Before my eyes open my awareness births two significant things. One, is I'm overwhelmed with guilt. And two, Svea is gone beside me.

I muster the strength through my strained muscles and push up with my palms from my bare stomach wincing at the gashes on my back then crawl to the ledge of my bed. My heart aches for my brother and my hatred builds for myself turning my stomach into a storm of anxiety and malice. My love for Svea has been just as strong and just as present as Leif's but I've crossed a line. I've betrayed my brother by the indecencies of last night.

My hair loose and wild like black streams of rivers teases the fresh wounds of my back causing me to wince in a breath through my teeth. Sitting, I attempt to pile some of my black hair at the top of my head but fail miserably. It seems any slightest movement sets my back on fire again.

Pushing past the burning of my skin I dress in a new grey tunic, leather leggings braided with leather straps, then shove my tired feet into my boots. Villagers say I dress like a man with my trousers and tunics but their words have never caused any sort of worry with me. I finish with my clothes, taking care placing the thick leather belt around my waist then leave with haste. 

On the outskirts hidden within the lining of the forest is the Seer's hut, the home of Morta. Scents that call forth memories of my betraying deeds with Svea waft from the building. Using my forearm I step through the animal bone veil and enter to find Morta at her elixir station. Heavy with fresh and old tattoos she works diligently over her bowls of powder, blood, and berries.

I fan away a flocking of feathers hanging from the rafters, catching the sight of the völva (medicine woman). "Ah, heil ok sæl (happy and healthy morning), Tove."

"heil ok sæl." I repeat with pain poisoning the greeting.

"I knew you'd be in today. I've got something for you already. I brewed it  earlier this morning."

"Takk (thank you)."

"And would you like something for your slave-friend?"

Anders.

A growl builds inside my throat but I tame it back and nod once. The bastard doesn't deserve any of Morta's elixirs but for the sake of winning his favor, I accept.

Morta grins and spins back around gathering up two seperate flasks in their own leather satchels then returns to me, "Have you spoken to your new Jarl yet?" Her knowing tone causes me to thin my eyes.

"You are the Seer. Why do you ask me questions you already know the answer to?"

Morta cackles then rounds me, "Sit. Allow me to plait your hair. You look like a well-ridden horse."

I'm too tired and sore to protest and Morta knows it. She rounds to my back and begins combing my tangled hair careful to keep the teeth of her handcrafted instrument from touching the sensitive skin of my back.

"You have beautiful hair." She notes, "and so much of it." I sit consumed by my guilt as she begins tiny plaits starting at the center of my temple. "We missed you at the ceremony last night." Lochs of my hair are pulled and plaited close to the scalp then tied off with thin leather strapping and clasped with a metal bead at the back of my head. Morta continues the same pattern around my temple leaving the back loose and long. "The Valkerie light bridge hung in the sky last night." She adds as she gathers my hair high up on top of my head and begins to tie it off in a long tail.

The lights are a rare sight this time of year. It's usually seen as the best or worst of omens. 

"I'm sure the sacrifice was more than sufficient?" I ask praying to the God's the lights were a sign of good faith.

Morta snorts a laugh and comes around to face me lifting my chin with her hands fully tattooed with black. "Gorameer volunteered. She's one of our most dutiful servants to the God's. There isn't a better sacrifice."

My shoulders drop and I relax letting out a breath relieved the harbinger of the Valkerie lights is of good fortune for Leif. I will pray tonight that Gorameer feasts in Odin's or Freyja's halls for her honor. "May she feast in the halls with the bravest of warriors." 

Morta repeats my wish then plucks the elixirs from the cluttered table beside her. "Do not take this all at once. Hallucinations will appear and your judgment will be impaired."

My eyes narrow and I stand taking them into my hands, "Hallucinations?" Memories from last night begin to pour into my mind's eye drowning me in the seas of guilt.

"This potion can take away almost any pain. But it will leave you in a euphoric state if you overindulge. Try not to do anything foolish whilst you feel it's effects. A little goes a long way."

"Já takk (Yes thank you)." I leave the seers hut in a hurry, clutching the satchels tightly and close to my chest as I make my way back through the village. I need to make sure the ring is still under the floorboards.

Reaching my hut, I shut the door and round my bed quickly, dropping to my knees and grabbing my axe. I secure the blade in between the floorboards and shimmy the plank upwards. It pops up and I set it aside, reaching down into the cool dirt feeling around for the ring.

I scoop it up and sit back onto my shins calming my racing heart and shaking my head. When Morta mentioned the hallucinations I couldn't stop my thoughts from poisoning my feelings that Svea had intentionally gave me too much last night to take the ring. Like a child, I'd hoped I could blame my actions on someone else, even if that person is Svea. 

But the proof lies in my hand. I'm a coward. I don't deserve her or Leif. If I can not trust my most treasured friend and I betray my brother what type of honor do I have? None. I need to see Leif and explain what happened last night. He deserves to know. 

I stand dropping the ring back into the hole and return the plank back to its place. I fix my axe to my belt then leave my hut in search of the Dyflin (Dublin) born.

<><><>

Chained to a tall wooden post in the center of the village is Anders, a reminder to the others of what a rebellion would result in. He's damp from the recent rain but not shivering as I approach him. I stop, expecting him to gaze up at me, but he remains stoic. His shaven head shining with the rain.

"Hello, Ratatoskr (Rat)." I kick the sole of his boot gently to make myself known. Anders meets my eyes but remains silent. "I brought you something, for the pain." I crouch and open the pouch of medicine and hold it out to him.

"You can shove that medicine up your arse." 

A laugh escapes my lips as I rest my elbows on my thighs. "Awe. You and I are to be the best of friends now." The man lifts a brow in a scowl. I appreciate his stubborn disposition whilst being bound to this pike.

 "Oh spare me the shite. You kept me alive for the sole purpose of finding out who in this bloody village wants you dead."

"Of course. I can guarantee it isn't to learn about your Christian God." I've learned many of the outsiders believe in a single God and I've also learned they can be quite defensive about him.

"Do you jest, Hravn (raven) born?"

I smile wider and hold out the potion to the one-armed man. His storming eyes glare daggers at me and what I'm offering but after a moment they soften. He takes the satchel with his monicled hand and lifts it to his lips.

"I'll talk to the Jarl about your current,"  I stand and cock my head to the side studying the post, "lavish quarters."

He sips from the satchel again and nods, the protruding vein seen in his forehead disappearing with the following sip. "Do not drink too much." I warn him and snatch the potion back, "I'll be back later with some food."

"Thank you ... Tove."

I nod once thinking of his friend who I killed two moons prior, "You're welcome. I am sorry your friend chose to cross blades with me-."

"Henrys was not my friend." Anders corrects and settles heavily against the post. The pain once etched into his face softening into his features.  "We share the same mother country. That is all."

"Dyflin (Dublin)?"

"Aye."

I offer the satchel back to him and monitor the third sip he takes. "Do you have family there still?"

"No." He deadpans and hands the medicine pack over. I take it and tie it off to my belt to join my own.

Anders and I glance up as a villager snickers as he walks by, glaring at the pair of us. I look around to the others watching us from the corners of their eyes with skepticism. "You should go find your Jarl. You won't be getting any secrets from me nailed to this post."

"It's secrets you have then?" I stand resting my hand on the hilt of my axe.

Anders wets his cracked lips, "secrets will do well to keep me alive."

"Do not forget you are alive because of me, Anders. Say you keep those secrets too close to your chest and I'm killed off. No one will be around to keep the Jarl from making you the undead."

Anders cradles has arm across his chest and rests his head against the pole giving me a nod of understanding.

<><><>

Chants and cheers work as a beacon. I follow the sounds into the forest until I reach the training crowds. Beneath the cover of pines Ormensthorpe's training grounds bustles with fighting life. The smell of sweat, leather, and blood lingers in the air a comforting scent that brings a slight smile to my lips. 

Following the narrow trail and avoiding the stumps of the trees removed to create the space I cheer as I pass the archers hitting their targets many yards away. With another smile, I decline an archer who requests I free a few arrows but as I pass them I hear disapproving whispers of the last arrow I shot despite their new Jarl's orders.

A large crowd has formed a circle so I follow the cheers and reach the circle, then push myself through the tight-knitted crowd ignoring the muttered insults under several Vikings' breath.

I cross my arms firmly over my chest watching my brother training with several others in the fighting pit.  I haven't witnessed Leif's skills in two winters and I'm stunned at how much he's improved. His movements while working with the training sword are nimble, while each blow is strong.

Each strike earns a cheer from the crowd and I can't help myself from joining in as our Jarl takes on multiple assailants. He overpowers two of the three Vikings and they tap out nearly falling to their knees at a stump featuring water and ale. Meanwhile, Leif wipes the sweat from his brow and gives the third man a pleased nod but then speaks to the crowd, "Is there anyone else? Free punches to the new Jarl!" He taunts and the crowd laughs.

His ocean blue eyes search the crowd. The moment they lock onto mine a shiver descends my spine and my stomach turns with anxiety. Leif's brow furrows and his lips curl into a grimace, "Anyone else!?" He bellows severing our tethered gaze then rips his belt from his waist and tosses it to rest on a stump. "Give me a warrior!" Leif removes his sweat-damp tunic and throws it to join his belt and paces impatiently nostrils flared waiting for another to join the training pit.

A shoulder nudges my back causing me to wince in pain, so I throw a glare over my shoulder but don't find anyone meeting my eyes. I am sure more than one person would love to see me get my arse beaten inside the training circle. And given my current state and Leif's improved skills it would be a swift beating. 

Gorm, a bear of a man, steps into the ring, and Leif grins.

They circle each other and my eyes drop to the new tattoos swirling Leif's body. Along with his beard and tattoos, his body has changed. Leif has always been thin, never the tallest or strongest boy, but now his muscles are lean and cut. A well-crafted instrument from the Gods for war and for women.

Following the burning of my cheeks and ears, I focus my attention on Gorm. I know his style he fights like a bear, slow but strong. The cirlce explodes with excitement as the men begin to showcase their skills. Leif handles himself expertly, his dexterity and exertion reflects in the pebbled sweat on top of his skin. I'm entranced watching him, mesmerized with his movements, and unable to watch anyone else.

"Tove." Svea's soft voice cuts through my trance like a hot knife.

"S-Svea," I jump slightly, and realize the circle has broken surrounding the Jarl's wife and myself, "What is it?" I ask clearing my throat and ignore the thumping in my chest. 

"A messenger has been sent from Dáinn (Deer) Clan. From my father." She explains. I glance to the pit and notice Leif has stopped the training and is fixed on Svea and I. "You are the Jarl's right hand, are you not? I am required to deliver the message to you whilst..." She trails off and joins me looking at Leif, "Whilst the Jarl is training."

"Yes." I agree and Leif wipes the sweat with his toned and tattooed forearm and comes to join Svea and I.

"What is it, wife?" His tone deep and clipped. A nervous sweat breaks out behind my neck and I both wish him to look at me and to also disapear. 

"My father, he's sent word about joining us in the fight against the Bjorn (Bear) clan." Svea stands tall and assured, our business from last night hidden well under her confidence. 

"Has he? Let us meet in the longhouse to discuss it in private." Leif says while my eyes struggle to keep from noting the details of his tattoos. But they snap to his left pectoral muscle and something flutters inside as the swirls of black take the shape of a hravn (raven). "Tove." My eyes snap up to meet his heated stare. "Are you well enough to join us?"

"Y-yes of course."

"Good. Meet us there, I wish to speak to my wife about a certain matter." Leif dismisses me and I return a bowed head and take my leave swallowing my heart that's crawled up from my chest and lodged itself in my throat.

He already knows of my and Svea's betrayal. 

Uh oh lol do you think Tove is right? Could Leif already know?

I had fun with this chapter as Tove went around the village and spoke to different characters. I thought it was interesting despite nothing of huge significance happened.

I'd love to hear of what you think about the characters?! Feel free to give me your thoughts and feedback!

CC