The Land We Once Knew

The great hall loomed before Kaya and Eivor as they crossed the threshold, their footfalls echoing off the high rafters. She cast a quick glance at him, rolling her eyes at his earlier words.

"Refrain from trying to kill Dag?" she scoffed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "When have I ever drawn my blade on an innocent?"

Eivor's mouth twisted, humor and warning mingling in his eyes. "I'm only reminding you because he's coming close, and we both know it."

"'Close' does not even begin to cover it," she muttered, folding her arms as they stepped fully into the room. The vast map of England stretched out across the table at the center, worn at the edges and dotted with markers, relics of all the lands they had laid claim to. She traced her gaze over the lines dividing one territory from another, her fingers twitching to move the markers herself.

Randvi, already present and pouring over the map, looked up at the sound of their voices. "Ah, Kaya," she greeted, her face lighting up with a faint, pleased smile. "It's been some time since we spoke."

Kaya felt a pang of guilt. Their paths had diverged often, the last few weeks lost to raids, alliances, and whispers of enemies gathering in the shadows. Though Randvi tried to hide it, there was a warmth in her voice, a glimmer of something Kaya could only call friendship—a rarity for both.

"It has, hasn't it?" Kaya said, stepping closer to Randvi and the map. "I could use a sane voice around here for once."

"You wanted to see us?" Eivor's voice held a steady note, familiar and respectful, as he stood beside Kaya. Kaya sensed the ease in his tone, almost tender, a sound that only surfaced in his presence with Randvi. There was something between the two, something unspoken yet palpable, though Kaya kept herself from prying. After all, Randvi and Sigurd's marriage was built on alliance, not affection, though Sigurd often spoke of his wife with a fondness Kaya could not ignore.

Randvi met Eivor's gaze, her earlier smile cooling as she crossed her arms, slipping into a professional stance.

"As Sigurd has commanded, it falls to us to expand our presence in England," she began, her tone as firm as iron.

Eivor gave a short nod. "He seeks to forge alliances. Ironclad alliances, with Norse, Danes, and Saxons alike."

"Right," Randvi agreed, her tone thoughtful. "We are outsiders here. Making friends will help."

Eivor folded his arms, his gaze intense. "Where do we start?"

Randvi unfurled the map with a steady hand, fingers tracing along the borders of unfamiliar territories. "My scouts come and go daily with interesting news and tidings, and I am beginning to get my bearings in this fractured lands."

Kaya leaned closer to the map, absorbing the careful lines marking each fractured piece of England's puzzle. The scattered territories seemed less like lands of promise and more like tinderboxes waiting for a spark. "It's as if the land itself is divided," she murmured. "Could it be that someone seeks to bring these parts under one banner?"

Randvi's eyes flickered with uncertainty, but her voice held steady. "Perhaps. But each lord, each jarl, clutches their land tightly. They might yield only to one who proves themselves stronger."

"As I learn more," Randvi began, her voice steady but carrying the weight of responsibility, "I can provide insight into each territory before you commit to a journey there." Her fingers traced the edges of the parchment, hovering over the regions of Mercia, East Anglia, and Northumbria. "Each alliance we forge strengthens our foothold here."

Kaya nodded, her dark eyes scanning the map. "Of course," she replied, her voice firm.

Eivor mirrored her agreement. "We understand."

Randvi straightened, her gaze shifting from the map to the two warriors before her. "Once you've secured an ally in a territory, return to me immediately. We'll evaluate and decide the next move." She glanced briefly at the roaring fire behind them, her expression unreadable. "Timing will be everything."

Kaya's brow furrowed, her arms crossing over her chest. "That sounds straightforward, but no plan survives contact with the enemy. What happens if we face resistance? If the Saxons or even the Danes refuse to listen?"

Randvi's lips tightened, her composure faltering for a moment. "Then you will do what is necessary, as you always have. Diplomacy is the first path, but if it fails..." She let the words hang in the air like an unsheathed blade.

Eivor's mouth curved into a faint smirk. "We've faced worse. But where do we begin? Which kingdom do we tame first?"

Randvi turned her attention to Kaya directly. "I should add, our young friend Hytham has been working tirelessly with his contacts in the cities."

Kaya arched a brow, glancing toward the longhouse door as if expecting Hytham to walk in. "He's been busy, then," she said.

Randvi nodded. "He believes his research could help us forge alliances in places where swords alone won't suffice. And I trust his instincts. This is bigger than any single battle, Kaya. We need allies, not just warriors."

Kaya's gaze lingered on the map, her fingers brushing the edge of the table. She admired Hytham's resolve, even if she didn't always understand his methods. His absence from the battlefield brought her a measure of relief; at least he wouldn't be in harm's way. For now.

Eivor's voice cut through her thoughts. "What say you, Kaya? North or south? Blood or diplomacy?"

Kaya inhaled deeply, her mind racing through the possibilities. She could see Sigurd's face, his relentless hunger for victory, and knew he would expect her to follow. But her instincts warned her of the volatile forces at play in Ledecestrescire. The South, meanwhile, offered its own set of challenges—unproven allies, unknown terrain, and Guthrum's fractured army.

Randvi's eyes narrowed as she studied Kaya's expression. "There's no easy choice. But the time to act is now."

Kaya tightened the straps on her satchel, her hands moving methodically over the leather buckles, though her mind wandered far from the task. The journey north loomed before her, a task she wasn't eager to undertake. The Sons of Ragnar. She had heard enough tales to paint a vivid picture: men as volatile as the storms, more likely to test her blade than to listen to reason. Yet, this mission wasn't just about alliances—it was about Eivor's growth, his training. She had committed to this path, even if it meant crossing blades or words with those she found unpredictable.

Her fingers hesitated for a brief moment, then resumed their work. The longhouse was quieter than usual, the sounds of others preparing for their own tasks muted and distant in her ears. She hadn't realized how tightly she was gripping the straps until her knuckles ached.

Across the room, Hytham watched her in silence. He leaned against one of the wooden beams, arms crossed, his sharp eyes catching every flicker of hesitation in her movements. Kaya's mind, he knew, was rarely as chaotic as it seemed now. She was a woman of purpose, decisive and steady. But something about this journey unsettled her, and he could see it plainly.

You're troubled," Hytham said finally, breaking the silence.

Kaya glanced over her shoulder, her expression neutral but her eyes betraying her thoughts. "Troubled? No. Irritated, perhaps. And impatient."

Hytham pushed off the post, walking closer. "You've never been good at hiding your thoughts, Kaya. What is it about this journey that gnaws at you? Eivor is capable, and so are you."

She turned back to her pack, her voice low but steady. "It's not the journey itself. It's what waits for us. The Sons of Ragnar... their reputations precede them. And not in a way that inspires trust."

Hytham raised a brow. "Their ferocity may be unsettling, but their name carries weight. Sigurd is right in thinking they could be powerful allies."

"Powerful, yes. But at what cost?" Kaya stood, slinging her pack over her shoulder. "Their kind respect strength, not diplomacy. They're not like you, Hytham, thinking three steps ahead, weighing every outcome. No. They'll demand blood and loyalty, and Eivor and I will have to decide just how much we're willing to give."

Without thinking, Kaya crossed the room and lowered herself onto the bench beside him. For a moment, she said nothing, her thoughts still tangled with the journey ahead. Then, slowly, she leaned her head against his shoulder, letting the quiet settle between them.

Haytham stiffened, unaccustomed to her seeking comfort so openly. "Kaya," he began, but the words faltered. What was there to say?

She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his presence. "Do you remember when we were children?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this—before the Brotherhood, the orders, the missions?"

Hytham nodded, though she couldn't see it. "I remember," he said. "You didn't trust anyone back then. Not even me."

Kaya smiled faintly. "And yet, you were persistent. Always finding a way to sit beside me, to talk to me, even when I refused to answer. I didn't make it easy for you."

"You never do," Hytham muttered, though there was no malice in his tone.

Kaya chuckled, the sound low and fleeting. "You earned my trust, Hytham. You taught me that it's okay to lean on someone. Even if the mentors scolded us for it later."

Hytham's cheeks flushed at the memory. Mentor Ishmael and Mentor Basim had been relentless in their admonishments, warning them of the dangers of forming bonds too strong, too close. "They were trying to protect us," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"They didn't understand," Kaya replied, her cheek brushing against his shoulder as she shifted. "You've always been my anchor, Hytham. Even now."

Hytham's breath caught as she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, the intimate gesture both familiar and disarming. He tried to school his expression, but the blush that crept up his neck betrayed him.

She leaned forward, hesitating just long enough for doubt to creep in. Her lips hovered a breath away from his, and her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Kaya had never been one for hesitation, but this—this was different.

Her hand rose of its own accord, calloused fingers brushing against his jawline, her touch both tentative and deliberate. She could feel the rough stubble beneath her fingertips, a stark contrast to the softness she rarely allowed herself to feel.

Hytham's eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, neither of them moved. There was a storm in his gaze, equal parts longing and uncertainty. "Kaya," he murmured, his voice low, the word heavy with meaning.

She exhaled sharply, her breath mingling with his. "Don't overthink it, Hytham," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just… don't."

He hesitated. Not because he didn't want this—he did, desperately—but because he knew the weight it carried. The consequences would come later. The Brotherhood frowned on attachments like this, and both of them knew it. But at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Damn it all," he muttered under his breath.

And then he leaned in, closing the space between them. The kiss was hesitant at first, as though they were testing the waters of something both unfamiliar and inevitable. But it didn't stay that way for long.

Kaya responded with equal fervor, her hand sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The world outside the longhouse seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them in the firelight's glow.

His injuries, the journey ahead, the unspoken rules of their order—none of it mattered in that moment. They had both carried so much for so long, and this, fleeting though it might be, was a release neither of them could deny.

Hytham broke the kiss first, his breathing uneven, his forehead resting against hers. "You realize this changes everything," he said, his voice rough.

Kaya smirked, her lips still brushing against his. "Does it?"

He let out a low chuckle, though it was tinged with disbelief. "You have a way of making everything seem so simple."

"It is simple," she replied. "We deal with the consequences when they come. Not before."

Hytham shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you're stubborn," Kaya countered, her tone teasing but laced with affection.

The weight of the moment settled over them like a heavy cloak, but neither seemed eager to pull away. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, a reminder of the night slipping away.

AN: and so, the ship has sailed between Kaya and Hytham! Took long enough for something to happen, even if it was something simple like a kissing scene. I was not sure if I was going to do away with it but decided that it was time that the sparks began to fly. There will be an issue in their relationship later in future chapters and things will not be a happy one between Kaya and Hytham. Next chapter, we get to the Son's of Ragnar. I have been so excited to write that chapter.