Bjorn offered Halfdan something important to Halfdan, a chance to see the world. It was Halfdan’s biggest wish. Once granted, he stood by Bjorn's side on the battlefield, even if it was against his own brother. Harald sided with Ivar. It was the stuff of sagas and tales, brother against brother twice over.

As the events leading up to today replay in your mind, you blink back tears. You thought you lost him, that you would never see Halfdan again. You always knew in your heart that Halfdan, despite how dark and cruel he could be, would never kill Harald. As for Harald, you didn’t think he had it in him either, he loved his brother more than anything.

But when news hit that Halfdan died at the hand of Harald, you fell apart. Your knees gave out beneath you, your body falling to the floor in a heap as you cried harder than you’ve ever cried before.

You loved Halfdan. You loved him more than any man. But loving Halfdan wasn’t easy. Even if he loved you back, which you were never sure of, having feelings for him felt like a one-sided thing. He wasn’t the most affectionate or verbal person. You always found yourself questioning how he felt about you, and what he wanted from you.

Receiving news that he was dead shattered your heart into a million pieces, a once whole heart now broken. You sat in your grief for hours as the battle raged on. It wasn’t until the loud sounds of yells, battle cries, and metal finally ceased did the battle end.

As the remaining fighters returned to Kattegat, you were lying in the bed, weeping. You cried for so long that you lost all concept of time and space. Feeling weak and numb, you curled into the fetal position and laid still.

The low, throaty rattle of a Raven captured your attention. Shifting in bed, you look to the window and see it sitting on the ledge, staring at you with its small black eyes. Slowly rising from the bed, you continue to watch the Raven and contemplate the meaning of its visit.

A second later, your front door swings open. You sit upright with a gasp and reach under your pillow. After spending so much time with Halfdan, the two of you picked up little habits from the other. Halfdan had weapons everywhere, so he could never be surprised, so no one could sneak up on him. He insisted you do the same a few months back.

You wrap your hand around the blade and jump out of the bed. Your heart is racing as a rush of adrenaline moves through your body. It takes you a moment to realize what your eyes are seeing, you do a double-take and lower the weapon.

It’s Harald. He’s holding a limp Halfdan in his arms. He nearly falls to the ground once he reaches you, his body giving out. You rush over and offer your help, and the two of you bring Halfdan to your bed.

“H-he,” Harald hovers over his brother and holds his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes full of remorse, “ brother I am sorry. I hope one day, you can forgive me”, he gulps and looks at you, “he’s still breathing.”

Your mouth falls open as your eyes widen. You kneel on the floor next to Harald and touch Halfdans check, then check his neck and wrist for a pulse.

He looks dead. You’ve never seen him so pale, so white, before. He’s still, unmoving - what's left of your heart begins to shatter even more. Then, you find it, the faintest pulse, but still a pulse.

“Halfdan,” your voice breaks as you say his name. Harald moves back, giving you space. You examine Halfdan, finding his wound tightly bandaged. “Has this been cleaned?”

“No - not yet. When I realized he was still breathing, I covered the wound and carried him here.”

“Get help, I can’t do this alone. Not at this stage…he’s lost a lot of blood. We need the Sumaya too.”

You surprise yourself at how strong your voice becomes in that moment as you direct the next actions. Harald nods and leaves the house.

Once you’re alone, a small cry leaves your lips. You sit on the side of the bed and hold Halfdans face, smoothing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks.

“I’m going to take care of you. I promise.” You sniffle and use your sleeve to wipe your eyes. “Please, stay with me.” You weep softly and lean forward to press a soft kiss against his forehead.

As your lips linger there, you hear a pained gasp leave Halfdan's lips. His chest rises ever so gently, then falls as he takes in a half breath.

“Gods, “ you sit up, unsure of what you heard, and felt. He does it again. His eyelids very slowly open halfway, “Halfdan?” You lean forward again and hold your breath.

When he tries to speak, it’s low, lower than a whisper, and dripped in pain like a dying gasp. You place a hand softly against his chest.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just, try to rest. Don’t push yourself.”

You’ve never seen tears in his eyes before, ever. When his eyes moisten as you speak, you go still. Halfdan slowly closes his eyes again. Before you have a moment to process anything, your door opens. It’s Harald, he’s come with help.

…

Halfdan lost a lot of blood and his fever was the highest you’ve ever seen. You stayed by his side and took care of him as promised, cleaned his dressing, and wiped his beautiful face with cool cloths; you did everything you could to keep him alive. And where you were limited, others helped.

The teas, the steams, and salves from Sumaya were helping too. You weren’t an herbalist, or a healer like her, but in your time taking care of Halfdan you learned a lot and you were getting good at it.

As a week passed, he was still breathing but didn’t look good. All he can manage is to open his eyes halfway, he still can’t talk. As each day passes, you feel further away from hope until the first small signs of improvement come.

First, it was the departure of his fever. Then you could see his wound was starting the healing process, it would be a long one, it was a nasty wound, but at least it’s begun. You didn’t know what was going on in Kattegat, you didn’t know who won, you didn’t care. Your only sole thought was keeping Halfdan alive and getting him better.

The day he finally opened his eyes, you were seated on the side of the bed and washing his face and chest for him. You let the breeze dry his skin naturally and found yourself tracing the lines of his face tattoos with your eyes.

Feeling nostalgic, you recount the details of the first day you met. You were a bit shy, though you'd noticed the handsome mysterious Viking the moment he arrived, you had no plans of approaching him.

You worked at the market, minded your business, and had a small trusted group of friends. You didn’t really mingle with any of the people who tended to surround Halfdan and his brother. Your home was even on the outer edges of Kattegat, you liked it that way.

Going down memory lane, as you admire Halfdans face, you talked about your thoughts when you first saw him, and the first time you felt those brown eyes on you, watching you. You tell him how you felt when he approached you, and how that day forever changed your life. How his visits to Kattegat to see you were some of your happiest times. You also tell him how confusing it's been, being the object of his limited affections.

As you speak, your face is close to Halfdan’s. You smooth his blonde hair away from his face, his eyes open fully for the first time in days. You stop speaking abruptly, his brown eyes steal your breath away, and you feel your body flush with warmth.

Gods, you’ve missed those eyes, looking into Halfdans eyes was like gazing into obsidian mirrors, crystal balls, the unknown. His eyes could convey so many things, joy, bravery, amusement, darkness, death, coldness, they could give you a peek into his soul; something he kept guarded and very few could catch a glimpse of, but you have, you have more than once.

Halfdan lays still as he studies your face. His expression gives nothing away, not like the brief tears you saw the first night. Like two animals in the wild, you stare at each other, and your small home falls silent.

Halfdan’s expression softens. You see the fine lines near his eyes reveal themselves as the faintest smile curves on his lips. He winces in pain, then smiles again, his eyes never leaving your own,

“Valhalla wasn’t ready for me yet.” He smirks.

You smile and drop your head, then sigh with relief. His voice. You missed his voice. It’s a little different now, likely due to the trauma of the wound, and the healing process, and he hasn’t used his voice in days. But, it’s still him, and seeing the flicker of his humor feels like the biggest sign from the gods he will be okay.

“You are just too wild, even for a Viking Halfdan the Black," you say jokingly, " what can I say?”

As you smile at each other, he almost laughs but coughs instead. he twitches, then reaches for his wound as a pained expression fills his face.

“Careful you vile thing,” you rest your hand over his, “You are still wounded."

The sweet moment you shared diminishes as something dark moves in his eyes. He breaks eye contact and stares at the ceiling. Halfdan doesn’t have to speak, you know what he’s feeling.

Halfdan is one of the most Viking, Vikings you’ve ever met. You understood how important their way of life is to them, and for a warrior like him to die in battle is the ultimate honor.

To be so close to Vallahala, the sheer messed-up element of his brother stabbing him aside, must come with some sadness, even for a mostly non-emotional man like Halfdan. You think about the words he’s often said to his brother and to you, “ I feel the most alive in battle.”

“Hey,” you caress his arm, and he looks at you, “they may not be ready for you yet, but they will be, and it will be everything you’ve ever dreamed of, I know it.” He blinks, his eyes staring deeply into yours. “Valhalla watch out. Until then, I have you for a little longer. If you try to leave this bed before you are healed, I’ll kill you myself.”

Halfdan laughs, then groans. He tries to sit up on his own, you stop him and help, easing him into it. Sitting upright, Halfdan sighs and looks around the cottage he’s spent so much time in.

He feels a storm of words and emotions brewing inside of him but doesn’t know how to form them, which to say, which to keep to himself, what some of them even mean.

Instead of speaking, he continues to observe you, feeling gratitude in his heart. Everything about you comforted him, even when he didn’t realize he needed it, or wanted it. Your beautiful face, your touch, your eyes, your voice, your scent -

Before ending up injured in your bed, he already struggled with the things you aroused in him, the things you were making him feel. Now, he felt a mixture of relief and fear. It's a relief he could be with you at a time he felt so confused , lost...and something else he rarely felt and didn’t like one bit, being vulnerable.

Halfdan knew he couldn't give you what you wanted, what you deserved - he was never equipped to be that kind of guy. He never dreamed of falling in love, never sought it out, never wanted more than the shared pleasures of the flesh but you - you challenged him, you challenged everything he knew he wanted when it came to another person. What would being in your care mean for him, for the deep chaotic state of confusion he held so tightly guarded inside of his heart?

Halfdan also knew he would choose no other place to be right now, except with the Gods in Vahllaha. If he wasn't dead and still had time to fulfill on this plane, he knew he wanted to be with you, or at least near you for as long as he could. Even if it scared him.

A long time passes in silence as you just gaze at each other. You’ve been around Halfdan enough to know long silences came with the territory, but something about this one is different.

The closer you got to Halfdan (which was only so close, since he was the most guarded person you’ve ever met), you started to visualize these reflective, observant silences like still water. Everything seemed calm, but so much lies beneath.

This time, it felt like choppy seas, so much of what he kept below the surface was pressing forward. But, Halfdan, still maintaining self control, was holding back, keeping the water away from land.

Though you want to ask questions, and you want so badly to see inside, you don’t push. You’re just happy he’s alive, and for now, you’ll take that. You move close to him and rest your head on his shoulder. Placing a hand on his thigh, you close your eyes.

As you listen to Halfdan’s breathing, and his skin warms your own, you feel the threads of your broken heart rebuilding, coming back together; once again pulsing with life and hope as your heart rebuilds itself.

Halfdan moves his hand over yours and gives it a gentle squeeze. It feels weird for him, to do this. It's not the first time. You like grabbing his hands and he never really understood the whole thing. Not until now. It feels - warm, he feels even more connected to you. Halfdan closes his eyes, his hand still holding yours.

…

At first, you slept in a make-shift bed as he lay in your own. But after that day, you slept in your bed with him, the two of you always mindful of his healing wound. The following days were similar, except he moved around some more. You could tell he hated being helped, and his little fits of frustration often gained a laugh from you. He always liked your smile, and the sound of your laugh, so he didn't stay mad for long.

As his mobility and fluidity increased, he started to become more physical. It was during this time when the first kiss came, he surprised you as you both settled for bed. Before you could blow the candles out, he hovered over you and gently touched your face, staring deeply into your eyes before kissing you.

Some nights when you couldn't sleep, or in the afternoon when his body needed rest, which he would fight until he literally passed out, you would sit on the side of the bed and speak to him. Tell him all the things you wished you could say face to face.

You loved him, you trusted him with your life, but you knew Halfdan wasn't available, not really, not to anyone so there was only so much you could give too. You didn’t want your heart breaking any further by hoping for something that wouldn’t come. Though, you so badly wanted those things with him.

…

When the day finally comes, your stomach feels like cement. You wanted him to get better, of course, but healed Halfdan meant you had to say goodbye. He wasn’t going to stay and now all you would have was the last few months to hold close.

In the days leading up to his departure, you were silent. Each day you shut yourself down little by little. You hoped, by doing so, when the day arrived to see him off, you could do so without crying, without showing any emotion at all.

Halfdan always paid close attention to you. His keen observation increased leading up to his departure. Every once in a while he’d make a joke or ask you, in his way, what was wrong with you. You came up with some vague answers and after staring at each other for a while, he’d change the subject.

One of the things on your mind was life without Halfdan, and what that would look like. You wanted love, you wanted companionship, you wanted the person to be there, in the flesh, close, and for them to open themselves up to you. To have this meant letting Halfdan go and giving some other man a chance with your heart. It’s a hard thing to even phantom when the only man you want can’t, or won't, give you his.

…

The storm the night before is just a memory as clear skies and a cool breeze move through Kattegat. The nice weather doesn't match how grey and heavy you feel inside.

You stayed back most of the time as Halfdan did last-minute things, and tied up loose ends. You waited until everyone else said their farewells until you left the house.

When you stood on the dock, Halfdan next to you, you fixed your eyes on the ship itself. It was a work of art, but Floki’s ships always were. He just made this one extra special for Halfdan.

You stand as still as possible, your arms closed tight around your body. Halfdans speaking to you, thanking you for what you’ve done, the words mean something to you, but you still can’t look at him.

“Where will you go?” You eventually ask, still staring forward.

“To see more of the world.” He answered.

You can feel Halfdan staring at you. But you can’t look at him. Your resolve is starting to break, you feel tears in the corner of your eyes.

“You have more to see. I know it will be wonderful,” you pause and take a deep controlled breath, “take care of yourself, Halfdan.”

Still not looking at him, you turned around with intention of heading away from the ship.

Halfan grabs you by the arm and spins you around, gripping your shoulders tight with his hands, he stares at you, a wildness in his eyes mixed with heavy emotion.

“I- I have to go, Halfdan.” You choke out the words and swallow the cry in your throat.

Visually you can tell he’s battling with himself, like he wants to say something. It’s not until you pull back, does he finally spit out the words,

“I heard everything, everything you said when you thought I was sleeping.”

You drop your gaze. Instead of feeling glad, you feel sad, it's not like it matters, not with him, you thought.

“Look at me,” Haldan says. You raise your eyes to meet his, “I have more of the world to see. I want to see it with you.”

Suddenly the feeling of moving through heavy clouds clears, and your body feels weightless. But you also feel annoyed. He tells you this, now, now? Right as he’s about to sail off?

Overcome with annoyance and hot anger, you pull one of your arms free and slap him across the face. “ I love you Halfdan, but you drive me crazy!”

Halfdan laughs and touches his cheek, his eyes meeting yours, “you really put all your weight in that one.”

“Well, you deserved it.” You huff.

Halfdan grabs your face and pulls you close, his lips covering your own in a heated kiss. When you break for air, he keeps you close.

“I love you too. The slap was nice.” He smirks.

“Gods, what do I do with you!” You shove him away and head away from the boat. Your heart expanding as the words replay in your mind and heart, he does love you, he loves you. Halfdan's heart is yours.

“Where are you going?” He calls out.

“To get my things, of course, I’m coming with you!” You shake your head while smiling and head toward your house.

Halfdan catches up and sweeps you into his arms, planting another wild kiss on your lips.

He wasn’t sure what life had in store for him after this, and he knew he had some work to do because he wasn’t going to lose you, even if he had to learn to do things that made him uncomfortable or were new to him.

As you pack up your things, only taking what matters most, you catch glimpses of Halfdan watching you from the doorway. His arms crossed in a comfortable position as he smiles at you.

“Hey, I took care of you for months, are you going to help over here or just watch?” You ask and toss him a sack.

Halfdan laughs, " all this fire in you, I like it!” He grabs the sack and starts packing things with you.

…

Months later

Kicking your feet in the cool stream of water, you look out at the landscape. This time you’ve found yourselves on lush green land, you can see mountains in the distance.

You had a few ideas growing up about what your life could be, but you didn’t imagine this, not at first. It was an unrealized dream for a long time, being an adventurer. It was something Halfdan inspired within you, you just never thought you could do it.

You lean over, glimpsing at your reflection in the water. You’re a different version of that shy, at times fiery girl from the village. You’ve grown more confident about yourself, about that fire within you, the same fire you used to hide or dampen. You feel the most yourself you have ever been.

Looking downstream, you see Halfdan catching fish for dinner. You smile as he curses under his breath, one gets away. You feel the most content you've ever felt before and thank the Gods for bringing him back to you, it was the only way you could have this, the only way Halfdan could let himself have this.

Halfdan tosses the second fish in the bucket and glances to his left, he catches you lovingly observing him. Halfdan smirks and shakes his hair away from his face. In the distance, he can see where you two docked the ship.

For a long time, as he healed on your bed he was confused, angry, and hurt, he didn’t understand why he didn’t die. But now everything made sense. Halfdan knew he was a great warrior, a dedicated warrior, a dedicated Viking through and through but he was given a second chance to experience more, more on his own, and more with you.

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A year. 365 days. 52 weeks. It’s been that long since Halfdan had magically landed on Gaby’s apartment and she could not help feeling overjoyed about it. She would lie if she said that everything had been easy all the time but most of the year next to him had gone smoothly. Lockdown and COVID were highly responsible for it, giving Halfdan the time to adjust and offering Gaby the time to explain how much the world had changed. Halfdan did not understand all of it and his first time outside has been quite a disaster, if almost beating a man to a pulp because he had bumped into her, or nearly attacking a church could be qualified as such.

But Gaby remained patient and managed to make him accept and embrace a good part of the modern world. Of course, he still refused to celebrate Christmas even though he did not mind gobbling up the several dishes she had cooked for the occasion. Nonetheless, it would be accurate to say he loved being here with her.

Though, he had shown some moodiness lately and was even sometimes short with her. It was useless to ask why, she knew he was probably missing his home, his brother, his time and she could not blame him for that. Indeed, as much as she liked Vikings, she could not imagine for a second leaving her home and friends behind to live in their era. Life expectancy, hygiene and all…

As she reached her house, her heart squeezed at the thought but maybe it was time to let him go and wish for him to go back home.

Sighing deeply, Gaby turned the key on the lock of her front door and opened it. She was surprised to see that the apartment was plunged into darkness.

“Halfdan?” She cried uncertainly and closed her eyes in relief when he shouted back “In here!”

She took the few steps that led to her living room and gasped at what she saw, her purse falling on the floor in the process. Halfdan had lit candles all around the room, the table was set up beautifully; a white tablecloth on which he had placed her finest crockery and a vase of roses in the center.

“You like it?” He whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek tenderly. “Figured it could be nice to celebrate your birthday with a romantic dinner. Didn’t you say that’s what women from the twenty-first century needed?”

“I sure did”. Gaby shook her head to wake up from her daze. “I love it Halfdan, thank you.”

She leaned back to admire him. He had put on black pants and a white shirt that outlined his muscles the perfect way. He had probably paid a visit to the barber by himself since his goat was neatly trimmed. Gaby caressed it. A smile appeared on her face when she thought about the first time she took him there and the way he had glared at the barber. The poor man had tried his best to work while shaking in his boots.

Halfdan soflty kissed her lips. “Wanna freshen up before dinner?”

“Now that would be a great idea.” She replied in a murmur and kissed him back languidly. She took the time to savor his warmth before pulling back reluctantly. She was about to go to her room when a thought made her freeze and her eyes widened.

“You…you didn’t cook, did you?” She asked in a tight voice.

The last time Halfdan had taken the initiative to surprise her with a romantic dinner, it had turned into a disaster. Gaby could still remember the combined stench coming from the burnt food and pan, plus the mess on the floor, the drawers, the cupboards; every surface had been stained with food. That damned Viking was definitely gifted with his hands but not when cooking was concerned.

Halfdan chuckled. “No, don’t worry. Food is coming.”

Gaby let out a sigh of relief and went to get ready. When she came back all freshened up and pampered a few minutes later, she was welcomed by the pleasant aroma of Indian food.

“Hmmm…smells good.”

“Well I had to please my woman so I ordered food from her favorite Indian place.” Halfdan explained, setting all the dishes on the table. When he was done, he looked up at her and smirked. “You are very sexy, woman. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?”

“I believe it is.” He replied and gave her a charming smile. That charming smile of his that still made her heart skip a beat every time she saw it. He pulled out one of the chairs and invited her to sit down. “My Lady.”

Dinner was delicious. Halfdan had ordered a little bit of everything so that she could enjoy as much dishes as possible. For dessert, he brought an enormous chocolate cake he had purchased from this nice little bakery she loved so much. Then, he put some candles on it and lit them on. “Make a wish, love.”

The words made her heart clench painfully in her chest. During these last years, her wishes had proven to be powerful since they had all come true. This was it. Gaby realized she was holding Halfdan’s future in between her hands - or was it her brain? She could either give him what he wanted or keep him selfishly for herself. She watched him intently; his crooked smile, his numerous sexy tattoos, the playful glint in his eyes…and she knew what she had to do. Talking a deep breath, she made her wish and blew out the candles.

Halfdan clapped fervently. “So, what did you wish for?”

Gaby rolled her eyes. “You know I can’t tell anyone if I want it to come true.”

“You’re right, let’s devour the cake then.”

And devour it he did, since he ate half of the cake by himself. Viking appetite.

Afterwards, Halfdan cleaned everything up and they got ready for bed. They just laid between the sheets contently, Halfdan spooning her from behind, the two enjoying the fact to be in each other’s embraces.

“I’m sorry.” Hafdan softly said before kissing her neck.

Gaby frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“Those last few weeks, I’ve been a real moody Viking. It’s just that...”

“You miss home.” She cut him off gently.

“I miss my brother but home is with you.” He hugged her a little bit tighter. “It’s been a year and the Gods might decide to send me back.”

Gaby felt her heart flutter at his words. Halfdan had not been in a grumpy mood because he wanted to leave, only because he wanted to stay. He was as scared to lose her as she was to lose him.

“It’s alright.” Her throat tightened and she tried her best to keep the tears at bay. “Remember what you told me last year? You said we’d better enjoy it while we could and that’s exactly what we did. I absolutely have no regrets, no matter what happens.”

“Me neither.”

She turned around to face him and rested her forehead against his. “Then, I’m happy.”

And she kissed him, lovingly, desperately. He kissed back just the same and nearly tore her nightgown to have her naked against him. Their bare bodies collided, each touch became more urgent and needier but they took their time to make love, both afraid it could be the last time. They wanted to memorize each other perfectly. When they fell back on the pillows, sated, they did not let go of one another but intertwined their bodies instead. They fell asleep, like that, two as one.

The following morning, Gaby woke up hot and sweaty. With an annoyed groan, she tried to get away from the heat but someone grunted and pulled her closer. Her eyes opened up abruptly and she smiled. Halfdan was still there.

His eyes fluttered open and he smiled when he saw her. With a pleased sigh, he leaned over her body to kiss her collarbone.

“I’m still here.” He said against her skin. “It looks like the Gods wanted us to remain together…and maybe you wished for me to stay.”

“I did not wish for you to stay.”

Halfdan raised his head sharply to look at her. “You didn’t?” He sounded disappointed, almost hurt.

Gaby chased a lock of hair from his eyes. There was no danger in telling him now. “I wished for you to go and stay where your heart belongs.”

“Then I guess it came true because my heart definitely belongs with you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. It was so uncommon of him to pour his heart out, it made her feel special and more loved than anyone.

Gaby let her eyes close when he resumed his kisses on her skin, his lips went down to her breast that he sucked gently. She let out a soft whine.

“Whaboutyoumeart?”

She frowned and looked down at him. “What?”

He sucked on her breast one last time before letting it go reluctantly with a wet pop. He looked up to meet her gaze. “What about your heart?”

“Oh.” She smiled. “It belongs with you my sexy murderous Viking. It always has.”

Turning back, she continued scrubbing the wooden floor with a heavy horse-hair brush and bucket of hot water. The perfect round of her ample behind jiggling and bobbing as she worked the brush hard.

“Vienna, we have thralls for that. Why are you washing the floors?” he asked not able to tear his eyes from her voluptuous figure.

Scoffing, she looked back. “We have thralls for this? Really. All I have seen are skinny white-haired girls pushing dirt from one end of my kitchen to the other with an old broom.”

Huffing, she looked back with a stern expression and plunked the brush into the pale, slapping it down onto the floor in a swoosh of water.

The ends of his mustache curled up with a smile as he stepped closer. His soft brown eyes continuing to watch the way her bottom bounced with the heave of her scrubbing. Her arms pushing and pulling the thick bristles along the wide planks of the wooden floor. The fabric of her thin dress sticking to the skin between her shoulder blades, tacky from her vigorous, repetitive work.

Reaching to his pants, he adjusted his responding groin as he slowly stalked around his woman. Always enamored with her fierce passion, he dipped his head down to catch a glimpse of her fiery, southern face.

Standing over her, he watched her bend forward, the join of her heavy breasts visible down the front her gaping dress. Gods he loved her curves. Her broad, round hips and soft belly, strong legs and a bust so large, it was surely created for nursing. She was unlike anything he had seen before that day he met her. By chance. Weeks after raiding her fishing village with Bjorn in the Mediterranean. The image of her cold, fearful face, that day, flashed through his mind, standing before him as he attempted to speak her native tongue. With flawless, rich coloured skin and hair so dark it swallowed the sun, he remembered being overcome with apprehension the first time he faced her, seeking her services as a healer for Bjorn. How things had changed, he thought. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he have believed then, that one day, he would know that the rose shade of her bowed lips was the same tone as other more tender parts of her splendid body. Brushing back the swath of hair covering the side of his face, he sighed to himself, thinking how truly blessed he was by the Gods.

Continuing to circle her, he could not resist bending onto his knees and crawling forward, scooting up close behind her.

“Halfdeen!” she startled as his hands wrapped around her, pulling her back to rest against his chest.

Closing his eyes, he buried his nose into the back of her swept-up hair, inhaling her scent deeply. After nearly two years, the way she said his name with her thick accent and broken Norse still warmed his body and pulled at his heart.

With one hand holding her lower belly, his other hand slid up her ribs, pushing down the front of the deep neckline of her dress. Grabbing her soft, round breast, his eager fingers found her nipple hard, already reacting to his closeness. Tipping her head toward his chin, she arched into his touch, exhaling loudly as he ran his mustache and the small beard on his chin over the sensitive join between her neck and shoulder.

“You are interrupting me,” she murmured in a husky tone.

Pressing his groin into her backside, he dropped his hand from her stomach and pulled her bent knees further apart.

“That is your fault for greeting me home in such a position.”

Pulling up the skirt of her dress, he brought his fingers to his mouth wetting them before running his palm up the smooth skin of the inside of her leg. Breathing out a raspy groan, he could not help but grind again into her backside.

“Someone will see,” she whispered turning toward his ear.

“What could be more beautiful than you cleaning the floors?”

“Halfdeen!” she exclaimed, whimpering as his fingers hit her core, sliding along the soft skin of her slightly parts folds.

Smiling against her neck, he ran his tongue along her collarbone softly biting and sucking while pulling and kneading her full round breast. Pressing the tips of his fingers into her opening he pulled her slick back and circled her special spot making her shudder in response.

His mind began to spin, overcome by her effect on his senses. He loved this woman with everything that he was and could never tire of the feel of her skin or being inside her. As long as he could remember, his family set their efforts on his older brother with a bloodline to the throne. As a result, he headed out into the vast world seeking new shores, wonder, and mystery. Knowing, with Vienna pressed to his body, that she was, and would always be his most meaningful adventure.

Sinking his middle finger deep inside her, his other hand pulled at the laces of her dress searching for more of her olive-toned flesh. Placing her own hand over his, she pushed his palm hard against her opening, bucking into his touch. Leaning away, he snaked his hand down between them, attempting to yank open the front of his breeches.

“Let me,” she breathed, pushing his hand away, and spinning to sit between his legs. Leaning back to rest on his elbows, he watched her open the front of his bulging pants and free his rock-hard member.

With a coy smile, she bent forward and swirled her tongue around his head, coating his tip with her saliva. Slowly, she ran her rose coloured lips up and down his length, her tongue focussing on the soft seam along the bottom. Resting on one hand, she brought her other hand up and grazed the underside of his balls. Hissing, he squeezed his eyes closed as she gently tugged the fragile skin.

Taking more of him into her mouth, she closed her own eyes finding a slow, firm rhythm. Softly flexing his hips in time, he brought a hand up, cupping her cheek, holding back the dark hair from her beautiful face.

“I love you Vienna,” he whispered watching himself slide in and out of her warm, wet mouth. “but you need to slow, or I will not be able to make...”

Before he could finish his words, she brought her hand up from his balls to grip her thumb and fingers firmly around his base. Pumping his throbbing length, up and down, in time with her slippery mouth.

“Fuck” he growled, grimacing his face and bucked his hips deep into her relentless mouth. “I am going to…”

Increasing her pace, she dropped further down each time so his tip hit the back of her relaxed throat. With frantic breath, a warm tingle started deep in his groin. One loud grunt and Halfdan squeezed his eyes shut and thrust, shooting warm spurts of his salty seed deep into her eager mouth. As his legs shuddered, he dropped his head back fighting the sensitive sensation of her sucking him clean.

Dropping her hand from his girth, she slowly raked her lips up to his head, running her tongue, one last time, across the slit at the end before releasing him with a pop.  

Gazing at her from under heavy lids, he shook his head with a satisfied simper. “That is not what I had planned for you.”

Sitting up on her knees, she leaned back against her heals, undoing her messy bun, scooped and tied her hair back onto the top of her head. A pink hue had spread up her cheeks and her plump lips looked red from their ruff contact.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, sitting up and reaching forward.

“No!” she giggled hitting his hands away. “Get out and let me finish this floor before I turn into a mad woman.”

Opening his mouth to make a smart remark, he stopped, instead choosing silence wisely. Tilting back and tucking himself away into his pants, he feigned offense with a gaping mouth, “you did that to get rid of me!”

Smiling, he shook his head, as he sprang to his feet. Bending down, he picked up the hard-bristled brush and held it out to her. Grabbing the brush, she dunked it roughly into the pale and slapped it onto the floors, splashing his leather boots with water.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cried with a bright face as he hopped out of the path of the spreading water. “I’m going, I’m going,” he assured, turning toward the door. “I know not to stand in the way of a Sicilian and her clean kitchen.”

After her consuming warmth, the outside air off the ocean felt crisp against his skin. Heading up the path to the great hall of Tumdrip, he felt at ease. Sated. Never again needing to sail into the unknown searching for excitement or fulfillment. He had everything he would ever need right there in his small house next to the sea. Humming a low tone melody, he breathed in deeply filling his lungs with fresh air, with the love for his beautiful wife warming the cockles of his heart.

MASTERLIST

She learnt it’s deadly dance, how it would appear on the edge of town and wait in the shadows. There in the darkness it chose it’s victim, stalked their steps and slept under their bed. No one survived once marked, and no one save Ylva could see it. When a stumble in the street had brushed her hand against another's, a woman recently marked by the beast, visions of the woman’s death had knocked Ylva to her knees. She understood then: the hound did not deal death - it warned of it. The lady had fallen through the ice while fishing the lake and the naive girl had tried to save her. She’d almost drowned in the attempt. Whether they met their end by sword, sickness or other means, those poor souls were caught in the clutches of fate. She couldn’t free them. She was just a woman - cursed with knowledge and bound to watch.

Word of her talents soon spread, and naturally, the great shield-maiden Lagertha wanted to benefit from this asset living in her kingdom. So the girl, now a young woman, had trained to be merciless with her shield and axes. Despite years of visits from death’s messenger, she kept it’s darkness at bay. She learnt to wield her curse like a weapon: regaling Lagertha with every glimpse, anything she saw in the blurred backdrop behind the premature demises. Anything that could sway the future in their favour. While that one death was set the rest was fluid, and sometimes, others could be warned of the circumstances, such as a sinking ship or burning home. Just as the bite of her axe helped her fell foes in battle, this weapon too helped her defend herself against her greatest enemy: her own fear. Using the visions gave her a semblance of control over the madness that thing had brought into her life. 

Yesterday she had seen the hound, blending with the shadows that hugged the docks. She could feel its anticipation to mark someone. And death was coming, there was no doubt of that. Lagertha had killed Aslaug and taken Kattegat back, but for long would she hold it? Her enemies were poised and waiting. The coming war would pit viking against viking, brother against brother. The sons of Ragnar were divided. King Harald and his brother Halfdan too found themselves on opposite sides of the gulf. Halfdan and Bjorn had returned from the Mediterranean, and a roaring feast in their honour was the root of Ylva’s drinking that night. 

Halfdan the Black was enough to pull her from her own contemplations. His presence made no sense. She simply couldn’t reconcile her memory of him with his choice to oppose his brother. 

He may have been the lighter brother in appearance but he was the darker in nature. He was a more reserved man than his brother, never one to waste words with flamboyancy. A maker of cool observations, alertness than verged on caution when around a potential threat - which he saw everywhere. For his cool manner off of the battlefield, when he fought he was wreathed in flame. As ruthless as any Viking, there was something vicious about him when he killed, something unhinged. As if he relished the chance to shake off all and any humanity. The only person she’d even seen him show any affection for was Harald. Watching them fight side by side during the Second Siege of Paris, their sibling bond looked unbreakable. Both men seemed to love sparingly, and with great intensity. And now they were ready to stare each other down across a field of blood, ready to end each other’s lives?

The man talking with Lagertha was one of two things. A different man to the one Ylva remembered, or a traitor. Curiosity piqued, concern building, she was determined to find out which. Letting ale flow across the floor like tributaries into a great lake she watched, waiting until Halfdan had drank enough to relax. Or relax as much as he seemed able to.

Only when his posture held less rigidity, one arm propped on the back of his chair, did Ylva approach. Two drinks in hand, she took the seat opposite and offered one to him. The warrior hesitated before he took the ale, watching her over it’s rim as he drank. Sharp eyes studied her from behind a tousled forelock. 

Slowly he lowered the horn, still observing her with an intensity that neared unnerving. “I know you.” 

“I fought during the Second Siege of Paris.”

Recognition dawned across his face. “You are Lagertha’s seer?”

“I am the woman you remember, yes. But I am no seer.” 

Halfdan frowned, mouth forming a straight line. “You knew what would happen that day. You warned the French had a fleet strong enough to challenge us.”

He remembered the day’s bitter loss well. But he didn’t know her, and like everyone else, he was quick to assume and slow to accept he was wrong. 

“Foresight is not limited to seers.”

“Then what are you?” 

Using the arm still draped across his chair, he pushed himself upright with the fluid grace of a cat. Ylva pulled her auburn braid over her shoulder. Fiddling with the end, she answered with a nonchalant tip of her head. 

“A mystery.”

“Tell me.” Halfdan’s eyes flashed. This man may have moved like a feline, but he was no tamed house creature. Something wild simmered beneath the surface. “I am a curious man.” 

“Your curiosity will fade,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. 

“No it will not. And I have far less patience,.” 

As he spoke he grabbed the wrist she swung between them, long fingers curling around the joint. His grip was unyielding, not painful but too tight for comfort. Ylva wasn’t stupid. She heard the warning in the harder edge his already raspy voice had taken. Bright blue eyes flickering across his face, she saw it too in the firm set of his features. 

Quite unintentionally, she had caught this man’s interest. A man who was accustomed to having whatever he wanted. A man who never heard ‘no’, and when he did, likely took matters into his own hands to change that answer. That had not been part of her plan to find out his true motives for being in Kattegat. But perhaps she could use it? She could tend that spark of curiosity; make him yearn for her truth enough to tell her a little something in exchange. 

Slowly she spoke, choosing her words carefully. Halfdan the Black was not a man she wanted to push too far. Danger glittered in blue depths behind a messy shock of blonde. And that danger’s hand currently had a rigid hold around her pulse-point.  

“I have never told Lagertha, and I have fought for her for many years. As for you, Halfdan, I do not even know if I can trust where your loyalties lie.” 

For a moment he neither moved nor spoke, some emotion flickering too briefly across his face to be named. She’d tried to toe the line between inciting his curiosity and his ire - perhaps she’d fallen to the wrong side? 

“I will fight for Bjorn,” he responded at last. 

Ylva watched him steadily, working to keep the relief from showing across her face. She sensed her fear was a weakness he would use. Tilting her chin up, she asked, “will you? Convince me.”

“I owe your leader an explanation. Not you, seer.”

The pressure on her wrist increased enough to set off a dull throb beneath his fingers. 

“And I owe one to no one,” she snapped, eyes narrowing into a glare. A fierceness slipped into her voice, a far cry from the careful cool she had maintained so far. “My name is Ylva, you will use it.”

He’d poked a raw nerve one too many times. 

Seers could cast their mind’s eye forward and read the words of the world that hadn’t yet been written. Their gift showed them both good and ill. Her curse showed her naught but doomed souls whose destiny was already written in blood. The guilt of watching friends die not once but twice had festered in her, and soon she’d found herself stood at the edge of that great cliff. The one she’d felt the hound pushing her towards since the very first sighting. It had been a simple choice - harden her heart, or fall, and break. 

So when she declared she wasn’t a seer, she meant it. She was a woman who predicted death without feeling. A woman who wasn’t sure she had any soul left. 

“Are you threatening me?” 

A sharp tug on the limb he still held brought her hurtling back to the present. Her stomach smacked into the table rim, her upper body tilting precariously, following the path of her outstretched arm. And Ylva had thought he’d felt menacing before. She would have laughed at her naivety if the situation wasn’t so serious. 

Head tilted, lips twisted into a dark smirk, Halfdan’s expression was amused disbelief. He was watching her like she was prey. Entertained in the way a wolf would be, to see a rabbit show defiance. Oh, what a deadly game she had started by drawing him into conversation. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, icy cold trickling down her spine. He was no doubt armed, and strong enough that she could not free herself. If the mood took him he could kill her then and there. And yet, hemmed in by his intoxicating presence, she had never felt more alive. He had a hypnotic allure that set her body humming. The lethal mix of icy calm and fiery peril that seemed to wage a war in his eyes called to her. It was enough that she hesitated, considering the risk of pushing him further, just to see what he would do. Her self-preservation instincts, however, would not allow her to quench that thirst to know. 

Swallowing her pride, she shook her head. “No. I’m asking you.” 

“I name you as I see you.” 

The warrior sought an explanation - he wanted her to lay her secrets out for him, and was unaccustomed to people denying him. But he had given her nothing. He hadn’t budged an inch - and neither would she.

“And you have given me no reason to trust you with the knowledge you want.” 

The close quartered-quiet wasn’t ideal for the shield-maiden. She could not deny her attraction to the man when she was close enough to count the lashes on one eye. Lithe and tall, though not enough to tower over her as Bjorn did, his body didn’t flaunt his strength. But she had seen him hack men to pieces. She knew the power that shifted beneath his skin. His unkempt blonde hair gave him a feral look his nature did nothing to negate. This was the first time she’d been close enough to study his eyes. She found intertwining brown hues, like mighty dragons fighting in the sky. As with every part of him, body and beyond, they were captivating. 

In silence they sat, pinning each other under stubborn glares. Their obstinate dispositions had brought them to a stalemate. Each wanted to draw the information they craved from the other, without divulging anything about themselves. All Ylva’s attempts to manipulate the situation had failed. They’d spoken about her more than she’d like - Halfdan kept spinning the conversation until she was the one answering questions. Her approach had been all wrong, and had set him on the defensive. 

Dropping all pretense and veiling from her voice, she spoke plainly. “I am sorry for talking in riddles, and implying you are not to be trusted. I saw you fight at Harald’s side in Paris. I simply find it difficult to understand why you are not by his side still.” 

The warrior considered her for so long she feared he would keep her in his bruising grip indefinitely, and say nothing. But he didn’t. He released her, and the feeling rushed back into her hand like water from behind a broken dam. She eased herself back into her seat, body stiff, waiting in earnest for his answer. 

“Bjorn saved my life.” 

She’d overheard him say as much to Lagertha - she wanted more. Drawing details he didn’t want to give was like drawing blood from a stone. 

“Surely you and your brother have saved each other many times over?” 

Taking a sip of his neglected ale, he shrugged enigmatically. He held the answer over her like a bone over a dog. But his reticence begged the question: what could possibly have happened in the Mediterranean between Bjorn and Halfdan?

“I overheard you telling Lagertha about the Mediterranean. Would you tell me something?” 

Halfdan drained his horn before replying, contemplating his words.  “A wanderer named Sinric was our guide. He may have been a God, walking among men.” 

“That…” Ylva trailed off, eyes wide.. Of all the things she’d thought he would say, that was not one of them. “I hardly have the words. What made you think him a God?” 

“He has this way of appearing somewhere, without seeming to travel there. And he is always at home, wherever he is.”

“That is incredible! To be in the presence of a God… I cannot imagine it. Did he share in your adventures?”

“You could call it that,” he shook his head ruefully. “He was nearly executed alongside Bjorn and I.”   

“Executed?” Ylva echoed, enthralled. 

“By an Arab, on plains of sand that stretched as far as the eye could see.” 

When speaking about his travels he was lighter. The heavy tone, laced with warnings and implications was replaced by something natural. His eyes captured wonder, an appreciation for what the world could hold, beyond his desire to take it. A brief smile tugged at his lips, and Ylva swallowed hard, taken aback by how it transformed his face. Even his posture was different, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. 

“I would like to see this desert for myself,” she admitted, the truthful words coming with unusual ease. Pale hands gripped the worn table-edge. “But there is always another battle to fight.”  

Halfdan furrowed his brow, disagreeing quietly. “There is more to life than fighting for glory.” 

Hadn’t this man spent his life fighting alongside his brother for little reason other than power, glory, and the thrill of it? 

That was when she understood. He was no traitor; indeed it was the other, less likely option. 

Halfdan’s experiences had subtly changed him. What he’d witnessed she hardly understood - he’d surely fed her only the scraps of his escapades. But those days in a world of sand had resulted in a man who could side against his brother. 

Ylva wasn’t sure what to say, but he didn’t seem to mind. Ale may have loosened his tongue, but he had never been the most loquacious of men. Shortly after he stood. With a quiet, “seer,” he bade her farewell, inclined his head, and left. 

She watched him brazenly as he walked, people parting from his path. A few clapped his shoulders as he passed through. 

Their conversation had allayed most of her concerns over his loyalties - that should have been the end of it. But she couldn’t help but turn his words over in her mind, hearing him deliver them again in that throaty voice. He’d stolen her attention with his unexpected arrival. Now they’d spoken, her interest was heightened like the waxing of the moon. Except she already doubted this feeling would wane. From the darkness she’d anticipated to the lightness she hadn’t, he was a puzzle. Complicated in a way that made her want to figure him out.  

There was time yet before the defenders of Kattegat and her intended conquerors would meet. Halfdan would find she too had curiosity to burn.