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“Oh, you have made me the luckiest man in all of the realms,” Gunnar wept, hands cupping his face, elbows digging into the table. Brigid managed to extract his hands from his face and blotted his joyous tears with a cloth, muttering something soft and incomprehensible.
Eivor half-smiled to herself and shifted around on the table to give them some privacy. At a bench nearby, a small group of raiders surrounded Birna as she narrated an encounter with a noble of Lincolnscire, mead-tinged laughter on her lips. Eira and Knud darted around the festivities, chasing each other over an apple from the bobbing station. Nearby, Tarben and Hytham were engrossed in a discussion too quiet for Eivor to hear.
Amidst the murmured conversations, the shouts and cheers and laughter, there was a lightness in Eivor's chest she had not felt since her early days in Heillboer.
Perhaps it was the culmination of all that had been settled. Sigurd was home, and away from danger. The Allfather no longer afflicted her. She had made peace with the legacy of her father, and had come to an understanding of what she held most dear: her people, friends, companionship.
The settlement was strong—lively and growing—and no one had wanted her head for some time.
And now Randvi…
The last of Eivor’s buried truths: her guiding light, her grounding steps, subject of a thousand mansöngr never to reach her tongue. The one she had returned to, time and again, on the ground they had built up with their people, from weeds and decay to home.
It was carved into the grain of every building in the settlement, scratched into every stone: it lingered on her mind as she negotiated with Saxon kings and beat in her chest in those close moments, when she was a sword’s swing away from an end: I love you. I want to make a home for us.
The work she had done for the settlement and her heart for Randvi had always been one and the same.
Her gaze searched for Randvi, then, the feeling of a kiss still fresh in her mind. She found her in the midst of a jig with Rima and Sunniva in the open space they had set out for dancing; Eivor grinned, filled with warmth to see Randvi smiling so freely.
She remained unaware of Eivor’s gaze, though Sunniva caught Eivor’s eye and winked knowingly. Eivor looked away and shook her head a little in embarrassment.
Perhaps they’d have one less person to tell, then.
She scanned the celebrations again, now looking for someone she had not seen in some time. When she failed to spot him close by, she looked beyond the bounds of the feast, at the footpath ahead, and then at the clearing around them. She had almost resigned herself to him having retired to the settlement early, when she spotted a figure sitting alone near a brook, just downstream from where Randvi had kissed her hours before.
Eivor excused herself from the table, though she suspected the pair would not notice her absence.
The sounds of the feast grew distant as she walked, passing newly green trees and dark, bright grass, untouched yet by warmer summer sun. Sigurd smiled in acknowledgement, slight but present, as she came near.
“Feasting got too rowdy for you?” Eivor asked.
“Join me,” Sigurd said, patting the large, mossy rock next to him.
Eivor nodded and obliged. She let the silence stretch between them as Sigurd seemed to collect his thoughts. The rock on which they sat overlooked a shallow stream, nearly close enough to graze the soles of Eivor’s boots. A school of tiny fish scuttled along with the current; Eivor watched them until they disappeared behind a protruding stone farther along the creek.
“It is clear you are loved by your people,” Sigurd said finally. “You and Randvi—you lead them well.”
Eivor turned to look at him. “Thank you,” she said honestly.
“I have stood in your way for a long time, Eivor.” It was only then that he fully turned from the hills beyond them and met Eivor’s eyes. “Both of you. But I do not any longer.”
“Sigurd—"
He waved her away and glanced behind him where the festivities continued, a quiet hum from where they sat. “And not only in leadership.”
Eivor opened her mouth and then closed it, mulling over a dozen responses. “We planned to tell you,” she settled on, “in the days to come.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “There was a moment, some months ago, when we were gathered in the longhouse, around Sigrblot. When I searched for you across the room, you had such a strange look in your eyes. I remember it so clearly: it was such profound sadness, you looked to be grieving. I couldn’t imagine what you were looking at—everyone around us was laughing and preparing the meats. When I followed your gaze, it could not have been anyone but her.” He exhaled and rolled his shoulder where his arm had once been. “I’ve had much time with my thoughts, recovering in mind, and in body. Eventually, it came together—what about Randvi would cause you such sorrow.”
Eivor fought a tinge of embarrassment at that. Her eyes always seemed to give her away. “I see.”
Sigurd was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. “Randvi and I… although we were never fit to be what each other needed, I was a shameful husband. She deserves more care than I ever gave her.”
“Sigurd, until my last breath, I will care for her.”
“I know,” Sigurd said. “You need not my blessing, but you have it, all the same.”
“Thank you.” Eivor’s shoulders loosened; a long-held tightness in her chest seemed to unwind itself. “It is… heartening to hear you say this.”
“I know not how long I will be here with you, Eivor. I believe the winds will call me elsewhere someday, and our fates will diverge once again. But you and Randvi share the same path. Your place is by each other’s side. I’m glad you will have each other, in all things.”
He touched her shoulder and stood up before Eivor could think of what to say. She watched him walk away until he disappeared behind a hill near the settlement. Sighing heavily, she turned again towards the stream, created little idle ripples as she tapped its surface with her boot.
After a few moments, she heard familiar footsteps behind her. Eivor turned around and gave Randvi a small smile as she joined her on the rock, in the place Sigurd had been.
“This is a peaceful spot,” Randvi said, smoothing her fingers over some moss growing on the boulder.
Eivor nodded in acknowledgement. The brook babbled on as it flowed towards the longhouse.
“Sigurd knows,” Eivor said. “I didn’t plan to tell him without you, but… he brought it up. He had suspected this would happen for some time.”
Randvi only nodded. “How did he seem?”
“Well. In good enough spirits.” She rested her palms behind her and leaned back into herself, watching the little brown birds flitter among the berry bushes. “He seemed grateful, even, that we will be there to care for each other. He… doesn’t seem to think he will stay here. Not for the long-term.”
Randvi’s gaze was fixed to the ash trees beyond them. “I had hoped those days were over, of him wandering in search for something to look for.”
Eivor sighed. “As did I.”
“I… I’ve let go of what we were,” Eivor said, and Randvi turned to look at her. “I love my brother, and I always will, but we will never be as we once were. This land has changed the both of us.”
“You’ve grown, and you’ve drifted apart. It is natural, but that does not make it easier to accept.”
Out of the corner of Eivor’s eye, Randvi began to reach towards her; Eivor’s heartbeat quickened, but Randvi paused before she made contact, uncertain in this quieter moment. It was a far cry from the full-bodied kiss, borne of a flurry of excitement, they’d shared hours before.
Eivor caught Randvi’s questioning gaze and gave her a small smile. She had no desire to conceal anything from her, now: not her love nor her yearning nor any of her soft spots.
“Touch me all you like,” she said quietly.
Randvi held for gaze for a moment before she shifted, closing the space between them on the grass. Her touch was indulgent, lingering along the dips of her back, and Eivor closed her eyes and allowed herself to take in the grounding touch she had ached for for so many years. After some time, she felt Randvi lean her head on the back of her shoulder.
“I love you,” Randvi said. “I never did say it earlier, did I?”
Eivor tried her best to commit the moment to memory: the soft weight of Randvi behind her, the late afternoon sun that warmed her back, the wispy spring breeze that blew flyaways into her face.
Randvi turned towards her, and Eivor wrapped her arms around her without hesitation. She waited for Randvi to close the distance between them; the kiss was tender, steady with promise.
“Thank you,” Eivor said as they parted, resting their foreheads together. “For sharing this path with me.”
Randvi found Eivor’s hand on the grass and linked their fingers together. “Wherever you go, I will always be beside you.”
The tears slipped down Eivor’s cheeks before she could blink them away. She fought the feeling that rose in her on instinct: an old tangle of shame and fear. She could not remember the last time she had let someone see her cry so openly.
Eivor drew in a breath when Randvi pulled away, far enough from her to see her face clearly.
“Oh, Eivor,” Randvi said gently, only warmth and affection in her voice. She kissed both of her cheeks, slowly and with reverence, and then wiped them with her thumb.
The peace she felt as Randvi held her had a warm, all-encompassing weight to it. She closed her eyes and breathed in the faint, sweet scent Randvi must have applied before the wedding. After some time in her arms, a particularly loud shout and some resounding laughter from the party brought Eivor out of her reverie. “We’ve been gone for quite some time now, haven’t we?”
Randvi hummed and let go of Eivor. “If Gunnar and Brigid are sober enough to remember our absence, I’m sure they will forgive us.”
Eivor chuckled. “When Gunnar finds out about us, I will never hear the end of it. He’ll want to officiate the wedding.”
She could hear the grin in Randvi’s voice. “Wedding? I hadn’t heard of that yet, jarl. Did you forget to invite me?”
Eivor opened her mouth and then closed it, floundering for something to say. Laughing, Randvi helped her up and kissed her burning face. “Come. We have this one to finish first.”