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Grantebridgescire, that would be their first ally, Eivor was sure. She would show Sigurd he was right to trust her, show Dag exactly where he could shove his axe and show herself she didn’t need a quest of vengeance to have purpose. But Grantebridgescire is not as it seems, the Danes have been run from their home after an attack from within. They’re scattered and collecting them feels to Eivor that she is an errand lad rather than her jarl’s best drengr. Yet she prevails all the same, rooting out the Mercian dogs and giving the city back to Soma.
It came with a price that weighs on Eivor. A betrayal by someone Soma saw as family, someone who she trusted with her life and her city. The similarities weigh heavy on Eivor’s mind, family stabbing family in the back, Soma’s right hand betraying her. It makes Eivor sick to her stomach as she comes to dock at Ravensthorpe.
The shipyard is up and running and trade is better than when they first settled, more and more longships docked at the harbor than when she left. She walks amongst her people with pride, sharing smiles and waves as they thank and welcome her home. She does her best to avoid conversations, her mind still rattled by Galinn’s betrayal.
Her approach to the longhouse is contemplative and silent. The only sound coming from her boots against the wood floor as she comes to the allegiance room. Randvi stands over the map, writing notes in the smallest of sizes in different territories. Eivor does nothing to announce her presence but lifts the knife from where she stabbed it into the map and table. Randvi’s hands still and her head peers up as Eivor picks up a wooden carved Raven painted black. She looks it over before half heartedly setting it over Grantebridgescire’s name on the map.
“It went well?” Randvi returns to writing as she prods Eivor for information.
“Yes.” Eivor sighs, “No.”
Randvi takes note of Eivor pacing back and forth, she sets her quill down and walks around the table. Eivor stops in her tracks as Randvi blocks her pacing line. It’s when Randvi’s hands settle on her neck, slipping beneath her armor’s neckline to rub at the skin, that Eivor lets out a breath to settle herself.
“What’s wrong, my love?” Randvi whispers as she steps into Eivor’s space.
Eivor’s hands settle on Randvi’s wrists, “Betrayal surrounds me at every corner.”
Randvi’s brows furrow with question. “Who has betrayed you?”
“No one. Yet as we left Fornburg a vision claimed me and has plagued me since we left. I betray Sigurd and it may cost him his life.” Eivor pushes Randvi’s hands away, separating the two of them. “Then at Grantebridgescire, Soma was betrayed by her right hand, her most trusted advisor, someone she considered family.”
Randvi takes a step forward but with each step Eivor takes one back, “You are Sigurd’s sister, your bond goes beyond blood. It’s a rare bond not often seen in life but you two were lucky to be given it. These visions may be nothing more than that, visions.”
“And yet, here I am, betraying my brother.” Eivor glances at Randvi, her face solemn and heart breaking.
“Do you… Do you want to stop?” Randvi asks but the words catch in her throat, unwilling to be said.
Eivor finally comes to her, a hand on her cheek and the other grabbing Randvi’s hand. “I could not stop loving you even if I tried. I would not stop loving you even if I was forced.”
Randvi nods her head as Eivor places a kiss on her forehead. They stay in place, foreheads touching and hands interlocked, for minutes which feel like hours before returning to the map.
—
Petra and Wallace are one of their greatest boons, Randvi thinks. Hunters who are more than willing to get their hands bloody whenever needed. A small village such as theirs has little to eat other than meat or meat stews so they get plenty of business. Randvi just wishes that business was handled by Wallace more often than not.
She’s no fool, she knows Eivor’s gorgeous and kind and caring even under her hardened exterior. So she can’t be mad when Petra touches an exposed forearm there or a flexing bicep there, but can’t she?
She can be no more mad at Petra than at herself. Falling in love with someone other than her husband, even worse, falling in love with her husband’s sister.
She’s bringing in crates of supplies for the longhouse to store when she sees them. Eivor dragging a large elk over her shoulders and around her neck as if it weighs nothing more than a rabbit. Petra with a hand on Eivor’s shoulder when the weight shifts and Eivor starts to lean too much one way.
Petra motions for her to wait a moment before rushing into the hunting hut, coming back with a long table that she sets outside. Eivor tosses the elk onto the table before rolling her shoulders with a satisfied sigh. Petra pats Eivors shoulders, both hands, and rubs a bit before laughing and moving to the table.
Randvi knows she can’t keep Eivor to herself, especially on these rare occasions when Eivor stays for longer than a day at a time before running off to wherever Sigurd demands next. She knows this and yet whenever the morning rises and Eivor is still in bed with her a part of her prays the drengr won’t go anywhere.
She pulls herself away from watching Petra and Eivor skinning the elk and back to moving crates. Once inside the longhouse she settles the crate atop another, already wondering whether Petra has done anything else.
With a great sigh she rubs at her temples in frustration before walking into the allegiance room. She leans back against the table, her eyes closed as she tries to calm herself.
Petra would not be this brazen if Randvi were to go out and kiss Eivor in front of her.
She slaps one hand onto the table, berating herself for thinking she has any right to mark Eivor as her own when she is still bound to her brother.
And yet, here I am, betraying my brother.
Eivor’s words stung those months ago on her return from Grantebridge and they sting now. Perhaps Eivor’s visions weigh heavier than Randvi thought. Perhaps Eivor needs someone whose love won’t come at the price of her brother’s trust.
Petra was a good hunter, useful, always helping should it be furs for new citizens or meat for hungry children. What did Randvi do but pour over maps all day and yearn for Eivor all night.
With force she throws a carved raven across the room with a grunt, displeased it doesn’t shatter into thousands of pieces upon impact with the wall. She pulls her hands in front of her, watching as they tremble without her permission. She tucks them beneath her arms and squeezes herself tight as she takes deep breaths.
She feels nothing change, the fire still burns in her heart, a lust for blood of an innocent woman still clouds her mind, and an anger at herself floods her soul. But a warmth starts at her arms before it wraps itself around her, holding her in its embrace. Not the warmth of a rage of fire but the warmth of a hearth in a home when fueled by love.
She lets out a deep sigh as she leans into Eivor’s touch. Eivor holds her close, her arms wrapped around Randvi in a loving embrace and Randvi’s body settles. She hates that Eivor is the ale that her addicted body craves. She loves that Eivor is the cure for all her worries.
“Something troubles you, love of mine?” Eivor whispers in her ear.
Randvi can’t remember what she was angry about, “It’s simply been a long day. I’m glad you’re back from hunting with-“ Oh yes that’s what it was.
“Petra. I know, so many new faces it’s hard to keep track. The leaves here dry quickly, our steps are loud with each dead leaf beneath my boots. It was a learning experience but Petra was a good teacher.” Eivor turns Randvi around in her arms. “I’m glad I’m back with you.”
Randvi wants to bite, ask something juvenile about how good Petra was at teaching but the love in Eivor’s eyes holds her back. “Perhaps we take an early night, hm?”
Eivor leans in and whispers against her lips, “I’d like that,” before she kisses Randvi with the fervor of a lover lost at sea now returning after several moons had passed.
—
The docks fill with people as a Grantebridgescire longship pulls to the docks. Randvi wanders down the hill to see the gathering as the longship unloads with goods and people. A muscled woman stands proud upon the docks, her hands on her hips and her eyes scanning the crowd.
“Welcome to Ravensthorpe,” Randvi pushes past people to greet the visitors.
“Aye, so this is the place. Good. Now, where’s Sunbeam?” The woman claps her hands together.
Randvi reads through her memorized list of names living in the village, “We have no one-“
“Eivor! I meant Eivor.” The woman chuckles.
Randvi’s heart freezes over, who is this woman and what does she need with Eivor? “Eivor is away at the moment, may I ask who you are?”
“Birna, Eivor and I fought against the Mercian dogs for Grantebridge.” Birna crosses her arms and comes closer to Randvi’s personal space.
The crowd thins as the newcomers disperse, Randvi wishes someone would pluck her from the dock. She looks around to see no one to save her.
“Eivor is in Essexe, escorting a noble home. For now I can help you get settled. The barracks should still have room for your temporary housing. We’re still getting settled here as you can see.” Randvi motions to the tents serving as houses for the residents.
Birna shrugs her shoulders. “Aye, no bother. As long as there’s a bed at the end of the night then I’m good.”
Randvi leads her to the barracks on the docks, talking to the warriors to decide where Birna could sleep. Birna takes no time to claim a bed without a care for consulting others. She’s out the door and grabbing a horn of ale to drink with the others.
Randvi takes a moment to calm herself before returning to the longhouse. Her hands shuffle papers along the table as she begins to read the letters dropped off today. It’s the final letter which makes her breath stop, Eivor’s scrawl adorns the folded paper.
Randvi,
Essexe is beautiful, the trees have leaves as fiery as your hair. The winds blow a steady cool breeze that reminds me of the seas during our journey here. The creatures have no care for the Saxon’s expansion, the wilderness is still theirs no matter how many houses or churches are built.
With these beauties there are dangers around every corner and yet this pledge has me staging an abduction rather than chasing Order members in the streets. Birstan asked if I believed in true love, and yet he described it as a pain so powerful it feels as though your heart is ripped from your chest. I couldn’t say I’ve ever felt that because with you the pain of life is dulled, with your love I am as strong as an army and as impenetrable as the greatest fortress.
Yet it saddens me to write this letter because it comes with the news I will be longer than I thought. We need to wait for some festival the Saxons are holding to have enough distractions for the abduction. So rather than coming to hold you tomorrow as planned I must wait a few days.
But know I think of you every moment of every day.
Eivor
Randvi hates that she was jealous of Birna, a woman who fought beside Eivor once and seemingly fell entranced instantly. She has proof in actions and now in words that Eivor loves her, truly loves her. She holds the letter to her chest as she retreats to bed. She dreams of trees with leaves of fire and woodland creatures wandering about while she sits in a clearing in Eivor’s arms.
—
Their allies come in force to celebrate Sigurd’s return and Eivor’s victory. It’s a slew of people Randvi feels an unreasonable amount of malice for, people she knew nothing about. People who simply stared or touched Eivor for too long, people who had gone to war for Eivor and Sigurd. People she should be thanking for saving her husband.
Yet she stands in the shadows of the longhouse, watching Saxons, Danes and Norse mingle as if they would not raise a sword to another upon the morrow. Eivor mingles effortlessly, swimming through the crowd like a trout as she speaks to every individual. It warms Randvi’s heart even while bringing her to a petty rage.
Eivor rarely had anyone on her side in Norway and yet if someone looked at her now they would think she was the most social person in Midgard. She had friends, a family forged by blood and steel and Randvi would not take that way.
As Soma retreats from speaking to Birna to wrap Eivor in a warm embrace, Randvi finally snaps. Something in her soul broke itself to the very essence of humanity, wanting nothing more than to fight and stake claim to what she owned. She slams her mug into the table before turning to leave the longhouse.
The cold brisk air of the night does nothing to quell the raging fire in her chest. She paces in a circle as she tries to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her hands shake before she eventually ceases to move, her hands placed over her face as she stands in the cold air. Shivering from the cold, she screams into the palms of her hands.
“Randvi…” It is rare to hear Eivor’s voice quiver in fear as it does now.
Randvi turns swiftly, her hands going to clasp in front of her “Eivor.”
Eivor’s steps are slow as she approaches, her hands reaching out. “Randvi, what is wrong?”
Randvi bites her lip. She swore she would not ask, she swore she would look at Eivor’s deeds and words and never ask. She swore she would trust her. The words spill forth without her permission.
“Do you still love me?”
Eivor rushes forward now, not hesitating to close the space between them. “Until my final breath and beyond then.”
Randvi shakes her head, “I’m such a fool.”
Eivor chuckles and it makes Randvi stare at her in anger, how dare she. “You are the smartest person I know.”
“And yet I foolishly fell in love with the one woman I should not have. Staring from the shadows as she trounces around with men and women far more available. Certainly men and women who cause less betrayal between herself and her brother.” Randvi finds the knife and digs it deeper.
Eivorms steps are haltered, staying arms length away. “What is this?”
Randvi’s heart cries as it twists the knife, “This is me knowing when something is over.”
Randvi walks past Eivor, shoulders smashing together as she leaves Eivor. She’s between two pillars of the longhouse when she jumps in fright, an axe buries itself into the wood inches from her. She glances over her shoulder to see Eivor’s face contorted in range and stepping forward.
“We’ll not behave as children, you’ll speak plainly and I’ll help as best I can.”
Randvi scoffs, “I don’t take orders from you.”
Eivor growls as she closes in on Randvi, as Randvi takes a step away Eivor reaches and snags Randvi hand in her own.
“Randvi, stop. Please.” Randvi’s rage scatters to ash as Eivor’s voice drops to a whisper.
She gives her tears permission this time, letting out the flood of her feelings. “I’m sorry I’m married to your brother. I’m sorry I can’t be with you in celebrations or hunting or anywhere. I’m not them, I’m sorry.”
Eivor looks to where Randvi shrugs her shoulder, the celebration starts to leak out of the longhouse. “Them? Randvi,” Eivor releases her wrists and cups her cheeks. “Randvi, you cannot compare yourself to these people. Jealousy will eat you whole, our gods and the Christain God teach that. I love you, I will always love you. I have loved you since the day you arrived in Fornburg and I will love you as we battle side by side facing Ragnarok. These people are allies to protect the things I love most, Ravensthorpe, Raven Clan, my brother. You .”
Randvi presses her lips to Eivor, letting Eivor’s love wash away the mountain of worry she had carved in her chest. It rushed through the valley of rage and quenched the fires.
“One day, we will have all of England on our side and this will be but a memory. We will be looking over fields of love and prosperity.” Eivor whispers into Randvi’s lips.
Randvi sighs, “I’m so sorry for this.”
“The world has not been kind to our love but it will not lessen because of the world’s cruelty.” Eivor wraps her arms around Randvi.
They stay in each other’s arms, swaying beneath the moonlight as the celebration turns into a rowdy mess. Uncaring and without a worry they stay deep in the trance of each other.
“I love you.” They speak in harmony.