Author's Note:
Let me start by saying that this is not a complete chapter, but it's all I've managed since May. I know where to go with the story, I've just had an unruly time finding inspiration. So consider this a sign of good faith, since I've noticed people have still faved and followed this story regardless of my neglect. I am not giving up!
Beneath the sunlight streaming lovingly overhead, the canopy of the weapon stall shuddered against the torrent wind. Lon's smile shone as brightly as the sparks fluttering past his knuckles as he sharpened his latest creation against the flint. A smile creased Dianthra's lips as her green eyes caught sight of approaching patrons in the form of a father and his six year old son. The father's large eyes and sharp chin were mirrored in his son, though oddly the boy had inherited the strawberry-hued hair of his mother rather than the father's long charcoal hair.
While Lon spoke candidly with the father, Dianthra observed the child's curious stare bopping from hilt to hilt of the various daggers and swords laid out before him. Dianthra leaned down to his level, her red hair flowing past her shoulder. "What is your name child?" She greeted with a sweet smile.
A weathered hand intruded upon the child's head, erasing Dianthra's smile as her gaze traveled up the length of a muscular forearm partly concealed beneath the sleeve of a cloak. A heavy male voice with a crisp edge, resonated from beneath the hood. "We will provide him with a new name." he said.
Dianthra's heart seized her throat as she recognized the voice of Ragnar Lothbrok. As Ragnar lowered his cowl, a faraway scream pierced the brewing silence. The surrounding area erupted into fiery chaos, and amongst the hoard of intruders, Dianthra's weary eyes found Rollo, a barbaric sneer etched on his face. Dianthra's palm grazed the sword Lon had been sharpening, her nimble fingers flying from the hilt to the handle. Gripping the sword, Dianthra looked upon the father of the boy, realizing for the first time, he had been Athelstan all along. A hollowness consumed Dianthra as she looked upon the boy again, her boy, her son. He smiled and grabbed one of the daggers laid upon the stall counter. Before Dianthra could breathe a word, the child turned, his dagger clanging against Bjorn's blade. "Everett!" Dianthra squealed, much to her own surprise.
Neither Everett nor Bjorn paid Dianthra any heed as they retreated from the weapon stall, engaged in the troughs of combat. In their absence, Floki appeared, his hands coiled around the battleaxe which hung against his knees. "He will be fine Agi, he has your spirit..." Floki assured her with a sly smile.
Time slowed to a crawl, as Dianthra raised her sword backing away expectantly. It was only when she had stepped back four feet, did she dare break eye contact with Floki. Dianthra turned in a tight circle, confusion clouding her as she acknowledged her brother's sudden absence. "LON!" She cried out frantically, her fevered gaze darting from left to right. Dianthra felt foreign hands enclose her elbows, and she struggled peevishly without glancing at her captor. "LON!" She cried out again, tears welling in her eyes.
The next moment, Agi awoke in a cold sweat, to the questioning stares of Floki standing before her, and Helga seated beside her. Helga's smile was crooked, her caring hands rubbed Agi's arms in an effort to comfort her.
"Agi.." whispered Helga. "This is the fifth day you have slept past waking hour, do you still feel meek?" Agi remained quiet, her mind clinging onto the dream, her gaze cast on the floor. "Does speaking hurt?" Helga pressed, angling her head in such a way as to catch Agi's forlorn gaze. Out of courtesy, Agi did glance at her briefly, prompting Helga's crooked smile to straighten.
"You needn't worry Helga, Agi spoke fine in her sleep. She does not wish to speak us." Floki responded, his arm crossed over his chest, his palm knitted against his shoulderblade.
Agi had not noticed Ragnar's presence beside the firepit until he rose from his knelt position and spoke. "Who is Lon?"
Rather than respond, Agi immediately scowled, pulled the wool blanket up to her abdomen and proceeded to glare at the rivets of semi-dry blood stained there upon the bottom edge of the blanket. She did however, notice a shared look between Ragnar and Floki, that further creased her lips.
"Lon was the name of her brother." Floki announced, for the benefit of Helga, keeping his gaze solely on her. "I fought him, just as I fought Agi. Where she stayed her ground, Lon turned and fled.." Floki revolved his gaze onto the awestruck redhead. "In the opposite direction from where you came Agi." He added with an unfortunate smirk.
"You lie." Agi said firmly, her heart withering in her chest.
"Agi.." Helga murmured in disarray.
"Why tell me this now?" Agi demanded.
Ragnar spoke. "Now is when you must hear it. You are saddened Agi...it saddens us all to see it. Athelstan has offered to help connect you with your God to ease your grief.."
The disdain that etched on Floki's face was mirrored in his words. "That you would allow that is surprising Ragnar.." he remarked, with a sidelong glance at his earl.
"Athelstan has kept his bible near but it has outlived its charm even to him, perhaps now it can serve a purpose..." Ragnar replied.
"Lon is alive. And he did not abandon me.." Agi stated, drawing Floki's attention away from Ragnar. "I've no need for prayer." Agi added, her tone absolute, her eyes hardened in resolve.
Ragnar was reminded of his first interaction with Agi aboard the vessel, and a smile bit at his mouth. "No? Do you not wish to your God that Lon would come and rescue you?" He inquired, with a playful uptilt to his words.
"I would not wish for my brother to become an enslaved hero." Agi told him flatly, with a minor leer.
"Better he remain a free coward then?" Floki jeered. He fixed Agi with a stern look before shifting his gaze to Helga. "How much longer will she bleed?" He asked.
Agi swiftly responded. "Until nightfall..."
"Then you can begin work tomorrow.." Ragnar mused, though his teal eyes were trained on Floki. Floki in turn, nodded and Ragnar gave him a friendly smack on the back before leaving the establishment.
Rising to her feet Helga planted a kiss on Agi's forehead. "I will grab you breakfast, you must eat.." she mumbled, stepping past Floki without another word.
Floki remained rooted to the spot, his stare unwavering, though unreadable. Agi felt uncomfortable, but she did not allow the feeling to show, as she gazed up at Floki indifferently. "What work does Ragnar speak of?" She inquired boldly. Floki did not answer, and Agi's discomfort eased into dismay.
Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of Helga scrapping broth into a bowl from the adjourned room. "You truly think me a liar Agi?" He asked at long last.
"I strive to not trouble myself with such wonderment.." Agi replied honestly, with a hiss of venom.
"She is not herself Floki, the bloodloss has made her bitter.." Helga assured him, as she went past him to hand Agi her meal.
"Yes." Floki agreed. "She usually saves such an impassioned snarl for Ragnar.." he said with a faint giggle, turning away.
Agi sipped the broth quietly, her eyes fastened to Floki as he exited the room. With the passing of a full month, Agi's conflicting emotions had accumulated into an unruly mass of anger and melancholy aimed solely at herself.