FIC: Saga of Bläken the Bloodthirsty (4)
saga of bläken the bloodthirsty
[gossip girl rpf, blake/leighton]
21
PENYRIR SIDESTEPPED and clumsily went into the water, hooves clopping over the rocky stream bed. Bläken was left a few steps behind, both arms still dumbly held out as if attempting to mount thin air.
It took a spell of incredulity before Bläken had the sense to recompose, lowering her arms and trying to come near the horse again. Penyrir craned its neck and stared back at her, then seemingly lost interest and wandered along the river.
Bläken knew Penyrir had a temper that belied its small size, but this was simply ridiculous. “Penyrir,” she called out again.
The horse just flipped the thick blond hairs of its tail, as if swatting a pestering bug.
“She knows you’re scared.”
Bläken all but sidestepped, herself, jerking away from the fingers suddenly splayed over her lower back. She heard a chuckle that was as familiar as the voice that had been speaking, only this time Bläken had sufficient grip on her nerves to react accordingly and turn around.
Laetin’s lips were curled in amusement, which spilled into her tone when she said, “Easy, big girl.”
Bläken eyed her as disbelievingly as she’d eyed Penyrir before. “Have you just compared me to a horse?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Laetin replied, in the same improperly comedic tone. “Have you been up for long?”
“Long enough to find your home empty and worry myself sick,” Bläken said, and her eyes took in the sight of Laetin, for once a gesture of concern rather than appreciation. “Are you all right?”
“Will you be inquiring about my safety whenever I leave your sight, now?” Laetin wrinkled her brow, like she thought this no noble act.
“No,” Bläken answered quickly and shifted her weight onto her right leg. “That is, it depends-” Laetin’s eyebrow arched accusingly and Bläken fought the urge to shift again. “You cannot blame me for worrying when there could be armed men lurking behind every other tree.”
“Then it is a good thing I know these woods like the back of my hand.”
“It would be,” Bläken agreed, “were you not always alone.”
“I am on my own, never alone,” Laetin told her firmly and Bläken sensed they were about to slip into another argument, though she did not know how their spirits had even gotten this agitated.
Bläken took a moment pondering Laetin’s words, allowing the two of them time to calm, then asked, “Is there a difference?”
“All and any, when your father is all-seeing like mine,” Laetin said and then winced, for reasons Bläken couldn’t guess. She wondered if this would be fitting time to inquire about Laetin’s own family, as surely they would’ve cared to protect her. Such words were on the tip of Bläken’s tongue when Laetin suddenly spoke again.
“Come,” she said, “let us get something other than worry in your stomach.” As if to make her point, Laetin pressed her palm flat over Bläken’s belly and rubbed it gently. “Edward told me you were quite fond of porridge.”
Bläken stiffened, suppressing a bark of incredulous laughter. Laetin must have felt it, since her hand stilled over Bläken’s stomach and she looked up quizzically.
“You spent the night with my thrall,” Bläken said dubiously and let out that incredulous laugh after all. Laetin and Edward conversing amicably was a scenario that could not unfold easily in her mind unless both were held at sword point.
Laetin smirked. “It seems like beneath the prickly exterior he is as harmless as a bear cub, after all.”
“A bear cub still has a mouth on it,” Bläken pointed out, no less skeptical.
“Precisely,” Laetin said in a flirtatious tone that would have incited jealousy, had this concerned anyone but Edward, and hadn’t Laetin smiled like she thought it a brilliant joke.
Bläken rolled her eyes, but offered no further words. Edward and Laetin willingly spending time in each other’s company would have been a tale of many laughs, Bläken was sure; the kind her father saved for his feasts. And though Laetin’s joyous ways were certainly contagious, Bläken still couldn’t bring herself to fully take pleasure in them.
“If only I had it in me,” said Bläken, “as you have it in you,” she went on and tapped Laetin’s nose, earning herself a fond smile, “to take things so lightly.”
Laetin’s smile slimmed into a mere press of lips, and then she sighed. “It is done, Bläken.”
Bläken shook her head. “I did not even give him a proper burial,” she lamented.
“You also did not force his hand into battle,” Laetin said and took Bläken’s own hand in a loose grip. “And if Penn the Gaptoothed has fallen, but you have come back to me, the Gods are indeed on your side, as you’ve once said.”
“I’m not so sure anymore,” Bläken admitted. “Besides, my father has done so much for me, and now…”
“Nonsense.” Laetin’s grip tightened and her thumb pressed hard into Bläken’s palm, as if chastising her for the thought. “Your father will think of you proudly.”
Bläken opened her mouth, meaning to protest, but let that desire pass. Her lips instead stretched into a small smile. Laetin spoke with such conviction it was endearing.
“How do you know?”
Laetin shrugged. “I just do.”
Bläken nodded, unsurprised by the non-answer. “You just do,” she repeated and her smile, small as it was, grew sadder. “Don’t you always.”
Laetin inched nearer, so that all it took for their mouths to meet was the slightest effort. “All in due time,” she whispered and closed the distance, pressing their lips together.
Laetin’s kiss was gentle, patient in remedying the worry she’d incited by disappearing overnight. Bläken parted her lips at the slight probe of Laetin’s tongue and relaxed, even if she wouldn’t dare allow herself to think of the kiss as a promise. Then again, had Laetin thought of it as a promise--she didn’t, Bläken could tell, somehow--Bläken wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t have fallen for it.
Bläken felt Laetin’s hand glide over the fine hairs on the back of her neck and reached up, covering Laetin’s wrist as they pulled apart. She looked down at the woman in her arms and let out a long sigh.
She would have fallen for it, yes. It was too late not to.
“No more lies,” Bläken spoke quietly, rubbing her thumb over the bones on Laetin’s small wrist.
Laetin took a moment to respond, but nodded. She stood on her toes and pecked Bläken’s lips again. “Join us soon.”
“I will,” Bläken said and watched Laetin depart for the house. She took a few steps and then began to exaggeratedly sway her hips, aware of the pair of eyes following her every move. Bläken chuckled and Laetin looked over her shoulder, winking mischievously.
Now to fetch that damned horse.
Bläken turned around and placed both hands on her waist. Penyrir had wandered even farther away, out of the water and into the forest’s edge. The horse had pretty much worn out her patience, so Bläken took off after it with high hopes that it wouldn’t try to pull another stubborn feat.
Fortunately, Penyrir stayed where it was when Bläken came closer. “Come on, do not be a brat,” Bläken whispered and tugged gently at the reins.
Penyrir obediently began walking, following Bläken as they walked past the birches and across the brook once again, on their way to the house. It was then, watching her step on water that wasn’t deep, but still hid slippery rocks and other traps, that Bläken spotted it.
She let go of Penyrir’s reins and kneeled, touching the ground with the tip of her fingers. This wasn’t a particularly muddy river, but there were still bits where the grass hadn’t entirely grown, probably from the last time the water must have overrun the bank.
Bläken traced the sunken marks in the mud and frowned. Wolf tracks.
She looked up in the direction the tracks went, unsurprised to discover they led back into the woods. Bläken stood up and kept in that general direction, drawing out her sword before going into where the woods grew thicker than sparse birches and bilberry bushes.
Bläken didn’t go far. As strongly as curiosity throbbed under her fingertips, she had no desire to get lost and the promise of a hot meal hadn’t exactly been forgotten by her stomach. There was no other evidence of a wolf hunting around that area, and the soil was too green for clear imprints like the one she’d found by the river.
“Well, as long as you don’t bother us,” Bläken said and surveyed the area once more, like she expected to hear a complaint from the stray wolf.
There was, naturally, no answer. Bläken began to retrace her steps, only to find herself on a trail of broken leaves, the grass strangely bent, as if something had been dragged through it.
They weren’t alone.
On cue, the sound of horse hooves reached her ears and Bläken gripped her sword with both hands before whirling around.
Penyrir balked and whinnied loudly, having picked the worst moment to be a loyal companion.
Bläken lowered the sword. “Penyrir,” she chastised, “you’ve nearly scared me to-”
And then she screamed, stumbling backwards.
Bläken brought a hand to her chest and waited until her heart ceased jumping erratically. Penyrir only flipped its tail, like it could no longer be bothered to care about Bläken's hissy fits, but this was no silly fright.
Beyond Penyrir lay a still body.
It was definitely a man, Bläken noted, dressed too well to be a thrall. Then again, this didn’t matter now. She raised her sword once more and carefully went around the horse, watching for signs of an ambush.
"Sir?"
He did not stir, but Bläken was hardly surprised. She tucked her foot under the man's belly and rolled him over. If ever there'd been a doubt he'd wandered into the realm of the dead, the dark red staining the front of his tunic promptly erased it. And if before there'd been wariness, seeing the man's face only traded it for dread.
"Björn,” Bläken whispered in awed recognition. There were claw marks all over him, none as deep as the wound on his neck, which had been torn by what could only be a beast, a-
"Wolf." Bläken stepped back, taking a steadying breath and then another. That vile man has left. She pressed her palm to her forehead, deception burning like a fever, twisting low in her belly like a knife. You’re safe now.
Bläken stared off in the direction of the cottage, her jaw stiffly set. “No more lies.”
22
SOMETHING ABOUT BLÄKEN was not right. Laetin’s greeting smile vanished within moments of seeing the tall blonde cross the threshold, her expression a radical change from its usual warmth bordering on goofiness.
Laetin risked a few steps away from the hearth and closer to Bläken. “What is it?”
Bläken walked right past her. “I wish to lie down,” she said quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. There was a sadness to her stare as she let her shoulders sag in some kind of defeat and rested both arms over her thighs.
Laetin’s brow creased with concern and she glanced helplessly at Edward, who offered her a shrug and then headed for the door. She looked back at Bläken and approached, worry weighing down on her chest.
“What is it, Bläken?”
Bläken did not answer, instead distracting herself with the fur pelt beneath her. “What is this fur?” she asked, running long fingers over grayish hair. “It’s so exquisite.”
Laetin looked on, confused. “Wolf,” she answered quickly and took a seat beside Bläken. “Is this still about your husband? Worry about your father and kinfolk?”
“I haven’t seen many wolves around this land,” Bläken said, instead. Her eyes finally left the fur and met Laetin’s with equal parts misery and hope. “Have you?”
Laetin quieted. “It was a gift,” she said, after a moment.
Bläken watched her intently, questioningly, and Laetin felt the familiar tension that usually preceded another round of excruciating denials.
“You still lie to me,” Bläken said, and when she stood it dawned on Laetin she had been wrong. Bläken was going to walk away.
That realization startled Laetin to her own feet and she sought Bläken’s wrist. “I told you-”
Bläken yanked her arm free. “You didn’t want me to meet with the spaewife,” she said in an accusatory tone that felt strange on her voice. “She said you were not who you seemed and now Björn is torn to shreds in the woods.”
Laetin’s lips thinned into an angry line. “She twists the truth to her own convenience.”
“So do you!” Bläken bellowed indignantly. “She said I was blinded by magic.”
“You are not.”
Bläken’s stare hardened and there loomed the shadow of a mighty woman of war. “And how am I to believe you?”
Laetin snorted, like she herself didn’t believe the words she was hearing. “Have I brought you harm?”
“Only to those around me,” Bläken replied defiantly.
Laetin pulled her skirts up one-handedly and advanced until she stood before Bläken. “And when you slew them, I did not judge you,” she countered and jabbed her finger at Bläken’s chest.
Bläken drew her sword in response. Laetin flinched, but Bläken made no striking move and simply held up the blade. “They were killed by sword, not a monster.”
Laetin stepped back, disarmed by such harsh blow. “Is that what you think I am?”
“Can you tell me otherwise?”
Bläken’s tone was so audacious, spite swelled in Laetin’s chest and she moved closer once again, ignoring the sword between them. Her eyes narrowed and the challenge in her voice was clear. “Depends, can you tell me you love me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bläken scoffed, but upon seeing Laetin’s jaw set and not hearing a rebuttal, she realized Laetin was serious. “What does it matter if I say it?”
“Why won’t you?” Laetin yelled, surprisingly exasperated.
Bläken stood back and creased her brow. Laetin could forgive her for being thrown off by the outburst, but it was still true she had yet to meet anyone more frustrating.
“It is what I have told my husband and others before, with little meaning. I gather actions are supposed to speak louder than words,” Bläken finally said, and sheathed her sword. “In your case, that has proven particularly true.”
Laetin’s disbelief ran freely over her face. “You are infuriating.”
“Likewise,” said Bläken and stepped aside, moving past Laetin.
Laetin’s anger was such, she was nearly shaking. Yet seeing Bläken head for the door still brought an unexpected stab of panic to her chest. “Where are you going?”
Bläken didn’t stop to answer, approaching the door in a heavy stride. “Home.”
It was not until Bläken had stepped outside that Laetin herself moved, hurriedly trailing after her. “But your father- those men.”
“I need to think,” Bläken said as she threw one leg over Penyrir’s back. Only when she was securely atop the horse did she look down and meet Laetin’s stare. “Where your magic won’t poison my thoughts,” she added bitterly.
“I warned you,” Laetin called after her. “You knew not what you promised when you entered this house, Bläken.”
Bläken’s determination didn’t waver and she fastened Penyrir’s reins tighter around her fist, as if to prove it.
So suddenly she could not have expected it, Laetin saw her own mask of anger become sheer exasperation. “Please don’t leave me,” she blurted out and heard her voice break pathetically.
Bläken stood upright and turned. Laetin couldn’t help the relief she felt at catching a glimpse of pain in her gaze. Anger and suffering, she knew, burned within the same flame as passion and desire; it was indifference she feared the most.
“In two days' time I’ll come meet you here. Do not seek me until then,” said Bläken and tapped Penyrir’s hind, setting a slow pace. “And please send my thrall back in one piece.”
23
THE FIRST THING HE SAW was her sword, buried sufficiently deep in the ground to make him wonder just how violently it must’ve been thrust in.
Bläken sat beside it, on a lone rock among coarse grass. She looked up, then, and the second thing he saw was misery. Nevertheless, it made for a dangerous juxtaposition, so Edward approached carefully.
“I’ve calmed,” Bläken told him, noticing his apprehension.
“Have you?” Edward asked and kept a few safe steps away. “I’ve seen storms more stable than you.”
Bläken’s lips curved in brief amusement. When she showed no sign of reacting, Edward closed the remaining steps separating them and stopped beside her. He was wise to worry, too. Since their return a fortnight ago, he had witnessed Bläken in maddening bouts of violence followed--and sometimes overlapped--by hysterical crying.
Now she sat by herself in the heath where cattle dwelt, picking idly at taller grass blades by her feet.
Edward tilted his head, watching her curiously. “I’d think your father would want you homebound.”
“They were afraid I would set it on fire,” Bläken said sullenly. She tore a particularly large grass blade and twisted it absentmindedly between her fingers. “My mother said I was grieving,” she then said, and tossed the leaf away.
Edward watched the thin green blade fall, then turned his gaze to the distance. He could see Penyrir mingling with the other animals. “Are you?”
“No,” Bläken answered easily and her gaze, too, was lost in the distance. “I haven’t thought of him since Löri was so kind to say our marriage was doomed when I traded the keys of the household for a sword.” She rolled her eyes. “All I’ve been able to think of…” she trailed off, pursing her lips before breathing out an angry sigh.
“I do think she means well.”
“I do, too,” Bläken said and chuckled. “Truthfully, I’m not even mad anymore.”
Edward smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“At her,” Bläken clarified and shot him a halfhearted glare. “Everything I’ve told my father since we came back was a lie.” She shrugged. “I cannot hold her responsible for that which I myself cannot do.”
“True.”
“Then again, I am not… whatever she is.” Bläken grimaced, and he imagined whatever she had witnessed must’ve stricken her deeply. “And I’ve given her chances.”
“It is not your thrall who should be hearing this,” Edward pointed out kindly.
“Yes, my usually insolent thrall who is oddly silent on the matter,” Bläken replied and made no effort to hide the suspicion in her narrowing eyes.
Edward shrugged. “I have nothing to say but the obvious, my mistress,” he told her. “We all lie. It is no matter of right or wrong.”
Bläken took this in quietly, and whether she agreed or not he could not tell. There was a sudden silence he did not know how to deal with, so Edward spoke again, shifting awkwardly.
“I was actually sent to fetch you,” he began. Bläken looked up, still questioning him with her eyes. “Your father has called for all close family to gather in his hall for deliberation.”
Bläken’s eyes lost their inquiring glint and she spoke in a voice pitifully small. “He wants to speak to me?”
“Well, no. Your sister asks that you watch her children in her absence.”
There was another spell of uneasy silence, and though these new developments did nothing but make Edward scornful and wish for the liberty to call both parties the morons he thought they were, he still tried to offer words to soothe the rejection on Bläken’s face.
“I guess she must not fear your fire-starting ways.”
Bläken did not laugh or appear to find his little joke charming in any way; he might have in fact offended her. Edward eyed Bläken warily when she stood up and reached for her sword, but she made no threatening move other than to yank it out of the ground and sheath it in leather once more.
“Would you take Penyrir back for me?”
Edward nodded, glad to have a task that did not require bearing upsetting messages, and calmly approached the horse. Bläken had only just walked away when he reached the animal and was promptly reminded of how much he actually hated Penyrir. To think there was a time he would have laughed off tales of spoiled horses with a heightened notion of self-importance.
It was little after that, in the middle of an argument with the stupid horse, that every animal within sight stood alert, and Edward spied a dash of silver sprinting fast along the greenery.
24
THE JOYOUS CRIES of children greeted Bläken before she had even entered the hall Robyn the Red and her husband built for themselves. The sound put a smile on Bläken’s face, however small, for at least that much hadn’t changed.
She was hardly surprised to find the hall mostly empty when she stepped inside. Servants and freemen alike frequently avoided her since the return, like a walking plague or the embodiment of a curse.
There was, however, a young girl sitting by the children, her short blond hair somewhat unkempt. Bläken recognized her as one of Robyn's younger servants--one whose mother had abandoned her the night before they set sail--and when she turned to regard Bläken with wide eyes, Bläken thought the girl recognized her too.
"Mistress Bläken, I didn't let them-"
"It's okay, Tórleif," Bläken said and eyed Robyn's children, huddled in a corner and entertaining themselves with something she could not see. "Those children could thwart the King himself."
Bläken thought herself fairly amicable when she wanted to be, but her words did nothing to calm the young girl. Tórleif only glanced nervously between the little ones and Bläken, as if urging her to do something.
Before Bläken could inquire about Tórleif’s worries, all three of Robyn’s children turned at the sound of her voice and rose to their little feet. They came to greet her with the kind of thriving energy typical of youth, but Bläken couldn’t bring herself to return their greeting in fullest. Her eyes were terrifyingly captivated by the glimpses of silver gradually revealed as the children approached.
“I didn’t see it come in. I was afraid to leave them alone to find help,” Tórleif explained in a panic, now standing near. Bläken hadn’t even noticed her move or bring the children closer. The sight of that wolf lying daringly in the middle of her sister’s hall had her paralyzed, like she had been only once before.
As if sparing Bläken the trouble of pulling herself together long enough to make a decision, the wolf then rose to its four legs and skittered away, disappearing into the women's weaving room. Bläken almost wanted to laugh at that choice of hiding place, given its history, but of course the wolf would go there.
Of course she would go there.
“Mistress?”
Bläken inhaled sharply, as if startled out of a vision. When she turned, both Tórleif and the children eyed her expectantly.
“Stay with them, I'll-” Bläken quieted, at a pathetic loss of words. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought of what she would do now, nor if she was in any way ready to face what lay within the weaving room. “Just stay here."
There was no need to stress it; no insubordinate footsteps followed her to the entrance of the room. Bläken didn’t really understand how one’s desire to see could blend with the terrible fear of confirming what they’d perhaps known all along, but it took great courage to finally enter the reclusive bower.
Laetin sat on a chair, a familiar fur pelt folded neatly over her lap. She wore all nine golden rings Bläken knew she was fond of--a woman of gold rather than silver--plus bracelets and assorted jewelry that gave her a strange air of royalty as she sat there by the tall loom.
Brown eyes that had seen warmer days looked up, and Bläken felt Laetin’s wandering stare penetrate her skin, both curious and lustful. “You did not come,” she said. “I feared you were in trouble.”
“No. I am well-”
“I see that now,” Laetin interrupted and rose to her feet. Her tone was unmistakably prickly, but the harshness didn’t truly reach her eyes. “If you wished for our parting words to have been those insults, you shouldn’t have promised to return.”
Bläken had yet to offer a satisfying comeback when Laetin swiftly sidestepped her, presumably taking silence for an answer and intending to make her exit. Laetin’s steps were quick, and Bläken cursed the irrational urge that had her hand reaching out, this impulsiveness Laetin brought out so easily.
She caught Laetin’s elbow and put a stop to her exit, though all it took was Laetin turning around and casting a withering glare for Bläken to jerk her hand back.
“I wished for no such thing,” Bläken then said. “And we are not parting, but you must leave.”
Laetin’s eyebrows rose high. Bläken let out a frustrated laugh, contradictory words quickly making it back to her own ears. “I am not making it better, am I?”
But she must have - or Laetin must’ve found her stupidity amusing, judging by the resulting smile. “Somewhat.”
Laetin made no move for the door, but also no other move at all, except for constantly fidgeting with the ring on her middle finger. She stayed like that for a moment, contemplative, and then said, “It was not long ago that you were adamant that I come live with you.”
“That was then.” Bläken sighed. “It is not safe for you here.”
“I can fend for myself.”
Bläken’s eyes were immediately drawn to the wolf skin draped over Laetin’s arm. “Yes, I know.”
Laetin caught her stare and drew that arm closer to her body, suddenly defensive. “Freyja has a feathered cloak. Will you call her a monster too?”
Bläken frowned. “What? I didn’t-” She ran out of words and eyed Laetin in confusion. “Freyja is a goddess. What does that even have to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” Laetin said quickly and pressed the pelt even tighter against her stomach. “I’m just upset.”
She was much more than upset, Bläken thought; she was disconcerted like Bläken had never seen her. Nervous and combative, ticked off by as little as a wandering glance. Bläken felt like the lowliest kind of scoundrel, she had robbed this woman of the happiness she’d always radiated.
“I have missed you greatly,” Bläken admitted and risked brushing her thumb along Laetin’s jaw, relieved not to see her flinch away. “But this- what has happened. It has changed everything. There are eyes on me wherever I go.”
“I can come to you.”
“You cannot,” Bläken stressed and her eyes went over Laetin’s shoulder, should anyone have heard and approached the room. “When calmer winds come, I shall see you-”
Laetin exhaled what sounded like a laugh, though her expression was nothing if not that of exasperation. “It will be too late!” Bläken was once again thrown into confusion, but Laetin kept speaking. “I never wished to force you into this hideous position, Bläken. But there is a decision you must make.”
“Haven’t I already? My husband is beneath the ground.”
Laetin shook her head. “Yet you punish me for doing no more than what you'd do for me."
Bläken’s stomach sunk low. What she’d seen in the woods remained terrifyingly fresh in her mind, but so did Laetin’s look of despair when she had left; witnessing it up close felt no better.
“And you expect me not to lie,” Laetin said, her face sour with disappointment. “You are no different than those men who look down on you for your odd ways.”
"That's not true." Bläken scowled, the thought alone sickening. "What I said was wrong. I shouldn't have- it's not what I think you are," she said, and the word was in her ears, bitter on the tip of her tongue. Monster. "But when I think that you knew-"
"I didn't." Laetin's interruption came with wide eyes and a hint of pleading Bläken didn't expect, not after such scorned act. "I didn't know it would come to that."
"But you said, back at your home - I knew not the things I'd do for you."
"Oh please, Bläken. What were you doing riding by yourself all those afternoons if you were so content with your life? I knew I could be persuasive, and I knew you were unhappy. What else was I to assume?"
A spell of silence hovered between them, and Bläken trusted she was glowering right now, though it did nothing to intimidate Laetin whatsoever.
"So that was it? You knew I was lonely, you took me because you could. I slay my husband for you, you murder his men because it's only fair. I react badly- stupidly, so your lies are justified?"
Laetin's eyes narrowed. "You were right. I should not have come." She took a step back, and Bläken saw she no longer had the fur pelt draped over her arm, but held it in an iron grip. "And should you be in doubt, these insults are our parting words."
Bläken drew a sharp breath. One truly had to admire Laetin's gift for turning the greatest despair into blood-roaring rage. "That's fair."
"Indeed."
And Laetin maybe did back away, maybe not at all--Bläken could honestly not tell. She could tell of how Laetin's chest heaved and how their anger was such, it was as if someone had set the room ablaze. She could tell of how there was a tightness in her stomach she'd thought was ire, yet she could not tell how it'd become that familiar pull. How she'd come to take Laetin by the arms and kiss the breath out of her lungs.
The wolf skin slipped out of Laetin's grasp as her hands came up and grabbed at Bläken's chest. Laetin seized the front of Bläken's tunic and pushed, hard enough that Bläken actually stumbled once and then again. She felt the loom against her back, then tall wooden planks as Laetin shoved her into the wall, some kind of revenge for a past encounter in the woods.
Laetin's mouth was firm and her hands impatient, sliding up Bläken's sides and tugging at her hair and groping the swell of her breasts seemingly all at once. It was lust made flesh, and Bläken knew they ought to stop before it was too late.
"Wait-" Bläken broke away from the kiss, though once she did she found herself gasping, and the words she'd meant to say lost. "We were fighting."
Laetin pulled at Bläken's belt hard enough to yank it away in one try, utensils scattering noisily on the floor along with her sword. "Yes." Laetin looked up. "And you were infuriating. Again."
Bläken very well intended to protest, until Laetin's palm pressed decisively between her legs. And of all times for thoughts to return--of disappointment, fear and longing, Penn's death and Björn's no better fate--prudence came to Bläken as she gripped Laetin's shoulders and tried her darnedest not to buck against her hand.
"You really must leave." Bläken whimpered, and her fingers dug into the cloth covering Laetin's shoulders. She felt feverish, liquid. This was the worst kind of mistake.
"So push me away," Laetin spoke in a whisper, her hand stilling and her eyes darting up to meet Bläken's, wide and demanding.
There was a strange sense of remembrance about it, like a warning about what lay beyond a door, like a question more than once left unanswered. Bläken breathed once, for calm; twice, for the All-Father's wisdom.
She kissed Laetin.
It was a desperate kiss, all remaining anger melting away in a fierce clash of lips. Bläken palmed Laetin's bottom and reveled in familiar curves, the promise of how they'd feel skin to skin. She pulled clumsily at Laetin's skirts, hiking them up and exhaling a long sigh when she finally felt Laetin bare against her fingers.
Laetin tipped forward, panting against Bläken in a way that was delirious itself--and would've been their doom, had Bläken not heard a loud gasp that wasn't uttered against her flushed skin.
They broke apart fast, and for a moment all that Bläken could see were Laetin's lips, pink and swollen and all the more inviting, until Laetin stepped back and broke the spell.
Tórleif stared firmly at the ground.
Bläken straightened out her back and attempted to kick her discarded belt out of sight. "Tórleif," she said.
“I heard a struggle, I thought-” Tórleif fell silent, both cheeks stained an embarrassed pink. Bläken could've just kicked herself, she'd known this would've happened. She'd known and still let it come to pass.
“Well.” Bläken jumped, surprised to even hear another voice. It was Laetin, looking nothing short of graceful while she picked up the fur pelt from the floor. “I fear I've overstayed my welcome.”
Laetin gave her hair one last pat, as if they hadn't just been caught in a scandalous act, and turned to Bläken. “Come see me soon,” she said, in a much quieter tone. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”
Bläken nodded. It was the best she could do; she didn't trust herself not to stammer something incriminating. Tórleif herself was speechless, staring at Laetin like she'd come across some sort of apparition.
"Tórleif, is it?" said Laetin, countering Tórleif's stunned gaze with a friendly smile. How she could command herself not to be affected by the awkwardness that had struck the rest was beyond Bläken. "I like your name."
She took Tórleif's hand in hers and gave it a weighty squeeze, as if the gesture would succeed where words had not. Tórleif remained painfully still through it, though Bläken could see this most curious look in her eyes now, something between recognition and wonderment. It was still there after she drew her hand back, making a fist and holding it high against her heart.
"Well," Laetin said, when even that failed to earn her an audible response. "Let no child of Thor be an enemy of mine."
It seemed as though those would finally be their parting words, but then Tórleif started. "Wait." She stepped out of the room and glanced quickly at the hall's entrance. "Mistress Bläken- I mean, Mistress Robyn. She was coming."
This pulled Bläken out of her own stupor, and she came forward. "Tórleif-"
"I won't tell," said Tórleif quickly. "I saw nothing." She scurried away too fast for new protests to reach her, motioning for Laetin to follow--which she did at half Tórleif's speed, like she suddenly thought all of this entertaining. Bläken could've just strangled her.
Though even if she'd tried, Bläken wouldn't have made it far. Robyn's children were at her legs before she could even leave the hall, the youngest child now attached to her hip. He was a boy, the spitting image of his father, and hugged Bläken's leg tight while looking around the room.
“Where did it go?”
Bläken sighed, the boy's pint-sized dejection too much to bear. "I don't know," she admitted, and ruffled his hair gently.
"Oh, you've come."
Robyn appeared at the doorway, with Bard in tow. The children immediately ran to him, finding a new victim to swarm, their disappointment at the missing playmate gone in a blink. Bläken bit her lip and smiled. Oh, to be a child and forget so easily.
Robyn noticed nothing, nor did she stop talking or moving, gesturing only for Bläken to come along. “I thought I would have needed you longer, I’m sorry.”
“It was no trouble,” Bläken said and followed Robyn outside. She looked left and right, seeking out Tórleif or even Laetin in the crowd, but both seemed to have vanished. “So what did father say?”
“The obvious,” Robyn answered easily. Bläken's eyes widened, Edward's similar assertion coming to mind before she could help it. “Father wishes for a blood feud as much as he wishes for a plague. Of course he would swear to do everything in his power to avenge your husband’s death and honor the vows between our families.”
Robyn stopped talking, as if she had no more to tell, then added in a tone of secrecy, “He thought it would be painful to discuss it in front of you.”
Bläken nodded, relieved to learn she wasn't excluded for ill reasons. "Do they..." she trailed off, suddenly timid. “Do they know who did it?”
“No. He’s ordered his best warriors and most resourceful earls to leave no turf unturned,” Robyn said. “They are adamant it was none of ours, though.”
“Oh.”
“It is strange that the spaewife said it would be one under his roof to slay her. No one left the feast after yourself.”
Bläken felt her cheeks burn red, a pinch of panic at what Robyn could read there. “Someone was definitely following us,” she blurted out, horrified at how easily the lies came and demeaned the value of her words. “It was dark, I told Penn we should turn back. Then someone came at us and I did not see what happened next.”
“Perhaps they were waiting for you in the woods,” Robyn mused. “That is what father thinks, too.”
The words hit Bläken like a splash of the iciest water. She spotted Robyn's hall coming close again and desperately tried to think of a follow-up, anything to dissuade that idea before the conversation was done.
Robyn beat her to it. “So why is it that no sooner I leave this hall and already there are women I do not know leaving your company?”
Robyn had stopped at the doorway, ending their short walk with that severe gaze Bläken feared so much. Their mother had raised five children, but when the time came to manage a much greater household--a land--it was Robyn she saw fit to oversee their own home in her absence, a task Robyn the Red did not take lightly.
Bläken was stunned. “She was just-”
“I do not care who she was," Robyn interrupted. "Your husband’s grave is freshly dug, Bläken. It will not take much for men to reach for their swords.” She picked up one of her children, taking Bläken's silence for acquiescence. “Do not give them reason to.”
part five
[gossip girl rpf, blake/leighton]
21
PENYRIR SIDESTEPPED and clumsily went into the water, hooves clopping over the rocky stream bed. Bläken was left a few steps behind, both arms still dumbly held out as if attempting to mount thin air.
It took a spell of incredulity before Bläken had the sense to recompose, lowering her arms and trying to come near the horse again. Penyrir craned its neck and stared back at her, then seemingly lost interest and wandered along the river.
Bläken knew Penyrir had a temper that belied its small size, but this was simply ridiculous. “Penyrir,” she called out again.
The horse just flipped the thick blond hairs of its tail, as if swatting a pestering bug.
“She knows you’re scared.”
Bläken all but sidestepped, herself, jerking away from the fingers suddenly splayed over her lower back. She heard a chuckle that was as familiar as the voice that had been speaking, only this time Bläken had sufficient grip on her nerves to react accordingly and turn around.
Laetin’s lips were curled in amusement, which spilled into her tone when she said, “Easy, big girl.”
Bläken eyed her as disbelievingly as she’d eyed Penyrir before. “Have you just compared me to a horse?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Laetin replied, in the same improperly comedic tone. “Have you been up for long?”
“Long enough to find your home empty and worry myself sick,” Bläken said, and her eyes took in the sight of Laetin, for once a gesture of concern rather than appreciation. “Are you all right?”
“Will you be inquiring about my safety whenever I leave your sight, now?” Laetin wrinkled her brow, like she thought this no noble act.
“No,” Bläken answered quickly and shifted her weight onto her right leg. “That is, it depends-” Laetin’s eyebrow arched accusingly and Bläken fought the urge to shift again. “You cannot blame me for worrying when there could be armed men lurking behind every other tree.”
“Then it is a good thing I know these woods like the back of my hand.”
“It would be,” Bläken agreed, “were you not always alone.”
“I am on my own, never alone,” Laetin told her firmly and Bläken sensed they were about to slip into another argument, though she did not know how their spirits had even gotten this agitated.
Bläken took a moment pondering Laetin’s words, allowing the two of them time to calm, then asked, “Is there a difference?”
“All and any, when your father is all-seeing like mine,” Laetin said and then winced, for reasons Bläken couldn’t guess. She wondered if this would be fitting time to inquire about Laetin’s own family, as surely they would’ve cared to protect her. Such words were on the tip of Bläken’s tongue when Laetin suddenly spoke again.
“Come,” she said, “let us get something other than worry in your stomach.” As if to make her point, Laetin pressed her palm flat over Bläken’s belly and rubbed it gently. “Edward told me you were quite fond of porridge.”
Bläken stiffened, suppressing a bark of incredulous laughter. Laetin must have felt it, since her hand stilled over Bläken’s stomach and she looked up quizzically.
“You spent the night with my thrall,” Bläken said dubiously and let out that incredulous laugh after all. Laetin and Edward conversing amicably was a scenario that could not unfold easily in her mind unless both were held at sword point.
Laetin smirked. “It seems like beneath the prickly exterior he is as harmless as a bear cub, after all.”
“A bear cub still has a mouth on it,” Bläken pointed out, no less skeptical.
“Precisely,” Laetin said in a flirtatious tone that would have incited jealousy, had this concerned anyone but Edward, and hadn’t Laetin smiled like she thought it a brilliant joke.
Bläken rolled her eyes, but offered no further words. Edward and Laetin willingly spending time in each other’s company would have been a tale of many laughs, Bläken was sure; the kind her father saved for his feasts. And though Laetin’s joyous ways were certainly contagious, Bläken still couldn’t bring herself to fully take pleasure in them.
“If only I had it in me,” said Bläken, “as you have it in you,” she went on and tapped Laetin’s nose, earning herself a fond smile, “to take things so lightly.”
Laetin’s smile slimmed into a mere press of lips, and then she sighed. “It is done, Bläken.”
Bläken shook her head. “I did not even give him a proper burial,” she lamented.
“You also did not force his hand into battle,” Laetin said and took Bläken’s own hand in a loose grip. “And if Penn the Gaptoothed has fallen, but you have come back to me, the Gods are indeed on your side, as you’ve once said.”
“I’m not so sure anymore,” Bläken admitted. “Besides, my father has done so much for me, and now…”
“Nonsense.” Laetin’s grip tightened and her thumb pressed hard into Bläken’s palm, as if chastising her for the thought. “Your father will think of you proudly.”
Bläken opened her mouth, meaning to protest, but let that desire pass. Her lips instead stretched into a small smile. Laetin spoke with such conviction it was endearing.
“How do you know?”
Laetin shrugged. “I just do.”
Bläken nodded, unsurprised by the non-answer. “You just do,” she repeated and her smile, small as it was, grew sadder. “Don’t you always.”
Laetin inched nearer, so that all it took for their mouths to meet was the slightest effort. “All in due time,” she whispered and closed the distance, pressing their lips together.
Laetin’s kiss was gentle, patient in remedying the worry she’d incited by disappearing overnight. Bläken parted her lips at the slight probe of Laetin’s tongue and relaxed, even if she wouldn’t dare allow herself to think of the kiss as a promise. Then again, had Laetin thought of it as a promise--she didn’t, Bläken could tell, somehow--Bläken wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t have fallen for it.
Bläken felt Laetin’s hand glide over the fine hairs on the back of her neck and reached up, covering Laetin’s wrist as they pulled apart. She looked down at the woman in her arms and let out a long sigh.
She would have fallen for it, yes. It was too late not to.
“No more lies,” Bläken spoke quietly, rubbing her thumb over the bones on Laetin’s small wrist.
Laetin took a moment to respond, but nodded. She stood on her toes and pecked Bläken’s lips again. “Join us soon.”
“I will,” Bläken said and watched Laetin depart for the house. She took a few steps and then began to exaggeratedly sway her hips, aware of the pair of eyes following her every move. Bläken chuckled and Laetin looked over her shoulder, winking mischievously.
Now to fetch that damned horse.
Bläken turned around and placed both hands on her waist. Penyrir had wandered even farther away, out of the water and into the forest’s edge. The horse had pretty much worn out her patience, so Bläken took off after it with high hopes that it wouldn’t try to pull another stubborn feat.
Fortunately, Penyrir stayed where it was when Bläken came closer. “Come on, do not be a brat,” Bläken whispered and tugged gently at the reins.
Penyrir obediently began walking, following Bläken as they walked past the birches and across the brook once again, on their way to the house. It was then, watching her step on water that wasn’t deep, but still hid slippery rocks and other traps, that Bläken spotted it.
She let go of Penyrir’s reins and kneeled, touching the ground with the tip of her fingers. This wasn’t a particularly muddy river, but there were still bits where the grass hadn’t entirely grown, probably from the last time the water must have overrun the bank.
Bläken traced the sunken marks in the mud and frowned. Wolf tracks.
She looked up in the direction the tracks went, unsurprised to discover they led back into the woods. Bläken stood up and kept in that general direction, drawing out her sword before going into where the woods grew thicker than sparse birches and bilberry bushes.
Bläken didn’t go far. As strongly as curiosity throbbed under her fingertips, she had no desire to get lost and the promise of a hot meal hadn’t exactly been forgotten by her stomach. There was no other evidence of a wolf hunting around that area, and the soil was too green for clear imprints like the one she’d found by the river.
“Well, as long as you don’t bother us,” Bläken said and surveyed the area once more, like she expected to hear a complaint from the stray wolf.
There was, naturally, no answer. Bläken began to retrace her steps, only to find herself on a trail of broken leaves, the grass strangely bent, as if something had been dragged through it.
They weren’t alone.
On cue, the sound of horse hooves reached her ears and Bläken gripped her sword with both hands before whirling around.
Penyrir balked and whinnied loudly, having picked the worst moment to be a loyal companion.
Bläken lowered the sword. “Penyrir,” she chastised, “you’ve nearly scared me to-”
And then she screamed, stumbling backwards.
Bläken brought a hand to her chest and waited until her heart ceased jumping erratically. Penyrir only flipped its tail, like it could no longer be bothered to care about Bläken's hissy fits, but this was no silly fright.
Beyond Penyrir lay a still body.
It was definitely a man, Bläken noted, dressed too well to be a thrall. Then again, this didn’t matter now. She raised her sword once more and carefully went around the horse, watching for signs of an ambush.
"Sir?"
He did not stir, but Bläken was hardly surprised. She tucked her foot under the man's belly and rolled him over. If ever there'd been a doubt he'd wandered into the realm of the dead, the dark red staining the front of his tunic promptly erased it. And if before there'd been wariness, seeing the man's face only traded it for dread.
"Björn,” Bläken whispered in awed recognition. There were claw marks all over him, none as deep as the wound on his neck, which had been torn by what could only be a beast, a-
"Wolf." Bläken stepped back, taking a steadying breath and then another. That vile man has left. She pressed her palm to her forehead, deception burning like a fever, twisting low in her belly like a knife. You’re safe now.
Bläken stared off in the direction of the cottage, her jaw stiffly set. “No more lies.”
22
SOMETHING ABOUT BLÄKEN was not right. Laetin’s greeting smile vanished within moments of seeing the tall blonde cross the threshold, her expression a radical change from its usual warmth bordering on goofiness.
Laetin risked a few steps away from the hearth and closer to Bläken. “What is it?”
Bläken walked right past her. “I wish to lie down,” she said quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. There was a sadness to her stare as she let her shoulders sag in some kind of defeat and rested both arms over her thighs.
Laetin’s brow creased with concern and she glanced helplessly at Edward, who offered her a shrug and then headed for the door. She looked back at Bläken and approached, worry weighing down on her chest.
“What is it, Bläken?”
Bläken did not answer, instead distracting herself with the fur pelt beneath her. “What is this fur?” she asked, running long fingers over grayish hair. “It’s so exquisite.”
Laetin looked on, confused. “Wolf,” she answered quickly and took a seat beside Bläken. “Is this still about your husband? Worry about your father and kinfolk?”
“I haven’t seen many wolves around this land,” Bläken said, instead. Her eyes finally left the fur and met Laetin’s with equal parts misery and hope. “Have you?”
Laetin quieted. “It was a gift,” she said, after a moment.
Bläken watched her intently, questioningly, and Laetin felt the familiar tension that usually preceded another round of excruciating denials.
“You still lie to me,” Bläken said, and when she stood it dawned on Laetin she had been wrong. Bläken was going to walk away.
That realization startled Laetin to her own feet and she sought Bläken’s wrist. “I told you-”
Bläken yanked her arm free. “You didn’t want me to meet with the spaewife,” she said in an accusatory tone that felt strange on her voice. “She said you were not who you seemed and now Björn is torn to shreds in the woods.”
Laetin’s lips thinned into an angry line. “She twists the truth to her own convenience.”
“So do you!” Bläken bellowed indignantly. “She said I was blinded by magic.”
“You are not.”
Bläken’s stare hardened and there loomed the shadow of a mighty woman of war. “And how am I to believe you?”
Laetin snorted, like she herself didn’t believe the words she was hearing. “Have I brought you harm?”
“Only to those around me,” Bläken replied defiantly.
Laetin pulled her skirts up one-handedly and advanced until she stood before Bläken. “And when you slew them, I did not judge you,” she countered and jabbed her finger at Bläken’s chest.
Bläken drew her sword in response. Laetin flinched, but Bläken made no striking move and simply held up the blade. “They were killed by sword, not a monster.”
Laetin stepped back, disarmed by such harsh blow. “Is that what you think I am?”
“Can you tell me otherwise?”
Bläken’s tone was so audacious, spite swelled in Laetin’s chest and she moved closer once again, ignoring the sword between them. Her eyes narrowed and the challenge in her voice was clear. “Depends, can you tell me you love me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bläken scoffed, but upon seeing Laetin’s jaw set and not hearing a rebuttal, she realized Laetin was serious. “What does it matter if I say it?”
“Why won’t you?” Laetin yelled, surprisingly exasperated.
Bläken stood back and creased her brow. Laetin could forgive her for being thrown off by the outburst, but it was still true she had yet to meet anyone more frustrating.
“It is what I have told my husband and others before, with little meaning. I gather actions are supposed to speak louder than words,” Bläken finally said, and sheathed her sword. “In your case, that has proven particularly true.”
Laetin’s disbelief ran freely over her face. “You are infuriating.”
“Likewise,” said Bläken and stepped aside, moving past Laetin.
Laetin’s anger was such, she was nearly shaking. Yet seeing Bläken head for the door still brought an unexpected stab of panic to her chest. “Where are you going?”
Bläken didn’t stop to answer, approaching the door in a heavy stride. “Home.”
It was not until Bläken had stepped outside that Laetin herself moved, hurriedly trailing after her. “But your father- those men.”
“I need to think,” Bläken said as she threw one leg over Penyrir’s back. Only when she was securely atop the horse did she look down and meet Laetin’s stare. “Where your magic won’t poison my thoughts,” she added bitterly.
“I warned you,” Laetin called after her. “You knew not what you promised when you entered this house, Bläken.”
Bläken’s determination didn’t waver and she fastened Penyrir’s reins tighter around her fist, as if to prove it.
So suddenly she could not have expected it, Laetin saw her own mask of anger become sheer exasperation. “Please don’t leave me,” she blurted out and heard her voice break pathetically.
Bläken stood upright and turned. Laetin couldn’t help the relief she felt at catching a glimpse of pain in her gaze. Anger and suffering, she knew, burned within the same flame as passion and desire; it was indifference she feared the most.
“In two days' time I’ll come meet you here. Do not seek me until then,” said Bläken and tapped Penyrir’s hind, setting a slow pace. “And please send my thrall back in one piece.”
23
THE FIRST THING HE SAW was her sword, buried sufficiently deep in the ground to make him wonder just how violently it must’ve been thrust in.
Bläken sat beside it, on a lone rock among coarse grass. She looked up, then, and the second thing he saw was misery. Nevertheless, it made for a dangerous juxtaposition, so Edward approached carefully.
“I’ve calmed,” Bläken told him, noticing his apprehension.
“Have you?” Edward asked and kept a few safe steps away. “I’ve seen storms more stable than you.”
Bläken’s lips curved in brief amusement. When she showed no sign of reacting, Edward closed the remaining steps separating them and stopped beside her. He was wise to worry, too. Since their return a fortnight ago, he had witnessed Bläken in maddening bouts of violence followed--and sometimes overlapped--by hysterical crying.
Now she sat by herself in the heath where cattle dwelt, picking idly at taller grass blades by her feet.
Edward tilted his head, watching her curiously. “I’d think your father would want you homebound.”
“They were afraid I would set it on fire,” Bläken said sullenly. She tore a particularly large grass blade and twisted it absentmindedly between her fingers. “My mother said I was grieving,” she then said, and tossed the leaf away.
Edward watched the thin green blade fall, then turned his gaze to the distance. He could see Penyrir mingling with the other animals. “Are you?”
“No,” Bläken answered easily and her gaze, too, was lost in the distance. “I haven’t thought of him since Löri was so kind to say our marriage was doomed when I traded the keys of the household for a sword.” She rolled her eyes. “All I’ve been able to think of…” she trailed off, pursing her lips before breathing out an angry sigh.
“I do think she means well.”
“I do, too,” Bläken said and chuckled. “Truthfully, I’m not even mad anymore.”
Edward smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“At her,” Bläken clarified and shot him a halfhearted glare. “Everything I’ve told my father since we came back was a lie.” She shrugged. “I cannot hold her responsible for that which I myself cannot do.”
“True.”
“Then again, I am not… whatever she is.” Bläken grimaced, and he imagined whatever she had witnessed must’ve stricken her deeply. “And I’ve given her chances.”
“It is not your thrall who should be hearing this,” Edward pointed out kindly.
“Yes, my usually insolent thrall who is oddly silent on the matter,” Bläken replied and made no effort to hide the suspicion in her narrowing eyes.
Edward shrugged. “I have nothing to say but the obvious, my mistress,” he told her. “We all lie. It is no matter of right or wrong.”
Bläken took this in quietly, and whether she agreed or not he could not tell. There was a sudden silence he did not know how to deal with, so Edward spoke again, shifting awkwardly.
“I was actually sent to fetch you,” he began. Bläken looked up, still questioning him with her eyes. “Your father has called for all close family to gather in his hall for deliberation.”
Bläken’s eyes lost their inquiring glint and she spoke in a voice pitifully small. “He wants to speak to me?”
“Well, no. Your sister asks that you watch her children in her absence.”
There was another spell of uneasy silence, and though these new developments did nothing but make Edward scornful and wish for the liberty to call both parties the morons he thought they were, he still tried to offer words to soothe the rejection on Bläken’s face.
“I guess she must not fear your fire-starting ways.”
Bläken did not laugh or appear to find his little joke charming in any way; he might have in fact offended her. Edward eyed Bläken warily when she stood up and reached for her sword, but she made no threatening move other than to yank it out of the ground and sheath it in leather once more.
“Would you take Penyrir back for me?”
Edward nodded, glad to have a task that did not require bearing upsetting messages, and calmly approached the horse. Bläken had only just walked away when he reached the animal and was promptly reminded of how much he actually hated Penyrir. To think there was a time he would have laughed off tales of spoiled horses with a heightened notion of self-importance.
It was little after that, in the middle of an argument with the stupid horse, that every animal within sight stood alert, and Edward spied a dash of silver sprinting fast along the greenery.
24
THE JOYOUS CRIES of children greeted Bläken before she had even entered the hall Robyn the Red and her husband built for themselves. The sound put a smile on Bläken’s face, however small, for at least that much hadn’t changed.
She was hardly surprised to find the hall mostly empty when she stepped inside. Servants and freemen alike frequently avoided her since the return, like a walking plague or the embodiment of a curse.
There was, however, a young girl sitting by the children, her short blond hair somewhat unkempt. Bläken recognized her as one of Robyn's younger servants--one whose mother had abandoned her the night before they set sail--and when she turned to regard Bläken with wide eyes, Bläken thought the girl recognized her too.
"Mistress Bläken, I didn't let them-"
"It's okay, Tórleif," Bläken said and eyed Robyn's children, huddled in a corner and entertaining themselves with something she could not see. "Those children could thwart the King himself."
Bläken thought herself fairly amicable when she wanted to be, but her words did nothing to calm the young girl. Tórleif only glanced nervously between the little ones and Bläken, as if urging her to do something.
Before Bläken could inquire about Tórleif’s worries, all three of Robyn’s children turned at the sound of her voice and rose to their little feet. They came to greet her with the kind of thriving energy typical of youth, but Bläken couldn’t bring herself to return their greeting in fullest. Her eyes were terrifyingly captivated by the glimpses of silver gradually revealed as the children approached.
“I didn’t see it come in. I was afraid to leave them alone to find help,” Tórleif explained in a panic, now standing near. Bläken hadn’t even noticed her move or bring the children closer. The sight of that wolf lying daringly in the middle of her sister’s hall had her paralyzed, like she had been only once before.
As if sparing Bläken the trouble of pulling herself together long enough to make a decision, the wolf then rose to its four legs and skittered away, disappearing into the women's weaving room. Bläken almost wanted to laugh at that choice of hiding place, given its history, but of course the wolf would go there.
Of course she would go there.
“Mistress?”
Bläken inhaled sharply, as if startled out of a vision. When she turned, both Tórleif and the children eyed her expectantly.
“Stay with them, I'll-” Bläken quieted, at a pathetic loss of words. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought of what she would do now, nor if she was in any way ready to face what lay within the weaving room. “Just stay here."
There was no need to stress it; no insubordinate footsteps followed her to the entrance of the room. Bläken didn’t really understand how one’s desire to see could blend with the terrible fear of confirming what they’d perhaps known all along, but it took great courage to finally enter the reclusive bower.
Laetin sat on a chair, a familiar fur pelt folded neatly over her lap. She wore all nine golden rings Bläken knew she was fond of--a woman of gold rather than silver--plus bracelets and assorted jewelry that gave her a strange air of royalty as she sat there by the tall loom.
Brown eyes that had seen warmer days looked up, and Bläken felt Laetin’s wandering stare penetrate her skin, both curious and lustful. “You did not come,” she said. “I feared you were in trouble.”
“No. I am well-”
“I see that now,” Laetin interrupted and rose to her feet. Her tone was unmistakably prickly, but the harshness didn’t truly reach her eyes. “If you wished for our parting words to have been those insults, you shouldn’t have promised to return.”
Bläken had yet to offer a satisfying comeback when Laetin swiftly sidestepped her, presumably taking silence for an answer and intending to make her exit. Laetin’s steps were quick, and Bläken cursed the irrational urge that had her hand reaching out, this impulsiveness Laetin brought out so easily.
She caught Laetin’s elbow and put a stop to her exit, though all it took was Laetin turning around and casting a withering glare for Bläken to jerk her hand back.
“I wished for no such thing,” Bläken then said. “And we are not parting, but you must leave.”
Laetin’s eyebrows rose high. Bläken let out a frustrated laugh, contradictory words quickly making it back to her own ears. “I am not making it better, am I?”
But she must have - or Laetin must’ve found her stupidity amusing, judging by the resulting smile. “Somewhat.”
Laetin made no move for the door, but also no other move at all, except for constantly fidgeting with the ring on her middle finger. She stayed like that for a moment, contemplative, and then said, “It was not long ago that you were adamant that I come live with you.”
“That was then.” Bläken sighed. “It is not safe for you here.”
“I can fend for myself.”
Bläken’s eyes were immediately drawn to the wolf skin draped over Laetin’s arm. “Yes, I know.”
Laetin caught her stare and drew that arm closer to her body, suddenly defensive. “Freyja has a feathered cloak. Will you call her a monster too?”
Bläken frowned. “What? I didn’t-” She ran out of words and eyed Laetin in confusion. “Freyja is a goddess. What does that even have to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” Laetin said quickly and pressed the pelt even tighter against her stomach. “I’m just upset.”
She was much more than upset, Bläken thought; she was disconcerted like Bläken had never seen her. Nervous and combative, ticked off by as little as a wandering glance. Bläken felt like the lowliest kind of scoundrel, she had robbed this woman of the happiness she’d always radiated.
“I have missed you greatly,” Bläken admitted and risked brushing her thumb along Laetin’s jaw, relieved not to see her flinch away. “But this- what has happened. It has changed everything. There are eyes on me wherever I go.”
“I can come to you.”
“You cannot,” Bläken stressed and her eyes went over Laetin’s shoulder, should anyone have heard and approached the room. “When calmer winds come, I shall see you-”
Laetin exhaled what sounded like a laugh, though her expression was nothing if not that of exasperation. “It will be too late!” Bläken was once again thrown into confusion, but Laetin kept speaking. “I never wished to force you into this hideous position, Bläken. But there is a decision you must make.”
“Haven’t I already? My husband is beneath the ground.”
Laetin shook her head. “Yet you punish me for doing no more than what you'd do for me."
Bläken’s stomach sunk low. What she’d seen in the woods remained terrifyingly fresh in her mind, but so did Laetin’s look of despair when she had left; witnessing it up close felt no better.
“And you expect me not to lie,” Laetin said, her face sour with disappointment. “You are no different than those men who look down on you for your odd ways.”
"That's not true." Bläken scowled, the thought alone sickening. "What I said was wrong. I shouldn't have- it's not what I think you are," she said, and the word was in her ears, bitter on the tip of her tongue. Monster. "But when I think that you knew-"
"I didn't." Laetin's interruption came with wide eyes and a hint of pleading Bläken didn't expect, not after such scorned act. "I didn't know it would come to that."
"But you said, back at your home - I knew not the things I'd do for you."
"Oh please, Bläken. What were you doing riding by yourself all those afternoons if you were so content with your life? I knew I could be persuasive, and I knew you were unhappy. What else was I to assume?"
A spell of silence hovered between them, and Bläken trusted she was glowering right now, though it did nothing to intimidate Laetin whatsoever.
"So that was it? You knew I was lonely, you took me because you could. I slay my husband for you, you murder his men because it's only fair. I react badly- stupidly, so your lies are justified?"
Laetin's eyes narrowed. "You were right. I should not have come." She took a step back, and Bläken saw she no longer had the fur pelt draped over her arm, but held it in an iron grip. "And should you be in doubt, these insults are our parting words."
Bläken drew a sharp breath. One truly had to admire Laetin's gift for turning the greatest despair into blood-roaring rage. "That's fair."
"Indeed."
And Laetin maybe did back away, maybe not at all--Bläken could honestly not tell. She could tell of how Laetin's chest heaved and how their anger was such, it was as if someone had set the room ablaze. She could tell of how there was a tightness in her stomach she'd thought was ire, yet she could not tell how it'd become that familiar pull. How she'd come to take Laetin by the arms and kiss the breath out of her lungs.
The wolf skin slipped out of Laetin's grasp as her hands came up and grabbed at Bläken's chest. Laetin seized the front of Bläken's tunic and pushed, hard enough that Bläken actually stumbled once and then again. She felt the loom against her back, then tall wooden planks as Laetin shoved her into the wall, some kind of revenge for a past encounter in the woods.
Laetin's mouth was firm and her hands impatient, sliding up Bläken's sides and tugging at her hair and groping the swell of her breasts seemingly all at once. It was lust made flesh, and Bläken knew they ought to stop before it was too late.
"Wait-" Bläken broke away from the kiss, though once she did she found herself gasping, and the words she'd meant to say lost. "We were fighting."
Laetin pulled at Bläken's belt hard enough to yank it away in one try, utensils scattering noisily on the floor along with her sword. "Yes." Laetin looked up. "And you were infuriating. Again."
Bläken very well intended to protest, until Laetin's palm pressed decisively between her legs. And of all times for thoughts to return--of disappointment, fear and longing, Penn's death and Björn's no better fate--prudence came to Bläken as she gripped Laetin's shoulders and tried her darnedest not to buck against her hand.
"You really must leave." Bläken whimpered, and her fingers dug into the cloth covering Laetin's shoulders. She felt feverish, liquid. This was the worst kind of mistake.
"So push me away," Laetin spoke in a whisper, her hand stilling and her eyes darting up to meet Bläken's, wide and demanding.
There was a strange sense of remembrance about it, like a warning about what lay beyond a door, like a question more than once left unanswered. Bläken breathed once, for calm; twice, for the All-Father's wisdom.
She kissed Laetin.
It was a desperate kiss, all remaining anger melting away in a fierce clash of lips. Bläken palmed Laetin's bottom and reveled in familiar curves, the promise of how they'd feel skin to skin. She pulled clumsily at Laetin's skirts, hiking them up and exhaling a long sigh when she finally felt Laetin bare against her fingers.
Laetin tipped forward, panting against Bläken in a way that was delirious itself--and would've been their doom, had Bläken not heard a loud gasp that wasn't uttered against her flushed skin.
They broke apart fast, and for a moment all that Bläken could see were Laetin's lips, pink and swollen and all the more inviting, until Laetin stepped back and broke the spell.
Tórleif stared firmly at the ground.
Bläken straightened out her back and attempted to kick her discarded belt out of sight. "Tórleif," she said.
“I heard a struggle, I thought-” Tórleif fell silent, both cheeks stained an embarrassed pink. Bläken could've just kicked herself, she'd known this would've happened. She'd known and still let it come to pass.
“Well.” Bläken jumped, surprised to even hear another voice. It was Laetin, looking nothing short of graceful while she picked up the fur pelt from the floor. “I fear I've overstayed my welcome.”
Laetin gave her hair one last pat, as if they hadn't just been caught in a scandalous act, and turned to Bläken. “Come see me soon,” she said, in a much quieter tone. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”
Bläken nodded. It was the best she could do; she didn't trust herself not to stammer something incriminating. Tórleif herself was speechless, staring at Laetin like she'd come across some sort of apparition.
"Tórleif, is it?" said Laetin, countering Tórleif's stunned gaze with a friendly smile. How she could command herself not to be affected by the awkwardness that had struck the rest was beyond Bläken. "I like your name."
She took Tórleif's hand in hers and gave it a weighty squeeze, as if the gesture would succeed where words had not. Tórleif remained painfully still through it, though Bläken could see this most curious look in her eyes now, something between recognition and wonderment. It was still there after she drew her hand back, making a fist and holding it high against her heart.
"Well," Laetin said, when even that failed to earn her an audible response. "Let no child of Thor be an enemy of mine."
It seemed as though those would finally be their parting words, but then Tórleif started. "Wait." She stepped out of the room and glanced quickly at the hall's entrance. "Mistress Bläken- I mean, Mistress Robyn. She was coming."
This pulled Bläken out of her own stupor, and she came forward. "Tórleif-"
"I won't tell," said Tórleif quickly. "I saw nothing." She scurried away too fast for new protests to reach her, motioning for Laetin to follow--which she did at half Tórleif's speed, like she suddenly thought all of this entertaining. Bläken could've just strangled her.
Though even if she'd tried, Bläken wouldn't have made it far. Robyn's children were at her legs before she could even leave the hall, the youngest child now attached to her hip. He was a boy, the spitting image of his father, and hugged Bläken's leg tight while looking around the room.
“Where did it go?”
Bläken sighed, the boy's pint-sized dejection too much to bear. "I don't know," she admitted, and ruffled his hair gently.
"Oh, you've come."
Robyn appeared at the doorway, with Bard in tow. The children immediately ran to him, finding a new victim to swarm, their disappointment at the missing playmate gone in a blink. Bläken bit her lip and smiled. Oh, to be a child and forget so easily.
Robyn noticed nothing, nor did she stop talking or moving, gesturing only for Bläken to come along. “I thought I would have needed you longer, I’m sorry.”
“It was no trouble,” Bläken said and followed Robyn outside. She looked left and right, seeking out Tórleif or even Laetin in the crowd, but both seemed to have vanished. “So what did father say?”
“The obvious,” Robyn answered easily. Bläken's eyes widened, Edward's similar assertion coming to mind before she could help it. “Father wishes for a blood feud as much as he wishes for a plague. Of course he would swear to do everything in his power to avenge your husband’s death and honor the vows between our families.”
Robyn stopped talking, as if she had no more to tell, then added in a tone of secrecy, “He thought it would be painful to discuss it in front of you.”
Bläken nodded, relieved to learn she wasn't excluded for ill reasons. "Do they..." she trailed off, suddenly timid. “Do they know who did it?”
“No. He’s ordered his best warriors and most resourceful earls to leave no turf unturned,” Robyn said. “They are adamant it was none of ours, though.”
“Oh.”
“It is strange that the spaewife said it would be one under his roof to slay her. No one left the feast after yourself.”
Bläken felt her cheeks burn red, a pinch of panic at what Robyn could read there. “Someone was definitely following us,” she blurted out, horrified at how easily the lies came and demeaned the value of her words. “It was dark, I told Penn we should turn back. Then someone came at us and I did not see what happened next.”
“Perhaps they were waiting for you in the woods,” Robyn mused. “That is what father thinks, too.”
The words hit Bläken like a splash of the iciest water. She spotted Robyn's hall coming close again and desperately tried to think of a follow-up, anything to dissuade that idea before the conversation was done.
Robyn beat her to it. “So why is it that no sooner I leave this hall and already there are women I do not know leaving your company?”
Robyn had stopped at the doorway, ending their short walk with that severe gaze Bläken feared so much. Their mother had raised five children, but when the time came to manage a much greater household--a land--it was Robyn she saw fit to oversee their own home in her absence, a task Robyn the Red did not take lightly.
Bläken was stunned. “She was just-”
“I do not care who she was," Robyn interrupted. "Your husband’s grave is freshly dug, Bläken. It will not take much for men to reach for their swords.” She picked up one of her children, taking Bläken's silence for acquiescence. “Do not give them reason to.”
part five