FIC: Saga of Bläken the Bloodthirsty (3)
saga of bläken the bloodthirsty
[gossip girl rpf, blake/leighton]
16
BLÄKEN WOKE to a group of women looming over her and the world an odd, shimmering shade of gray.
“You fought bravely,” said one of the women, her armor gleaming bright and blood-spattered. Bläken stared at her for what seemed like considerable time, until her features softened in realization.
“Valkyries.”
“We shall take you to Valhalla, Bläken,” said a second valkyrie, offering a hand to help her up.
Bläken pursed her lips; it had not been her intention to fall in battle so young. Still, it could’ve been the gates of Hel’s realm awaiting her instead of the All-Father’s brave servants.
Bläken sat up and meant to accept the valkyrie’s hand, but it was no longer there waiting.
It happened so quickly that Bläken only saw a blur. Something launched itself at the valkyrie and brutally shoved her away, knocking her down. Startled by the interruption, the remaining valkyries reached for their spears, then stood down once they saw who had disturbed them.
Bläken blinked once. Twice.
“Laetin?”
Laetin seemed not to have heard her, too busy throwing furious glares at whoever dared meet her eyes. The valkyries began to disband, uttering assorted words of displeasure, but the one Laetin had knocked down stood her ground. Bläken could see she was livid.
“Must you always interfere?” she yelled at Laetin.
“Do not dare wrest her from my side.”
“It is a warrior’s time when it is a warrior’s time-”
“Not this one,” Laetin said petulantly. “Have you forgotten who my father is?”
Bläken laughed, then. Laetin squaring off with a valkyrie. What a strange dream she was having. She couldn’t even remain serious as Laetin and the chief valkyrie stared each other down.
Finally, the valkyrie moved, taking a step back. “Fine. Have it your way,” she said, and as Bläken watched the woman stomp past them, she heard her muttering grouchily. “As always.”
Laetin did not seem to hear this, though she remained adamant as ever to stare holes into the back of the valkyrie’s skull. Only when they were finally alone did she allow herself to truly relax, walking back to where Bläken sat and sinking to her knees.
“Bläken?”
“Laetin.” Bläken felt the silliest of smiles flourish over her features, even as her eyelids grew heavier. She reached for Laetin’s hair, the tips of it silken and sliding off her fingers with ease. “Why are you blonde?”
17
BLÄKEN STIRRED, woken by a ticklish trickle of moisture running down her neck. She eased one eye open, then another, staring at the ceiling above for a disconcertingly long moment while scattered thoughts tried to string themselves coherently.
A slight throbbing on the right side of her head made it harder to focus. Bläken probed it lightly with the tip of her fingers, feeling a bump there and her skin oddly wet.
“You’re awake.”
Bläken meant to turn her head toward the sound of the voice speaking, but the bump on her head would not have it, so she winced instead. Chestnut curls came into view shortly thereafter, followed by the soothing sensation of a wet cloth pressing against her cheek.
Bläken smiled almost instantly. “Laetin.”
Laetin offered a weak smile in return, concentrating on dabbing the cloth along Bläken’s face. She seemed almost upset, though Bläken did not know the reason.
She lifted her hand and reached for the locks of brunette hair temptingly dangling above her, watching rich strands of hair escaping through her fingers like water.
“You’re not blonde,” Bläken said, almost like an afterthought.
Laetin sat upright, startled. “Of course not,” she said, eyeing Bläken with something akin to alarm. “That troll must have hit your head harder than I thought.”
“What are you…?” Bläken trailed off the minute her eyes fell on the cloth Laetin still clutched. It was bloodstained. “But-” And then her eyes grew wide, a rush of memories flowing back into place as if Bläken had truly awoken only then. She sat up so quickly that Laetin barely had time to lean back and avoid a collision. “Is he here?!”
“Calm yourself,” said Laetin, putting down the cloth and replacing it with the soothing strokes of her fingers. “That vile man has left. You’re safe.”
Bläken allowed herself a somewhat harsh, but mostly relieved sigh, and in her very next breath asked, "Are you?"
Laetin hadn't yet answered when Bläken found her hands mirroring Erlendr the Lively's often annoying habit of making tactile judgment. They went from Laetin's upper arms to her delicate wrists, then up over her shoulders and finally to her face, as if there were wounds only the very tip of Bläken's fingers could uncover.
Bläken let one palm linger a little longer over Laetin's cheek and breathed her relief once more. Laetin was all right.
"I was here before," Bläken explained, pausing to wet her lips. "The house was empty, I thought..."
"I am here by my lonesome, Bläken," Laetin interrupted softly and the corners of her mouth timidly turned up. "Would you leave your belongings unsupervised, for the delight of the first thief who came by in your absence?"
Bläken furrowed her brow. "Oh."
It did make sense, she thought, but it was much too soon to embrace any sense of security. Bläken lowered her hand and glanced at the wet cloth now abandoned on a basin by Laetin's side, the water tinged with dirt and blood.
“Something has happened,” Bläken began vaguely. “Something you might not forgive.”
At this, Laetin actually laughed. “You speak as if I am one to frequently pass judgment,” she said and placed her hand over Bläken’s knee. “Tell me, what has passed?”
Bläken eyed Laetin’s small hand, resting so confidently over her leg, over pants that had originated so many arguments--singlehandedly insulted their entire heritage, someone had said. A stray and rather unexpected thought occurred to Bläken then, of how she didn’t take after Jón the Sharp-tongued after all. He would’ve known how to retell past events without painting himself as an outlaw in the making.
“Bläken?”
“My husband’s men were on their way over to murder you.” Bläken was surprised by the hoarseness of her own voice, the grimness of her otherwise bright tone. “I have slain them.”
Laetin straightened her shoulders, moving back the slightest. She hadn't anticipated this, Bläken could tell as much - and then again, why would she? But there was something discomforting to her stare, to the calculating way her eyes narrowed, and Bläken feared the words Laetin would say next.
It wasn't until a brief moment later, when Laetin did speak, that Bläken felt her mouth dry and realized her lips had parted while she waited.
"Does your husband know?"
Bläken answered through pained silence, and it was all it took for Laetin to learn the fate of Penn the Gaptoothed.
“And your father?”
Bläken shook her head, both a denial and an effort to push away thoughts of how Erlendr would feel when he did know.
"I see," Laetin then said and pressed her lips tight, averting her eyes. Bläken took little comfort in the fact Laetin hadn't moved her hand away.
“If-” Laetin started, but seemingly abandoned whatever line of thought she’d been pursuing. “Someone has once said old tales are best untold.”
Bläken nearly did a double-take. Laetin was looking at her again, straight in the eye, and there were no veils obscuring what was being asked of her. “You want me to lie?”
“I want you to think,” Laetin corrected. “What you’ve done for me is honorable, Bläken, but you know no law speaker will deem it fair to slay your husband in favor of some woman you bed.”
Bläken frowned. “Don’t speak that way,” she muttered, and once again eyed the tiny hand over her leg, now with disdain. Wrestled foaming oxen and even a wolf with her own bare hands, and for what? To pout like a child, like someone with no ounce of bravery.
Laetin smoothed back a lock of blonde hair gone astray, prompting Bläken to look up. “What your father does not know cannot hurt him,” she insisted, albeit gently, “or you.”
Bläken let out a weary sigh. Righting wrongs by sword didn’t weigh as heavily on her heart as lying to her father; she rarely resorted to untruths for anything more serious than those instances where she’d somehow misplaced her pants while in the company of ale-maids or bed servants. Things he truly did not need to know.
“Even if I do not tell, the prophetess ran and Björn…” Bläken considered it for another moment, then shook her head. “They must already be on their way to alert my father of what I’ve done.”
“The prophetess will not speak,” said a third voice, behind them.
Bläken’s heart leapt to her throat and her hand went to her belt, seeking the hilt of her sword, only to rediscover that Laetin had removed it earlier. It was a wise choice, as it gave time for the foreign twist on familiar Norse to register and soothe Bläken’s nerves.
She turned brusquely and spied Edward looming dutifully by the door, a half-smirk on his mouth.
“For I have struck her between the shoulder blades,” he clarified, like his presence there was only natural. “I guess her predictions weren’t as full of it as I presumed.”
“How did you even get here?”
“Well, this insubordinate thrall of yours snuck out when you wouldn’t come back and others were too drunk to notice.” Edward shrugged. “I could only think of one place you could have run off to. Fortunately, I encountered the spaewife along the way.”
“But what about-”
“Bläken.” Laetin squeezed Bläken's knee, successfully garnering her attention. “You speak too much,” she said, echoing Bläken’s own words from what felt like so long ago, and smiled. “Let me finish washing that dirt, so you may rest.”
“Rest?” Edward pushed off the wall and approached them. “We need to leave. There could still be men on their way here.”
Laetin retrieved the wet cloth like his words had gone completely unnoticed, but her stern look said otherwise. “You will stay here.”
“We are three, they are many,” Edward insisted and Bläken felt him even nearer. “This house will burn to the ground before we are done bickering about your nonexistent defenses.”
Laetin dropped the cloth back in the basin, mindless of the water that splashed onto her hand and arms. “This house is not everyone’s to find.”
“You-”
“Please.” Bläken raised her hands and all talk mercifully ceased. “Do not fight,” she pleaded tiredly. “Not now.”
“I’m sorry,” Laetin told her in the gentlest of voices, which seemed to vanish the minute she addressed Edward once again. “She doesn’t need further distress, don’t you see?”
Edward fixed Laetin with the strangest gaze, Bläken would’ve thought he was about to make some great accusation. He clenched his jaw, staring Laetin down not unlike the spaewife had once been prone to do, then glanced at Bläken.
She must’ve looked pathetic, for Edward suddenly nodded. “Very well,” he said and took a step back. “I'll be outside.”
“At last,” Laetin muttered the moment he was out of the door. She reached for the cloth a third time and took one of Bläken’s hands in her own, inspecting it meticulously.
“It will be fine,” she said and brought the wet cloth over Bläken’s knuckles, scrubbing lightly. Bläken watched Laetin work the cloth higher up her arm, skimming her fingers over Bläken’s skin like she’d done so many times in the intimacy of this cabin. “You know I speak the truth.”
Bläken suddenly flinched. Laetin pulled her hand back instantly, revealing skin bruised a sickly shade of yellow. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I did not see it.”
“It’s nothing,” Bläken muttered and lowered her eyes to the bruise on her forearm. It was far from nothing, in fact, and Bläken couldn’t help the question now lodged in her throat. “If I ask you something, will you answer me as truthfully?”
Laetin offered but a puzzled look in response.
“Have you laid a spell on me?”
The change was subtle, Bläken thought. Something in the way Laetin blinked and her shoulders tensed, the question catching her off-guard. “A spell?”
“When I was in battle, I was struck.” Bläken felt ridiculous already, though the full account of that odd fight hadn't even left her lips. “But the sword did not bite."
If she’d been careful to conceal her tension, Laetin had no qualms about showing her relief. She breathed a laughing-like sound, saying, "What have I told you before?" Her fingers were still damp as they stroked Bläken’s cheek, the swell of her bottom lip. "Only I may touch this skin."
And more than anything, Bläken wished she could let her. Instead, she took Laetin’s hand away from her face and held it tight. “So you have laid a spell on me,” she asked, tentatively.
All trace of laughter fled Laetin’s countenance again. Bläken longed for confirmation as much as she feared it, but there was no answer. Laetin remained adamantly silent, her eyes tellingly turned aside.
“I am not mad. Magic is woman's to wield,” Bläken amended, trying to be encouraging. “But it is harmful if woven in lies.”
Laetin bowed her head, dark curls tumbling forward. “I only wanted you safe,” she muttered, and behind her words Bläken felt the bone-chilling ghost of Penn’s. “No spell has ever forced you to stay. It is why I asked you to remember you took the first step.”
“Then you knew it would come to this all along.”
“It’s complicated, Bläken.”
“It does not have to be.”
“It doesn’t,” Laetin agreed. “I wish it weren’t, but- if you love me, and if it’s not foolhardy of me to think so, then you will trust me for now.” She fell quiet, then, for the briefest moment, and her eyebrows rose in a hopeful manner. “Do you?”
Bläken treated her to a heavy silence that wasn’t spiteful or retaliatory. She could hear the question Laetin was really asking, but she could read the trouble all over her face just as well. That Laetin would stubbornly not tell her was not only disappointing, but terribly unsettling.
“I trust you more than you trust me,” was all Bläken said. It was not the answer Laetin expected, Bläken knew, and it seemed to fill her with such anguish Bläken quickly scrambled to find a lighter subject. “Where will Edward sleep, anyway?”
“On the floor,” Laetin answered distractedly. She was staring elsewhere, thoughts evidently dispersed, and then seemed to catch herself. “I’ll lay extra pelts for him by the fire, of course.”
Bläken allowed a small smile to come through, her tone a mix of caution and playfulness. “He is very loyal to me, do not let him freeze.”
Laetin rolled her eyes. “If you insist,” she said and withdrew her hand from Bläken’s grasp.
The gesture was maybe too brusque, a little punishing. Bläken sat as a chastised child might--granted, a very belligerent child--and knew Laetin was not unaware. Silent as she'd become, her fidgeting hands were like chatterboxes.
"We've had quite the day," said Laetin, finally--suddenly, it was almost a burst of words.
The awkward outcome of the conversation still hung between them, thick and stale. "We did," Bläken said, lacking better words. She was a warrior, the daughter of a powerful ruler; helplessness was no feeling she was too acquainted with.
Laetin glanced at the basin, though she couldn't seem to move. "Are you hurt elsewhere?"
It took Bläken a moment to shake her head, but still Laetin didn't rise. They locked eyes, and Bläken saw that same flash of anguish, as if her every gesture were another question Laetin did not wish to answer.
Their parting kiss was brief, a chaste touch of lips and then another when Laetin stretched just enough to kiss Bläken's forehead. It was Bläken's palm on the nape of her neck that made Laetin linger, pressing her own forehead against Bläken's temple.
Laetin closed her eyes and breathed, and that alone seemed to take enormous effort.
There was no real stillness around them, the fire still crackled and sputtered; outside, the wind grew stronger. But it was a moment Bläken knew to cherish--they were still alive, after all. She'd fought and won--and a moment that quickly fell apart when moisture dripped on her cheek.
Laetin pulled back so abruptly Bläken actually gasped. "Edward. He'll freeze outside,” she said hurriedly, collecting the basin and rising to her feet in seemingly one motion. "I must go."
"Laetin-"
She didn't look back, though Bläken saw her bring a hand to her face. “Do rest, you have fought bravely today.”
Bläken did not even attempt to stand, to seek whatever had made Laetin pull away as if frightened. Chasing a wild thing only ought to make it run faster, her father had taught her. It was with more than a mere pang of guilt that such thought came to mind, and it was with a strong sense of defeat that Bläken finally lay down, closing her eyes and listening for Laetin's footsteps.
No sooner had she rested her palm on soft silvery fur and the steps slowed, hesitating by the door. Something in Bläken's chest tightened, one last ounce of hope Laetin would turn back and tell her everything, say all would be alright and Bläken would promptly believe her.
The door closed.
Bläken's eyes opened again, taking in the flickering shadows the fire cast on the wall. There was no point in keeping up the farce; she knew she would not rest. Not while doubts and the spaewife’s words seeped into her thoughts like poison.
18
EDWARD THE THRALL sat by the entrance of the house, whittling a small wooden branch with his knife. Dark clouds were already beginning to scatter, giving way to a clearer sky. The sun would be rising soon, he reckoned.
The door swung open behind him and footsteps much too light to be Bläken’s walked outside.
“I can only offer you the floor.”
Edward shrugged, slicing off a good chunk of wood. “I’ve slept through far greater woes.”
“I suppose you have,” Laetin said. “There are extra pelts on the chest if you feel too cold.”
Edward nodded, acknowledging it, but the smug look on his face did not subside. He supposed it would be easy to remain silent--he could already hear Laetin walk away from him--but, for a thrall, his mouth often got the best of him.
“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”
Laetin stopped. “Were you eavesdropping?”
Edward threw the wooden branch away and stood up, turning to face her. “Yes,” he said, “though I did not have to. Isn’t it interesting how Bläken never makes much of you living here by yourself, with no visible means to survive?”
There was challenge in his eyes now, which Laetin boldly met as she took a step closer and raised her chin defiantly. It was an odd contrast to her red-rimmed eyes, like maybe she had been repressing tears, but subtracted none from her bold demeanor.
“Perhaps you ought to watch your tongue, thrall.”
“I should tell you the same, wench,” Edward replied, amusedly. “Bläken has allowed me excesses no slave of war has known, let alone some outlander. You would understand why it would be a problem for me if your intentions were less than noble.”
Edward held up his knife and gave his threat meaning. He wasn’t allowed to carry a proper sword, but to an experienced fighter, any sharp blade would do.
Laetin’s gaze fell on the knife with disdain and a noticeable absence of worry.
“You know of my intentions, now?” she asked mockingly. “I thought foretelling was women’s magic.”
“Funny you should say that,” Edward replied. “That prophetess had some curious last words when I asked her about you.”
Laetin’s eyes widened and he found it amusing that her fear of the truth was greater than that of a sharp end of a blade. At her lack of response, he went on, “Bound by a promise to her godly blood kin, is it?”
She did not answer right away. He didn’t expect her to, but it also didn’t cross his mind that she would deflate before his very eyes.
Her tone was noticeably less combative when she finally spoke. “You trusted me enough to believe my warning and come back here, can’t you let this pass?”
“I’m afraid not,” Edward said, clicking his tongue. It wasn’t pettiness driving his words--though, truthfully, it was about time he got his revenge on the blasted woman--he could sense she wanted to share. “The truth will set you free, ever heard of it?”
“Not in this case,” said Laetin, for once not looking spiteful. In fact, she seemed truly miserable as she looked back and made sure the door was closed. “It is a long story,” she warned, walking off and motioning for him to follow. “And you will like me even less once I tell you.”
Edward smiled. “I doubt it is possible.”
19
AND THIS SHE TOLD, “Dwelling in my father’s hall was I when Loki came in…”
“They say: wide and gold bright is Valhalla. And indeed, four times have I wandered past this hall, five hundred and forty doors have I seen,” said Loki. “They say: of women most lustful in love is Laetin. And indeed, four times have I wandered past this hall, four different lovers have I seen in your arms.”
Laetin leaned into the embrace of her bed servants. “Spare your insults, Loki,” said she, unperturbed. “It is well known I wish to keep my love life uncomplicated. No husband shall I wed to bind my spirit.”
“I come not to stir up trouble, young Laetin.”
“You have trouble in your heart, you’ve always had.”
Loki stood proud, tall as the son of giants he was, and still did not relent. “Hear me, Laetin,” he said, “for your father and me blood-bound are, and you have always been tolerant and kind. I have no reason to wish you ill.”
“You speak as if you ever have reason to wish anyone ill,” said Laetin and smiled knowingly. “But do go on.”
Loki smiled himself. “I have wondered, you see, how much there is to your allure.”
“You will keep wondering.”
“You misunderstand. As I am often threatened and chased off your halls, I could not help but wonder. Would Thor be as brazen, were it not for his hammer? Would Freyr sail as fast, were it not for his ship? Gifts I have brought them, no less,” said Loki, as righteously as if they were holding a Thing. “And what would be of Laetin, I wondered, if she too shed what she is known for?”
Laetin’s sigh was drawn out, notably bored. “I thought you said you had no reason to wish me ill.”
“And indeed I don’t,” Loki was quick to reply. “You may recall I asked nothing in return for the fine wolf skin I have bestowed upon you.”
“You tire me, Loki.”
“Then allow me to win your interest," he said and slithered closer to her bed, the look on his face resembling that of women who gossiped too often. "I have no reason to wish you ill, but that is not true for others. You, they say, are a sorceress and an adulteress, thus no man shall ever linger in your bed."
Laetin’s brow creased and she sat up, shooing her servants. “You may inform them this bed is mine to linger in and no man's," she said, her tone biting.
Loki eyed the two figures slinking away from her bed as if he had not heard her. “Valkyries are to roam battlefields and bring the dead to your father, are they not?”
“Some may have been led astray," said Laetin. "Make your point."
“Well, you see. I am a curious one, and I am not fond of the hypocrites in our midst. This dare, think I, will benefit both of us,” said Loki. “Put on your wolf face and roam all of Midgardr. Shall you find a worthy suitor, I challenge you to lure them to your side as your beloved."
"That is all?" Laetin asked, abound with skepticism. "This bet might as well be over."
"Only if you did not hear me well," Loki said. "You may not win them with spells and charms, nor with the allure of your godly favor. No tampering with their freewill whatsoever."
“It is not my fault men bend so easily, you know that.”
“Which is why I propose you conceal your identity and use not your love-charms,” said Loki. “A mission few would accept, think I.”
Laetin was silent. “No spells of love...” she began, as if thinking to herself. “What of other magic?”
“Make every other man into one of Freyr’s boars, if it pleases you." Loki shrugged. "I care only whether it is love that brings them to your side, devoted love which they shall not hesitate to profess."
"So far, I see no reason to bother."
Loki’s eyes glinted, such was his mischief. "But if you win, you will also have tamed Loki. Done the undoable,” he said. “I promise I shall swear submission to you.”
“And what, if I lose I shall swear submission to you? What kind of fool do you take me for, Loki?”
“No. If you lose, I shall slay your chosen suitor and make them my servant.”
Laetin lifted her eyebrows, and what was once skepticism was now a thoroughly unimpressed expression. “What makes you think I would care?”
“A wild guess.”
“I will still not do it.”
Loki pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You fear.”
Laetin stood up, enraged by the offense. “I do not.”
“Then prove me wrong!”
“What transpires here?” It was a third voice, a booming sound bouncing off vastly decorated walls, rattling the gilded ornaments leading up to Laetin's quarters. Odin came in, sparing inquisitive glares to both occupants of that hall.
“Loki thinks I cannot get anyone to profess their love to me without using magic.”
“It is only a dare,” Loki said, on his behalf, then turned to Laetin once again. “If you fail, harm will simply fall on your beloved mortal’s shoulders.”
“If you fail, I shall slay them myself,” Odin sentenced. “Tell not of your godly kin, Laetin.”
Laetin brought a hand to her chest, outrage marring her young features. “Father, you turn against me.”
“I do no such thing, Laetin. Men love their gods too easily, and your endeavors are already...adventurous,” said Odin, earning himself a sharp look he promptly mirrored. “I do not wish you to get hurt in Loki's games.”
Loki bowed, but Odin did not fall for the enticement. Laetin eyed both men, one smiling in dare, the other frowning in reprimand, and straightened out her back. Chin raised high, she was nothing if not defiant.
“It is a game indeed,” she said, “and I shall come out victorious.”
She stomped past both men and out of the hall, pride and determination walking in step.
20
“YOU ARE DESPICABLE,” said Edward the Thrall, laughing loud enough to disturb the few birds daring sing in that cold morning. “And you are also wrong,” he added, pointing his finger. “I find you amusing, now.”
Laetin eyed him suspiciously. “I take it by that you mean you find my misfortune amusing.”
Edward grinned. “Lads ought to find a word for that.”
“I'm sure they will,” Laetin said coolly and got up, gathering her skirts in a hefty bundle to avoid the sand. “Come. We must head back.”
Edward stood up as well and glanced up at the sky; the clouds he'd once seen appeared to have been chased off by the wind blowing all through the night. "It is a most pleasant place," he said, mostly to himself.
They had walked down to the shore, to the tune of Laetin's increasingly fantastic tales, and though they had not gotten close enough to the sea, Edward could still see it circling the land. Down on his luck as he often was, the view made for a nice change of pace.
"You should bring her here," Edward then said, but as he turned and waited for Laetin's reply, he saw her already many steps ahead, dodging the occasional pebbles littering the path back to greener land. "Why, abandon me on unknown grounds, will you?"
Laetin didn't turn around, but did slow her steps. Edward wasn't sure if he was pleased, however, once the next words out of her mouth rose above singing birds and crashing waves. "Pests always find their way back!"
Edward huffed and averted his eyes from the small rocks on the ground, should the desire to bash Laetin's skull grow too tempting.
"You would know," Edward muttered as he caught up with her.
"I would," Laetin agreed, to his surprise. "My brother is the fairest-spoken and most gracious. Not too fond of the impure, though," she said and grinned. "I cannot fathom why Loki and I aren't welcome in his hall."
"I see."
They reached grassier, firm land, and Laetin let her dress flow all the way down once more. “We are not much different, Loki and I,” she said, like an afterthought. “But my fondness for mischief has never harmed others.”
“Far from me to comfort a dastardly creature such as yourself,” said Edward in a humorously exaggerated tone, “but Bläken is clearly smitten.”
“I know,” Laetin said, and Edward didn’t understand how she managed to voice it like a lament. “The spell wouldn’t have protected her, otherwise.”
“But she will not say it,” Laetin went on. “And I wouldn't have cared, it is not my demand. Yet she refuses and it’s-” she trailed off, clearly exasperated. When she managed to drag her eyes back up, Edward had raised a questioning eyebrow. “It’s off-putting.”
“So you do care if she says it.”
Laetin gave him a look halfway to a glare, an answer halfway to a denial. “Given the circumstances,” she mumbled begrudgingly.
Edward remained unconvinced. It seemed foolish to deny how evidently she did care and did not know how to handle it, but after a sleepless night of continuous bickering, he settled for simply nodding.
He moved both arms behind his back and gazed thoughtfully at the woods as they walked. An unsuspecting onlooker would have thought thralldom was an illusion and he didn’t have a care in this world.
“What will you do if the situation gets dire?”
“Bargain,” Laetin answered simply. “Bläken has done everything for me, the least I can do is save her from serving Loki forever or facing my father's wrath. I’d rather just spread my legs.”
Edward inadvertently cringed. “Women like yourself are not supposed to have such mouth of filth.”
“Women like myself aren’t supposed to lay their thighs over other women,” Laetin retorted smartly. “And if my mouth were such trouble, I wouldn’t have to worm my way out of so many marriage arrangements.”
Edward idly thought of a filthy comment to go with her own remark, but before he could speak Laetin had latched herself on to his arm. His bemusement showed in his eyes, but she remained staring ahead, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.
“I do fear my father would rather let Fenrir nibble on his fingers than give my hand in marriage to Loki.”
“Then let’s not let it come to that.”
“You brought it up, thrall,” Laetin pointed out and released his arm, then came to a halt by a tall tree. Edward thought he recognized it, so they were probably near cottage grounds.
“I must ask for a favor,” Laetin then said, regaining his attention.
“Oh, so we did not chit-chat out of friendship.”
Laetin gave him a sly smile in response. “If you wish to fool yourself, pretend we did,” she said. “I need you to be my eyes and ears around Bläken. Loki has many faces and sways matters to his interest like no other.”
Edward laughed, then; there was no way he wouldn’t. He laughed loudly and joyfully, until there began to bloom a glare icier than the frozen seas on Laetin’s face. “Don’t look at me that way. What do you suppose a lowly thrall can do against a god like Loki?”
“Oh, I trust you to annoy a tree out of its ground,” Laetin told him flatly. “Speaking of,” she then said and ran a finger along the rough trunk of the tree beside her. “If ever a word of what we’ve said reaches Bläken’s ears, do remember I am my father’s daughter.”
Edward frowned, not exactly asking clarification for the threat, but Laetin offered it anyway. She pointed upwards at the thickest branch of the tree and then closed her fist near her neck, jerking it in a hanging-like motion.
“Charming,” Edward said and ignored her pleased smile. He got to walking again, but soon slowed down when they both saw the river from afar, spying the silhouettes of a horse and a tall woman.
Laetin came to a slow stop, while Edward merely rearranged his route to go around the back of the house.
“Well, I shall rest my eyes somewhere quiet and consider your request,” he teased and expected Laetin to snipe and mock in return. Instead, she took off towards Bläken without so much as a word of farewell.
Edward rolled his eyes. He could see how much she did not care, alright.
part four
[gossip girl rpf, blake/leighton]
16
BLÄKEN WOKE to a group of women looming over her and the world an odd, shimmering shade of gray.
“You fought bravely,” said one of the women, her armor gleaming bright and blood-spattered. Bläken stared at her for what seemed like considerable time, until her features softened in realization.
“Valkyries.”
“We shall take you to Valhalla, Bläken,” said a second valkyrie, offering a hand to help her up.
Bläken pursed her lips; it had not been her intention to fall in battle so young. Still, it could’ve been the gates of Hel’s realm awaiting her instead of the All-Father’s brave servants.
Bläken sat up and meant to accept the valkyrie’s hand, but it was no longer there waiting.
It happened so quickly that Bläken only saw a blur. Something launched itself at the valkyrie and brutally shoved her away, knocking her down. Startled by the interruption, the remaining valkyries reached for their spears, then stood down once they saw who had disturbed them.
Bläken blinked once. Twice.
“Laetin?”
Laetin seemed not to have heard her, too busy throwing furious glares at whoever dared meet her eyes. The valkyries began to disband, uttering assorted words of displeasure, but the one Laetin had knocked down stood her ground. Bläken could see she was livid.
“Must you always interfere?” she yelled at Laetin.
“Do not dare wrest her from my side.”
“It is a warrior’s time when it is a warrior’s time-”
“Not this one,” Laetin said petulantly. “Have you forgotten who my father is?”
Bläken laughed, then. Laetin squaring off with a valkyrie. What a strange dream she was having. She couldn’t even remain serious as Laetin and the chief valkyrie stared each other down.
Finally, the valkyrie moved, taking a step back. “Fine. Have it your way,” she said, and as Bläken watched the woman stomp past them, she heard her muttering grouchily. “As always.”
Laetin did not seem to hear this, though she remained adamant as ever to stare holes into the back of the valkyrie’s skull. Only when they were finally alone did she allow herself to truly relax, walking back to where Bläken sat and sinking to her knees.
“Bläken?”
“Laetin.” Bläken felt the silliest of smiles flourish over her features, even as her eyelids grew heavier. She reached for Laetin’s hair, the tips of it silken and sliding off her fingers with ease. “Why are you blonde?”
17
BLÄKEN STIRRED, woken by a ticklish trickle of moisture running down her neck. She eased one eye open, then another, staring at the ceiling above for a disconcertingly long moment while scattered thoughts tried to string themselves coherently.
A slight throbbing on the right side of her head made it harder to focus. Bläken probed it lightly with the tip of her fingers, feeling a bump there and her skin oddly wet.
“You’re awake.”
Bläken meant to turn her head toward the sound of the voice speaking, but the bump on her head would not have it, so she winced instead. Chestnut curls came into view shortly thereafter, followed by the soothing sensation of a wet cloth pressing against her cheek.
Bläken smiled almost instantly. “Laetin.”
Laetin offered a weak smile in return, concentrating on dabbing the cloth along Bläken’s face. She seemed almost upset, though Bläken did not know the reason.
She lifted her hand and reached for the locks of brunette hair temptingly dangling above her, watching rich strands of hair escaping through her fingers like water.
“You’re not blonde,” Bläken said, almost like an afterthought.
Laetin sat upright, startled. “Of course not,” she said, eyeing Bläken with something akin to alarm. “That troll must have hit your head harder than I thought.”
“What are you…?” Bläken trailed off the minute her eyes fell on the cloth Laetin still clutched. It was bloodstained. “But-” And then her eyes grew wide, a rush of memories flowing back into place as if Bläken had truly awoken only then. She sat up so quickly that Laetin barely had time to lean back and avoid a collision. “Is he here?!”
“Calm yourself,” said Laetin, putting down the cloth and replacing it with the soothing strokes of her fingers. “That vile man has left. You’re safe.”
Bläken allowed herself a somewhat harsh, but mostly relieved sigh, and in her very next breath asked, "Are you?"
Laetin hadn't yet answered when Bläken found her hands mirroring Erlendr the Lively's often annoying habit of making tactile judgment. They went from Laetin's upper arms to her delicate wrists, then up over her shoulders and finally to her face, as if there were wounds only the very tip of Bläken's fingers could uncover.
Bläken let one palm linger a little longer over Laetin's cheek and breathed her relief once more. Laetin was all right.
"I was here before," Bläken explained, pausing to wet her lips. "The house was empty, I thought..."
"I am here by my lonesome, Bläken," Laetin interrupted softly and the corners of her mouth timidly turned up. "Would you leave your belongings unsupervised, for the delight of the first thief who came by in your absence?"
Bläken furrowed her brow. "Oh."
It did make sense, she thought, but it was much too soon to embrace any sense of security. Bläken lowered her hand and glanced at the wet cloth now abandoned on a basin by Laetin's side, the water tinged with dirt and blood.
“Something has happened,” Bläken began vaguely. “Something you might not forgive.”
At this, Laetin actually laughed. “You speak as if I am one to frequently pass judgment,” she said and placed her hand over Bläken’s knee. “Tell me, what has passed?”
Bläken eyed Laetin’s small hand, resting so confidently over her leg, over pants that had originated so many arguments--singlehandedly insulted their entire heritage, someone had said. A stray and rather unexpected thought occurred to Bläken then, of how she didn’t take after Jón the Sharp-tongued after all. He would’ve known how to retell past events without painting himself as an outlaw in the making.
“Bläken?”
“My husband’s men were on their way over to murder you.” Bläken was surprised by the hoarseness of her own voice, the grimness of her otherwise bright tone. “I have slain them.”
Laetin straightened her shoulders, moving back the slightest. She hadn't anticipated this, Bläken could tell as much - and then again, why would she? But there was something discomforting to her stare, to the calculating way her eyes narrowed, and Bläken feared the words Laetin would say next.
It wasn't until a brief moment later, when Laetin did speak, that Bläken felt her mouth dry and realized her lips had parted while she waited.
"Does your husband know?"
Bläken answered through pained silence, and it was all it took for Laetin to learn the fate of Penn the Gaptoothed.
“And your father?”
Bläken shook her head, both a denial and an effort to push away thoughts of how Erlendr would feel when he did know.
"I see," Laetin then said and pressed her lips tight, averting her eyes. Bläken took little comfort in the fact Laetin hadn't moved her hand away.
“If-” Laetin started, but seemingly abandoned whatever line of thought she’d been pursuing. “Someone has once said old tales are best untold.”
Bläken nearly did a double-take. Laetin was looking at her again, straight in the eye, and there were no veils obscuring what was being asked of her. “You want me to lie?”
“I want you to think,” Laetin corrected. “What you’ve done for me is honorable, Bläken, but you know no law speaker will deem it fair to slay your husband in favor of some woman you bed.”
Bläken frowned. “Don’t speak that way,” she muttered, and once again eyed the tiny hand over her leg, now with disdain. Wrestled foaming oxen and even a wolf with her own bare hands, and for what? To pout like a child, like someone with no ounce of bravery.
Laetin smoothed back a lock of blonde hair gone astray, prompting Bläken to look up. “What your father does not know cannot hurt him,” she insisted, albeit gently, “or you.”
Bläken let out a weary sigh. Righting wrongs by sword didn’t weigh as heavily on her heart as lying to her father; she rarely resorted to untruths for anything more serious than those instances where she’d somehow misplaced her pants while in the company of ale-maids or bed servants. Things he truly did not need to know.
“Even if I do not tell, the prophetess ran and Björn…” Bläken considered it for another moment, then shook her head. “They must already be on their way to alert my father of what I’ve done.”
“The prophetess will not speak,” said a third voice, behind them.
Bläken’s heart leapt to her throat and her hand went to her belt, seeking the hilt of her sword, only to rediscover that Laetin had removed it earlier. It was a wise choice, as it gave time for the foreign twist on familiar Norse to register and soothe Bläken’s nerves.
She turned brusquely and spied Edward looming dutifully by the door, a half-smirk on his mouth.
“For I have struck her between the shoulder blades,” he clarified, like his presence there was only natural. “I guess her predictions weren’t as full of it as I presumed.”
“How did you even get here?”
“Well, this insubordinate thrall of yours snuck out when you wouldn’t come back and others were too drunk to notice.” Edward shrugged. “I could only think of one place you could have run off to. Fortunately, I encountered the spaewife along the way.”
“But what about-”
“Bläken.” Laetin squeezed Bläken's knee, successfully garnering her attention. “You speak too much,” she said, echoing Bläken’s own words from what felt like so long ago, and smiled. “Let me finish washing that dirt, so you may rest.”
“Rest?” Edward pushed off the wall and approached them. “We need to leave. There could still be men on their way here.”
Laetin retrieved the wet cloth like his words had gone completely unnoticed, but her stern look said otherwise. “You will stay here.”
“We are three, they are many,” Edward insisted and Bläken felt him even nearer. “This house will burn to the ground before we are done bickering about your nonexistent defenses.”
Laetin dropped the cloth back in the basin, mindless of the water that splashed onto her hand and arms. “This house is not everyone’s to find.”
“You-”
“Please.” Bläken raised her hands and all talk mercifully ceased. “Do not fight,” she pleaded tiredly. “Not now.”
“I’m sorry,” Laetin told her in the gentlest of voices, which seemed to vanish the minute she addressed Edward once again. “She doesn’t need further distress, don’t you see?”
Edward fixed Laetin with the strangest gaze, Bläken would’ve thought he was about to make some great accusation. He clenched his jaw, staring Laetin down not unlike the spaewife had once been prone to do, then glanced at Bläken.
She must’ve looked pathetic, for Edward suddenly nodded. “Very well,” he said and took a step back. “I'll be outside.”
“At last,” Laetin muttered the moment he was out of the door. She reached for the cloth a third time and took one of Bläken’s hands in her own, inspecting it meticulously.
“It will be fine,” she said and brought the wet cloth over Bläken’s knuckles, scrubbing lightly. Bläken watched Laetin work the cloth higher up her arm, skimming her fingers over Bläken’s skin like she’d done so many times in the intimacy of this cabin. “You know I speak the truth.”
Bläken suddenly flinched. Laetin pulled her hand back instantly, revealing skin bruised a sickly shade of yellow. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I did not see it.”
“It’s nothing,” Bläken muttered and lowered her eyes to the bruise on her forearm. It was far from nothing, in fact, and Bläken couldn’t help the question now lodged in her throat. “If I ask you something, will you answer me as truthfully?”
Laetin offered but a puzzled look in response.
“Have you laid a spell on me?”
The change was subtle, Bläken thought. Something in the way Laetin blinked and her shoulders tensed, the question catching her off-guard. “A spell?”
“When I was in battle, I was struck.” Bläken felt ridiculous already, though the full account of that odd fight hadn't even left her lips. “But the sword did not bite."
If she’d been careful to conceal her tension, Laetin had no qualms about showing her relief. She breathed a laughing-like sound, saying, "What have I told you before?" Her fingers were still damp as they stroked Bläken’s cheek, the swell of her bottom lip. "Only I may touch this skin."
And more than anything, Bläken wished she could let her. Instead, she took Laetin’s hand away from her face and held it tight. “So you have laid a spell on me,” she asked, tentatively.
All trace of laughter fled Laetin’s countenance again. Bläken longed for confirmation as much as she feared it, but there was no answer. Laetin remained adamantly silent, her eyes tellingly turned aside.
“I am not mad. Magic is woman's to wield,” Bläken amended, trying to be encouraging. “But it is harmful if woven in lies.”
Laetin bowed her head, dark curls tumbling forward. “I only wanted you safe,” she muttered, and behind her words Bläken felt the bone-chilling ghost of Penn’s. “No spell has ever forced you to stay. It is why I asked you to remember you took the first step.”
“Then you knew it would come to this all along.”
“It’s complicated, Bläken.”
“It does not have to be.”
“It doesn’t,” Laetin agreed. “I wish it weren’t, but- if you love me, and if it’s not foolhardy of me to think so, then you will trust me for now.” She fell quiet, then, for the briefest moment, and her eyebrows rose in a hopeful manner. “Do you?”
Bläken treated her to a heavy silence that wasn’t spiteful or retaliatory. She could hear the question Laetin was really asking, but she could read the trouble all over her face just as well. That Laetin would stubbornly not tell her was not only disappointing, but terribly unsettling.
“I trust you more than you trust me,” was all Bläken said. It was not the answer Laetin expected, Bläken knew, and it seemed to fill her with such anguish Bläken quickly scrambled to find a lighter subject. “Where will Edward sleep, anyway?”
“On the floor,” Laetin answered distractedly. She was staring elsewhere, thoughts evidently dispersed, and then seemed to catch herself. “I’ll lay extra pelts for him by the fire, of course.”
Bläken allowed a small smile to come through, her tone a mix of caution and playfulness. “He is very loyal to me, do not let him freeze.”
Laetin rolled her eyes. “If you insist,” she said and withdrew her hand from Bläken’s grasp.
The gesture was maybe too brusque, a little punishing. Bläken sat as a chastised child might--granted, a very belligerent child--and knew Laetin was not unaware. Silent as she'd become, her fidgeting hands were like chatterboxes.
"We've had quite the day," said Laetin, finally--suddenly, it was almost a burst of words.
The awkward outcome of the conversation still hung between them, thick and stale. "We did," Bläken said, lacking better words. She was a warrior, the daughter of a powerful ruler; helplessness was no feeling she was too acquainted with.
Laetin glanced at the basin, though she couldn't seem to move. "Are you hurt elsewhere?"
It took Bläken a moment to shake her head, but still Laetin didn't rise. They locked eyes, and Bläken saw that same flash of anguish, as if her every gesture were another question Laetin did not wish to answer.
Their parting kiss was brief, a chaste touch of lips and then another when Laetin stretched just enough to kiss Bläken's forehead. It was Bläken's palm on the nape of her neck that made Laetin linger, pressing her own forehead against Bläken's temple.
Laetin closed her eyes and breathed, and that alone seemed to take enormous effort.
There was no real stillness around them, the fire still crackled and sputtered; outside, the wind grew stronger. But it was a moment Bläken knew to cherish--they were still alive, after all. She'd fought and won--and a moment that quickly fell apart when moisture dripped on her cheek.
Laetin pulled back so abruptly Bläken actually gasped. "Edward. He'll freeze outside,” she said hurriedly, collecting the basin and rising to her feet in seemingly one motion. "I must go."
"Laetin-"
She didn't look back, though Bläken saw her bring a hand to her face. “Do rest, you have fought bravely today.”
Bläken did not even attempt to stand, to seek whatever had made Laetin pull away as if frightened. Chasing a wild thing only ought to make it run faster, her father had taught her. It was with more than a mere pang of guilt that such thought came to mind, and it was with a strong sense of defeat that Bläken finally lay down, closing her eyes and listening for Laetin's footsteps.
No sooner had she rested her palm on soft silvery fur and the steps slowed, hesitating by the door. Something in Bläken's chest tightened, one last ounce of hope Laetin would turn back and tell her everything, say all would be alright and Bläken would promptly believe her.
The door closed.
Bläken's eyes opened again, taking in the flickering shadows the fire cast on the wall. There was no point in keeping up the farce; she knew she would not rest. Not while doubts and the spaewife’s words seeped into her thoughts like poison.
18
EDWARD THE THRALL sat by the entrance of the house, whittling a small wooden branch with his knife. Dark clouds were already beginning to scatter, giving way to a clearer sky. The sun would be rising soon, he reckoned.
The door swung open behind him and footsteps much too light to be Bläken’s walked outside.
“I can only offer you the floor.”
Edward shrugged, slicing off a good chunk of wood. “I’ve slept through far greater woes.”
“I suppose you have,” Laetin said. “There are extra pelts on the chest if you feel too cold.”
Edward nodded, acknowledging it, but the smug look on his face did not subside. He supposed it would be easy to remain silent--he could already hear Laetin walk away from him--but, for a thrall, his mouth often got the best of him.
“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”
Laetin stopped. “Were you eavesdropping?”
Edward threw the wooden branch away and stood up, turning to face her. “Yes,” he said, “though I did not have to. Isn’t it interesting how Bläken never makes much of you living here by yourself, with no visible means to survive?”
There was challenge in his eyes now, which Laetin boldly met as she took a step closer and raised her chin defiantly. It was an odd contrast to her red-rimmed eyes, like maybe she had been repressing tears, but subtracted none from her bold demeanor.
“Perhaps you ought to watch your tongue, thrall.”
“I should tell you the same, wench,” Edward replied, amusedly. “Bläken has allowed me excesses no slave of war has known, let alone some outlander. You would understand why it would be a problem for me if your intentions were less than noble.”
Edward held up his knife and gave his threat meaning. He wasn’t allowed to carry a proper sword, but to an experienced fighter, any sharp blade would do.
Laetin’s gaze fell on the knife with disdain and a noticeable absence of worry.
“You know of my intentions, now?” she asked mockingly. “I thought foretelling was women’s magic.”
“Funny you should say that,” Edward replied. “That prophetess had some curious last words when I asked her about you.”
Laetin’s eyes widened and he found it amusing that her fear of the truth was greater than that of a sharp end of a blade. At her lack of response, he went on, “Bound by a promise to her godly blood kin, is it?”
She did not answer right away. He didn’t expect her to, but it also didn’t cross his mind that she would deflate before his very eyes.
Her tone was noticeably less combative when she finally spoke. “You trusted me enough to believe my warning and come back here, can’t you let this pass?”
“I’m afraid not,” Edward said, clicking his tongue. It wasn’t pettiness driving his words--though, truthfully, it was about time he got his revenge on the blasted woman--he could sense she wanted to share. “The truth will set you free, ever heard of it?”
“Not in this case,” said Laetin, for once not looking spiteful. In fact, she seemed truly miserable as she looked back and made sure the door was closed. “It is a long story,” she warned, walking off and motioning for him to follow. “And you will like me even less once I tell you.”
Edward smiled. “I doubt it is possible.”
19
AND THIS SHE TOLD, “Dwelling in my father’s hall was I when Loki came in…”
“They say: wide and gold bright is Valhalla. And indeed, four times have I wandered past this hall, five hundred and forty doors have I seen,” said Loki. “They say: of women most lustful in love is Laetin. And indeed, four times have I wandered past this hall, four different lovers have I seen in your arms.”
Laetin leaned into the embrace of her bed servants. “Spare your insults, Loki,” said she, unperturbed. “It is well known I wish to keep my love life uncomplicated. No husband shall I wed to bind my spirit.”
“I come not to stir up trouble, young Laetin.”
“You have trouble in your heart, you’ve always had.”
Loki stood proud, tall as the son of giants he was, and still did not relent. “Hear me, Laetin,” he said, “for your father and me blood-bound are, and you have always been tolerant and kind. I have no reason to wish you ill.”
“You speak as if you ever have reason to wish anyone ill,” said Laetin and smiled knowingly. “But do go on.”
Loki smiled himself. “I have wondered, you see, how much there is to your allure.”
“You will keep wondering.”
“You misunderstand. As I am often threatened and chased off your halls, I could not help but wonder. Would Thor be as brazen, were it not for his hammer? Would Freyr sail as fast, were it not for his ship? Gifts I have brought them, no less,” said Loki, as righteously as if they were holding a Thing. “And what would be of Laetin, I wondered, if she too shed what she is known for?”
Laetin’s sigh was drawn out, notably bored. “I thought you said you had no reason to wish me ill.”
“And indeed I don’t,” Loki was quick to reply. “You may recall I asked nothing in return for the fine wolf skin I have bestowed upon you.”
“You tire me, Loki.”
“Then allow me to win your interest," he said and slithered closer to her bed, the look on his face resembling that of women who gossiped too often. "I have no reason to wish you ill, but that is not true for others. You, they say, are a sorceress and an adulteress, thus no man shall ever linger in your bed."
Laetin’s brow creased and she sat up, shooing her servants. “You may inform them this bed is mine to linger in and no man's," she said, her tone biting.
Loki eyed the two figures slinking away from her bed as if he had not heard her. “Valkyries are to roam battlefields and bring the dead to your father, are they not?”
“Some may have been led astray," said Laetin. "Make your point."
“Well, you see. I am a curious one, and I am not fond of the hypocrites in our midst. This dare, think I, will benefit both of us,” said Loki. “Put on your wolf face and roam all of Midgardr. Shall you find a worthy suitor, I challenge you to lure them to your side as your beloved."
"That is all?" Laetin asked, abound with skepticism. "This bet might as well be over."
"Only if you did not hear me well," Loki said. "You may not win them with spells and charms, nor with the allure of your godly favor. No tampering with their freewill whatsoever."
“It is not my fault men bend so easily, you know that.”
“Which is why I propose you conceal your identity and use not your love-charms,” said Loki. “A mission few would accept, think I.”
Laetin was silent. “No spells of love...” she began, as if thinking to herself. “What of other magic?”
“Make every other man into one of Freyr’s boars, if it pleases you." Loki shrugged. "I care only whether it is love that brings them to your side, devoted love which they shall not hesitate to profess."
"So far, I see no reason to bother."
Loki’s eyes glinted, such was his mischief. "But if you win, you will also have tamed Loki. Done the undoable,” he said. “I promise I shall swear submission to you.”
“And what, if I lose I shall swear submission to you? What kind of fool do you take me for, Loki?”
“No. If you lose, I shall slay your chosen suitor and make them my servant.”
Laetin lifted her eyebrows, and what was once skepticism was now a thoroughly unimpressed expression. “What makes you think I would care?”
“A wild guess.”
“I will still not do it.”
Loki pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You fear.”
Laetin stood up, enraged by the offense. “I do not.”
“Then prove me wrong!”
“What transpires here?” It was a third voice, a booming sound bouncing off vastly decorated walls, rattling the gilded ornaments leading up to Laetin's quarters. Odin came in, sparing inquisitive glares to both occupants of that hall.
“Loki thinks I cannot get anyone to profess their love to me without using magic.”
“It is only a dare,” Loki said, on his behalf, then turned to Laetin once again. “If you fail, harm will simply fall on your beloved mortal’s shoulders.”
“If you fail, I shall slay them myself,” Odin sentenced. “Tell not of your godly kin, Laetin.”
Laetin brought a hand to her chest, outrage marring her young features. “Father, you turn against me.”
“I do no such thing, Laetin. Men love their gods too easily, and your endeavors are already...adventurous,” said Odin, earning himself a sharp look he promptly mirrored. “I do not wish you to get hurt in Loki's games.”
Loki bowed, but Odin did not fall for the enticement. Laetin eyed both men, one smiling in dare, the other frowning in reprimand, and straightened out her back. Chin raised high, she was nothing if not defiant.
“It is a game indeed,” she said, “and I shall come out victorious.”
She stomped past both men and out of the hall, pride and determination walking in step.
20
“YOU ARE DESPICABLE,” said Edward the Thrall, laughing loud enough to disturb the few birds daring sing in that cold morning. “And you are also wrong,” he added, pointing his finger. “I find you amusing, now.”
Laetin eyed him suspiciously. “I take it by that you mean you find my misfortune amusing.”
Edward grinned. “Lads ought to find a word for that.”
“I'm sure they will,” Laetin said coolly and got up, gathering her skirts in a hefty bundle to avoid the sand. “Come. We must head back.”
Edward stood up as well and glanced up at the sky; the clouds he'd once seen appeared to have been chased off by the wind blowing all through the night. "It is a most pleasant place," he said, mostly to himself.
They had walked down to the shore, to the tune of Laetin's increasingly fantastic tales, and though they had not gotten close enough to the sea, Edward could still see it circling the land. Down on his luck as he often was, the view made for a nice change of pace.
"You should bring her here," Edward then said, but as he turned and waited for Laetin's reply, he saw her already many steps ahead, dodging the occasional pebbles littering the path back to greener land. "Why, abandon me on unknown grounds, will you?"
Laetin didn't turn around, but did slow her steps. Edward wasn't sure if he was pleased, however, once the next words out of her mouth rose above singing birds and crashing waves. "Pests always find their way back!"
Edward huffed and averted his eyes from the small rocks on the ground, should the desire to bash Laetin's skull grow too tempting.
"You would know," Edward muttered as he caught up with her.
"I would," Laetin agreed, to his surprise. "My brother is the fairest-spoken and most gracious. Not too fond of the impure, though," she said and grinned. "I cannot fathom why Loki and I aren't welcome in his hall."
"I see."
They reached grassier, firm land, and Laetin let her dress flow all the way down once more. “We are not much different, Loki and I,” she said, like an afterthought. “But my fondness for mischief has never harmed others.”
“Far from me to comfort a dastardly creature such as yourself,” said Edward in a humorously exaggerated tone, “but Bläken is clearly smitten.”
“I know,” Laetin said, and Edward didn’t understand how she managed to voice it like a lament. “The spell wouldn’t have protected her, otherwise.”
“But she will not say it,” Laetin went on. “And I wouldn't have cared, it is not my demand. Yet she refuses and it’s-” she trailed off, clearly exasperated. When she managed to drag her eyes back up, Edward had raised a questioning eyebrow. “It’s off-putting.”
“So you do care if she says it.”
Laetin gave him a look halfway to a glare, an answer halfway to a denial. “Given the circumstances,” she mumbled begrudgingly.
Edward remained unconvinced. It seemed foolish to deny how evidently she did care and did not know how to handle it, but after a sleepless night of continuous bickering, he settled for simply nodding.
He moved both arms behind his back and gazed thoughtfully at the woods as they walked. An unsuspecting onlooker would have thought thralldom was an illusion and he didn’t have a care in this world.
“What will you do if the situation gets dire?”
“Bargain,” Laetin answered simply. “Bläken has done everything for me, the least I can do is save her from serving Loki forever or facing my father's wrath. I’d rather just spread my legs.”
Edward inadvertently cringed. “Women like yourself are not supposed to have such mouth of filth.”
“Women like myself aren’t supposed to lay their thighs over other women,” Laetin retorted smartly. “And if my mouth were such trouble, I wouldn’t have to worm my way out of so many marriage arrangements.”
Edward idly thought of a filthy comment to go with her own remark, but before he could speak Laetin had latched herself on to his arm. His bemusement showed in his eyes, but she remained staring ahead, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.
“I do fear my father would rather let Fenrir nibble on his fingers than give my hand in marriage to Loki.”
“Then let’s not let it come to that.”
“You brought it up, thrall,” Laetin pointed out and released his arm, then came to a halt by a tall tree. Edward thought he recognized it, so they were probably near cottage grounds.
“I must ask for a favor,” Laetin then said, regaining his attention.
“Oh, so we did not chit-chat out of friendship.”
Laetin gave him a sly smile in response. “If you wish to fool yourself, pretend we did,” she said. “I need you to be my eyes and ears around Bläken. Loki has many faces and sways matters to his interest like no other.”
Edward laughed, then; there was no way he wouldn’t. He laughed loudly and joyfully, until there began to bloom a glare icier than the frozen seas on Laetin’s face. “Don’t look at me that way. What do you suppose a lowly thrall can do against a god like Loki?”
“Oh, I trust you to annoy a tree out of its ground,” Laetin told him flatly. “Speaking of,” she then said and ran a finger along the rough trunk of the tree beside her. “If ever a word of what we’ve said reaches Bläken’s ears, do remember I am my father’s daughter.”
Edward frowned, not exactly asking clarification for the threat, but Laetin offered it anyway. She pointed upwards at the thickest branch of the tree and then closed her fist near her neck, jerking it in a hanging-like motion.
“Charming,” Edward said and ignored her pleased smile. He got to walking again, but soon slowed down when they both saw the river from afar, spying the silhouettes of a horse and a tall woman.
Laetin came to a slow stop, while Edward merely rearranged his route to go around the back of the house.
“Well, I shall rest my eyes somewhere quiet and consider your request,” he teased and expected Laetin to snipe and mock in return. Instead, she took off towards Bläken without so much as a word of farewell.
Edward rolled his eyes. He could see how much she did not care, alright.
part four