Ah! Good Morning, Smár Einn!
Phew, that end of the year is absolutely no joke. I'm finally out of school for the summer (I'm the teacher, for those who asked) and before summer school starts, I've got a bit of time to bang out some chapters for you all!
Real quick, I know the schedule got all wonky because of my RL schedule. I'm going to try to post this story daily if I can, but it may end up every other day.
Önd, the final story will start on July 1 regardless of whether this story is done or not.
Okay, without further ado, let's dive in!
Thank you to Mel, Jill, and Paige!
.: Fimm :.
Unlike most of my kinsmen, the sea is not a natural place for me. I have learned, through a hard life sailing, to find comfort upon it, but in my heart, I know it is not where I belong.
Not for any amount of time, anyway.
The sea does things to the mind, plays tricks, and fools even the bravest of hearts.
It is no place to take lightly.
I am busy when we set sail for Iceland, but even through the work and tasks I must complete, I am aware of my Little One.
She is different out here. Her gaze is long, lost to secrets I suspect are being whispered from the sea itself into her mind.
Little One sees worlds none of us can perceive, and this frightens me.
I try to keep one eye on her as much as possible, but it is difficult.
One night, I wake to find her leaning over the edge of the boat, her face pale as the moon as she reaches toward the water.
It is a trick of the darkness and of my mind that I see a wet, pale hand reaching out to her from the black depths below.
"Little One," I say, moving to her side. She looks up at me, her eyes as wide and round as the full moon above.
She speaks, and it's that strange language she spoke when she first arrived here. I shake my head, worried.
"Little One, I do not understand these words. Speak to me in my tongue," I beg. I want to reach out to her, to wrap her in my arms. I want to forget the sight of the sea reaching for her, but I cannot.
It is seared into my mind, blazing like a torch.
She murmurs something about a dream, and her voice is small and hollow. Before I can say anything, she climbs to her feet.
She gazes out at the water, and I prepare myself to stand, in case I need to stop her from jumping in.
Somewhere behind me, I hear the haunting notes of a song.
Something out there wants her.
Little One tries to smile at me, bidding me a good night before she heads back to her sleeping spot.
I don't take my eyes off of her until I see her settle in again with little Katla.
When I'm sure she's safe, I turn my own gaze out to the water.
It's a quiet call on the water, a whispered plea.
Something out there wants my Little One, but it will have to go through me to get her.
…
I hardly sleep after that night, for fear that if I do, Little One will be lost.
I keep a vigilant look out for her, and though I'm exhausted, I do not falter.
I thank every god when we finally make it to Iceland.
It is joyous to be reunited with my father and uncle. I know Eydís has missed her husband a great deal, and it brings joy to my heart to see her once again happy.
When the ship is unloaded, I greet my father with a firm hug.
"Edvard," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It is good to see you, Son."
I nod, clasping his shoulder in return. "You too, Father."
"I trust the voyage went well?" he asks, letting me go. We gather up supplies to take up to his farm. Most is being carted up, but there are a few things left to be carried.
"As smooth as the gods would allow," I tell him. Father nods. "How are things here?"
"Good. We have been able to establish strong farms. You were wise to leave Marcus in charge of your farm. It is thriving."
I'm pleased to hear this. Father and I had argued about whether Marcus was the right person to leave in charge of the household. Father wanted to be left to manage it, but with his own household to run, it was impractical.
I'm glad my old friend has been successful.
"Eydís tells me Egil has acquired a new sister of his household," he says, eyes cutting toward me.
"Eydís is very forthcoming in news," I say, trying to speak around the matter at hand. Father is silent, and I know he is waiting for me to answer him properly. "Yes, he has a new sister," I say finally.
"What have you done, Edvard?"
I try to brush him off. "What I've needed to."
Father stops me, a hand against my chest. I look up at him. "How far have things gone?"
I stare at him. "Nowhere," I say through my teeth. Father levels me with a sharp gaze, and I am forced to look away from him.
"Edvard…" he says slowly.
Just then, Josurr comes up to us, interrupting whatever else Father was going to say. I take my opportunity to escape, rushing to the longhouse to deposit our belongings.
Things are busy enough that I can avoid Father for most of the day.
There is a great feast that night, and though I am happy to be in Iceland with my family, my heart is heavy for my Little One cannot be in my arms.
I watch her dance and laugh with my brother and then various single men. My anger rises with every touch of their hands to her body.
My mind urges me through my jealousy to leave, to get air, recollect myself and calm down, but I will not move. I will sit here and watch her all night, no matter how difficult it is for me, just to make sure that her smile never falters.
Her dancing is joyous, and though she does not know the steps of our dances, her spirit is buoyant and bright.
She is radiance.
Dance after dance she glows more and more brightly until it seems as if others are finally noticing that light that I sometimes see surrounding her.
The dance ends, and before she can pick up into another one, she leaves, seeking a drink. Her cheeks are bright, and her eyes are alight with joy. I wish to drink that joy from her directly.
I watch her as she turns to take in the thrall women behind her. Her spine stiffens, and whatever they are saying makes that beautiful light drain out of her.
In the next moment, she is storming outside, her face nothing but fury and anguish.
I race after her.
"Little One?"
She looks up at me, turning to face me head-on.
"Marry me."
I feel as if the world tilts from under me. "Yes," I breathe. "I would like to…"
She cuts me off.
"Don't talk about it. Do it."
My heart is thrumming so loud in my body, that it is nearly all I can hear. Long have I wished to hear those words from her, and now…
"Bella." Saying her name is like a flame searing across my heart. I step toward her.
"I can't take it anymore. I've never…" Her voice trails off, her head shaking as she struggles to come up with the words. She paces away from me as she thinks. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. The way I will always want you. There is something…" She stops again, taking in a deep breath that I can somehow feel in my own chest. "Dark and hungry in me, and it wants you in a way I don't know that I understand, and I know you feel it too." Her eyes meet mine, and the passion in her is making her glow.
Golden feathers, red ruby lips… a brightness that cannot be contained…
I draw in a ragged breath, and the air is scented with deep rich smells that are out of place in this land.
"Yes," I breathe, unable to deny her words.
She throws herself at me, and I catch her, unable to hold back anymore.
We are a mess of limbs and lips and teeth, of desperate yearning and aching longing.
I mutter a curse, twisting our bodies to press her against the rock nearest us. I hoist her up until I can slip one of my legs between hers.
I'm nearly undone when her thighs squeeze me.
She is writhing, scorching against me, burning me like the sun.
I want to turn to ash under her touch.
A small moment of reason and clarity comes back to me then, and I remember that she is not mine, that though I am hers in all ways that matter, we are not married, not even betrothed.
"Little One," I groan. "Please, stop for a moment."
It is the hardest thing I've ever done, but I must make her understand. We cannot behave like this, not yet.
"Edvard," she says, her nails lightly scratching along my neck. "I know very little about this world. The only thing I'm sure of is this: I don't know how and I don't know why, but we were destined to find each other." Tears well in her eyes, and I watch her swallow heavily. "I had to come so far. So much farther than I can even tell you, and I would do it again and again because…"
I reach out to her, taking her face into my hands. "I love you," I whisper, finally saying it to her waking face.
She lets out a harsh breath, her eyes welling with tears as she repeats the words back to me, first in my language, then in her own.
I cannot help the cry that escapes my lips, and I bend to kiss her again.
We are still hungry for each other, but this time, there is a heaviness to the kiss, a deep awareness of what has just been named between us.
Love.
…
"Edvard."
Father corners me when I finally make it back to the house. He motions for me to follow him into his bedchambers.
There is a low fire going, and I take a seat when he motions for me to.
"There is an urgent matter we must discuss," he says, looking at me. He takes a seat beside me. "Njal Tryggvasson has a daughter who is ready to wed. As you know, Njal is a prominent member in our community, and a marriage between our houses would benefit us greatly. It would set our place here."
I stare at him.
"You want me to marry Njal's daughter." It is not so much a question, but Father nods all the same.
"Yes, this will be a fine match. She is fifteen summers now, old enough to bear many fine children. I've already spoken to Njal about the bride price, and I think that…"
"No."
Father stops, his light eyes traveling to my face. "What?"
His voice is quiet, but I hear the anger and disbelief.
I stand, unable to sit still.
"I will not marry her."
Father is like a bear, ready to snap at me without a moment's notice. I feel the air shift with his anger.
Before he can say anything, I let out a breath. "I'm going to ask Egil to marry his sister," I tell him, flat out. "I will pay whatever brideprice I need to."
Father is furious. "And what will this match bring to us?"
I shake my head. "My happiness," I tell him. "I love Bella with a love greater than any other love, and I would move all nine worlds for but a glimpse of her smile. I will marry her, or I will marry no one."
I look at him, and I realize more than his anger, I've shocked my father. I've always been the dutiful son, doing as I'm bid. Never have I once denied my father.
I have to take several deep breaths and find my mind again through the haze of desperation and anger. I push a hand through my hair, then let it drop to tug on my beard.
"Egil's family is strong and well-connected. A marriage with them would benefit us as well. It would solidify our kinship and give us enough influence to be a match to Njal's family." It's the truth, and I know Father must see it, even though he has yet to say anything.
I sit back down, turning to him. "I am a better man with Bella. I need her in order to become a man worthy of this family."
Father lets out a long breath, muttering a low swear.
"I curse the day the men in our family grew hearts," he says quietly. I watch him warily. He turns to me, his eyes haunted and heartbroken and distant as if he is seeing into ghosts of the past rather than the here and now. "This was how I felt about your mother," he tells me, his voice small, broken. "She was my moon and stars, and I would have followed her into the great gleaming halls of Fólkvangr had it not been for you."
I'm sobered at the mention of one of the halls of the dead. I did not know my father wished death for himself after my mother and siblings were killed.
"What of Eydís?" I ask.
Father looks at me. "I love Eydís. She is strong and passionate, but it is your mother I hope to see in death. It is your mother I yearn to be with in the next life."
My heart aches at the pain in his voice. I've seen his love for Eydís, and I know it is genuine, but can it be possible he is capable of a love greater than that?
A love that was brutally ripped from him?
What would I become if such a thing happened to me?
My heart aches at even the thought of it, and I am quick to brush the them away. I could not bear to even think of such a thing.
"Will you give blessing to my betrothal to Bella Egildottir?"
I look at Father, who lifts his head to gaze at me.
"This is not the match I want," he says quietly. "But perhaps the gods have another plan in mind." He lets out a long breath. "I will support it."
A sigh of relief rushes from my body. I would pursue Bella with or without his blessing, but it means a lot to have it.
One more piece in place.