But when I wake, I'm not "awake." I'm lying on that thick, high pallet in front of a roaring fire, soft red and gray furs piled high on top of me.
"Do you think she's awake yet?" I hear Vallandra's inquiry.
I yawn and moan loud enough so she can hear me.
The door opens and she's standing there with Frieda. "So happy you're awake, child, you look much better. I've come to get you a gown. You cannot continue to wear….the lovely dress you have on…."
Yeah, a sundress probably ain't gonna do it in early spring in Sweden with no central heat. It's bare period. Oh god, what if they think I'm a prostitute or something? I doubt Eric's mother would be offering me a dress if they did.
There's a real bed with a mattress, a straw mattress, but still a mattress in she and Eric's fathers room. A huge fireplace burns in the corner, making the room warm. I briefly saw what Frieda had on and was dreading the handspun sackcloth dress I would be given and how scratchy it would be. Instead, I'm handed one of Vallandra's own gowns. Still wool, but much softer, dyed a beautiful blue color.
"I can't accept this", I say. Eric inherited her eyes. And her achingly beautiful face. I nearly burst into tears. I'm getting the rare opportunity see the history of my immortal love's human life. Even if I'm making it all up – it's extremely detailed.
"Of course you can", she says, handing it to me. "I have a feeling about you."
Uh oh. "A feeling…Your Majesty…"
"Vallandra. Yes. So where are you from?" she asks.
"A place called Bon Temps", I say. What the hell, they'll never know the difference.
"What an odd name! Are you from the British Isles? I don't think you're a Dane."
"All I can remember is the name Bon Temps."
That should put an end to future inquiries.
"Poor child, you must have bumped your head. Well, if you haven't any family as you said, you're ours now."
She seemed eager to have me around.
"Provided you're feeling better, would you like to take a walk with Eric?"
He shows me the stable. The stable hand is eager to show everything off. The pens are large and well kept. A gray mare neighs at the end of the stable, and a black stallion licks my hand through the door.
"No one can calm Anvil. I think he likes you." Eric smiles.
"You have to see my mother's garden", he says, lightly touching my elbow. I notice he was taking every possible opportunity to touch me. Eric Northman has a crush. I wondered what his actual last name is, if the ancient Norse even have last names. Icelanders don't even to this day. If he did, I was certain it wasn't "Northman." The man from the north, what a lazy choice, like naming a canary "the yellow bird." I'm going to tease him for it when I wake up.
We spend time together when he's not working in the fields or training. Stepping over a puddle requires holding my hand. Shivering requires him taking off a fur and putting it around my shoulders, where his hands linger a second too long. This Eric is the perfect combination of the "old" and "new" Erics. As tough as the old Eric, as sweet and innocent as the new one. I want to get this man into bed, and never let him leave.
During the next few weeks, I learn how to tend and feed the smaller animals. The goat likes to be fed first thing, while the pig will eat any time. The slop of vegetables and meat I have to give the pig does not make me happy. And there's no antibacterial soap. Vallandra is serious that it's not my place to do servant's work, but back in Louisiana, if you're not royalty, you do your own work.
Food mostly consists of venison, some domesticated animals like pigs, and black cod from the Baltic Sea. All roasted in a heavy iron pot with potatoes. I'm determined to add something green. Peas were good to plant in spring. There had to be something.
The first ingredient in any southern dish is bacon grease, so I'm pretty lost in the kitchen. But I help cook the fish over an open fire place. I wonder if it's possible to make Tabasco.
Vallandra wanted fish instead more venison, so Eric asked me to accompany him to the beach. He told me we were within walking distance. We have very different definitions of walking distance. We trudged for miles. Or rather he walked like a well trained soldier on the lightest march of his life, I trudged.
In the summer, it must be fun to swim and walk through the sand. It's frozen rocks right now, but we do manage to catch a couple fish.
He keeps looking at me and smiling, and then looking away when I catch him. "My mother's dress looks beautiful on you", he says.
"Thank you."
"I'm glad you're clothed properly now", he says, and I can tell he's teasing me. He takes the opportunity to make sure my wrap covers my shoulders.
"It's getting late", he says, looking at the sky.
I'm not used to a life that's dictated by the hour and the seasons – homes, electric light, air conditioning, and heating takes care of all that.
"How much further?" I ask on the way back, struggling.
"Only a few more miles, you're tired already?" he chuckles
It had to be a total of 10 miles both ways. Panting, I give up. I sit down just in time to not fall down. "I have to rest, Eric. You can rest with me, or go on if you like."
He frowns at me. "I'm certainly not resting this close to home", he says.
"Then go on", I hiss. He throws his head back and laughs.
"And leave you here? How will you find your way home?"
"Follow your tracks", I say, and he bursts into laughter again.
"Stand up, Sookie", he orders. I pull myself to my feet. He dips an arm below my knees and picks me up. He starts walking again, carrying me.
"You're a very lazy woman", he says, cackling.
"I've been feeding YOUR pigs, your ducks, your goats, for weeks. Cooking your food, helping Frieda clean your kitchen. I'm not a stranger to hard work", I growl.
"You have quite a smart mouth, woman. Be glad you're mine, others would not tolerate it."
Seems that Eric was always Eric. And there's that word again. He certainly likes it.
"Yours?" I ask.
"Indeed", he says, bouncing me in his arms, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. "I want you to be my woman."
"You have lots of them", I say, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to be one of them?" It's my turn to laugh.
"Bites like a snake!" he yelps. "A young lady like you is not supposed to know about such things. But I mean…be my only woman."
"You want me to be your girlfriend?" I ask. Thank goodness, we can have some physical affection now. I've been straining not to touch him.
He frowns at me. "I don't know what you're saying. I know you said your father is dead, but do you have any other male relatives I should talk to?"
When he said "be my woman", did he mean "be my wife"?
I can't stop laughing thinking of the look on Jason's face if my fur-clad Viking burst in his door and asked permission to marry me.
"Why do you laugh?" he asks. "Any man would be quite eager for his daughter, sister, or cousin to marry me. I'm to be King. The greatest warrior as far as the crow can fly. Very tall, strong…I can lift two of my countrymen on my shoulders at least…."
Oh good Lord. Is it possible his ego was once worse?
"You're laughing at me?" he asks. His feelings seem hurt at first, then he laughs. "You could try the patience of Odin himself. You know it would much easier for me to carry you across my shoulder."
I stifle my laughter. He'd do it too.
When we're within a few hundred feet of the house, he puts me down.
"You have not answered me", he says, nervous fear creeping into his voice.
"Are you asking me to be your wife?"
"I am", he says, nodding, and looks at me expectantly.
"Yes", I answer, and he pulls me in his arms.
"My Sookie, you'll never be sorry! I can take care of you. You know you'll be a Princess!"
A princess. Maybe I like this Eric better.
"WHAT?!"
"Ulfrick, please!" Vallandra yells.
They don't want me. I'm forcing down tears. A millennia either way, I'm still a waitress.
I wait outside as they argue about me. I shouldn't be listening, but how could I not?
"Father, you want me to marry, I'm marrying!" Eric shouts.
"You are to marry Princess Lena, and you know it! Her father and I have had it in mind since you were babies."
"You want your son to marry!" Vallandra shouts, "Now he has chosen a woman and you say no! All over a princess you have stuck in your mind."
"I could over look that she is not royalty. But not only does she not come from a great family, she comes from no family at all! If he believes I'm going to let him marry an orphan who wandered out of the woods, he has another think coming! I will not consider her anymore than I would one of the servants!"
I can't hold it back anymore and fall into sobs. I try to cry quietly. His parents don't want me for a daughter in law. I'm not good enough for their son. I feel like I was punched in the stomach. My heart is broken.
"I'll disown you!" Ulfrick shouts.
"And to whom do you leave your crown? Infant Agna?" Eric spits.
"Ulfrick, you will do no such thing!" Vallandra shouts.
I'm amazed they haven't brought the roof down yet.
"You will agree to my marriage, or I will abdicate, and you'll be alone with your spite old man!" Eric booms, and throws open the door.
I look up with a gasp. He caught me eavesdropping. "Sookie!"
"Father, she has heard every word you said", Eric yells. "Now I will never forgive you. Come with me, Sookie, you will no longer be a princess, but I have a strong back. I can keep us fed."
He slams the door behind us. We can still hear them arguing.
"She will leave him, Vallandra and you know it! They leave all the time! To be the wife of a warrior is a hard thing, we're gone half the year, it's too much for many women. Every time we return in the fall, more and more have left their husbands."
I'd like to get an explanation on that one.
"You don't know that, there is more to her than you see, I can feel it. Ulfrick, you will go out there right now, give your blessing, and welcome that girl to the family before we lose him forever! I will not be denied my grandchildren because of you!" Vallandra shouts.
Silence.
Pounding feet. A heavy cup being knocked over. And the doors swing open in front of us. I gasp.
"Come in here, the two of you", he says, calm and hoarse.
Eric takes my hand and we both approach him on his throne.
It's handcarved, simple, and old. Not the luxurious, gold, and velvet numbers from the Renaissance, but it has meaning.
"I will give my consent to this marriage only if you fully understand what it means to be a Viking's wife, girl. Eric…explain…"
Eric swallows. He's afraid.
"We go on progress, every summer. During expansion season, when the snow melts, is our only time to venture away from this place. Our people are becoming too many for our small land. We need more land for our people. We need gold. And so we go south into the other lands to get them. Mostly the British Isles. We're gone 6 to 8 months a year. There are men in the village who stay to look after the women – blacksmiths, farmers, but otherwise the women and children are alone. The warriors are gone."
For some reason, even though I knew Eric was a Viking, I never considered him a….Viking. The raping, stealing, and pillaging kind. The kind that raided monasteries and killed friars. The kind that stole jewels and melted down golden cups. The kind whose longboats took them hundreds of miles from home.
I would spend very little time with my husband.
I burst into tears.
Eric runs over to me and grabs me before my knees give out. I cannot spend better than half the year without him. Wake up, Sookie, this dream isn't fun anymore.
"You see!" Ulfrick booms.
"It is the ones who don't care who are the trouble", Vallandra answers. She goes on to explain that divorce is very easy for women in their culture, which amazes me. A woman can divorce her husband for something as trivial as insulting her parents. More and more women leave warriors for other men, and when there are no more men, move to other villages. It happens every progress. The King is afraid I'll leave and shatter his son's heart.
"I don't know that I can go on without him", I say, "But I will never abandon him. I will never leave him. I love him."
Ulfrick stares at me. "If you cannot go on, we will have a problem. You are now a Viking woman, not a useless British damsel, and you will behave like one. But you have convinced me that you truly care for him. Do not break my son's heart."
I shake my head.
He sighs. "Then I give you my blessing to be wed."
Eric scoops me up in his arms. "Thank you for having faith in me."
Our handfasting is a popular event, and people come from other villages to watch.
Vallandra panics, sending Frieda looking for more flowers. Is there enough food?
There is food enough for a 100 men, but she still seems worried.
Vallandra surprises me with a dress of wool with lavender sleeves that can be removed, and a wide skirt. She had it made for me. And I'm almost too scared of damaging it to wear it. She calls me "dottir" and hugs me against her. Eric's mother.
It's weird to be nervous. We're already married and this isn't…real, though it's becoming more real than real life to me. But I am nervous, and kinda scared of all the big, burly men suddenly wandering around.
Eric is all lean muscle, on a thin, athletic body. Some of these men are big muscle, broad, and huge. He's dwarfed by some of these guys.
There's his father's friend, Olaf, with red hair and a beard that look unwashed since before I was born.
It feels strange to be standing in front of all these odd people, but not strange at all to put my hand in Eric's, and swear to be his forever.
A shaman from two villages away has been summoned and now Eric and I stand in front of him as he wraps vines and early spring flowers around our wrists, binding us together.
Eric looks…clean. So do his men. I'm trying not to laugh. He doesn't have a smudge on him for the first since I woke in this place. Does his modern, fashionable and fastidious self ever think about the man he used to be?
Several tables are filled with every meat imaginable, potatoes, and Vallandra was nice enough to put out a little dish of my peas which did not grow in the snow, though they're untouched. Beer flows like water, several kinds, from light to dark.
Big Harald slams a huge cup of beer on the table. "I remember when this one did not stand as tall as my knees", he jokes loudly, looking at Eric. "Now you're a renowned warrior with a wife. I could still take you down in minutes, boy."
We all look at each other. He's drunk but good hearted. "What a beauty!"
I nod to him as he raises a toast to me. "And pure as the newly fallen snow!"
Umm….
"To Sookie!"
"To Sookie!" everyone cheers. No one ever toasted me before, not even at my own wedding.
"You've waited long enough, boy, time to leave the party to the rest of us."
Eric and I look at each other. I finally, finally, get to make love to my husband tonight. But he thinks it's the first time and that I'm an innocent girl. Jumping on him is probably off limits.
He takes my hand and we both stand up.
"There ya go boy", Big Harald calls after us, "Claim her, make her yours, and put a son in her belly!"
I have to resist the urge to walk back and smack him. He's crass. But my stomach flops at the mere mention of being pregnant with Eric's child, however it's stated.
This will be my first time in Eric's lodgings. It's similar to the room I stayed in, except much bigger and nicer. Shelves hold armor, battle axes, swords. He has a chest of drawers filled with various pieces of clothes. A huge, high pallet lays very close to the fire. A large pile of furs, enough for several people are on top of it.
He turns me around gently and I raise up on my toes to kiss him. "My Sookie", he whispers, "You are a miracle. Maybe you are an Elvin princess and you did not tell me. Where did you come from, and why did you not come sooner?"
He slips the dress over my head. He pulls two pelts off his shoulders, followed by the tunic, and unbuckles a belt of furs around his waist. Answers my question about what they're wearing under there – nothing.
We're both naked, and he pulls me boldly into his arms. He sits on the pallet, and takes me hand. I sit with him, and he slowly lowers himself on top of me. The familiar feel of his weight is both comforting and arousing. "Don't be nervous", he says. He's adorable.
There is a mountain of fur beneath me. Sooo soft, like fluffy angel's wings. "You'll never be cold again", he promises, covering me with his body. "Min kärlek." My love.