AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this AU, Scottish/Viking love story. Please remember this is rated M for later chapters.

Chapter 2

The night was cold, but the hut was warm as the fire raged. The tiny witch moved the fur blankets away from the unconscious man, he shivered. He wore a linen tunic, leather trousers that hung low on his hips and clung to his thick muscled thighs and his feet were booted.

The first order of business, she mused, was to wash him, so she needed to remove his clothing. Starting with his tunic, she gently, but quickly lifted one arm, bending it and pulling at the sleeve to remove it. She repeated the action then lifted the end of the front of the tunic pulling it over his head, then lifting the back of his head to remove it completely. He stirred a bit mumbling incoherently, but she continued her task. Next she unfastened his trousers, happy he was not wearing a belt. Ever so gently she edged the material down, trying to avoid his wound and causing more discomfort.

She was a bit surprised that he was not wearing underpants, she would have blushed but in her capacity as healer she was focused and single minded in her task. Once she managed to get his trousers down to his ankles, she unfastened his ankle boots, sliding them off and his woolen socks, then removing the pants one leg at a time.

She covered him back up as she prepared the water to bathe him. In the water she was boiling, she put herbs and crushed wild flowers and spices. Carrying the pot of water over to the pallet, with a cloth, after saying a spell to cool the water a bit, she began to quickly wash him paying close attention to the wound.

As she washed him she took in his whole visage. His skin was fair, but had been kissed by the sun ever so lightly, his hair was the color of the autumn sun and wild wheat with curls and waves which hung down past his shoulders down to his chest. Her hands trembled as she rubbed the cloth across his chest, it was broad and muscled without hair. Her skilled hands went further down his taut stomach along the contours of his muscles following the trail of soft hair that started just under his belly button heading down past his hips to collide with the patch of hair crowning his manhood. Even flaccid while he laid sleeping, his manhood was large and thick. The tiny witch had seen a man's manhood before, several in fact, when she tended to their wounds or illnesses, but had never seen one such as his. Quickly she washed while she blushed at her unseemingly thoughts and continued down to his muscled thighs, calves and handsome feet. Once she had finished that particular mission, she covered him back up and gathered the items she had used to wash him and put them up.

Now, placing the remaining herbs and spices into a wooden mortar she crushed and grinded them using the pestle. Adding oils, and a hint of her blood, she mixed until the substance was a thick pinkish paste. She walked back to the wounded prince carrying the mortar, large bay leaves and strips of linen. Sitting on his right side, she lowered the furs and began her ministration. Using her fingers she paced the paste into and over the wound then laid the bay leaves over it and with a little magical help she secured the area with the strips of linen.

Once she is sure that the wound is clean and his fever dissipates she will sew up the wound. She only now has realized that the reason the cut is not healing is due to poison and the depth of the gash. His healing abilities seem to be trying to heal him but with both issues he was closer to death than she had first assumed, before they brought him there. She was amazed at his will to live. The gods seemed to want him, but he is stubbornly fighting to stay in the land of the living.

The woman sits by the fire listening to the wind speaking to her, a voice calling to her. She walks over to the young prince checking to see how he sleeps. After her ministrations, he was less restless and seemed to go into a deeper peaceful sleep. Assured that he would not wake and hurt himself while she was gone, she moved to gather her long robe and went to the door. Once out in the cool autumn night lit by the partial moon shining dimly, she spelled the door locked and started following the voice calling on the wind.

Down the path suddenly guided by the blue glow of the sprites dancing in the night and following the soft voice that beckoned to her, the young witch found herself near a small pool of dark water that she had never seen before. The mass of water seemed to just appear having no other way of being in the location. Trees, shrubs and other wild foliage covered the land, but abruptly the small pool materialized, in a perfect circle and still. No animals or crawling things seemed to go near it and the front of the pool was visible and small rocks lay in front like stepping stones.

The witch followed the sprites as they led her to the pool, once there she kneeled down before it, not daring to touch the water, but to kneel on the flat wide stones.

Ripples began to form in the water as a voice spoke out to the witch. "Child, dear sweet witchling do not be afraid. For so long you have been alone. For such a time as now you were brought here to fulfil your destiny." The voice spoke in the witch's mother tongue, although it had been a very long time since she had heard it, she still remembered it.

"Who are you?" She asked, confused yet excited at the same time as well as a bit frightened.

"I am The Great Mother, the First Witch" The voice was soft and comforting but had an authority to it.

The woman didn't know what to say so she stayed quiet, waiting for the First Witch to speak further.

"You will be the mother of a new people. To unite two mighty bloodlines that will change the face of the lands near and far."

"War is coming and you will not be able to hide from it."

"War has come and is over. I am a servant, a foreigner in a land that was not mine, living among people that are not of me." The witch simply said, not believing what was being told to her.

"Young one, this is only the beginning. War is coming. This land is your home. These are your people. You are tied to them as you are tied to this land and this forest and the inhabitants of it. Do not be afraid of what is to come. Now go, the young prince stirs."

The water stilled and the voice was silent. While the young woman had questions, she did as she was told, getting up and making her way back to her home, again guided by the little sprites that danced before her, bringing a smile to her face.

XX

Klaus opened his eyes, blinking trying to focus. His mouth was dry and this throat was rough and burned. He was confused as to where he was, but the heat that surrounded his body was comforting.

He tried to move his body, but felt a heaviness that prevented too much movement. Turning his head slightly he saw the culprit of his restraint. Her face he could not see due to the wild dark strands of hair covering it, but he saw her arm as it was draped over his hip, it was the color of autumn leaves that have fallen to the ground, golden brown, kissed by the sun. He extended his hand to touch the skin and it was soft and as he ran his hand the length of her arm he felt her move, she pressed herself closer. He quickly moved his hand so as to not wake her.

He also came to the realization that her body was naked as was he and she was pressed against him under the furs. Moving a bit too quickly he moaned in pain, this stirred the young woman.

Taking the arm that covered Klaus, she flipped the wild mane over her shoulder so that she could see. Meeting blue eyes, she spoke, "Be still or you will hurt yourself. Do not speak. I will gather you water to drink." She turned from him and stood, her back to him. She reached for her linen frock lifting it over her head.

Klaus thought he never saw anything as beautiful when he stared into bright green eyes, but when she got up and he saw her supple figure, the curve of her back, the roundness of her ass, the shapely thickness of her thighs and the glimpse, a hint really, of her full breasts, he knew he was wrong. Her eyes were just the precursor of beauty, she was exquisite. He hadn't seen a woman as she, her coloring, her hair, her voice sounded like the purest expression of music he had ever heard and to have his mother tongue spoken by such sweet lips was sublime. She captivated him as he just laid there doing as he was told, gazing.

Walking back to Klaus she kneeled before him and lifted his head bringing a wooden cup to his lips. The water tasted of jasmine and was cool to his mouth. He tried to drink too much too quickly letting water run down his mouth.

"Slow down," she chided as she pulled the cup away. Using the bottom of her frock she wiped his mouth and chin. Then she got up to put the cup away. The fire was low, but she said a spell and the fire grew. Klaus watched amazed and utterly enthralled.

"I do not want you to get a chill and I must check your wound since you are awake." She walked back to the pallet. She moved the furs from his body as he looked on with heavy observant eyes, sleep was beckoning to him once more, but he wanted to watch this strange yet beautiful woman tend to him.

After removing the linen strips of cloth and the bay leaves she saw that the paste had turned black. This was a sign that the poison was being extracted from his body, but the dark color also signaled the potency and kind of poison and this was a bad thing. The poison was made with magic, very dark sinister magic.

Removing the paste, washing the wound again and reapplying more paste took a while and by the time she had finished wrapping the wound, Klaus was asleep again. The water was medicinal and meant to cause slumber to fall on him.

He needed to rest. The poison had taken a toll on his body and soon she would have to sew the cut closed and he would definitely need to be sleep for that.

Instead of going back to the pallet, she sat in front of the fire and thought about what the First Witch said and she feared another war, a great war. But what seemed to distract her from thoughts of impending death and violence were mesmerising blue eyes.

XX

For the next few nights Klaus dreamt of a dark skinned, green eyed beauty and she tended to him, giving him water when he woke, checking his wound and when she did sleep she kept him warm with her body.

She didn't want to admit it, but she felt safe and less alone with him there. She never thought in terms of needing contact from others since she felt complete with herself and the creatures of the forest, but of late she yearned for more.

As she lay beside him, there were times that she would just gazes at him, memorizing the lines of his nose or the pattern of his short beard or the tattoo on his shoulder wondering what it meant.

She knew there was a time coming that he would go and when he did she would have to be content with the image of him in her mind's eye.

Seven nights this pattern continued, on the eighth night after giving him water and checking the wound and the paste which was now the original color of pink, she took a thin strip of braided silk and a hooked needle and sewed the wound. With her tasks done, she laid back down close to him, surprisingly Klaus drew her closer to him as he slept. Feeling content, she allowed her eyes to close and sleep to overtake her.

XX