier as he spent his evenings ruminating on what the gods wanted from him, the offer they were waiting for him to make. He knew he was getting closer to something with how many nights the sunlit field fell away to the tangled nest of roots cradling him beneath Yggdrasil's branches and the sound of Nami's voice echoing to him from the mist.

She cried less in those dreams, too. She hummed as she often would while working at the loom or combing Sind's hair or counting her coin and trinkets. There was confidence in her voice—a sound that filled him with strength and warmth and certainty. Sometimes there was satisfaction and pleasure—a gentle laugh, a sweet sigh—and yet he felt a gaping maw of loneliness. He couldn't say if it was his own, or hers, but he knew that despite how close she was in those dreams, she was still miles away, far out of his reach and he longed to close that distance more and more with every passing day.

But he would wait. He would sit in his chains until the right moment to act. He would think about what to offer the gods.

Or what to offer her.

By the time the horns announced Bonney's arrival, he was pleasantly sore from his work and his worries were shut up at the back of his mind. He had other things to consider now that she had arrived.

He met her at the shore where she beached one of her longships, leaving the rest to gather with Iceburg's and Franky's ships. Her knarrs took the docks once Paulie moved his own. Her men wasted no time unloading her rations.

He took a step back when he saw Bonney climb from her ship with a sly grin and no immediate demands for food. The smug expression was not what he expected from her, not after sailing through the straits for a day. She should be starved for a fresh meal and threatening his people with her wrath if her needs were not met, not standing there like a proud boar who just ran a tusk through a hunter's gut.

He heard her stomach growl from three paces away, but her smile didn't wane, even as she clutched her gut to quell her hunger.

"We're still waiting aren't we?" she asked as he approached, a wary eye trained on her stomach. "I can restrain my hunger before battle, but I hope you get those chains off soon."

He sneered at the taunt. "Killer's working on supper for you."

Bonney's smile grew. "Lead the way, then." She turned to one of her men and nodded toward the ship. "Bring the gift," she ordered as she followed behind Kid.

He glanced down at the earl. "Gift?"

"From Francia."

He stiffened at her biting grin. "I was going to ask why the hell you went to Francia when you knew I'd be asking for your aid."

"Your woman needed time, which gave me time to run an errand. I have many friends in Francia—especially Normandy," she explained.

He growled in response as a tingle of unease settled at the back of his neck.

"There is a Norman count with a small fiefdom. His father married a woman from Svealand, but she took ill when he was just a boy and died—oh, twenty years ago," Bonney said as though she were sharing some passing tale of little importance. He knew otherwise as the unease turned into a prick of warning like the bite of a fly. "Shortly after her death, he traveled to Svealand to inform her kin of her passing. There are rumors throughout Francia that he met a witch masquerading as a beautiful princess, and in his grief became easy prey for her malevolence. They claim she enchanted him into loving her, got a child by him, and then sent him back to Francia to sing his praises of her so other hapless wanderers would be sent to her cult and used as sacrifices to her bloodthirsty, demon-gods.

"That's not even the strangest thing about my acquaintance. They had mistrusted him long before his father's supposed affair. His grandfather was said to be from the southern reaches of Iberia, near the Mediterranean. Dark hair, warm brown skin. But the count's father, and the count himself, are rather pale and ruddy, with fiery red hair. The stark difference in appearance to the Mediterranean lord who sired him created plenty of rumor before his trip north. Some Normans say his mother had an affair with Loki. The Franks like to say it was a devil, a demon sent by the fallen angel, Lucifer, to sew chaos and temptation among God's faithful. Either way, they don't believe his true sire was a mortal man, not when he bore the stature of a giant and the temperament of a dragon."

Kid froze a few steps from his porch and snarled down at Bonney. "Are you saying this is her kin?"

She shrugged. "I had a haunch. And it's mostly confirmed, if only because the count was adamant in his denials while still supplying aid. He is even willing to smuggle your lady out of the north should you fall in battle—hide her in a convent, or maybe take her further into the empire, hide her with some Turks he's friendly with." She nudged his arm and gestured they continue into the hall. He could smell supper and heard her stomach growl in demand, so grudgingly waved for her to head inside. "Don't worry," she added as she passed, "dragons are adept at protecting treasure. If you fail, I've seen that a blue drake is set to hoard her away where no man may harm her."

"I won't fail," he growled through his teeth.

"You better not, or I'll have to pay your debt to him," Bonney said as she entered the hall and was immediately greeted by Killer. He held a plate piled with buttered cod, earning a smile and kiss from the earl as she snatched the plate that would only quell her hunger long enough for the rest of supper to finish.

"What debt?" he asked as he led her over to the main table, offering her the chair beside his. "And what is this gift you spoke of?"

"The count's aid does not come for free, at least not all of it. His father had become known as a greedy man in his final years, hoarding gold and jewels as a dragon would, and my acquaintance learned the value of maintaining his wealth by being shrewd in the deals he makes. He is far more generous than his father, but he will not bankrupt himself for the sake of another, least of all a woman he swears does not exist. But—" she waved toward the door when she noticed one of her men appear, carrying a large wooden box with great effort "—my gift is the potential ally I have procured for you should you ever need of him. I think you would like him. He has one of the most skilled blacksmiths in Francia in his employ, known to make a unique axe that is said no mortal-born man may wield—only the children of devils or heathen gods have the strength. Consider one of these axes as a new addition to your collection."

He straightened when Bonney's man dropped the box on their table, the heft of it splintering wood. He glanced at her, and then the box, and then back at her. She was too involved with her fish to care about his unease in this gift and debt, and what it might mean for Nami. If this Norman lord was her kin, a distant brother, would he try to claim her? Only sons in Christian lands could inherit titles and wealth, but daughters were convenient in arranging marriages to powerful allies. If this man decided to use her existence as a pawn in some alliance, he may try to take her.

"He isn't power-hungry," Bonney idly commented, mouth stuffed with fish. "Your lady has no use to him. He would prefer to pretend she does not exist, or has no connection to him, and leave her to live peacefully in the north. He is no threat, but, as I said, he may prove an ally. He is shrewd and cunning, but he is also kind. He is known to collect strange pets that would be otherwise destroyed by others. He had a new snake when I visited—one I am certain is aiding those rumors of Loki being his grand-sire with the name he gave it."

"What did he name it?"

"Jormungand."

Kid snorted. "Sounds as if the Franks and Normans are just searching for any reason not to trust him."

"Probably. He stands as an heir to the Duchy, albeit distantly. It would be a great tragedy to Rollo's descendants if he were to take the Duchy, if only because he would be the only descendant left. The Franks, though, fear he would become a tyrant, or turn on them as his father had appeared to. His father became greedy and ambitious after his wife died. In his final years, he spread chaos, grew cruel to his people, even his own son. He levied absurd taxes, took to raiding as we would, all to amass his personal hoard."

"How did he die?"

"He and his men were slaughtered in the Rhinelands by an exiled prince." Bonney shrugged as she devoured another slice of fish. "His son was the only survivor of the attack among his people."

"What provoked the attack? Was he squatting on the prince's lands?"

"No. I'm not sure what happened. Some say he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, others say he had made a deal with the prince but it went south when something was stolen that was intended to barter for the deal. Whatever happened, it was a bloodbath. The prince even murdered his own brother. There were few survivors. Actually, I believe one of the only other survivors of the massacre is in Oslofjord right now."

That couldn't be a coincidence, not if Bonney saw fit to mention it. "What's this other survivor's relationship to the count?" he asked as he reached for the box and began to pry off the lid.

"I can't really say," Bonney said as she picked at a piece of fish stuck between her teeth. "They don't hate each other, but they don't like each other, either. Law's—" she paused as her brows knit with thought "—he's hard to predict. As I said, I don't know the whole story of this massacre or how these two might feel about each other, but I do know Law bears a grudge against the exiled prince—well, formerly exiled, I should say. He's reclaimed his throne in recent years. But, everything Law does is usually done in the hopes it'll hurt someone he hates. And I know what you're thinking—it isn't a coincidence he's in Oslofjord. He specifically asked to be sent there when I exiled him for murder, and his men continue to lurk near the Rhineland border as though they're waiting for his inevitable return."

The anxious prickle that came with discussion of Nami's potential Norman kin turned into a painful bite as conversation moved to this other man.

"Is he, by chance, a monk?" he asked, paused in his effort of unpacking his gift.

"No. A healer."

He couldn't relax at that answer, not with suspicion curling down his spine. "Has he been to Britain recently?"

Bonney hummed into a cup of ale but didn't deign to answer. Either she didn't know or didn't dare admit to knowing more.

Frustrated, he snarled at her. "You'll tell me everything you know about him, and this Norman lord you believe is Nami's kin."

She set stern, unyielding violet eyes on him. "Just open your fucking gift, Kid."

He sneered and vowed to get the full truth from her. He was tired of riddles and mysteries. The gods spoke in nothing but twisted truths, he didn't need more of them in his waking life.

Still, he finished prying the lid from the wooden box and brushed aside the straw packed around the weapon. His heart stopped and mouth fell open in shock at the mighty axe laid before him.

Bonney snickered. "I knew you would like it. His own is longer, fit to his height, but he said this one should suit your stature well. He's sent varying sizes of his smaller, dual-headed battleaxes for your men."

Kid grunted as he gently wrapped his hand around the long shaft of the axe and hefted it from the box. He expected the weight of the axe-head to tilt its balance, but the pommel affixed to the end of the grip offset it well. The head bore four sharp axe blades evenly arranged around the rod so that the weapon looked more like a mace than a battleaxe. The leather bindings wrapped along the shaft aided his grip, promising that it would be easier to wield in battle than it appeared. He could split skulls without having to do more than flick his wrist between opponents.

He grinned as he imagined the king's head stuck upon one of the four blades—eyes lifeless and mouth hung open. Killing his enemy with this gift would be quite satisfying, maybe even worth the risky debt incurred with it.

"You say this is an axe the count prefers to use in battle?" he asked as he gave the blade an experimental twirl. His forearm burned pleasantly with the weight.

Bonney hummed an affirmative. "His design, though one only his blacksmith had the skill to bring to life. I believe he helped in the forging of the first one to make sure it was exactly to his specifications."

"What inspired this?"

Bonney shrugged. "I've never asked."

Kid chuckled. If he ever met this man, he'd have to ask, and maybe watch the blacksmith forge another. "I'll have to take care not to destroy this one in battle. I want to mount it on a wall after I smash Enel's skull in with it." He grinned down at her amused snort. "I suppose this potential ally could be useful to me in the future, barring he doesn't have any designs on Nami. But I still want to know everything you know about him, as well as that man you say is in Oslo right now. I don't want any more surprises, woman."

Bonney waved off his demand. "I'll tell what I can, but first—" she banged a hand on the table and her empty plate jumped with the force "—where the fuck is my supper?"

---

He went to bed without most of his questions answered. Bonney had conveniently fallen asleep at the dinner table once her plates were clean, leaving her men to carry her off to the repaired house he arranged for her stay.

He was frustrated, but not surprised. He reminded himself that there was still time to ask more questions, to untangle some of this mystery around Nami's family and potential allies. For now, all he could do was wait and rest and rebuild until she sent word that it was time to strike.

And rid himself of whatever fetters the gods bound him in to keep him in Drafn as long as they had.

As he readied himself for bed, he continued to eye the axe Bonney brought for him. It was as unique as she said, beautifully designed and crafted. Even Franky was envious of the gift, eager to try it out for himself. They would practice and train the men with the new weapons in the coming days—a chore Kid looked forward, if only because it provided another much-needed distraction.

He found himself curious of the man who wielded such a weapon. He had managed to learn from Bonney that this Norman lord was skilled enough to wield the axe and a sword at once, though he did so in order to intimidate his foes. It was impractical to bear two full-sized weapons in battle—they tangled and got in the way of each other, limited one's attacks—but to brandish a full sword with such a mighty axe with enough ease to terrify an enemy said plenty about the man who might be Nami's brother.

Kid tried to picture him—a giant with fiery red hair, lashing at enemies with an axe and sword, snapping at them with the bite and ferocity of a great dragon. He would be unpredictable in battle, vicious and cunning, if the rumors of his grand-sire were true. He was not an enemy most would relish having, but an ally? Bonney may have a point about that. He would not get involved in northern affairs, though, not unless they crossed directly into his territory.

Dozing off, his mind weighed the new information Bonney brought him. It should have brought more anxiety, drove sleep away with restless concerns, but instead he found he was calm. The thought that Nami's Norman kin might someday be part of her life, and not as a threat, quelled any unease her family might once have inspire in him.

Idly, he hoped his patience and good temperament would be rewarded with the sound of Nami in Yggdrasil's boughs.

His hopes were dashed when he grew aware of the stone at his back and the chains wrapped around his limbs. But instead of the warm sun washing over his face, he was greeted by a shadow and a heavy weight pressed upon his chest.

It felt as though a giant had perched atop him.

He slowly opened his eyes, curious to know what new torture awaited him. He blinked in astonishment as his sight adjusted to the visage before him, shadowed by the bright sun behind them. Wavy strands of fire-red hair licked around a handsome jaw—beard and hair groomed and decorated with braids and beads. Scars mottled the lips worn in a crooked grin. Black kohl sharpened a keenly delighted green-eyed gaze. Horns grew from the mess of hair, wavy and sharp, knotted as though made from wood—charred and cracked and smoldering as if struck by lightning, and carved with runes and sigils too old for him to understand.

The hiss of a black and gold snake drew his attention from a widening grin to the writhing, slithering mass draped around the trickster's neck, peeking out from the golden-brown feathers of his cloak. A forked tongue lashed out from a fanged maw, but the creature appeared calm despite the anxiety curling at the base of Kid's spine.

"Hello," the trickster cooed. "How are you feeling this fine evening? Or day?" He glanced up at the ever-present sun. "A fine day—or is it night? One can never tell in this blasted realm of eternal light. Either way, a beautiful time for us to chat."

Kid turned his head to search among the forest at the edge of the clearing, seeking a sign of the god who normally greeted him in these dreams. He heard no grunting boar or bleating stag, though he thought he saw a flash of gold before fiery hair cascaded around him and the trickster's face blocked his sight.

"It's just you and me this evening—day—whatever. No gallant, noble, merciful god to interfere," he said with a gloating smile. "Aren't you excited? You must have a million questions swirling in that head of yours. I love answering questions. Sometimes. Rarely. When it pleases me. But today—tonight—it pleases me. Maybe. Perhaps. Depends on the questions you ask. Try to stick to my children. I do so love talking about my children, but no one ever asks me about them. Except for her. She asked me to tell her a story about my dear, sweet Hel the other night. Do you want to hear the story? It's a good story. No one ever wants to hear stories about her. I don't understand why. Shall I tell it?"

Kid growled and bucked beneath the trickster, tried to throw him off and shut him up. He remained atop him, seemingly unbothered by the squirming.

"Is that a no?" The trickster sighed. "How disappointing. I thought with how fond she is of you; you'd show me the same interest. But, alas, your mind is made up about me."

"Of course, it is. You're to blame for all of this," Kid snarled up at him, "Loki."

The trickster straightened and gracefully placed his hand over his chest, releasing a mocking gasp. "Me? Why, I am innocent of these charges."

"So, you deny sending that jotunn to capture Hnoss?"

Loki slumped. "Oh. That. Yes, I may have had a slight hand in that whole affair. It was just a little trick, a bit of mischief. I thought it would turn out better in the end, that perhaps Freyja would stop being such a stick-in-the-mud about her own daughter."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you were only thinking of Hnoss's feelings and not your own schemes," Kid said with a roll of his eyes.

"I am capable of doing both, thank-you-very-much," Loki argued with a hard tap to Kid's nose. "Such as right now. I am here, scheming up a way to get my adorable, lovely granddaughter exactly what she desires—even if I think she could do better."

Kid snarled but tempered himself from lashing out in anger. It wouldn't do him any good while he sat chained with a jotunn god perched upon his chest as though he were nothing more than a comfortable chair.

"So? It's true, then? The rumor Bonney spoke of?" he growled.

"It is! It is!" Loki said, straightening with delight. "Do you want to hear it? It's a good story. Almost as good as my tales of Hel. I got a few laughs out of Nami. Ahh, what a splendid child. I like her very much. Do you want to hear how I sired her father? Do you? Do you? Say yes—"

"No," he grunted, his head already pounding at the trickster's incessant babbling.

Loki slumped with obvious disappointment. "Oh. Well, you're no fun. Truly, what does she see in you? I suppose I understand why Freyja might favor you. You're as much of a surly, vicious boar as her Odr. Less witty, though. And that's saying something."

"Are you just here to piss me off, or do you actually have a purpose to this visit?" Kid snapped with a hard lunge at his chains.

"A purpose? A purpose! Of course, I have a purpose. I always have a purpose. Except when I don't. Chaos doesn't always have to have a purpose—it is what it is. A tool, an instrument, a means to an end. Change does not come from nothing, little wolf. Change does not happen while sitting stagnant, wallowing in one's self-loathing and doubt, chained to a rock by those same beleaguered thoughts. How boring the world, the realms would be if I had no purpose, even when I have no purpose at all."

Kid slammed his head against the stone. "Does Nami have to put up with you every night? I'm starting to pity her."

The weight atop him eased as he shut his eyes. A lilting, curious hum met his ears. "Do you miss her, little wolf?"

He grunted in response.

"I'll tell you a secret," Loki whispered. Kid pried open one eye, waiting to hear if this secret was true. "She misses you, too." Kid laid back, breathing in the answer, savoring the honesty resonating in the gentleness of Loki's tone. "She misses you fiercely, little wolf. Night and day, her thoughts rarely stray far from you. She has other worries, of course. She cannot fixate solely on you, but in those moments of quiet or fear or loneliness, her mind inevitably drifts to you. I've watched her staring out at the fjord when she thinks no one else is around to see. Such longing in her gaze. She misses you, little wolf, and very soon she will tell you herself."

He swallowed down a lump in his throat, pinched his eyes shut to will away the burn. It hurt to hear she missed him, and yet it was a pain he cherished.

When he thought he could speak without emotion strangling his voice, he slowly opened his eyes to look at the trickster patiently waiting above. He didn't know what to think of Loki's kind smile, or the mirth sparkling in his eyes. "And the other Bonney spoke of?" he asked, distracting himself from the confusion of Loki's myriad expressions. "The healer she exiled—why did she make him sound important in this? Is he the one watching over Nami for you?"

Loki hummed, leaning forward to perch his chin on a fist. "You don't miss much. Your instincts are sharper than ever. An idle comment speaks worlds to you." His lips twisted in a vicious smile. "My champion has taken quite a liking to your kitten. Yes, he has. I'm not surprised. I knew he would. They're quite alike, and yet so very different. They fit like two halves of a whole. Nami cannot hide her radiance, she was born of fire and gold, but there is a shadow inside her, scarred and bruised and terrified of failing those she holds close to her heart. My champion is that shadow made real, the darkness and anger and drive to create chaos for all who have wronged him, but deep inside him, hidden within the great, black maw where his beating heart once sat, is a kind little boy holding on to a heart of pure gold. They need each other. Even Hnoss agrees with me on this. I have guided them both to a most fulfilling destiny."

He wanted to be enraged, he wanted to shatter his chains and throttle the trickster, but he found no strength to fuel his anger. All he found was a painful despondence. A doubt, a fear that had sat silent at the back of his mind came roaring forward to drown out his anger—he wasn't the one Nami needed. He wasn't the one who would set her free.

A sharp pain took his nose, colder than the coldest ice, and fire flared above him. He yelped at the snake biting into his face and tried to buck off the enraged trickster with his fiery touch.

"Do not doubt my granddaughter's choices," Loki snarled, his voice booming all around him, yet as quiet as the hissing serpent. He snatched him by the jaw and yanked him forward to slam their foreheads together. Kid's vision spun at the force, the torturous pain sharpened his focus, and rage took hold again. "My champion is my own, but her champion is a vicious wolf who loves her with every piece of his heart. You said it yourself—it is what she desires that matters most. I cannot choose who she loves, nor can her mother or grandmother or any other deific ancestor she bears. Trust her, and no one else. For if you break her heart, you will not just bear Freyja's wrath, you will suffer my own and I guarantee an eternity in Nidhogg's teeth will seem a pleasure once I am done with you."

Loki's temper vanished as quickly as it had erupted. He slammed Kid back onto the rock and straightened with a huff, calling his snake back to coo sweetly at it.

"Then why send a champion of your own? Why not trust I will break her curse without him?" Kid growled.

Loki rolled his eyes. "He is a champion, not a suitor, you moron. Though, he could be if he so desired it. He is remarkably handsome." Loki fanned himself and sighed. "Nami is not the type to swoon over a man, but I found myself enamored with only a glimpse at his eyes. It should be criminal for a man to be so beautiful. Now, granted, do not mistake my interest as blind faith. He is a trickster's champion, after all. Odin and I are sworn brothers, tricksters of different means, a bond thicker than the water of the womb, and yet—well, we know how that will turn out." He pointed to his scarred lips with a grimace. "Truly, I pity you chained up here, but it means you are ripe for change as devastating as Ragnarok."

Loki made a dismissive gesture and continued. "But we're not discussing you. Well, we are, but we're not. It's tricky like that. All these champions running about. So many who can save Nami from her giant, but who to break the curse? Believe me, we considered many. My champion certainly has the potential, but he has sworn an oath of brotherhood to her and nothing more. His personal interests muddy whatever feelings he may have. My grandson in Normandy—he could certainly save her from Jarl Arlong, he has the strength and numbers to do so with ease. But the curse? Well, the Vanir have no qualms with incest, but I do not think Nami is the sort to go for it." Loki tilted his head in thought, pausing for a moment, but shrugged off whatever distracted him without sharing.

"Now, there are others still, assuming we are only discussing who may champion Nami's freedom from that pest of a jarl," Loki continued on. "Most are too far from here to be of aid. Rán would have had to carry her across the sea to other lands. Too far for a mortal to survive. It would take a mighty miracle for us to guide her to the boy who loves to swing about the trees like a monkey. But he would do well. He would give her a home, gather friends from far and wide. They would explore the world beyond the jungle he currently calls home, but he is not the one to break her of the curse she was born with. This curse, sealed within an amber stone, can only be broken by that which created it."

"That which created it?" Kid mused aloud.

Loki hummed. "Yes, and you've come quite close to figuring it out. Oh, so close. Such a sweet poem it will be when the final verse is spoken. Freyja will be most pleased. No love poem will ever compare, and she will gift its creator with a remarkable boon."

"The chieftain—the love he held for Hnoss, and their child—that is what created the curse."

Loki grinned. "Smarter than anyone gives you credit for. But you already figured that much out. Do you know what you have to do to break it?"

"I already love her," he muttered.

"But does she love you?" Loki asked, his words sharp as a knife.

"I don't know."

"Their love was not one-sided, little wolf. A one-sided love cannot break anything but a fragile heart."

"I can't—" His throat tightened as realization took hold, the chains constricting him. "I can't make her love me."

Loki frowned. "That is true enough. No man can make a woman love him. But you speak of your own doubts, your fears—that stagnant, wallowing pit of self-hatred you hide within. You chain yourself here because you believe I am correct, that the beauty can do better than a snarling beast. You show no fear in battle, you would happily give yourself to Odin's hall without nary a thought, but in love you are a craven, a coward, a simpering pup too scared of his own shadow to break the chains that bind him from his heart's truest, deepest desire," Loki spat, his temper simmering to the surface. "You would flee from a life with her believing there is no other way, no better way to set her free, but you would only doom her to a new misery—a heavy shackle and a fresh noose."

"Why do the gods want me to live? I thought a noble sacrifice would be welcomed by them," Kid grumbled.

Loki snorted. "It is foolish, short-sighted men who believe that. That is the will of kings for the soldiers they employ. 'Die for me, and you will know the glory of Valhol! Die for me, and the gods will reward you in their great halls! Die for me! Die for me! Die!' It is the same in other lands, as well. The Christians beg of their people to die for the glory of their Lord, their omnipotent, infallible God in their holy crusades. But do you know what happens when good soldiers die for their kings? They die. That's it. They lie cold in the ground, unable to do shit, while their king remains warm and comfortable by his fire, free to enlist another fool of a man to die for him. What was it that my brother said? What was that piece of advice he gave to you mortals? 'Better to be blind than burned on a pyre, dead men do no deeds.'

"So, little wolf? Would you rather leave Nami to burn your corpse upon the pyre? Another sacrifice. Another life lost to a fool's curse. Or would you rather break those chains and be free to change the world? Think not of what the gods want, what Odin wants, what Freyja wants—not even what I want. Think only of your desires and hers, think only of the world you believe she deserves, and make it happen."

With a roar of fire and rage, the vision shattered.

Kid shot up in bed, the weight on his chest shifting and falling to the side with a child's yelp. He ignored the whining and twisting in the bed beside him—the children likely had another nightmare and chose to crawl into his bed for safety from their minds' terrors. They had been doing that more often of late. He felt no need to correct it. They didn't wake him, and it made Sind and Ingvild happier during the day. If Nami was there, she wouldn't turn them away.

But he wasn't about to coddle them, at least not right then. His mind spun with Loki's advice. The fire and anger surging through his veins strengthened his resolve. He had suspected the gods desired he live, that it was what they were guiding him toward in his visions, but now to hear it confirmed—by a trickster, no less—he knew what he needed to do.

He still had to wait, though. He had to remain patient. But when the time came, he would not hesitate.

Another childish whine drew his attention from a future that had not yet come. He grunted when a small hand swatted at his arm and looked down to make out Sind's features in the dark.

"Oi, did you have another nightmare?" he asked quietly, careful to whisper when he noticed a lump of dirty blonde hair moving beneath his furs.

Sind yawned and slumped against his arm. "Ingvild had one and woke me. We tried not to wake you."

"You didn't," Kid said as he gave the child a gentle shove, urging him to lay back down while he pulled himself from bed. "Go back to sleep. You're both safe in here."

Sind gave a sleepy nod as he flopped back into the pillows, and Kid took a moment to tuck the boy into the furs. He checked on Ingvild, curled into a ball near the center of the bed. He brushed her bedraggled hair from her face to see that she was peacefully asleep, her doll gripped tight in her arms. He pushed the furs around her and left her to rest, wishing, once again, that Nami was there to comfort the girl.

Ingvild had already mourned and was doing better than he thought she would after the attack on the village, but nightmares she did not like to speak of plagued her some nights. He tried to think of what Nami would do for the children when they were upset, tried to treat them gently, but he always felt awkward and uncomfortable, never knew what to say. He supposed he was doing something right if they still sought him out when they were afraid or sad.

He quietly made his way out to the main hall to find most of his men already waking for the day. The servants had the fire going and were preparing the first meal while his men cleared away their bedding. It was rare for him to be up so early, but he could get a lot more done that day. With more of Iceburg's men to lend a hand rebuilding the village and forging new weapons, he could tend to other things—such as the gift he would find some way to get to Nami before he launched his attack.

He had had some ideas before Enel attacked, thoughts of creatures and gods to carve for her. Loki had managed to inspire those ideas to take a firm shape in his mind. Something practical. Something personal. Something that would say all he needed to. It would take days to craft, maybe even weeks, and he was glad to have Franky around—with his smith dead, he needed someone with more experience in fine metalwork to advise him. He didn't have the time or materials to mess up. It had to be right the first time.

He hoped Nami hadn't taken all the parchment with her. He could probably burn his message into a soft piece of leather if he had no other option. He would worry about that after he finished the gift, though.

"Kid, you're up," Killer said when he noticed him step into the room. "It's still early."

Kid grunted as he made his way over to his cousin's bedding to help him put his furs away. "Hard to sleep with a giant sitting on your chest," he idly explained.

"What?"

"I'll explain later. Let's just say those rumors Bonney spoke of are true," he whispered.

Killer's jaw fell open in shock. "Wait—so the Norman count?"

"Yeah."

"And… Loki?"

"Uh-huh."

"The falcon following Nami—do you think that was—"

"Loki? Yes, I do. He was wearing Freyja's cloak in my vision."

Killer opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it as he furrowed his brows. It took a few moments for him to collect his thoughts before he could speak again. "I suspected his involvement, but this—knowing Nami, I shouldn't be so surprised, and yet I am. I wonder how Freyja feels about sharing a grandchild with a trickster."

Kid snorted. "Strange as it seems, I think the Vanir have welcomed his involvement this time. Suppose no one better to fix this mess, than the one who helped create it."

"True enough."

"I'll tell you about the whole vision—conversation—later. How are you feeling today? Up for some training?"

Killer flexed his scarred arm and stretched his shoulder. He caught the faintest wince, but Killer didn't seem to struggle as much as he had only a week ago. "Some light swordplay might do me well."

"Good. I need you to get all who are well enough sparring in the square."

"What do you mean to do? I thought you were eager to play with your new axe."

"I am, but I have an idea for a gift to send Nami."

"You're going to send her a gift? Do you think Enel will allow her to have it?"

Kid shrugged. "We'll find out what he will allow soon enough. I think Nami means to send me a message. If I receive it, then we'll know what I might get away with."

"What do you mean to send her?"

Kid grinned at the question. "Something practical. Something to sharpen that She-Cat's claws." His grin faded as he glanced around before leaning in to whisper, "And something that will make me look like a fool if any eyes but hers see it."

Killer swallowed a laugh and slapped him hard on the back. "Understood. I'll see that no one pries into your things."

---

The horns came only half a day into his work, dragging him from the forge to curse at the ill-timed interruption.

He would have been more forgiving it the signal came from the bay, perhaps from the scouts to the north—that would have meant a potential message from Nami, or maybe another ship filled with soldiers to lend their swords to his cause. But the horn crying over the village came from the guards posted at the southwest, which only meant one thing.

"Judging by that scowl, I'm guessing that means she's here," Bonney called to him as he shoved his way through their men training in the square. He snarled at her, earning a sharp laugh. "Oh, I am so glad I arrived in time for this."

He was glad she had, too, though he could do without her mockery. Her warriors should deter any thought of taking advantage of him, but Bonney was prickly about who she supported. He had her favor now, but she could change her mind on a whim if he said just the right thing to piss her off. Diplomacy was not his strong suit, so the odds were high that this meeting could turn into a battle he couldn't afford.

"Killer," he shouted as his stomach knotted with worry. "Tell me we still have warm food left."

Killer glanced at the hall, sharing his scowl. "I'll get something going right now. We should have plenty of ale in the stores. I sent someone to gather what we could from the farms."

"Good. That should keep her settled for the time being. Can't risk insulting that bitch with poor hospitality," he growled.

"Kid," his cousin warned just as Axel came riding through the village on an exhausted horse.

"Jarl," he greeted as he climbed from the saddle to hand the reins off to Halle. "Lady Hulda and her party will arrive in a few hours. She sends her warmest regards and deepest condolences."

Kid rolled his eyes and sneered. Axel's tone told him plenty about those condolences—they were pure horseshit.

"Is Gunda returning with her?"

"She is. The journey strengthened her," Axel reported. "Geir remained so that she wouldn't be alone. He doesn't trust Hulda's men."

"Smart. Neither would I. Has she come to declare war, or do you think she might actually hear me out?"

Axel grimaced. "It's hard to say. She's—" He broke off to sigh and grumble as he scratched his head. "She's not the pampered, spoiled daughter of a jarl she was when you exiled her. The warriors she brings are truly her own. They hold no fealty to her mother's family. We learned that in the last year, she's gained favor in the region. Her uncle married her off to an old karl, who died only a few months into their marriage."

Kid snorted. "I'm sure it was a real tragedy for her."

"They say he died of exposure. He wasn't right in the head, was so aged he forgot himself and often wandered when others were not looking."

Kid gagged. "Don't make me pity her. So? She murdered the wrinkly old ball-sack and claimed his lands? Great. Maybe she won't want mine."

Axel grimaced. "Please, Jarl, try not to accuse her of murder."

"Fine. I'll just accuse her of neglect. Letting that poor old man wander off to freeze to death. She should have locked him in his quarters and poisoned him. It's quicker and more humane." Killer smacked him on the back of his head hard. He swallowed his foul mood and relented to the warning strike. "All right. I'll be nice."

His men sighed in relief, but Bonney let her laughter ring over the square. "Aww, that's a pity. I was looking forward to a good old-fashioned family squabble."

"Shut up," he snapped.

"Oi, don't give me reason to take her side in this feud. She was the only one of that rat-bastard's legitimate children I tolerated. I certainly liked her more than you."

"You swore an oath to me, Bonney. I won't take a broken oath lightly."

"You're in no position to threaten me, Eustass."

"Oi, oi, save your fire for the real war," Franky called over their snarled argument as he came into the square with his craftsmen close behind. "What's all this, anyway? I heard the horn."

"My sister is due to arrive in a few hours," he explained. "Let's stop wasting time. Axel, what numbers has she brought?" he asked as he gestured for Axel to head into the hall. He deserved a large mug of ale for coming ahead with the warning.

"Not enough to be a threat right now. A little over a dozen. She has allies in other territories who will lend her arms if she needs them. She claims two or three hundred in total will go to war if she asks it," Axel said as he took a seat. He grinned when a servant brought him ale and a plate of cheese and bread. "Depending on how this negotiation goes, that might be in our favor."

It would be in his favor so long as he didn't slight her the moment she crossed his threshold. He would prefer to have Killer do most of the talking, but that would be an even bigger insult than anything he might say to anger her.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and a steady voice lent him much needed advice. "Just remember your dreams," Killer whispered. "Maybe not the one you had last night, but all the others teaching you patience. I'm sure he is watching over you even now. I'll help you keep the peace as much as I can, but only you can ask for this aid."

"I know, damn it," he growled. "I'll be polite."

He would do anything if it meant he could have an army to bring Nami back home where she belonged. Anything short of getting on his knees and pleading with the damn wench for her help. He had an idea that should sweeten the deal for her, but he was loath to give so much ground if she was seizing power on her own. She didn't need his help in that. She might not even want his help. If he was her, he would see it as an insult, a handout, a pitiful bounty to make up for taking Drafn from her family. He would have to be careful about how he worded the offer.

"Shit," he hissed. "This isn't going to be easy."

"Eh, don't worry so much. I'll have your back," Bonney offered as she threw herself into a chair beside Axel, stealing a piece of his meal for herself. "I don't want to pay off your debts to Normandy if your sister kills you before we even go to war," she said around a mouthful of bread. "Hulda isn't as dumb as your father. She knows better than to take me on. It'll be war with all the Danes, then, and her two-hundred farmers and milkmaids won't hold against the king's army if I was inclined to call in a favor."

"So, you'll call in a favor with the king of Denmark to beat down an army of commoners, but won't call it in to fight a war against a Norse king?"

"If I called for his aid in this war, he would take full control. The king of Svealand might become wary of the Danes attacking a sovereign king situated close to his border, and take arms against us as a precautionary measure, or just to see he gets a piece of the spoils. Your lady would be forgotten, likely killed in the onslaught and confusion, and if the king thought to take his own interest in her, well—"

"I get it. We don't want another king involved."

"And this way, if we win, you won't have to cede all the territory to the Danes. You have a chance of seizing it all for yourself, assuming we can come to an agreeable deal that the locals will accept."

And he might be able to claim himself a king if he successfully overthrew a reigning king. That wouldn't be possible if the Danes were involved. He had a better chance of victory if he could convince Hulda to join hands with him, even if he openly insulted her every other sentence.

He hated the politics of war. He just wanted to fight.

"I'm going back to the forge," he announced. "No one bother me until she gets here."

If he worked hard enough, he would exhaust his temper and be able to feign the patience he lacked. Or so he hoped. At the very least, if he focused hard enough on forging the piece he wanted to make, he would forget all about the bitch he had the misfortune of sharing a sire with.

His men gave him the peace he requested with only a few exceptions born out of curiosity. Franky popped his head in once or twice, eager to see what he was crafting. It was too soon to see what the metal was shaping in to, but Franky was experienced enough to have an idea. Bonney came in to watch with a plate of venison to tide her until supper but was wise not to say a word as he hammered away. She seemed to be observing him, considering something he was not privy to. He let her stare. So long as she wasn't there to mock him, he could ignore her.

By the time the horns called for Hulda's arrival, he had made good progress. If he worked through the night, he would have the brunt of the heavy work done and could focus on the finer pieces in the coming days.

He hurried off to clean up and change into fresh garb. Killer and the servants had nearly completed supper, and Bonney had corralled the children long enough to make them presentable in the hall. Bonney and Franky were allies he could count on, more or less—they hadn't required any degree of formality from him. Hulda was a different beast. He wouldn't give her the chance to look down on him any more than she already would. He would do this negotiation properly.

"Kid, she's here," Killer said, peeking into his room to see how long before he was ready. He grunted as he struggled to clip some unruly whiskers from his beard. He didn't care enough to shave, he'd do that after he had Nami back, but he knew better than to go out with a beard tangled with food and metal shavings. It wasn't thick enough to braid or decorate with beads, and the patchiness of his cheeks demanded he trim it down to hide the uneven growth, but it was presentable.

Maybe it would even be enough to keep her and her men from mocking his inability to grow a full beard.

"I'm never entertaining guests again after this," he muttered as Killer came up to help clip the last bits.

"Not even for a wedding?" Killer teased.

He hissed, his cheeks warming at the taunt. "Need to get her back first."

"You're one step closer to that."

"If I can get Hulda to agree to this alliance," he growled. "How does she look? Pissy? Arrogant? What?"

"Hmm, you'll see for yourself. There, that should do it," Killer said as he brushed the cut whiskers away. "You look presentable enough to greet a king. She should find no fault in your appearance. Now you just have to mind your manners."

"I know. I know." He huffed. "Never fucking again. I swear it."

Killer snorted, shoving him toward the door as he adjusted his leather jerkin and tightened his belt. He felt bare without an axe or dagger on him, but he resisted the instinct to grab a weapon. Peaceful negotiation, he reminded himself.

At least he kept a dagger hidden under his seat—just in case.

Hulda was only a year older than him, but the last time he saw her, she was a scrawny maiden. She was tall—far taller than most women, coming to his chin—but she was thin. Too thin. Her father's wealth should have seen her well fed, stocky and broad like most wealthy women, but for some reason she was allowed to wither into a meager excuse for a woman. Knowing her father, he could guess she was only fed enough to keep her alive for a marriage pact.

In that man's eyes, women were only good for fucking, bearing sons, or marrying off to secure his wealth. The few he allowed to fight, like Gunda, were deemed too comely to be good for anything else.

Hulda had been a miserable little bitch with a viscous sneer, but he could have snapped her like a twig if he had wanted to. The woman sitting in his hall, drinking ale with Bonney, was nothing like the maiden he knew as a child.

Dark brown hair that once fell to her waist was cropped to her square jaw and shorn to her scalp in the back. Her frame was built with heavy muscle, healthier and stronger than he expected. Gone were the dainty dresses, now Hulda wore thick leathers and trousers, looking more a man save for her broad hips and large bust. All she needed was a beard and she'd be the son her father had wished she was.

"Has anyone told you it's rude to keep your guests waiting?" Hulda idly asked, her voice deeper and huskier than he remembered. "It's in poor enough taste that you invited me back to my childhood home after stealing it from me, but to make me sit here and see what you've done with the place." She huffed. "It's an utter sty."

He growled low in his throat—barely restraining the urge to cross the room and strangle her—and stomped toward his chair. Killer followed close behind, whispering for him to remain calm.

"It's my hall now," he snarled. "If you didn't want to see it again, you could have ignored my summons."

Hulda cackled. "And miss this pathetic display of failure. I knew you would lose Drafn eventually, but even I thought you would hold it for more than four years."

His temper snapped in an instant and Killer failed to grab hold of him before he reached Hulda. He had her by the collar, hauled from her seat, and snarled into her smug grin while Killer tried to pull him back.

"I haven't lost Drafn yet," he hissed.

Her smile grew, lopsided and cocky. "Oh, that's right. You still have your hall and the smoldering remains of your little hamlet, but I hear you lost your woman—and that you weren't even here to protect her yourself. You left that up to a former slave."

His grip tightened even as his gaze snapped to Gunda. She quickly bowed her head, nervously wringing her hands as she muttered something he assumed was an apology.

"Oh, don't be mad at her. I made her tell me what all this was about. I knew you wouldn't come crawling to me for help if it wasn't important, and this village certainly isn't important enough for a war. Your pride, of course, is—if you're anything like our father, that is," Hulda chirped.

"Your father," he corrected, his attention back on his half-sister while Killer tugged even harder on his arm. "And this isn't about my pride."

"Oh, it is. It always is. You men are all the same. Have to prove who has the bigger cock, the mightier sword."

He couldn't help but laugh, a wry grunt of amusement as his hold loosened. "Well, at least I have a cock." He looked down at her clothes as her smile began to twist into a sneer. "I see you wish you had one."

"I could always chop yours off," she snarled back just as he felt a sharp piece of metal jab too close to his groin for comfort.

He refused to flinch, forced himself to hold steady as he silently dared her to make good on that threat, but a disgruntled sigh stopped either of them from ending the posturing with bloodshed.

"Okay, this has gone far enough," Bonney shouted as she shoved her way between them. She pushed him back, pointed in warning, and then shoved Hulda into her seat, giving her a glare as she held her hand out to take the woman's knife. "You agreed to disarm before coming inside, and you've been given food and ale. Break another law of hospitality, and I won't stop him from killing you."

Hulda hissed but slammed her knife into the earl's hand. "Fine."

Bonney slipped the blade into her belt and gave him an expectant look as Killer dragged him into his seat. "Are you going to play nice, too, Kid?"

"Yeah, fine."

The hall fell into a tense silence as a servant hurried to bring him a cup of ale. Bonney went back to her seat where a fresh plate was left to quell her simmering temper, and Hulda drank deep from her cup while not breaking eye contact with him.

Franky was the first to break the stand-off. "Well, this has been a sweet family reunion," he said sarcastically. "Are you two going to talk business now or wait until you're too drunk to kill each other?"

"Might not be a bad idea," he muttered.

Hulda snorted. "We'd be here for days drinking if that was the case."

"Oh? You think you can hold your ale as well as I can?"

"I know I can."

He hummed, relaxing at the confidence in her tone. It was the closest to friendly banter he was likely to get from her.

"We'll test that claim another time, but Franky's right. I brought you here to talk business. How much did Gunda tell you?"

"She told me enough. The view from the rise told me the rest." Hulda eased back into her seat, her expression turning contemplative as she regarded him. "I will admit, if this was only about your shattered pride, I would not have come at all. But Gunda's story of this woman the king stole has me intrigued. Going to war in retaliation for this attack, vengeance for you tarnished reputation, is what I would expect from you, but she claims you wish to kill the king to get this woman back. I couldn't believe any such woman existed. Oh, I've heard the tales, the sagas of heroic men rushing off to war for the affection of a woman they desired, but I had never met a man who actually cared about their women enough to do so, or that any woman could inspire an otherwise beastly, selfish man to do such a thing. And, even if they could, it has been my experience that most women would rather belong to the wealthier king than the regional jarl. Is this woman truly worth the cost of war? Are you certain she even wants you to save her? She is likely on her knees servicing her king as we speak."

"Watch your fucking tongue, you shrew," he snarled, his temper rising at the taunt.

"Oh, stop kidding yourself, Kid," Hulda snapped. "Even I took a husband for the chance to have something to call my own, some piece of land to claim."

"Right. I heard he was an elderly man who conveniently died before he got you with child."

Hulda snorted. "That's right. And fortunately for me, he was even too elderly to get his pecker to rise long enough to spill his seed in me. His only daughter has done more for me in bed than he ever did. But your woman isn't with a wrinkly old man with one foot in the grave. She's with a young, healthy king who likely will not die anytime soon, not unless someone slits his throat. Seeing as she hasn't done so herself, isn't that reason to believe she is taking advantage of this situation? And Gunda mentioned this woman is quite fair, a beauty to rival Freyja, herself. If that is the case, the king would have bedded her weeks ago—whether your sweet maiden desired it or not."

He gripped his cup tight as he restrained his temper. "I have no doubt Nami is using every advantage she has to stay safe and alive," he forced himself to bite out. "If that requires her to give herself to him—" he growled as a fiery pain gripped his chest "—then that is her choice to make. I will not look down on her for doing what it takes to survive."

"Hmm, I'm surprised to hear you say that, Kid. Surely you do not actually believe that, do you? I can see the jealousy and rage twisting your ugly face. Our father would have beaten and killed my mother if she had done such a thing. Of course, he was a self-centered hypocrite who could bed any woman he pleased while expecting absolute faithfulness from his wife, but most men are that way. You truly wouldn't hate her for prostituting herself to the king?" she taunted.

"Shut up," he hissed. "I never say what I don't mean. And you need to get it through your thick skull that I am nothing like that bastard who sired us."

Hulda sat back with another thoughtful hum, her gaze sweeping around the hall as she calmly tapped the side of her cup. Her eyes lingered on Sind and Ingvild, quietly eating their supper while watching the discussion with doey eyes, wary and ready to flee should a fight break out. "I suppose you're not. Those children are not yours, correct?"

"No. The boy we picked up in Britain just recently. The girl is Ingrid's granddaughter. Ingrid died in the attack, so we're taking care of her."

"Keeping children that are not your own. Declaring war for the honor of a woman." Hulda chuckled. "No, you are not like him. I will give you credit for that. You're still a foul-tempered beast and smell as bad as one."

"I've been in the forge all day, woman," he snapped. "Excuse me if I don't smell like fucking flowers for you."

She snorted as she took a sip of her mug and then set it down, straightening in her seat to face him fully. "All right. You called on me for aid. I came out of curiosity, so tell me what I stand to gain from this. I am not so generous as to sacrifice my men for a conflict I have no reason to be part of, and I'm sure you know this. What will you offer me to sway my answer?"

He looked away with a hissed curse. He knew this was coming. "That depends on what aid you can give me," he said, refusing to give away his desperation too soon.

"Food. Arms. Warriors. Tell me what you need and I will tell you the price," she countered.

"Blades and warriors to wield them," he said. "I have food enough for my people. You supply the food for yours." He met her sharpened gaze. He had her full attention as she genuinely considered his request. "I'm willing to part with a small parcel of my holding in exchange for your aid."

Her brow arched with interest. "How small?"

"The southern fifth."

"A third," she countered.

He leaned forward with a growl. "A quarter and no more, but if we see victory in this war and you back my claim for king, I will name you jarl of your territory—assuming your people welcome it."

Hulda's lips parted with a greedy, excited smile. She glanced to the woman still eating beside her. "Such a generous offer. What did you offer the earl here to gain her allegiance?"

Bonney swallowed her meat and grinned at Hulda. "He didn't need to offer me anything, but I'll have a wealthy trade partner and the favor of the gods for this. I'm happy with that."

"And you mean to back his claim, too?"

"I have no interest in being king of Noreg. I'd rather have the Danish throne—more power in that seat."

Hulda chuckled and then looked toward Franky. "And you are from the west, correct? Jarl Iceburg's hold? What does he gain from this?"

"Same as Bonney, but Iceburg isn't doing this for a powerful ally. We like the girl Enel took. Isn't that right boys?" he called back to his men seated around the room. They gave a hearty cheer, a few bawdy whistles. "Trust me. She's exactly the type of woman a man would go to war for."

Hulda cackled at the claim. "Ah, I am in a hall surrounded by men who dream of being the heroes of great sagas. But it is Kid who has the claim of this woman, as well as the throne. Which is most important to you, brother? The woman or the crown?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, uncertain where her line of questioning came from.

She angled her head back, looking arrogant and cold. "It does."

"Nami is," he admitted. His answer raised eyebrows and drew murmurs from those who did not know as much about his relationship with Nami. He ignored them as he held Hulda's gaze. "I can take any throne I want. I can conquer any land in the world. But I can never find another woman like her."

She stared at him for a long moment before leaning back with a laugh. "A quarter of your holding and you back my claim for jarl of my own territory whether you are elected king or not. I can bring you two hundred fresh warriors and enough provisions to last them a month here by the end of next week. Is that agreeable?"

Two hundred warriors on top of the five hundred he had now, and he wouldn't have to feed them. It was a better offer than he expected.

"It is," he said, standing as she did.

"Then it is a deal," she said, holding out her arm to brace with his. "I look forward to meeting this Lady Nami for myself."

"Just don't get any ideas of stealing her from me," he growled.

Hulda laughed, the sound warm and inviting. "Oh, don't worry. I mean to marry that old coot's daughter before winter's end," she confessed with a wink. "Your lady is safe from me. Now, shall we see who has the better stomach for ale?"

"Ha! You're on, woman!"

"Don't call me woman, you bastard!"

---

Oslo—three days later

Reclining on his throne, Enel shut his eyes and opened his mouth to beckon his slave girl to feed him a berry. Supper was nearly ready—the fruit was only to quell his appetite. He nipped the girl's fingers, amusing himself with her shocked gasp as she quickly withdrew. He could smell her fear, not quite as succulent as Nami's, but it sufficed for the moment.

He hummed as he considered his ward, sitting in her drawing room, scheming away as if he did not know what she was up to. She had completed his map over a week ago, gifted it to him with a flourish of gold and amber, and preened sweetly as he complimented her skill. And she was skilled, he could admit that, quite deserving of the praise he gave her, but he was no fool. The map he kept in his war room was not the only one she made, there was another, hidden somewhere, just out of his sight, and he was curious to learn what she intended to do with it.

It was amusing to consider. She was good at deception, talented enough that out of a dozen possible moves, he could not quite narrow down which she would choose. There were limits to what she could do when playing Tafl, at least when she followed the rules, but she was not so limited in this game of war.

She had spent the day sewing after they trained with her staff in the yard. He couldn't see the purpose to her chore—repairing an aged coin purse she brought from Drafn. The leather was worn, nearly split in the bottom. He offered to have a new one made, it would be stronger, but she insisted on repairing the one she had.

She gave him such a cute laugh, such a bashful pout. He found he couldn't say no and let her salvage the piece of scrap.

She was getting better at that, too. Tricking him, teasing him, distracting him. He could make her fear him, and he had no doubt she was terrified, even as she batted her lashes and whimpered her endearing pleas for his indulgences. Her fear was intoxicating, but her attempts to deceive were delightful in their own ways. It had been so long since anyone dared challenge him, and never in such a way. He truly would savor his victory, the day her hopes were crushed beneath his heel. She would not just be terrified of him—she would be broken and completely his. She will see how futile it all was, how much simpler it would be if she just gave herself to him without any further struggle.

He opened his mouth for another berry and gave the slave a harder nip, imagining it was Nami's dainty fingers pressing the fruit to his lips. A hunger swirled in his gut that would not be quelled by food. He snapped open his eyes and grabbed the slave by the wrist. Terror filled her eyes as he held them.

"You will attend me in my chambers this evening," he commanded. She wasn't fair or pretty enough to entirely satisfy him, but he could shut his eyes and pretend the hair tickling his thighs was as red as the flame in his hearth. "Understood?"

"Of— Of course, my king," she stammered, bowing her head to hide her fear, and likely praying to her gods for his mercy.

He released her just as the doors to the hall opened. A small unit of his warriors entered behind Ohm, and he perked up at the news he was about to receive.

"Ah, Ohm, you have returned right on time. What report do you have for me?"

He had sent Ohm and his men off to scout Drafn days earlier, curious when Jarl Eustass made no attempts to attack despite his obvious declaration of war. He presumed he was rallying his forces, and he was eager to have his suspicions confirmed.

"It is just as you said—Jarl Eustass is gathering allies in Drafn. I saw ships bearing insignia from the western fjords," Ohm stated.

"Ah, Jarl Iceburg?"

"Iceburg himself was not there, but I saw his brother and some of his most trusted men."

"Interesting. Who else?"

"Earl Bonney of Hedeby arrived the very first evening we were there."

"Oh! I wonder if the Danes' king is aware of the earl's loyalties?" he mused with a laugh.

"Hm, between the two, I estimated over four hundred warriors," Ohm continued.

Enel sank back in his throne. "No. He will come with more. We should expect double that to attack us here by month's end." He scratched his chin as he considered the most advantageous position for the jarl would take. "Bonney and Iceburg have ships that Eustass does not. He might make a small attack in the bay, but I believe his main thrust will come from the lands to the west. Increase scouts in that region. Kill anyone you come across in the hills. I do not want any spies—well, any more spies—to see our defenses."

"Yes, King Enel," Ohm said, bowing his head as he turned to relay his orders to his men.

Enel chuckled to himself. Nami would want to hear this news, too. Surely, she must be eager to know what her beloved wolf means to do next.

He stood and stretched, then lazily sauntered toward her drawing room. He was not surprised by all the company she kept within—it was rare to find her alone these days. Her new slave woman, Laki, worked at the loom, while Conis spun fresh thread with the child, Aisa, helping gather the thread in a coil.

The foreign healer, Corazon, lounged at a bench, his feet propped on a table as he pretended to doze while the women worked. McKinley had been moved to his home on the peninsula days ago so that the healer might better oversee his recovery without the threat of Ohm's mercy, yet Corazon continued to visit Nami every day he could, behaving as if the hall was his own. At least Ove was not around to watch Nami that evening—a rarity—and he suspected that had more to do with Corazon's presence than his own wishes.

Nami's co-conspirators mattered little to him. They would be dealt with when they proved their false loyalties. Their corpses will go far in convincing Nami to surrender entirely to him. Only she mattered to him, only her life held some semblance of value.

"Nami," he called to the woman sitting at her table, stitching at the filthy coin purse. She hummed but failed to cease her work, concentrating on the needle with the same interest she did her maps. He allowed her the disrespect. Her reaction to his news would be more telling if she attempted to remain so apathetic. "Ohm has returned from his scouting. I thought you might be interested in his report."

She hummed again, but there was a subtle pause in her stitching that said she was eager for news.

"Jarl Eustass is gathering allies. Ships from the western coast fill his bay, and the Earl of Hedeby arrived only a few days ago," he announced.

Nami's grip slipped and she pricked her thumb on the needle. She straightened with a yelp that cause Corazon to stir, cracking open one eye to glare.

She giggled—a sweet, tender, lilting sound that seemed to beckon everyone in like a siren calls to a sailor. "Clumsy me," she said as she stuck her thumb in her mouth to suckle the tiny prick. He loathed how such an innocent gesture drew his whole attention, but he would satisfy that itch with the slave girl later. Nami did not need to see how she well roused his interests. "So?" she asked, blinking innocent eyes at him. "Do you believe he'll attack soon?"

"Hmm, month's end, most like," he muttered, dragging his gaze from her lips with more effort than he should.

To his amusement, Nami gave an adorable huff, her cheeks puffing with a show of frustration. "That idiot. Doesn't he see how useless it is?" she grumbled. "I'm happy here. Why won't he just leave it alone?"

"He's a simple, mortal man," Enel said, grinning at her bold lie. How he wished she was happy here. Or at least satisfied enough not to leave. If she would only follow him honestly, he would see she lived a pleasant life with all the riches he knew she loved. "His pride is wounded. Few men are wise enough to overlook such a thing."

"Well, maybe he just needs a clearer message," she growled, pursing her lips and furrowing her brows as though considering that idea.

A shiver ran down his spine and excitement coiled in his gut. She will make her move, he predicted. Soon. So soon. This was just the news she was waiting for.

"Conis," she snapped, her tone turning cold with authority that grabbed her handmaiden's attention.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Tomorrow morning, I want a proper bath drawn up. Ah—" She looked to him, lips parted and cheeks pink as though just remembering his presence. "My king, do you mind if I take the bathing quarters tomorrow?"

"Of course not, my dear. But is there a special reason for it?" he asked as curiosity teased his thoughts.

Her blush darkened and she lowered her head. "I wish to— Well, uh—" She cleared her throat and glanced sidelong at Corazon. Her companion raised a brow, then shrugged before looking away, feigning disinterest in the conversation. She cleared her throat again and then looked up at him through long, wispy eyelashes. "I wish to ask Freyja for guidance in this matter. A day of communing with her might bring the answers I need to avoid a pointless war, or perhaps point the way in a different direction."

"You still hope to save your wolf?" he asked with a chuckle. "That is far more pointless than this war."

"No. He will die someday. I cannot stop that," she whispered. "But I do not want to waste your time and resources. And I am tired of men believing they can take me from where I belong. First Jarl Arlong came to claim me as his, and then Jarl Eustass."

"And now me," he added for her.

She puffed her cheeks again. "But you are different, my king. You are my family. And besides, you are no simple man. You are a god." She made that proclamation with such conviction, he could not help but stand a little straighter, even knowing she did not truly believe her own words. Not yet, at least. "I know the gods want me here. They guided me here, after all. This is where I belong. At your side, and nowhere else."

Ah, such pretty lies, he thought. Soon she would see that they were true and accept her place.

"I see," he hummed as he slowly made his way to her. He caught how her shoulders stiffened, how the vein in her neck pulsed harder and faster with fear as he leaned down and took her chin in his hand. He touched her gently, reverently, and yet her throat bobbed with a heavy swallow and her hands clutched her stitching to ease how they trembled. She tried so hard to hide her terror from him, but he saw it in the end, and he adored her all the more for it. Her fear was just so honest, so ingrained within her. It seeped from her pores, thick enough he could almost taste it as he pressed a tender, chaste kiss to a cheek. She sucked in a breath and held it as he whispered, "Then, please, take your day of communing. I look forward to hearing how Freyja guides you."

She slowly released her breath as he pulled away, the faintest whimper leaking from her lips that she tried to play as flirtatious, but he knew better than to believe that.

"Supper will be ready shortly," he said as he turned to leave her, basking in the fresh memory of her quaking frame. "If you ask nicely, perhaps I will even let you feed me tonight."

"You— You're too kind, my lord," Nami said, her voice straining against the tightness in her throat.

Her meek tone would echo in his mind for the rest of the night, to his complete satisfaction.

---

A/N: Drops this and runs.

No, but seriously, I am so sorry this took over a year for me to get back to. I appreciate everyone's patience, and while I am terrible at replying to reviews these days, I just want everyone to know that the reviews I have gotten over the past year mean so much to me. I have been desperately wanting to continue this story, both for myself, as well as for everyone who has been enjoying it while understanding life got in the way. I am feeling inspired and motivated again, so I am hoping to get back into a regular writing pattern for this fic.

I've gone back and edited previous chapters—no major changes, mostly fixed grammatical and spelling errors I missed, but there are a few little things I tweaked (especially in the last chapter with Bonney going to meet the count, i.e. Nami's half-brother, to make it even more obvious who this is for those who don't know my headcanons—but this chapter further emphasizes his true identity, of course).

Also, I've warned before, but I will warn again that there will be one-sided EnelxNami in this fic. And, ngl, I do ship them. Like, Enel is up there as that villain I 100% want to see come back and get a redemption arc, and I want it purely because I want to see his reaction to Nami's growth. The man was praising her weather manipulation when she only had a climatact Usopp created to be more of a party favor, not a real weapon. Just imagine his reaction now if he saw her raining lightning down on her enemies. The man would be smitten, or at least so impressed that he would want to be friends with her... like real friends. I think they could get along really freaking well if Enel made an effort to not be so sociopathic, or at least doesn't try to kill her and all her friends again. But, in this fic that is not going to happen. Sadly. I'll save his potential redemption for Oda to write.

And lastly, as re-read this fic, I realized that the LawNami really just jumps right now. I'm not going to apologize for that. I'm also not going to change how I write their friendship. So, to the people reading this who also ship LawNami: you're welcome. And to the people reading this who only care about KidNami: I still dislike love triangles, and this is a KidNami fic.