.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

BALDR

Year: 878
Location: Eoferwic, Northambria

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

It was the next morning when Ragni was woken up by the shouting of men, the commotion seeping in through the thin walls of the decaying house. With fear piercing her heart she jolted upward, ears perked to the sounds that bellowed beyond through the streets of Eoferwic. Her first thought had been Ivarr, and then Kjartan. But such thoughts disappeared, as she heard Clapa's laughter.

"It's Ulf, he returned from Cumbraland with the army," Sihtric spoke up from the dining room table, his voice faint, almost incoherent beneath the cheering that lay beyond the walls.

Ragni sighed in relief, falling back to the mattress. It was a surprise, but a delightful one. Ulf has returned and with the Cumbraland army. "When did you arrive?" She asked, rubbing the haze of sleep from her eyes with the tips of her fingers.

"An hour or two ago."

Ragni kept her eyes closed, her hands falling to her chest. "Why did you not wake me?" It wouldn't have mattered anyway, she would've only muttered her hatred for him, and her desire to sleep longer. But it was the point, wasn't it? Sihtric making a habit as of late to walk in the house as he pleased, whether it was to sleep on the floor or pester her.

"I figured you needed the sleep," he explained, his voice closer now. "I haven't seen you sleep that well."

Ragni's eyes opened, finding eyes of different colors staring down at her. "I didn't have you rustling around on the floor." She frowned, examining the face of the man who hovered over her.

Ragni didn't realize how exhausted Sihtric looked until he was closer, the sharp features he possessed dark with somnolent. Eyelids heavy, and lips thinned. "Have you ever slept on a floor? It's uncomfortable." He murmured, the words drawn out with the smallest of smiles.

"In Dunholm," she reminded, giving him a frown. "Have you bathed?"

"What?"

Ragni frowned, dragging her gaze away from his face to examine the length of his body. He wore a different tunic than the day before, the grey fabric clean of the foliage and dirt he usually returned with. "Have you bathed?" She asked again, dragging her eyes back up his body to his face.

"I have?" He spoke slowly, uncertainty lacing the two words. "This morning before we came back."

Ragni did not say anything, didn't believe any words would lure him further. Even now as he stared, Ragni could feel the caution in the air, see the hesitancy in his eyes. Sihtric was not a coward, or even meek. Not with Rypere or the others, only with her. It was infuriating, made Ragni feel small, almost fragile. As if she was breakable.

Reaching outward she grabbed his wrist with gentle fingers, slowly she drew him to the bed. He did not pull away, nor fight it. He allowed her to guide him closer, gave in to Ragni's loose touch. He did not move when he laid beside her, his body stiff, and muscles tense. Always hesitate, even now.

With the release of his wrist, she drew her fingers to his skin, the pad of her index finger mindlessly tracing the grey serpent that ran down his throat and beneath the collar is his tunic. "When did you sleep?" She questioned, knowing the answer would be far from anything reasonable.

"Mm," Sihtric hummed, the tension in his body gradually dissolving with the draw of her fingertip. "I slept here a few hours before I seen you." He whispered, his voice soft against her lips.

"With the men from Cumbraland back, Guthred will not send you out again." Surly he wouldn't, what would be the point? Exhausting men, when grain was pouring out of their ears.

Sihtric hummed in response, his eyes drifting closed. "He did not send me, Uthred did." He whispered, careful not to disturb the woman who laid beside him. "I've been searching for signs of Ivarr's return."

"You lied to me." She would've been mad, thought about lacing the words with bitterness but she didn't. Couldn't find it in herself to be angry with Sihtric in that moment, entrapped by the peace that came with his close presence. A wicked power he held over her, whether he knew it or not.

"I didn't tell you," he breathed, eyes fluttering open. "That doesn't make it a lie."

He was right, he never once told her he was a part of the gathering party, she only assumed. "I will talk to Uthred about going with you." It would be painful, but she was growing tired of the repetitive days. Morning training, evening wall repair, and then sleep. Besides, it was a chance for her to further gain his trust. Without Uthred, she would not reach Dunholm. And if she was of no use, what was the point of keeping her around? Because he believed Danes would join their masses at hearing her name? Doubtful.

"You think he will allow you?" He murmured.

Ragni was unsure, Uthred being an unpredictable shit. But it was a way for her to gain his trust, to find a place of importance amongst his people. After all, she needed him. "I will not know if I do not ask." She retorted, continuing her tracing of his tattoo. The very symbol that led Ulfhild to believe he would be useful, that he was one amongst the few they could trust together.

Sihtric was silent then, a calloused hand raising to settle on her ribs, long fingers sprawling across the fur that covered her. "What did Uthred speak to you about yesterday?" He asked, his words husky with the pull of sleep.

"We spoke about his sister."

"Thyra," he whispered, keeping his voice to a low hush. "We've spoken about her as well, he knows everything about her. Tekil told him she still lives, and I told him how. Is that all he spoke about?"

"We spoke about my father." She frowned a bit, recalling the very conversation. It made her realize several things, took up a majority of her thoughts the night prior. She did not know her father as she thought, hadn't known of his betrayal, or even his friendship with the previous Lord of Bebbanburg.

Sihtric did not reply, his eyes merely searching hers. He was quiet for a few heartbeats, his fingers lightly pressing against her ribs. "You did not like what he had to say?" He asked, causing the tracing of her finger to stop.

Ragni's frown deepened, her hand falling from his neck to settle between them. "No, he made me realize how little I knew about my father. I never knew the reason behind his death, didn't understand the motive until now. In a way, I cannot fault Uthred, when I would do the same for Ulfhild."

Sihtric in a strike of bravery, drew his hand from her rib to capture her cheek, his thumb running along the downturned corner of her mouth smoothing the frown she wore. "We do cruel things for the people we care about," he murmured, his hand reclaiming its position on her rib. "I am sure what your father did was within reason, Ragni."

Everyone had a reason for something, a motive behind their actions. But her father? She did not know why he betrayed Uthred's father, couldn't grasp why he would march beside Kjartan to kidnap a soon-to-be bride. "Maybe," she breathed, tired of the thought as a whole. "I only wish I knew."

"I know."

Ragni watched as his eyes began to close, his features softening with the pull of sleep. "You need to rest." She whispered, dragging herself out from beneath his arm and toward the edge of the bed.

Sihtric only hummed in agreement, the man unbending his limbs to sprawl across the small mattress. A poorly made mattress at that, but it was better than the floor. And Ragni thanks to Hild decided Sihtric deserved the bed, at least until she came back later in the evening to claim it.

In a stroke of silence, Ragni made her way toward the doorway, stopping briefly to pick up the poorly crafted sword that laid on the dining room table. An unbalanced piece, but it was pointy enough to puncture a man. But to cut a man? Perhaps with the chip in the sword's thin edges. She'd speak to the smith before they left for Dunholm, perhaps even Ulf if the man would lend her an ear.

Turning one last time, Ragni found her eyes drawn back to Sihtric. He reminded her not of a bastard, or even a man but rather the god Baldr. Propped up in the bed on his back, dark hair disheveled and unbound, his eyes of imperfection half-lidded with exhaustion. She could've sworn the room brightened around him, illuminating every aspect of his physical being. "Forget something?" He asked, his voice carrying the same husky undertone he had whispered with earlier.

The question broke the trance, her eyes fluttering open and closed. "No, I thought you said something." She lied a decent lie considering the constant grumbles and murmurs he spoke with. She could not tell him. Refused to admit that even now her heart thudded wildly against the cavity of her chest, each harsh beat giving way to a bleeding infatuation.

No, it was not infatuation. She was exhausted, deprived of sleep. The moment was nothing, a lapse in her connection to reality. A second of weakness, nothing more. He was still a bastard and an annoying one at that. A man born of Kjartan's blood, and one who once held her at knifepoint.

Without another word Ragni went out the door, escaping the weakness that lounged in her bed. A man that left her feeling an assortment of intoxicating, and annoyingly present emotions. She trusted him, but she could not forget what he was.

Who he was.

Sihtric Kjartansson.

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

INDEX

Baldr ➳ (alternatively Balder or Baldur) is the son of Odin and the goddess Frigg. His half-brothers include the gods Thor, Heimdall, Tyr, Váli, and Vidar. Baldr is the Norse god of beauty, peace, light, the summer sun, and joy. Any positive adjective you can think of is what Baldr embodies: he is beautiful, kind, charming, comforting, charismatic – the list goes on. Baldr wasn't only the god of all things good in the world. He was also untouchable. The other gods amused themselves by trying – and failing – to bring harm to Baldr. He was perfect; technically, nothing could harm him, save for his own dismal dreams.