Una gazed at herself in her long bronze mirror. After she had bathed, she wanted to see just how badly broken she looked. She has covered in a dozen or more small and large bruises. There was a large blood blister on her neck where Frey attacked a few days ago.

"Ouch!" Una hissed as she touched one of them.

The sides of her thighs and hips got the worst of it. They got slammed first, being the second widest part of her body, but somehow were damaged worse than her breasts and shoulders. The bruises were dark purple with striations of yellow and blue. It was difficult to walk fast and even more to sleep on her side or back.

"Gods, what am I doing?" Una asked herself, moving her wavy mid-thigh length hair out of the way.

She knew she would have to cut it. It was getting too long to braid and wash. Now that Marged was gone, it will be challenging to groom. Una knew that her last battle a month or two ago almost proved fatal to her because of her hair. She had braided it and wrapped it beneath her armor to keep out of the way. Somehow when she was galloping, it became dislodged, and she didn't realize it. That was until one Viking man grabbed the tail of her hair as she spun around and pulled her off of her horse. Una landed flat on her back but couldn't get up soon enough. The Viking man pulled her down, drug her by her hair until Aaron came and slashed his throat open from behind.

"It's for the best." Una laughed as she walked over to her dresser to look for some shears.

After some time, pillaging her room for them, she gave up. She put on her loose, long nightdress and quietly slipped out of her room. She crossed her arms and tiptoed down the long hall. There were no guards in sight. She knew she wouldn't run into Yvar or Aaron. They are usually fast asleep in their chambers by now. It was nearing dawn, and no one was running amuck like Una. She had fallen asleep in the bath earlier. She only woke so early by nearly drowning in her tub. She accidentally slipped down too far in the copper tub, and Marged wasn't there to assist her any longer.

"Damn you, blasted big hooves!" Una violently whispered as she slammed her pinky toe into an entryway bench.

She held on to her toe and blew a bubble in her mouth. There was one thing that hurt Una as much as any arrow or sword, and that was being blunted by a piece of hardwood on the smallest toe. She peered around, still rubbing her toe to see if anyone had awoken. She had hit it so hard that the piece scooted across the ground and made a horrific squeak as it slid forward.

Una knew she should have brought out a candle, but the men would see her candlelight traveling from the gap under their door. These people were trained to wake up to even the slightest disturbance. That is why it takes Una so long to fall asleep, and anything as minute as a mouse scampering across the floor would wake her. Even in a pitch-black room, Una's mind was alert and ready to charge anything from out of the dark.

Una made one more passing glance before she followed the moonlight to the kitchen. She pressed forward and ducked behind the large kettles, taking special care to watch where her feet landed. She could see the utensils hanging freely from hooks spaced across the stone walls. There she could see some deboning shears. They are not the sharpest tool but will do the trick to chop off Una's thick rope of a braid. When the coast was clear, she stood up and trotted over to them.

She reached up on her toes. The cook of the castle was very tall, and he always hung his knives high so the children would not want to swordfight with them. Hanging with the cleavers are the pair of shinny shears, taunting Una. She is taller than most average girls in the kingdom but not as tall as the cook's wife, who assists him. She often would put up the washed dishes if he were not around. Only she would hang up a pair of scissors next to knives. Una then jumped up on the cabinet and crawled up to where she could reach. Suddenly a bright light entered the room as she grabbed the shears in her hand. She darted her head over her shoulder to see Yvar staring up at her.

"I've seen a multitude of large and grotesque spiders on that wall, but nothing to the likes of this! And a noisy spider at that!" He laughed, putting the lamp down.

Una seized. Her cheeks became flush, and she felt embarrassed standing there in a sheer silk dress in front of him. He was not very well covered either. He was wearing a thigh-length loose tunic with no pants.

"Um, I can explain." Una laughed back as she crouched down to get off the cabinet.

"What are you doing crawling around at this hour, and for shears?" He laughed, folding his arms looking at Una as she dropped down off the counter.

"I have to take of business, of a personal nature," Una said, bunching up the end of her hair in her hand.

"You're a few years behind, aren't you?" He smirked.

"Oh, hush your tongue! You know it is for the best." Una laughed.

"Well, if you insist, make sure you shine up your armor too!" He smiled.

"Already done," Una said as she twirled her hair in her hands.

Yvar gazed down at Una's hair again.

"Hmm, you should go with the Viking look. I think you'll blend right in. The reverse mullet, perhaps?" Yvar laughed, trying to make light of the grim situation of potential war.

"It just needs to be short enough where they won't be able to drag me off my horse like a fish out of water." Una laughed.

"You remember?" Una added, laughing, dropping her hair and waving the shears in front of him.

"That was a rough battle. I think I recall, but I was too busy digging an arrow out of my arse. I didn't have my leathers on." He laughed.

"I don't think anyone had their armor on. We were woken up as sudden as a birthing pang. I think that's the most we've ever been scared up." Una smiled, walking away.

"At least we don't have any scars on our face." He laughed, grabbing an apple behind him.

"Not yet." Una winked as she left.

"Slumber well!" Una waved as she walked out of the kitchen.

"Wait, Una!" Yvar called out.

Una turned and watched Yvar sprint out in the hall with that apple in one hand and the lamp in the other.

"Are you going to be doing this now?" He asked.

Una smiled in delight and crossed her arms.

"Well, are you coming to watch, or are you going to help me, Yvar?" She laughed.

Yvar grinned, and he walked up closer.

"Only if you can crop mine a tad too." He nodded.

Una felt delighted that he was willing to assist her, and they began to walk back to Una's chambers.

"I'll see about that reverse mullet you speak highly of. Perhaps I'll use you as my model?" Una laughed sarcastically as she grabbed the lamp out of Yvar's hand.

"An excellent strategy if we were to encounter them on the way to the Dane lands accidentally." He mocked in a whisper.

"Yes, I shall add a forked beard too." Una laughed, opening up her door.

"But I have no beard." Yvar laughed, gently shutting the door behind him.

"Soon enough, I think we will both have one if we make it through this." Una laughed, pulling him a chair out.

Yvar gave Una a look of disgust but also humor as he sat down.

"I think it would put chest hairs on any child if they had to fight these Vikings." He added.

"Lean your head back," Una said as she pulled his long braid back over the chair.

She pulled away from the tie of stag leather bound at the base of his braid. Una began to chuckle at her thought.

"Hmm...I think I was eleven when I found my first chest hair. I was so proud because my own brother Eurion couldn't grow them yet." Una laughed as she grabbed the shears in her hand and flexed them back and forth.

She could see the look of disgust on Yvar's face in the reflection of the mirror in the corner. It was so late that Una's crudeness was not the least suppressed.

"Ahh, I remember mine too. I was nine." Yvar jested.

Una furrowed her eyes, and a smile came over her. She laughed and quickly lunged forward behind the chair.

"You don't have any chest hairs! Haha!" Una was almost choking as she pulled up his tunic and looked down his shirt at his bare chest.

"Cut it out! Shall I look at yours then, me lady!?" Yvar laughed and pulled Una's arms down.

"Careful, I will cut it out!" Una purposely dropped the shears down his long shirt.

Una pulled away and laughed heartily as the metal's cold stung against Yvar's warm skin as they fell across his chest. She recomposed herself and walked forward again to tend to Yvar's hair.

"Why are we taking such nonsense?" Una laughed as she finally calmed down and pulled apart his braid with her fingers.

To Una's dismay, his long flaxen hair was very fine and soft to the touch. She didn't need a comb, really, for it fell straight and thick without kinking up or tangling. For a moment, Una was quite jealous of his locks. She wished she had hair that shone like golden waves of wheat. Una's father had hair like his. It was almost nostalgic to touch Yvar's hairs. Una remembered how she used to plead her father's hair for battle.

The one time she didn't was his last battle, the one where he was slain. His murderer had wild hair. It was covered in blood and ash. It had no braids, just adorned with the embellishments of death. Frey has his father's hair. It was nearly the color of snow but lacked all the essence of purity. Pale hairs were reminiscent of death and evil in Una's eyes.

"I don't know honestly why we do such nonsense? In all seriousness, perhaps we could put it to good use when we encounter our first Viking or Dane. We are good at improvising thoughts." He laughed.

Una brushed through his hair with her fingers again and grabbed her own comb to use for good measure.

"The only serious thing I am speaking about is how pristine your hairs are. You would think you have the king's hair. There's nary a louse nor flea in this thicket, and it's as soft as a hare." Una laughed in jealousy.

"I am quite flattered by that remark, Una. That's what old Ida used to tell me too." He laughed.

Una hesitated for a moment from brushing.

"Your grandmother?" Una asked in earnest.

"So, you remember?" Yvar laughed.

Una suddenly remembered many things that Yvar had said and done. In particular, she remembered that he got lost in a cave with Una and ran into a massive spider web.

"I remember that time too when we were in that cave and..."

"Okay, that's enough talk. Get to cropping!" He laughed, obviously knowing.

Una smirked, and after a few more passes with the brush, she took a deep breath and cut straight across his thick flaxen hair. About a third of it fell to the floor. His hair instantly sprang with volume, and Una couldn't help but snicker quietly to herself.

"That feel's great, but what are you humoring about over there?" Yvar laughed.

"It's lovely!" Una laughed, covering her mouth.

"What did you do this time..." He sounded disappointed as he stood up.

Una watched as he turned around. She had done an excellent job. His hair was all the same length and fell right at his collar bones.

"It feels so strange." He said, walking over to Una's mirror.

As he walked over to it, he passed over the small dog that was his hair on the floor.

"Good God's what have you done!" He exclaimed, looking at the floor and then grabbing the end of his chopped hair and looking in his shiny reflection.

"It will go down, I promise!" Una could barely contain herself.

The static had made the outer layer of his hair stand on end, and he looked like a gypsy horse who had its mane cut too short.

"As expected. Alright, it's your turn!" Yvar emphasized as he grabbed the shears out of Una's hand.

She couldn't tell if he was actually mad or if he was playing her. Either way, Una obliged and sat down in the seat. She flipped her hair over the wooden back of the chair and sunk in hopes that he wouldn't make that reverse mullet they had joked about earlier.

Yvar didn't hesitate, nor did he brush Una's hair or comb it in place. Before Una could react, Yvar was tearing at her hair with the shears, cutting it swiftly.

"Yvar!" Una shouted in horror as she heard him snip away.

"Don't move, or it will be lopsided."

"Why didn't you comb it or..."

"It didn't need to be. It was already laying perfect and untangled like you said mine was." He laughed.

Una held her breath and bit her lip. For all she knew, he could be having a hay day back there, cutting squares or zigzags throughout her hairs.

"It is done." He said, dropping the shears to the floor and cracking his knuckles.

When Una rose, she instantly felt much lighter and quite strange. Did her hair really weigh that much? Una did what Yvar did earlier, and she saw the great heap that was her hair. She touched the top of her head and then felt where it ended. She held her tongue, though, and walked over to the mirror. She spun to the side and saw how her hair fell right at her mid-back. It was a little longer than she wanted, but there was no way she would let Yvar have another go with those shears.

"Hmm." She uttered.

"All the same length too." She laughed and looked back at him.

"Well done, Yvar." She grinned and did a polite bow of gratitude.

"The same to you, my lady." He said, bending his arm over and bowing with her.

"But..." He hesitated.

"I can still give you that mullet if you'd like?" Una suggested with an evil grin looking up.

"I was going to say I hesitated to cut it shorter...since it was so beautiful, I hated to see it cut so short. For that, I apologize." He smiled as he turned over and picked up all the hair in his arms.

"Goodnight, Una." He smiled as he opened the door and quickly exited before Una could utter a word.

"Good...night," Una said with fire in her cheeks and looked down at the shears.

"Hey! It's a good morning!" She laughed and ran to shut the door.

Una could see her reflection in the bronze mirror. She spun around a few times in the dim light of the lamp.

"He said...it was beautiful?" Una blushed as she blew out the lamp and plunged into her bed with a smile on her face.

She couldn't wait to wake in the morning to see her new hair again.