One Year Later...

No single year had ever made so great a difference to the Blackmanes than the one that ended at the twelfth month that followed after the betrothal of Rothgar the Flesh Eater to Frida of the Redtooth Clan.

The shift had began almost as soon as the chief had returned with her kin, little changed but for the subtle lines in her face and the shadows in her eyes that had not been there when she'd left. She was a well-respected, meticulous, and just leader, and that would likely never change, but she had returned with less fortitude and a more volatile temper that had, in the ensuing weeks thereafter, mantled her entire kith in an uneasy solemnity that lasted far longer even than Aila's desponding ire.

Though she was distrait, her restiveness continuing long after they returned, she guarded herself well, most of her clan little knowing just how keenly she felt the weight of her capitulation to Thorgny the Usurper.

It was a powerful and much loved chieftain indeed that could engender so much change in the disposition and atmosphere of those around her; knowing full well the impact she was capable of, she concealed it from all save her closest kith. The veritable force that her humor affected within her clan was practically omnipotent and felt by all. She therefore obviated the outcome so that her karls and nobles alike were ignorant of all that plagued her.

She was, however, content to let the tides of her dark moods alter the lives of her family without stemming the backlash; at least for a time. In that she was like the seasons that invariably altered the landscape. In the end, Aila had either purposefully begun to disguise her worriment or the fury had run its coarse and she was now well rid of it. Her lengthy and frequent perambulations into the Redwood seemed to clear her head and fortify her spirit after a time, for she always returned becalmed, and within weeks of her return she was once again like the Aila of old.

But in Brenna's opinion the largest alterations that had taken place these last few months were those that manifested in the chieftain's sons who were not only transformed physically, but in essentials too. The latter changes were the definitive result of witnessing their mother's protracted ennui and the knowledge that they were the causation; yet she had eventually rallied whereas they had not. Perhaps it was guilt or the work of another unseen force that was taking place, but their inner changes seemed as permanent as those that took place without.

Both were now as tall as Ragnar and gave every evidence that they would soon surpass their uncle's height. There was not one in a hundred sixteen year old males that looked as they did. Feasibly none at all. They had all only just returned from another Klanerting and, unlike the last one, had this time refrained from further bloodshed.

However, the damage was done and they were forever Renic the Bone Crusher and Rothgar the Flesh Eater, cognomens earned during the last infamous Klanerting. The two were now legends in their own right.

If Aila had been pursued before it was nothing to how she was beset with marriage proposals now, for not only was she a shrewd chieftain and a skilled shield-maiden — it was well known that a woman was required to be twice as proficient than a man in order to be considered half as good — but she had also borne two robust sons of almost impossible physical perfection.

They were incredibly tall and broad, and not even yet fully grown. Thorgny, as Brenna understood from Heida, had lately insinuated that they might not be as young as Aila claimed and therefore were both now of marriageable age, looking as they did quite as old as Eirik himself.

It was for this reason that he sent Frida to live with Aila and, in parting with his daughter, was most adamant that she and Roth be married before the next gathering of the clans. Frida was, after all, not getting any younger, for the girl had seen eight and twenty summers already. Her stunted height and fine bones were likely the reason for her yet unmarried state, for who would choose to beget heirs that might indeed be as frail as their mother. She was not even Thorgny's progeny, but the product of her mother's first marriage to the previous Redtooth jarl that had died beneath Thorgny's blade.

What a difference a year made.

Before that day, Roth and Renic were, although different in temperament, still carefree and good natured. But each of them had by now bifurcated into wholly separate entities, neither of their characters having changed for the better.

Roth had since become cynical and begun to glut himself on drink, women and fighting, his turpitude wholly repulsive to Brenna. The effectiveness with which he so easily attained all three — with no effort involved at all — was just as loathsome as his behavior.

But oddly not to Heida, who's rectitude was that of the virtuous god Balder himself; she was so completely and diametrically opposite to Roth in both behavior and coloring. They were as the sun and moon; light and dark; she was the diurnal innocence to his nocturnal decadence. Brenna only hoped that his tenebrous selfishness would not one day directly affect her friend's lambent purity. However, she did not think it likely seeing as they spent little time together. 

Thank the gods.

Though her friend was saddened and ofttimes maddened to see Roth acting thus, be it under extenuating circumstances or not, she never imprecated or spoke ill against him even when Brenna did. On the contrary, she defended him with a childlike appetency that Brenna knew might one day break her own heart, since Roth was on a path to his own self destruction. Perhaps she still felt a kinship to the carefree boy that he'd been in the halcyon days of their childhood — the same boy that had killed a man who'd dared to harm her.

What she could not understand were the women that so freely took what little he offered them, giving of themselves so eagerly. Perhaps they, mostly widows and bondswomen, used him for his notoriety as much as he used them to sate his varied appetites. They knew he was unavailable for marriage, so why did they go to him? He and Frida were as good as joined already.

Then there was Renic: another animal entirely. Though he seemed perpetually immured in dark thoughts, he did nothing to excess the way his brother did. He drank little and always avoided a fight, ostensibly having learned his lesson from the Klanerting that so changed his life. Although, Brenna thought it more likely that the sight of his brother's degradation was ample enough deterrent for the younger son, but he never did aught to check his twin, only withdrew further into his sullen quietude.

If any women mistook him for Roth he was quick to growl for them to leave him. He wanted none of what they gladly gave his brother; and this only seemed to proliferate their yearning for Renic all the more. He debarred everyone from getting too close, absorbed by the incumbency of, what Brenna felt was, his feeling responsible for Roth's fate — having failed to prevent the death that sealed the aforesaid fate of his other half.

Why they should all feel and react so strongly about a marriage seemed ridiculous to Brenna. Frida was not a monster, but a skittish bird. Thorgny mayhap deserved the former distinction, but his daughter was a harmless little thing that wanted only some nourishment and perhaps a little happiness in her life to cure her of the chronic gloom that had doubtless affected her all her life.

The insight that Brenna had into the characters of all those she observed were more the result of her birthright than just what they revealed to the world on their sleeves. If the latter were the case she would not know half of what she did. 

Nay, Brenna had intrinsic gifts of a wholly unnatural quality. She had but to touch a person's skin to feel what they felt or to see what they'd seen. Sometimes the impression a person left on an object was so strong that she could feel the aftereffects lingering on a loom, a broom, a knife, or a piece of cloth. Human emotions were sometimes so violent or substantial that she could sense their auras even from a distance.

That Heida thought herself the oddity was laughable. She, Brenna, was the sport of nature. Would that it were merely her gift of touch that she suffered, but her strange dreams bedeviled her more and more; the older she got the more potent they became.

She pushed the nightmares from her mind and forced her thoughts back to Frida and Thorgny. Marriage or not, all inter-clan politics were always vitiated with mendaciousness and iniquity; logic and fairness were hard come by when land or power were at stake. There was more to this contractual agreement than merely the union of two families. 

Brenna herself, who was never included in political discussions, could feel the threat of Thorgny's greed even from the great distance that separated them all. She had never met him, but knew that he was up to something.

At any rate the quiet diffidence that Renic had possessed as a boy had been irrevocably effaced by that wretched hour — a year ago today. And for that alone she would have killed Thorgny herself had he been standing in front of her now. Roth may have slaughtered his despicable son, but Thorgny had consequently murdered Roth's, and therefore Renic's, happiness entirely.

❅

The days of the midnight sun were fast drawing to a close. Soon the spectral green lights of Asgard would be visible in the night sky as the sun retired earlier and for longer each night, till the darkness lengthened into perpetuity. But for now the days were yet warm.

Heida and Brenna were enjoying the slanted rays of the evening sun as they watched the light play across the amaranthine foliage of the forest to the south. When Renic and Eirik returned from the pasture, they greeted the two women and made to continue on towards the house, Eirik's eye lingering on Brenna a little longer than his nephew's had.

"Sit with us a while," Heida invited them, a shy smile brightening her pretty features.

"You needn't ask me twice." Eirik moved to sit next to Brenna, but Renic remained where he stood. 

"But I had better not," he replied looking pointedly at Brenna and gesturing towards the longhouse entrance.

All four of them looked to see Epona's captious glare impinging from the doorway. Brenna suspired an angry breath and scowled straight back at her ever watchful mother who was constantly haranguing her to spend less time with Aila's sons. She hardly spoke to them as it was, but woe betide her should she dare to even look their direction. Her mother's dreams and premonitions were awful indeed for her to look upon even so cursory a friendship as theirs as a colossal evil.

Brenna's dreams were too vague to be of any use to her, and the more her mother pressured her to open herself up to the goddess Danu's omniscient influence, the more Brenna demurred. Epona wanted her to hone her gifts and accept what the goddesses had bestowed to her at birth, but Brenna wanted none of it. 

Her mother had been a thrall when first she came to live amongst "these daemons", but their status had long since been elevated, and they no longer lived in the great house. Their abode was separate and far removed, in a turf covered hut on the fringe of the forest, no better than the pair of reclusive witches they were thought by many to be.

This seemed not to matter to Epona, for she still distrusted and hated keenly enough that theirs would have been a friendless existence were it not for Aila and her kin. All that Brenna wanted from life was a good man, a piece of land to call her own, and handful of children to dote on. She would not suffocate or control any child of hers as her mother had done and was doing to her.

"That woman has the most frightening glare I have ever seen on a person." Eirik shook his head and chuckled. Brenna offered a distracted smile, but said naught.

"Yes," said Renic indifferently, "but we all know to whom it is owed." With that he left the trio to go sit beside his brother who was sharpening a grim-looking axe.

Despite the conversation that waxed between Heida and Eirik, Brenna refrained from joining in. She turned back to her mother and, seeing the slitted maternal gaze still bent towards them, stuck out her tongue furiously. When Epona finally took the hint and hied herself off to continue her surly muttering elsewhere, Brenna's eyes wandered back to Renic.

Gods, will she never leave me be!

The view she had of the twins bent over their weapons and murmuring inaudibly to one another was quite a sight to behold. They really were an interesting duo. Their features were finely chiseled and their profiles intriguing to any woman's eye no matter her age. For all they were a handsome pair, their eyes were by far their best asset.

Both aquamarine sets were piercing and unsettling, especially when they were aimed at a wary observer, but when thus distracted as they were now, the sooty lashes lowered towards their task, it was a rare privilege to watch them.

"Frida!" Heida waved suddenly at the woman who was trying to make herself invisible as she fed her chickens. "Come here!"

Unable to deny such a command, even a friendly one from such as Heida, Frida dropped the rest of the chicken feed and, wiping her hands on her apron dress, made her way over, eyes glued to her feet and shoulders slightly hunched over as though she longed to climb into herself and vanish.

Although they endeavored to draw her out, Frida's company was nevertheless as onerous as it always was, for she possessed a sort of mental hebetude that was not disposed to lively conversation...or any conversation at all. She might have been considered pretty if she'd only abandon her abstemious habitudes, or perhaps even smile once in a while.

Really she wanted only a bit more meat on her bones, some color in her cheeks, and a little vigor in her eyes for her to be deemed attractive. She had not Thorgny's stumpy nose or bandy legs which Brenna thought fortunate, and had inferred as much to Frida once in an effort to bond with her. It was then that the girl confessed that he was not her sire after all — a fact that Thorgny was quick to advertise openly lest any thought to insult his manhood by assuming him the begetter of such a mewling little thing.

As Brenna ruminated on Frida's complex and unassuming nature, Roth finally stood from his task near the storeroom that housed their weapons. Abruptly leaving Renic's side, he strode over and halted at Brenna's outstretched legs to loom over her, a devious twist to his lips.

Ugh, what does he want now?

⭐️Oy vay! What do you think of all the changes?⭐️