Hello again! First of all, thank you for the kind messages, and I do apologise for the long gap. You seriously cannot imagine how many times I rewrote this chapter! I'm so grateful to those who read the silly stories from my head. I hope my strange imagination brings you some entertainment.
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Anyway, after many, many, many rewrites, I hope this chapter finds you well and brings some joy.
From dusk till dawn, as each item of clothing, every scrap, every piece of furniture was turned over and flipped inside out. Frustrations were taken out not only through smashed glasses, ripped fabrics, and Leif’s gifted collection of notes, but in words. Impossible questions were met with equally frustrated answers. Those then led to venting, mumbling, grumbling, and then eventually to arguing. Nights are impossibly long when you can’t sleep, but it seemed to go by in a flash by the time our home had practically turned upside down.
There was no evidence, no misplaced note, not even a scrap of anything that proved Harald Sigurdsson had written any letter. I watched as Twyla gripped tightly to her curly hair, and I found myself also pulling at my own. Our cheeks red, our skin flushed with painful exhaustion, only this couldn’t be cured with sleep, only with answers that clearly did not exist here.
Whether or not he had sent any letter, there was only one person we knew who could have known for certain.
‘Put your cloak on.’
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‘Maybe this is not a good idea, ’ Twyla nervously croaked. We stood outside the stone building tucked into the very corner of Constantinople. A large smoky fog rose above the roofs, the burning smell wafting down the streets.
I pushed on the giant door gently, opening without hesitation. The hall was scattered with papers and items, making the small mess we had left at home look immaculately tidy. We shifted down the hall, the ashy fog causing our eyes to water.
A lone figure stood at the end of the long hall. He was slumped over, his robes stained with grey ash, his skin a pinkish red, his hair laden with sweat. I could feel the breath hitch in my throat, the sight a shock.
‘I wondered when you’d show up,’ he announced.
‘Darling, take this bucket, collect some water from the well,’ I instructed, handing her one of the wooden pails that sat by the front door. I gave her a reassuring smile as she unsurely took it, making her way back out the front door.
‘This is all Miriam’s,’ I announced, picking up one of the scrolls from the floor. Lief nodded, his eyes sullen. Whether it was from exhaustion or the memory of his lost love, I couldn’t say. All I knew for sure was that Lief Erikson had become a broken man.
I followed him outside. The small garden area was a complete desolate mess.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I questioned unsurely.
He froze in place; the poker gripped tightly in his grasp.
‘I imagine you came here to talk about something else?’ He diverted, but the gentle shake in his voice confirmed just how much he probably needed to let whatever was bothering him out.
‘I’ve waited seven years, I imagine I can wait a little longer,’ I replied, gently looping my arm around his, leading him to sit on the retaining wall surrounding the small garden.
He sat with a heavy thud, his eyes red, his exhausted body leaning slightly into my side. He sat silently, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. It reminded me of my mother, how she would often comfort men who were facing destruction in their own sense. Taking a leaf from her book, I needed to approach Lief with, admittedly, some resentful kindness. Sometimes, a broken person just needed to be reminded of something good.
‘Miriam is still the smartest person I’ve ever met,’ I said, pulling my lips into a slight smile. ‘She made a great teacher,’ I said, nodding towards Leif. The memory of their lessons as we had crossed the seas together all those years ago. How Leif inhaled every bit of knowledge she gifted him, a time when he was clearly much happier than how he stood now.
‘I didn’t make the best student,’ he sputtered. He brought his hands to his face, pressing his palms into his eyes defeatedly.
‘You learned to read, you learned to write, to use all of this information,’ I lectured, gesturing to what little was left that had not been engulfed by flames.
‘I killed a lot of people,’ he whispered.
‘Hardly strange for a Viking,’ I remarked resentfully.
He took a deep breath, resting his elbows on his thighs, barely managing to hold his own weight.
‘My father was a violent man. I never wanted to be like him, but in our last moments in Syracuse, I found myself very much similar to him.’
I wanted to laugh, to scream. The hypocrisy is unfathomable. Yet deep down, the only thing stopping me from doing just that; the slightest tinge of pity.
‘Mother?’ Twyla’s voice sounded, causing both of us to look across the garden. She made her way across the grass, placing the pail in front of Lief. He stared at it unsurely.
Twyla gently reached into her pocket, pulling out a cloth, and dunking it in the cold water. Without hesitation, she took a step closer to the withered man and gently rubbed at his ash-stained cheeks. Another single tear rolled down Lief’s cheek, but this time with a small smile. I could feel my own eyes water at her pure, unwavering kindness, a trait so similar to my own mother's.
Time with Lief passed rather comfortably as he and Twyla exchanged words, lessons. Lief talked about sailing across the seas, and Twyla talked about how birds can be used to tell where to find land. Lief didn’t encroach on the subject of Harald, but it was an obvious elephant in the room. Luckily, neither of us needed to awkwardly address it ourselves.
‘Did my father ever write to me?’ Twyla asked Lief.
Lief’s gaze shifted to me, unsurely, understanding the weighing impact his words would have. I gave him a gentle nod.
‘He wrote many letters over the years, not just to you but to many others. I cannot say for certain when or how many letters he may have written, but I do know who can tell you for sure.’
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*BANG BANG BANG*
“Y/N?”
‘I need to talk to you both,’ I responded urgently.
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‘So, Twyla, are you pleased to have your father home?’ Consus asked politely.
My eyes met Mathilda’s, her eyes as wide as my own. Clearly, she had not recounted the events of our last conversation to her husband. Twyla sat at the table, her eyes cast down to the steaming cup in front of her. ‘I have not met him properly yet,’ she responded diplomatically. But by the way she avoided making eye contact with the rest of us, I could sense that it clearly upset her more than she led on.
‘Well, he’ll be eager to see you, you are the only thing they spoke of on the journey home,’ Consus remarked. Twyla’s body went rigid, only shifting her eyes in Consus’s direction.
‘Really?’ she whispered, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the news.
‘That’s why we are here. Consus, we need to know truthfully, did Harald ever give you anything to bring back amongst your messages to the palace?’
He sat back in his chair, his manner so nonchalant, his face one of slight shock as if the answer to my question was obvious.
‘Of course,’ he responded, confused.
‘Then why didn’t you give them to us?’ Twyla’s palms slammed on the table, she asked angrily. I tentatively placed my hand on her shoulder, cautious that she might just pounce across the table.
‘What do you mean? I left them at the palace for you; she assured me she would pass them on to your tutor for you to take home.’ Consus responded.
Twyla’s leg bounced up and down, a new wave of fury jolting what little energy she had into one of pure fire.
‘THAT STUPID OLD TROUT,’ she screamed, her chair scraping across the floor as she stood up in a vicious huff. Not even I could predict the level of anger, for I had never seen her like this. But I had to bite my tongue, because even in my own anger and irritation, I knew that our anger was cast at different people.
I watched as Mathilda cast a daggering look at Consus, a silent plea not to say anything more. His mouth was slightly agape, whether it was at Twyla or our sheer ignorance at the side of a story which was obvious to him.
‘First, he accuses me of thievery, then of being the bastard child of the emperor, and now he’s stolen my letters,’ she listed, huffing herself back onto the chair, crossing her arms. It felt like something was clawing at my throat and stomach. I knew I should say something, but I didn’t know what to say. The night had been filled with arguments, bickering, and ultimately, disappointment. I didn’t want to do that again. Instead, I desperately looked to my friend, if there was anything at all I could say, but her shock was just as apparent as mine.
But there was one thing I did want to know, the only thing that could confirm my suspicions.
‘Consus, you said she would pass them on. Who exactly is she?’ I asked, forcing my tone to be one of calm and caution.
‘The Empress, of course, I delivered letters from the emperor himself to her over the last few years, when I mentioned the letters I needed to deliver to you, she said she would take care of it personally.’
I hated seeing my little girl so full of anger and frustration; however, in that moment, I was grateful for her preoccupation. It was dangerous enough for me to make an enemy out of the Empress, but it would be disastrous for Twyla to do the same.
*BANG BANG BANG*
Everyone notably jolted as the tense air was interrupted. As Consus left the table to answer the door, we sat in uncomfortable silence. Little could I have predicted, it was about to become even more uncomfortable.
‘Y/N…’ Consus called as he rounded back into the room. Behind him, a giant figure towered even taller than him, in that familiar gold and red uniform.
‘General Maniakes has come to see you.’
I watched as Mathilda swiftly curled her arm around Twyla’s shoulder, leading her away from the room before Maniakes entered. I stood as he entered the room, his smile wide. The man who once disguised himself as a wolf in sheep’s clothing had disrobed entirely.
He walked over, gripping my hand in his giant palm, bringing it to his lips and placing a swift kiss upon it. ‘I am pleased to find you well,’ he said, his grip still firm.
‘Would you like some tea?’ Consus asked, breaking the silence as the General and I glared at one another.
‘No.’ He answered with swift dismissal. ‘I’m here on behalf of the emperor. I visited what I believed to be your residence myself, but I found that you no longer reside there. Please forgive the intrusion, Consus; it is only that I thought your wife might be able to help me locate her dear friend. How opportune that she happens to be here.’ His grip squeezed tighter, but it wasn’t from over friendliness, but one of threat.
‘I will give you two a moment,’ Consus replied, eyeing me as he left the room cautiously.
‘How is your mother general?’ I quipped sarcastically, finally ripping my hand from his grip.
He smiled, his ferocious look matching my own.
‘My mother has been dead for quite some time,’ he replied cunningly.
‘Interesting. Well, the woman you sent me to live with all those years ago, that confused and vulnerable woman, is still alive, thank goodness. Not that it’s of interest to you, but she seems to be well enough’ I spat.
‘You must understand, Y/N, it was a matter of necessity, seeing as I was at the time one of the emperor’s closest advisors, and seeing as your husband suddenly granted the emperor’s trust so unexpectedly…let’s just say, I couldn’t just let you leave the palace so freely.’ He explained, reaching for one of the biscuits on the table.
‘You really thought I was some threat?’ I asked, causing him to laugh.
‘My interest in you only stems from my interest in Harald Sigurdsson, that of your daughter as well,’ he chuckled.
‘Leave my daughter out of this.’ I demanded, dangerously taking a step closer.
‘There’s no need to be unpleasant, Y/N,’ he dismissed condescendingly. ‘From what I understand, your husband will be returning to reclaim his throne in due time.’
‘So, if you didn’t come here to threaten me, what do you want?’ I responded impatiently.
‘The Emperor has invited you and your daughter to join them for lunch with the visiting Prince Yaroslav.’
‘Why? What business do I have with them?’ I asked, causing another callous smirk on his face.
‘Your attendance is not one of business, but one of pleasure,’ the General responded. I can only imagine the look on my face, but meeting the Prince of Novgorod wasn’t my main concern.
‘Harald will be at this luncheon?’ I asked, my eyebrows knotted together.
‘Quite possibly.’
‘Please send my deepest apologies, we’ll be sorry to miss it,’ I retorted, scraping my chair underneath the table as a sign to end the conversation at hand.
As I turned to leave the room, his heavy grip grasped tightly onto my arm.
‘Invitation might not be the right term…it’s a command.’
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The palace was adorned with fresh flowers, aromatic candles burned everywhere, even in the blaring sun. I clutched my hand tightly to Twyla’s. Stood in poorly fitted clothing, as the General had made it clear, our attire was not merely appropriate for the occasion. Mathilda had practically pulled her entire wardrobe from its chest, pulling a dress of one of her daughters that cinched too tightly to Twyla's small waist, causing her to pull at it constantly.
Mathilda had pulled and prodded at both of our hair, a hefty task, seeing as we hadn’t so much as washed or groomed since the previous day. I couldn’t say who was more nervous, us or Mathilda, as she ran rampant around outside, picking and craftily decorating Twyla’s tightly secured braids with flowers. Half a bottle of smelling oils had practically been chucked at us as we were ushered away.
The General wasted no time or effort in making sure that we swiftly made our way to the palace from Consus and Mathilda’s home. I could feel our gripped hands quivering, whether it was me or Twyla shaking, I couldn’t tell. General Maniakes stood close behind us, making any attempt at escaping what was going to be an awkward forced reunion impossible.
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The spread on the table was one of grandeur; a gurgling sound emanated from both our stomachs, whether it was from nerves or hunger specifically, I couldn’t tell. I bent down slightly as Twyla tugged on my skirt.
‘I don’t know what to say to him.’ She whispered rashly in my ear.
‘Well, all you have to do is curtsey and only respond when spoken to,’ I responded, just as much nerve in my tone.
‘I mean to him…to my…to my…father’
What words could I concoct to soothe her, this possibly life-changing moment, one that could do more damage than good? But our moment of whispering was interrupted by the opening of doors.
Seven years it had been. For still being a youthful man, it was clear that the war had taken a toll on the emperor, with a few more wrinkles and a couple of grey hairs among his luxurious locks. His dress and bejewelled accessories, however, were grander. The spoils of war clearly had returned favourable goods. Another equally decorated man entered the room with them.
I reluctantly unclasped my hand from Twyla’s, lowering myself to the floor in a deep curtsey as he, as well as the empress, entered the room. I didn’t imagine this was going to be a pleasurable experience, but I couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of the great General Maniakes as his head almost touched his toes with the deepness of a submissive bow.
As I stood, frozen in mid-curtsey, a hand appeared in front of me, outstretched in invitation. I nervously reached forward, unsure whether this was a customary act of the emperor, the uncertainty causing my hand to retreat. But the hand gingerly reached forward, slipping into mine, holding it gently in an invitation to stand.
‘Your highne…’
But my greeting was swiftly disrupted, not by the sight of the emperor, but by the face of Harald Sigurdsson.
‘Happy reunions all around!’ The emperor announced with a clap. The Empress swiftly waltzed toward us, holding out her hand. Harald reached forward first, placing a dutiful kiss on her knuckle. The Empress’s glare was powerful, her posture like that of a peacock, her lips glossy, her eyes smudged with colour, making her orbs pop. It was striking how much she had changed. She was always beautiful, but her beauty was once one of effortless nature; now it was one of affluent divinity.
She held her hand out expectantly, as I swiftly left a begrudged kiss on her hand. Her eyes flicked up and down as she seemed to assess me. It was only when her eyes peered at my other hand that I realised my hand was still clasped to Harald’s.
Another small hand slipped into my other one, and when I looked at her, her stare was focused on Harald’s.
‘A vision worthy of a painting,’ the emperor interrupted again, his arms outstretched as he smiled widely at the three of us. He walked forward, placing his hand underneath Twyla’s chin, inspecting her features.
‘She has Harald’s likeness, does she not, Y/N?’ he remarked fondly.
It was never something that escaped me, how her hair curled tightly like his, her eyes almost an exact copy of his. But she was still so small, every adult in the room towering over her, like a perfect little doll. Even I couldn’t help but smile.
‘Please,’ the empress interrupted, gesturing to the table in invitation.
My hands were still gripped tightly, both to Twyla’s and Harald’s. As we stood awkwardly behind the grand dining chairs, Harald finally released my hand as he shifted over to Twyla. Her grip tightened on mine, frozen as she cautiously watched him approach. But he didn’t say anything to her, only pulling out the large chair for her, inviting her to sit down. Her grip relaxed, and she took her place at the table, even emitting a little giggle as Harald tucked her chair in.
The Empress’s eyes shot daggers as Harald pulled my seat out, and her husband’s eyes flicked between his wife and Harald. Clearly, even after seven years, her feelings for Harald were obvious and strong. The emperor took his seat at the round table, smiling at Twyla as she nervously kept her eyes locked on the empty plate in front of her. He leaned over, a bowl of sweets in hand, as he offered her one. Her eyes flicked to his, the emperor giving her a gentle nod as she tentatively reached forward, giving him an unsure smile as she popped one in her mouth. The emperor did the same, breaking the nervous tension.
‘These are my favourites too, dear Twyla.’
Suddenly, the room bustled with life, a small band setting up a stage in the corner of the room, servants offering more food and drink than what was already on the table. The stranger who had entered with the Emperor and Empress sat between Harald and the General, watching Twyla and me intently as we sat awkwardly at the table, clearly out of place.
The Prince of Novgorod, I assumed.
The man’s eyes squinted, his head tilting uncertainly to the side. I could feel my nails digging into my palm as I clasped my fist tightly. Harald’s uncle didn’t need to say anything; his disappointment in us was clear. The way his eyes flicked to Harald’s as if to ask if his nephew was serious.
‘My Uncle, Prince Yaroslav, ruler of the Kievan Rus.’ He simply nodded in our direction, acknowledging us briefly, before talking of whatever he had truly come to discuss. There was no need for an introduction on our part; it had already been made abundantly clear. We didn’t cut it for him.
And so, as the lunch commenced, Twyla and I sat awkwardly at a table that we didn’t clearly belong at. But the Emperor’s constant glances between his wife and us made it clear the true purpose of our invitation.
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Even after seven years, the talks of more warfare and armies continued. What had transpired in Syracuse, what tactics could they bring to the next battle. No wonder Lief had succumbed to the state he was in. I looked over to Twyla, her plate untouched as she sat totally pale. I’m surprised I hadn’t sawed the plate in front of me in half with my knife. The invitation just continued to prove that we were all but pawns in a vicious game that saw no end. But this conversation was doing my daughter no favours.
‘Emperor,’ I interrupted, the chair sliding beneath me as I stood, as Prince Yaroslav argued over troop numbers and strategy. The look on both their faces was one of profound shock; the detestable look on Harald’s uncle's face intensified. ‘Emperor, I do not believe this to be an appropriate conversation for children. I humbly ask that I may take my daughter elsewhere.’ Beside me, a tiny stifled sniffle sounded, causing everyone to cast their looks to her. Another chair screeched, casting everyone's gaze to Harald.
His chest rose and fell heavily, his face riddled with concern. ‘Harald, control the lady and child,’ his Uncle seethed. Harald stood, clearly his mind racing as his eyes flicked between his uncle and Twyla. I could feel my nostrils flare, my teeth clenching together. After all the effort we had been through the last 24 hours, only to realise that maybe after all, Harald’s sense of duty and honour to himself was most important above all.
Another scraping chair interrupted, this time the Empress making a stand. She tentatively placed her hand on her husband's shoulder, her stern face turning to one of softness.
‘Perhaps this conversation is too much for a child. Let us ladies retreat to the garden for tea’ she said, causing the servants in the room to bustle toward the door. The Emperor stood, everyone following. He grasped onto her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles.
‘You may be excused, my dears,’ he said, nodding towards us also.
I didn’t waste any time, the seething look from the General and the Prince, the look of shamed bewilderment on Harald’s face. I gripped Twyla’s hand tightly, pulling her into my side as we followed the empress out of the room.
His eyes locked with mine as we swooped past the table. All I could manage to do was simply shake my head.
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A table sat in the garden under a gazebo, already set up and stocked with tea and cakes before we arrived. We waited for the Empress to sit before joining her at the small table. I spooned sugar into Twyla’s cup, relieved as the colour returned to her face the more she sipped on her tea.
‘Thank you for this,’ I spoke, breaking the silence. She nodded tentatively. It was strange, several years of absence, but I only truly knew Elena, not the empress she had become. What could I say? What couldn’t I?
‘You seem well,’ she politely enquired.
‘It has certainly been some time,’ I responded.
‘How are you finding your new…life?’ I asked, unsurely.
She let out a small chuckle as she brought her cup and saucer to her lips. ’It’s hardly new, but I am blessed with this life. To serve my people, to better my nation, to bring real change’ she eloquently answered. How very proper.
‘What is it that you do?’ She remarked. Although her question was fair, the intent behind it seemed condescending.
‘We have a farm, we make elixirs for healing, we make and sell cheese too.’ Twyla nodded alongside.
‘I’m not sure Harald is destined for the life of a farmer,’ she quipped.
‘I’m not destined for his life either,’ I snapped.
Twyla froze, mid-chewing her biscuit. The empress squinted her eyes, leaning back into her chair, her stare vicious.
‘I like living on the farm,’ Twyla whispered, offering a kind smile to the Empress. The Empress offered her a soft smile back, but her body was still as tense as before.
‘I am troubled to find that you have abandoned your lessons.’ She remarked. As Twyla’s face turned pale again, mine contrarily turned red.
‘Do you have anything to tell me, Twyla?’
Underneath the table, Twyla’s hand clutched at my skirt. I placed my arm around her, a comforting squeeze.
‘Her tutor made some accusations. A number of these accusations are untrue, and as her mother, I did not feel comfortable allowing her to return.’ I noted, directing the heat back to me.
‘I’m sorry, I took a book and some ink and paper…But I only took what my tutor left for discard.’ She bravely, but quietly, admitted.
‘And we are willing to replace the items anew,’ I included.
‘Is that all you wish to report?’ She asked.
I knew that her tutor had accused her of taking more treasured items, but I squeezed her shoulder, assuring her that she only needed to offer the truth.
‘He kept insisting the emperor was my father.’
By the way she sat up, the expression on her face, it was clear that this was news to her. Clearly, whatever else she had meant to address had been cast aside.
‘You assured him this was untrue?’ She asked, investigating more of the story which the man had clearly left out.
‘Of course, your highness,’ she nodded.
I could sense a tenseness wash over her, the topic of children one that seemed to cause her to be uncomfortable.
‘Twyla, why don’t you go for a walk about the garden, pick some flowers to take with you?’ she instructed, fluttering her fingers to dismiss her. Twyla looked at me uncertainly, shifting slowly from her chair.
Suddenly, it was just the two of us, and I was terrified.
‘I sense that Prince Yaroslav finds his nephew's family somewhat disappointing.’ She remarked, her eyes watching for any reaction. I purposely kept my face neutral as she continued.
‘If he intends for his daughter to be a great ruler, I would be happy to accommodate Twyla spending more time at the palace.’
‘She will not be a ruler,’ I growled. That had always been a talent of both Elena and the Empress Zoe; she knew exactly what buttons to push.
‘You would deny her such a life? I would have thought being the daughter of questionable parentage yourself, you would want better for your own children.’
‘My daughter is no concern of yours, she is content, she is happy, she is healthy. I pray sometime soon you will discover such joy yourself.’ It was a childish, verging on a cruel remark at her still not having produced an heir for the Emperor. But the corner of her lip twitched upward.
‘Sooner than you might think.’ She quipped, sipping on her tea.
‘Harald has so many talents, so many uses here, for my husband and myself. It would be a shame for him to become…distracted.’
‘Is that why you withheld his letters?’
Her lips pursed, her eyebrow arching. Check.
‘I simply withheld them for your best interest. It would be a shame to become so attached, only to be so disappointed when his priority and ambition lay elsewhere.’ Her tone was pitiful.
‘How generous.’ I sarcastically responded.
‘I’m a fair woman.’ She remarked, causing me to let out a huffed laugh.
‘I would be willing to give you the letters, as well as a generous sum, to help you establish yourself elsewhere,’ she said, reaching under the table and placing a small wooden chest on top. She unlocked the box, revealing a large stack of papers, on top a letter addressed with one sentence.
To my wife and darling daughter.
I reached in, the stack of papers almost spilling out. Each is the same.
To my wife and darling daughter.
She slid another smaller box onto the table, this time revealing a generous number of coins and a few pieces of jewellery.
‘I take it my end of the bargain means us leaving Constantinople?’
‘Well, I don’t imagine you’d both need to leave.’
Without hesitation, I slammed the lid down, the letters crumpling under the weight of the heavy wood. The chair beneath me tipped over on the grass. I was fuming. Yet she still sat so calmly.
‘Goodbye Elena.’ I remarked, storming off in the opposite direction.
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My heart was pounding, my palms sweating. The adrenaline was pumping throughout my body, my head pounding. Harald’s message ringing in my head.
To my wife and darling daughter.
My vision blurred as I desperately searched the gardens for Twyla.
What if the Empress had taken her?
What if she had been apprehended for the false accusations against her?
Every desolate, gut-wrenching thought wracked through my brain. But suddenly, my search was brought to a halt, and I stood frozen at the sight.
There she sat, and there he sat with her.
She pointed at the sky, the flock of birds flying above. Harald was listening and watching her every move with an enormous smile. It was hard to deny their likeness, their expressions of wonder, their smiles, their features so similar. The sun was setting in the distance, and only then did I realise how much time had passed.
Their gaze followed the birds until their eyes landed on me, the birds tweeting as they flew over my head. I gingerly walked toward them, uncertain of what to make of the scene.
‘Are you alright, darling?’ I asked, tucking one of her curly locks back into her braid. But her smile said it all; she was perfectly fine.
‘I thought we might all have tea together tomorrow,’ she suggested, her eyes pleading as she gazed up at me. I looked to Harald, whose eyes had the same expression. I looked back down, a glimmer of hope undeniable.
‘Okay.’ I replied.
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The events of the day had been overwhelming for everyone, but Constantinople didn’t stop for anyone.
Harald wandered through the party, shimmering gold masks and white robes everywhere he looked. But to him, he had all the good fortune he could have wished for, having finally had a moment with Twyla, his darling daughter.
But the celebrations and the joy were quickly demolished.
In utter awe, Harald watched as the blood spewed from his friend's neck, the emperor's eyes wide, both helpless to the unfolding events. He barely had a moment to register what was happening before his wrists were bound in chains.
‘Find that wife and daughter of his,’ General Maniakes demanded.
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Warnings: Classist themes and language. This chapter jumps between 3rd person and 1st person. Each section has a name above it to help guide who each bit focuses on.
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The Introverted Imagineer
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Y/N
‘Why did he just walk away like that?’ Twyla asked innocently.
She sat in the small wooden tub, her knees under her chin as she hugged her legs tightly to her front, resting her chin on her kneecaps. My body froze, my fingers stiffly nestled in her thick locks as the soap bubbled against her tiny scalp. Why did he walk away? A question I’d like to know the answer to myself.
‘Well, sweetheart it’s been a long time…I suppose he was just very shocked, you were just a baby when he left and now you’re a beautiful young girl…’
She simply nodded, but her rigid posture relayed the truth, that her queries and worries were still very much at the forefront of her mind. My fingers slightly released from their rigorous mortis like state, allowing me to massage them through her curly locks, a feature I had almost forgotten that resembled Harald’s so closely.
‘He thinks I’m a thief’ she whispered, whether she intended for me to hear her or not, I couldn’t stop my instincts from diving into protection mode.
‘Well he doesn’t know you.’ I fiercely responded, the resentment in my voice not mistaken, even by a seven year old. I tentatively reached for the small bowl, scooping water from the tub, rinsing the long curls that reached halfway down her back. ‘I mean to say darling, you’re not a thief, and what transpired this afternoon…’ my voice trailed, my thoughts racing. She wrapped her arms around her legs tighter, almost trying to cocoon into herself, bracing herself for whatever consequence was to come.
‘Sweetheart…why did you not feel you could go ask your tutor for some spare materials? Why did you just take them?’ I remembered my own mother, how she would always meet troubling topics with an open mind, an open ended question, no matter how much she probably wanted to clip me around the ear.
She didn’t move from her self made cocoon, only shifting her head so that her cheek rested on her knees, gazing at me side on. Her words clearly rested on the edge of her tongue, but her willingness to share was evident. I reached for the cloth, returning to scrubbing her back as a way to make it seem my concentration was elsewhere.
‘Because…they don’t like people like us’ she reluctantly uttered.
‘People like us?’ I responded quizzically.
Truth was, there was no need for her to explain. A childhood full of slander, stereotyping, and misunderstanding meant I knew all to well what her words meant, and the weight they carried.
‘He said I’m the Emperor’s bastard…and he accused me of taking things that I didn’t take.’
It was almost primal. My urge to attack, to scream, to shout. The wickedness of it all unbearably believable, to think that someone could be so sinister to anyone, let alone a child. My own childhood was plagued with such burdensome thoughts. So carefully I had tried to shape a life for Twyla that wouldn’t be anything similar to my own, a life where there was no space for such thoughts. Yet here she sat, in her most vulnerable state, my heart bleeding with guilt and worry.
‘Everyone at the palace is the same…even him’ she said, sighing deeply. ‘Him?’ I asked curiously.
‘My father.’ She sighed.
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Y/N
What was usually the sounds of birds calling and insects chirping was replaced by the sound of thumping in the distance. I opened my eyes, gently brushing Twylas curls from my face as she rested in total uninterrupted slumber. The thump followed a continuous beat, the rhythm thumping from afar.
I quietly rose from the bed, eyes adjusting to the gentle sunlight as I moved the cloth from the window. Each morning, the small settlement was usually busy with farmers milking their cattle, children distributing hay to the livestock with pitchforks that were too big and heavy for them. The sound of crunching as people harvested crops for their market sales. Instead, it was barren. In the distance, I could see familiar figures walking down the hill towards the city, following the sound of the drumming beat in curiosity. It was only when the distant sound of cheering emitted that the reality truly hit.
The Emperor’s army had returned in full.
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Twyla
The day before had been exhausting. The overwhelming adrenaline that had transpired from the events of the day before, the trepidation of being faced with her father; someone she always thought deep down she might recognise if their paths ever crossed. The reality that she would no longer be welcome at the palace…although in that moment she wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing.
The little girl felt heavy, slumber-some at the thought of having to face the day, a new day which didn’t include the long walk to the palace, the droning on of her tutor, or her post lesson debriefs at the tree with her best friend.
She wearily reached into the bucket of water in the corner of the hut, wiping away the dry tears that had formed crusty cluster on her skin.
The sky was already shining, contrasting to the normal black sky she greeted most mornings. The hut, usually filled by her mother making her breakfast, was instead stark silent. She opened the door of their small home, startled by the absence of her mother or any of her neighbours. Retreating inside she dressed herself, lacing up a pair of boots that were slightly too small for her growing feet. Her other shoes long lost amongst the gardens of the palace, likely already thrown into a fire somewhere.
Daring to venture out she stood in the doorframe unsure whether to retreat back inside or explore the vast emptiness. What if they had taken everyone away? What if the settlement had been ransacked while she were asleep? What if they had taken her mother away? Her thoughts racing with questions, anxiety bubbling in her stomach at the thought of her mother being questioned and crucified by her behaviour the day before.
She took a deep breath, poking her head out, assessing her surroundings determining the safety. Whatever had caused the silence, she was determined to find out why.
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Y/N
As I edged closer to the city centre, the noise was overwhelming. What had started as a solemn solo journey, I was now swept up in a sea of people constantly pushing one another as more people joined the crowd, all joining the expedition to the central chaos. Women held bouquets of flowers, men held long wreaths that they shook above them in celebration. Children ran around clapping their hands as they weaved through the crowd of people.
The drumming became louder, the sound of clanging symbols now complementing the rhythmic beat. People stood on the roofs of buildings, people hanging out almost every window of their homes as they cheered and sung praises below. I weaved through the crowd, placing myself at the edge of the stone wall, looking below. A sea of red paraded through the streets, each one equipped with shields and weapons as they waved at the adoring crowd. Flowers rained down as people threw petals and stems at the soldiers, yelling admirations and blessings, some even crying joyfully. The sea of red seemed to endlessly flow through the streets, people following their path right towards the palace walls.
As I made my way closer to the palace, the sea of red was a stark contrast to the small party of gold that led the parade. So perfectly, the army lined themselves in rows that stretched all the way down and around the path. The crowd watched from above, packed shoulder to shoulder as everyone cast their eyes towards the front of the palace. A long black canopy adorned the front of the palace walls, blocking the view from the crowd above.
As the drumming stopped, the rhythmic clanging from the symbols subsided, the chatter and cheering from the crowd turned to quiet. Many members of the crowd were unsettled, their eyes desperately searching amongst the crowd of warriors, looking for lost family members and loved ones. Their attention disturbed as two men made their way forward, standing on the small podium facing the mystery canopy.
Their presence was met with cheers from the crowd below, banging their weapons on their shields, clapping. As the pair peeled their helmets from their heads, I could feel my blood turn cold. His hair, even from such a great distance, those thick brown curls, the bits of yellow naturally bleached by the sun. Exactly like Twylas. Silently grateful for the crowd from above, I hadn’t noticed my weight leaning against others at the mere shock of his grandeur presence.
From under the canopy, a bejewelling gold figure emerged from underneath. It was only when the priest had finished his speech was the silence broken by an even more chilling voice.
‘Today we welcome back our beloved army, and celebrate their overwhelming victory in Sicily.’
Another voice I hadn't heard in seven years. Another voice that reminded me that the last seven years, everything I’d worked for, the home we’d built for ourselves, the friends we’d made, all of it could be ripped away from under us by the click of the Emperor’s fingers.
The crowd cheers, relishing in all his glory. His every word, his every movement, the crowd couldn’t get enough of his splendour. The excitement amongst the crowd was electric, intensifying as the Emperor invited another presence that terrified me even more.
Her new name, the Empress Zoe.
It was in this moment. Looking at the endless sea that was the Emperor’s army, the way the Empress, Emperor and Harald commanded the audience, did I truly realise the fragility of our situation. The last seven years was only but a passing dream. Reality had returned, and it had returned in full.
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Twyla
Twyla walks cautiously through the streets. The sound of cheering emits from the centre of the city, the calls sporadic and inconsistent. It seemed like a deserted wasteland, clothing left to dance in the breeze, every door and window shut, which were usually open in such heat. She had even seen a couple of rats running freely on the cobblestones.
Her tireless venture was eventually interrupted by the smell of smoke. Instead of following the cheers that had come from the city, she followed the wafting of burnt embers that encapsulated her senses. It wasn’t a smell of wood, or food, or even animal excrement, all smells she was used to at home.
She trailed around, poking her head around the corner of one of the buildings, finding the source of the fire itself. The house stood at the end of a desolate lane, a small courtyard with an array of shrubs and overgrown gardens. Clearly a place that lacked any attention for some time. At the edge of the courtyard, a short stone retaining wall stood enclosing the property. It was along the wall she saw a small collection of scrolls and papers, inscribed with words and drawings she couldn’t make out from her distance.
She tentatively ducked, slowly following the edge of the property. The edge of the retaining wall backed onto a small cliff, but this didn’t seem to deflect her new-found bravery to find out what was written on all the discarded pages. She climbed atop of the small retaining wall, crawling along the top that was just thick enough to maintain her balance and weight. She cautiously looked around, there was no noise, no presence, only a burning fire and a bunch of parchment. She reached down, sitting herself on the wall, and unravelled the wonders of her new-found treasure.
Upon the parchment, sketches of plants and flowers, along with descriptions of healing properties. Another parchment showed drawings of the night sky, little scribbles and notes she couldn’t quite make out. As she kept unravelling, she didn’t notice the new presence that had entered the courtyard.
‘Found what you’re looking for?’ The man sarcastically noted, causing the young girl to jolt, dropping the parchment she was holding. Frozen, she stared at the man as he held an armful of leather bound scrolls above the fire. She didn’t know what was more terrifying. Him, or his willingness to burn what seemed to be a library full of information and knowledge.
‘Bring those to me’ he commanded, dumping the parchment on the ground, taking the metal rod and poking the small fire. Twyla remained still, casting her eyes down at the cliffs edge, debating if it would be a worthy escape. But the man interrupted again. ‘Don’t be foolish, just bring me some of those papers by your feet’ he said, not even looking up at her, clearly more concerned with his task at hand.
She carefully placed her feet on the ground beneath her, watching the mans every movements as she collected bits of paper. He looked up at her, his eyes a natural squint, his hair untamed, his skin a deep brown that indicated he had spent too much time in the sun. She slowly approached, standing opposite him, the fire a barrier between them that made the young girl feel a little safer.
‘Why are you burning all this?’ She asked, her arms full of parchment.
He looked down, his lips pursing, slightly hunched, clearly uncomfortable by her sudden inquisitiveness. He glanced at her, his attention intensifying on her as he took in all her features.
‘Where are your parents?’ He asked, countering her question with another. Little did Lief know, it wouldn’t be enough to deter her. Little did Twyla know, Lief Erikson already knew all too well who the her parents were.
‘Answer my question first’ she responded more confidently. Lief couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, the similarities to y/n evident. He watched the young girl, wondering how similar she might be to his own niece or nephew.
‘I’m burning these because the information they possess are not helpful for anyone’ he said solemnly, his attention turning back quickly to the fire.
‘Why is that their fault?’ Twyla asked, tilting her head to one side.
‘Whose fault?’ Lief asked unenthusiastically.
‘Well…all this information? Just because you don’t think it’s helpful for you doesn’t mean it’s not helpful for anyone else?’ Again, her attention unwavering, making Lief feel all the more uncomfortable. He didn’t want to have to tell a child about the horrors of Syracuse or the guilt that he carried since.
‘It’s just not something anyone should have’ his voice carrying a tone of impatience as he said it. The young girl let out a sigh, raising one of her eyebrows, a feature that undeniably matched that of Harald. It always bothered him when Harald did that, but he couldn’t find himself getting the same feeling from the young curious girl.
‘You disagree?’ Lief asked, placing the metal rod to the side, crossing his arms. The young girl was clearly tense, her head lowered slightly as her eyes flickered between Lief and the fire. ‘Go on’ he said, forcing his voice to be more cheerful.
‘Well…I think that there are things here that could be used to better the world…and maybe there are things here that can be shared’ her words trailed off as she busied herself with the scrolls in her arms, reaching for one in particular. Her new found confidence was striking to Lief, as the previously timid girl walked around the fire pit, her arms outstretched as she offered Lief a piece of parchment. He tentatively took the page, unravelling it’s contents. On the page, a series of drawings and words about plants and flowers.
His throat hitched. The memory of Miriam, how she carried such plants on her person to manage pain and aches. It was only the sight of Twyla in front of him that brought him back from his internal darkness. He sighed, unsure of how to balance the moral queries of the little girls questions and what happened in Syracuse.
‘Maybe I can take some? My mother and I could maybe use some of this to help people? Better than burning it?’ She said, opening scrolls and assessing the contents. Lief couldn’t help but feel enamoured by the young girls curiosity, and her proficient wisdom. He couldn’t help but admire the young girl, and the job her mother had done in raising her. He hoped his own sister had done the same for the child she bore.
Lief smiled to himself. ‘You have a look, and show me what you want to take, I can’t promise I’ll let you keep everything, but if you think these writings will make the world a better place then I’ll let you take it.’ The young girl couldn’t help but jump up in excitement, and Lief happily watched as she took to her task, unravelling all the parchment within reach.
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Harald
The palace, that had stood solemnly and lonely for the past seven years, now possessed a resurgence of life. A grand feast covered the tables in the main hall, there was chatter, and laughter, almost causing a headache for the Empress. The Emperor strode around his grand hall, the familiarity giving him a sense of peace. His castle the same as when he left, but with his newfound successes, it felt all the more glorious.
The Empress watched from afar, watching as Harald politely shook hands and engaged in conversation with admirers, accepting congratulations on his new title Spatharkandidatos. She watched as Harald glanced over at his friends, trying to politely dismiss the strangers who were desperate to talk to him. The Empress slowly made her way towards the group, anticipating her moment with Harald without drawing the suspicions of her husband.
As Harald finally approached the group, the Emperor approached also. ‘Harald!’ He cheered, his smile wide, his teeth gleaming as Harald directed his attentions to him, bowing dutifully. As the Empress was about to speak, the Emperor interrupted again.
‘Harald Sigurdsson, I’m disappointed to not see your wife or daughter here celebrating with us’ he said, wrapping his arm possessively around the Empresses waist. The discomforting look did not escape their friends, however the Emperor was none the wiser.
‘After seven years away, it’s overwhelming for us all I suppose’ Harald offered as diplomatically as he could. The truth was Harald was speaking more for himself than of y/n and Twyla. The parade, the honouring of his new title, his return to Constantinople had been all a blur since he came face to face with his daughter the night before. Like the walking dead, his consciousness was punctured and subdued by the fear in his daughters eyes when he had faced her. Harald had gone to bed that night, replaying the scene over and over. How he had yelled, how he had scared her, but how he sensed that the life he had tried to set up for her had not acclimated at all. The prospect that his daughter had succumbed to a life of thievery and pickpocketing to survive. The way her clothes were ripped, the mess of items that fell from her bag. Harald was disappointed, but no more than himself; how he had simply walked away, failing to acknowledge his wife nor daughter after seven years of absence.
His guilt was matched, however, by anger. How y/n had never responded to any of his letters, how nobody seemed to know anything of his wife or daughter when messengers travelled between Constantinople and wherever the war had taken them. In his mind, y/n had robbed him of what little he could have. Seven years of wonder, of broken hope when messengers informed him they had no news of his family, that his wife refused to take any letter or message from him. The torture of the unknown was more menacing than any opponent on the battlefield.
‘I sent the invitation personally’ the Empress remarked, placing her hand on her husband’s which still rested on her waist. Harald’s face dropped, his eyes seeming sullen all of a sudden. ‘The child had stopped attending her lessons…I wonder if she is unwell?’ The Empress continued. But the Emperor interrupted once again, sensing the confusion and concern that was rattling inside his noble warrior. ‘My dear, this is not the time to discuss such personal matters’ he whispered, his tone condescending.
‘Emperor’ a voice called, drawing his attentions to another part of the room. He placed a gentle pat on his wife’s lower back as he walked away.
‘Do you still wish to return to Norway to be King?’ The Empress asked.
‘My desires have never wavered. It is my destiny’ Harald responded, his unwavering doubt clearly a disappointment to the Empress.
‘Destinies can change’ she remarked confidently.
Harald was not naive. It was very clear, even after seven years apart, the Empresses admiration for him had not faltered. Harald knew that her feelings was more a cause of danger for him rather than the Empress herself. But even with a wife, Harald could feel his insides quiver. There was no doubt, the Empress was beautiful, generous…possessive, but Harald needed to get closer to her. She clearly knew something about his child, and he was desperate for information.
His sense of danger heightened as a group of palace guards approached him in the middle of the celebrations, leading him to the underground of the palace, away from the safety of anyone else.
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Y/N
‘Y/n’ Mathilda’s voice softly called as I sat in the garden, ripping weeds from the crops, aimlessly throwing them over the small wooden fence. Anger. All I felt was anger. How proudly he stood, basking in the glory of an empire that wasn’t his. How the Emperor and Empress decorated him with titles.
‘Harald is back’ she said, letting herself in through the small garden fence, picking up the destruction that I had clearly made by ripping away at the garden.
‘I know. I saw him’ I stated coldly.
‘You weren’t at the celebration?’ She said, more as a question rather than a statement. I couldn’t help but scoff at the ridiculousness of it. ‘How was I supposed to know that I had been called to see the great Harald Sigurdsson? He certainly didn’t say anything yesterday’ I sarcastically and aggressively stated.
‘You saw him yesterday?’ She quizzed, lowering herself down to the ground next to me. ‘He called Twyla a thief, and then walked off when we finally came face to face. SHIT!’ I exclaimed, holding the stems of an onion plant that clearly wasn’t ready to be pulled. ‘Seven years, you’d think he might have at least said hello or asked how we were, not fucking walk off’ I yelled, startling the livestock as they ran further away from the fence near the house. ‘You know, from what those viking scum took from us all those years ago, the events we endured, how our lives have been affected, why is it that people like that seem to get every fucking thing they want!’
I could barely catch my breath before Mathilda made another remark.
‘Are you jealous y/n?’ She asked quietly.
It was then that my arm seemed to involuntarily thrust, my arm giving a sharp whip as the premature onions went flying into the paddock.
‘I’M NOT JEALOUS, THE WORLD JUST TIME AND TIME PROVES OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO BE FUCKING CRUEL AND COMICALLY UNFAIR’. It was only when my shouting finished did I realise that a sheep had jumped the paddock, and my cheeks were wet with tears.
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Harald
‘Forgive the intrigue, but no one can know where this place is’ the Emperor noted, standing cynically at the end of the hall. Harald, startled, remained quiet as he waited for whatever move the Emperor was about to make.
The Empress stepped into view, making Harald’s insides quiver.
‘Can I trust you Harald Sigurdsson?’ The Emperor asked.
His question struck two emotions within Harald. Disbelief and fear. Disbelief that after seven years of loyal service, that the Emperor would question his loyalties. Fear, as to the uncertainty of the Empresses presence.
‘I believe I have earned that trust’ he responded. The Emperor smiled, turning around as he walked further into the private chamber.
‘Then enter the Emperor’s vault’ he announced cheerfully.
The room was filled with gold, silver, and jewels. It was unlike anything Harald had seen. In that moment, he was finally distracted from any thought of his daughter or y/n. His attention wavering even further when the Emperor announced it was for Harald to take, and not simply admire.
But the diverted attention only lasted momentarily. Even faced with all the treasures he could ever dream of, he still wanted information on his greatest treasures of all.
‘What of my daughter…and wife?’ Harald asked. The Emperor smiled. ‘I admire your devotion to family’ he said, strolling casually towards another door. ‘For this, I shall leave you to deliberate with my wife’ he said, exiting the chamber mysteriously.
The Empress watched him eagerly, teasingly strutting closer and closer to his large frame. But Harald was determined to keep his composure. Eyes were always everywhere.
‘I tried to give your letters to your wife personally’ she said. ‘I even tried to give them to your daughter to take home, but they never seemed to make it home’. Harald’s hands tensed, clamping his fingers into a fist.
‘You said she has stopped attending her lessons?’ He asked.
‘Harald, I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but your daughter has been accused of stealing prized jewels from the palace.’ Harald couldn’t help but be confused by her statement. ‘What kind of prized jewels?’ He asked curiously. ‘Some relics that clearly have been taken from the church, her tutor managed to retrieve from her belongings, but there are more missing items that the clergy have noticed.’ Her faced offered a comforting softness as she looked at Harald, lifting her hand and brushing her hand against his cheek. ‘I’m sorry, this is not news I wanted to share’ she whispered softly. Defeated by the news, she trailed her hand down his arms, placing something solid in his hand.
‘But you don’t have to choose, you can have everything’ she said, gesturing to the items in the room, before taking her leave, leaving Harald Sigurdsson vulnerable and confused.
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Harald
’This is what you fought for. Everywhere we went these were your rewards’ Harald exclaimed, baffled by the sight of Lief burning all the knowledge that he had procured over the last seven years. But Lief was determined, he had already been diverted by the young girl earlier that day, he simply wanted to finish what he started.
‘I intended to use the knowledge to make the world better. I have used it to make it worse’ Lief coldly responded.
Lief, what happened in Syracuse was not your fault’ Harald said, so matter of factly in a way that had always irritated Lief. But as he looked at Harald, his stern face softened to one of compassion, he couldn’t help but speak.
‘She’s a lot like you…the expression similar’ Lief said, waving the scroll in his hand. ‘Expect, she’s a lot wiser than you or I in many ways’ he said, facing his back to Harald as he retrieved more materials to burn.
‘Who?’ Harald asked curiously.
‘Twyla’ Lief responded, deciding not to look at Harald, incase his words hit deeper than intended.
‘You met her? You talked to her?’ Harald asked, pacing closer to Lief, his face one of disbelief. Lief simply nodded casually, fuelling Harald more.
‘She was here? What did she say? What is she like?’ Harald asked, his strong hand grasping onto Lief’s wrist as he went to throw another scroll in the fire. Begrudgingly, Lief dropped the scroll, walking over to the retaining wall, taking a seat as he looked at the dumbfounded Harald Sigurdsson.
‘She is stubborn, but wise and curious, especially for someone so young. She is kind, but not in a manner that is overbearing. She is cautious, but bold. She is certainly her mothers daughter.’ He said, realising that his last sentence might not be a comforting factor to his friend.
‘Did she ask about me at all?’ Harald asked, his vulnerability surprising Lief.
‘Not specifically’ Lief responded. ‘I asked her where she learnt to read, she said she used to go to classes her father had organised for her before he left for the war’ he noted nonchalantly. Harald raised his hand, covering his mouth in frustration as he scratched at his chin. ‘The Empress told me she’s been stealing from the palace’ Harald responded, his face back to that sternness that was so common to him.
Lief laughed, angering Harald.
‘What?’ Harald demanded.
‘Harald, you and I come from very different worlds. I have known thief's, and pickpockets, and liars. Your daughter is not one of them’ Lief said, so matter of factly.
‘Well Elena said…’ Harald begun, only to be interrupted by Lief.
‘Elena is dead, she is now the Empress Zoe. Elena was your friend, but the Empress is not’ he sternly told Harald, reaching for more scrolls and waltzing back over to the fire.
‘Well explain to me why she has been accused of thievery, has stopped attending her lessons, and my daughter nor her mother ever responded to any of my letters? The Empress seems to be the only person willing to tell me what's been going on, so explain to me how I cannot consider her a friend if she’s the only one telling me anything of use’ Harald impatiently remarked, using his fingers to count off each fact.
‘Maybe you should ask y/n yourself’ Lief remarked, causing his friend to stomp off angrily with a final remark.
‘My wife has refused contact with me in seven years, why would she start now!’
Little did either of them know, the young girl sat hidden, her back pressed against the wall, having heard everything between Lief Eriksson and Harald Sigurdsson.
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Y/N
‘YOU LIAR’ Twyla’s voice screamed, causing me to jump.
‘What are you talking about sweetheart?’ I asked, dropping the large wooden spoon in the pot. ‘And what are all those scrolls?’ I asked, rising from the small stool, giving her my full attention.
‘I HEARD HIM, I HEARD HIM TALK ABOUT THE LETTERS!’ She yelled, stomping her foot on the ground.
‘WHO AND WHAT LETTERS?’ I yelled back, my eyes closed, my hands involuntarily twitching.
‘MY FATHER! He says he sent letters!’ She exclaimed, my dumbfound expression not deterring her.
‘You spoke to him?’ I asked, squatting to match her height as I reached out, trying to comfort her distresses. But she took a step back, determined to keep composure.
‘No, he told the man, his friend…Leaf’ she said heatedly.
‘Lief?’ I asked.
‘He told Lief you didn’t respond to his letters’ she expressed defeatedly. ‘Maybe he wouldn’t believe I was a thief if he knew a little about me, but you didn’t reply to his letters.’ She dropped the scrolls, her mouth turned downward.
I cautiously shuffled closer, placing my hands gently on her now-crossed arms.
First of all i‘m so happy that you are working on you‘re own stories because i love you‘re writing, and i‘m so in love with you‘re Harald Storie. Are you still going to continue it?
Much Love!
Thank you! Don’t worry, writing is in the works for the Harald series ☺️
Hi, I just wanted to say I enjoy your writing soooo very much! You have such a gift!!💖
Thank you so much! I’m so pleased that it’s brought you some joy 🥰 New Year’s resolution is to put my own original story to paper and your kind words have made it feel a little more approachable! 💕
Warnings: Gendered and classist themes, language, violence, themes of corporal punishment. Just a note that this chapter (and previous ones) jump from 3rd person to 1st person. First-person is our x reader, and third-person covers Twyla's adventures for most of this chapter!
Hello, fellow Imagineers! First of all, I'd like to thank you for waiting and apologise for the delay in getting this chapter out. Due to circumstances outside of my control, I've had to dive back into the job-hunting market, which I'm sure you all know unemployment, is not very fun! But oh well, life goes on and sometimes one's own enthusiasm falters, but after weeks of writing and pulling bits together from multiple documents and notes, I present this chapter!
I have also made a Buy Me a Coffee page if anyone wants to support that way but please know absolutely nothing will be behind a paywall or no extra content - everything is still here and free on this page! So no pressure!!! Only if you want to, you can support me here!
http://buymeacoffee.com/the_introverted_imagineer
- The introverted Imagineer
A little girl sits in the west wing of the Emperor’s castle, a room filled with books and scriptures that reach from the ground to the ceiling. Her tutor, an elderly self-proclaimed scholar with a long, thinning white beard, reads aloud to no one as she instead focuses on the light reflecting on the floor. She watched eagerly as the light strode further and further into the room. She particularly focuses on the shadows the light casts from objects in the room. She had cleverly monitored the way the shadow cast to dictate how long she had been in her lessons and how much longer she had left.
She knows her being in that bland room with her equally bland teacher was anything but bland. Her neighbours and other children went off to help work in the fields, to feed and water the livestock, or to help prepare breakfast for the household. Like her neighbours, she woke up, dressed similarly, and ate the same things as the people in her village. Instead, her destination was the palace. With a kiss on both cheeks, a declaration of love, and a boding wish to have a good day from her mother, she left to fulfil her duty that differed from any other child her age she had ever met.
'Girl!'
Her teacher's raspy voice interrupted her thoughts as he banged the heavy book against the table, his yellow teeth sneering and his bushy eyebrows domineering in a way that made her insides shudder. He knew her name, of course. The Emperor himself was the one who requested his help in tutoring the young girl, but the scholar didn’t take kindly to having to educate someone he didn’t believe was worthy.
The young girl sits up in her seat, being sure not to shrink into her chair; she knew he’d like that and wasn’t willing to give him the satisfaction. ‘Do you know how lucky you are to learn any of this?’ He rhetorically asked. But the young girl's answer was all but rhetorical. ‘Better than you know, sir.' She could see his cheeks turn red, his eye twitching as he internally fought with himself, ready to verbally pounce. But instead, his eyes cast behind her as he rounded the podium, his gaze turning to total enchantment. ‘Empress, welcome,’ he expressed, bowing deeply. Twyla rose from her chair, falling into a deep, dutiful curtsey, eyes cast to the floor. ‘Empress, this is a pleasure. Is there anything I can do for you?’ Her teacher said his instant change from rage to total submission was uncannily obvious to his young student. ‘Yes, I was wondering if Twyla could see me after her classes for some tea’, she asked. The scholar nodded deeply, answering for the young girl before she could. ‘She would be delighted; we were finishing anyway,’ he said, offering a friendly tap on the girl's shoulder that made her insides shrivel up. ‘You are dismissed,’ he said, still dutifully standing there, as if waiting for an extension of the invitation.
Twyla followed dutifully behind the empress, stifling a laugh as she heard her classroom door slam shut, her tutor on the inside. But she couldn’t help but clutch her fists tightly as she followed the Empress into the palace gardens. The Empress had been curious about her studies, often stopping the young girl as she left to ask her how her lessons were progressing, but this was the first time the Empress had requested to sit and talk with her.
A modest table setting of tea, sweet pastries, and berries. The gold pot and teacup made the show that this tea was anything but modest. She stood dutifully, waiting for the Empress to sit down and invite her to do the same. ‘Sit, please’, she said, her smile wide as she watched the young girl sit down. Twyla sat down, her frame slightly rigid as she waited for the Empress to begin the conversation. ‘How are you lessons?’ She asked, gesturing for her maid to pour the tea into both cups. ‘They are good, Your Highness; I particularly enjoy lessons on literature, myths, and fables,’ she shyly responded, thanking the maid as she poured the tea. The Empress fluttered her fingers in a gesture to dismiss the maid. Twyla couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with the solemn gesture. ‘You travel a great distance each day to and from the palace for your lessons; do you find this difficult?’ The Empress asked as she spooned in a lump of sugar. Twyla shrugged her shoulders, placing her hands under her thighs as she awkwardly shifted. ‘I haven’t thought of it as a burden,’ she responded, offering the Empress a friendly, close-lipped smile. ‘I walk with my friend to the market and make the rest of the way by myself, so I enjoy it’, she offered. The Empress smiled back. ‘Friends are important,’ she noted.
‘Speaking of friends, you know that your father was a great friend of mine?’ Twyla began tapping her feet on the concrete gently, averting her eyes to the display of goods. Her mother had always said to her that any questions she had about her father, any conversations she wanted to have about him, her mother would always answer honestly. While growing up, she would have the occasional question, or her mother might tell a story; the topic of her father had always been at her own discretion. She knew he was a soldier, that he had originally come from the Viking world, and that he was ambitious and tolerant of religions that differed from his own. She knew her father was away, trying to build a better life for him and the people he cared for. She also knew it was her father who made it possible for her to have an education. Twyla had become content with the limited information she knew. While part of her would always be curious if their paths would ever cross again or if he’d ever come home from war at all, she simply chose to be peaceful and grateful for the family she did have around her. Her mother, her godmother, and her godmother's children were only a few years younger than her. She had a community back at home, the neighbouring houses, and her friends. It wasn’t that she didn’t wish she had a relationship with her father; she simply didn’t wish for more than she already had.
‘There are talks that the Constantinople army has made some victorious defeats... they might even come home soon,’ The Empress noted. Twyla didn’t understand why the Empress was discussing such matters with her; she was only a child. ‘My friends will be happy to be reunited with their families,’ she said, taking one of the pastries and slipping it into her pocket for later. ‘What about you?’ The empress asked inquisitively. Twyla looked at the Empress with an expression of confusion. ‘What about me?’ She asked as politely as she could. ‘Well, if the army is returning, then your father is likely to return with it,’ she explained. The Empress could see the colour visibly drain from the child's face, the hair on her arms standing up as she sat frozen, staring at the Empress—nothing the child had ever dared to do before. ‘I…I… I really don’t know him, your Highness,’ she muddled, grabbing another pastry and tearing bits of it up onto her plate in front of her. The Empress tilted her head to the side. ‘Your mother doesn’t speak of her husband?’ She inquired. Twyla knew that her mother and father were wed, but she had never really heard her mother talk about him as if he were her husband. Never disrespectfully, but if the topic of him came up, he was only referred to as ‘your father’. It wasn’t that her mother hated him or was disrespectful in speaking of him. The language used to describe him was simply very matter-of-fact.
‘Your father will be happy to see you’, she said, placing her cup down and leaning back into her chair as she looked over the child, assessing her body language. The Empress could tell the child was uncomfortable, on edge even. ‘Will the Emperor be coming home too?’ The young girl asked, cleverly trying to direct the conversation away from herself. ‘He will; he will be very happy to return to his people,’ she said. Twyla smiled, kicking her feet as she awkwardly sat, waiting for the Empress to either dismiss her or bring up another topic of conversation. ‘Well, Twyla, it occurred to me that with you travelling by foot each day and with your father returning, the Emperor is likely to want him to stay at the palace while they... finish their delegations with one another.’ Her eyebrow perked up, a smile crossing her face as she continued. ‘How would you feel about staying at the palace for a while? It would make sense. You could get to class easier, you could spend more time with your father, we could have tea,’ she said, leaning forward from her chair. ‘Staying at the palace?’ The young girl repeated, entirely confused. As much as she couldn’t, all she wanted to do was tell the Empress to leave her alone, that her relationship with her father was none of her concern, and that she already had a home. ‘I think I should talk to my mother,’ she responded quietly. But the Empress wasn’t quite finished. ‘You have my personal invitation, as that of the Emperors, and I’m sure that of your fathers’ it’s your decision, not your mothers’, she said, making Twyla feel all the more uncomfortable. Clearly, it didn’t seem like it was her decision at all.
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‘Where have you been?’ A dramatic, high-pitched squeal exclaimed as Twyla exited the grounds of the Emperor’s palace. Fyza, Twyla’s closest friend, jumped down from the trellis perched outside the palace walls. Twyla reached into her pocket and gave her friend the pastry she had put away from tea. 'Sorry, I couldn’t leave,’ Twyla said, watching as her friend gleefully stuffed the sweet pastry into her mouth. ‘You’re never this late; what happened?’ Fyza asked, her words muffled between her chewing. Twyla wondered if she should tell her friend what happened. While Fyza was her closest friend, she also knew that the young girl couldn’t keep hold of a secret to save her life. But she so desperately wanted to tell someone. ‘The Empress asked me for tea,’ Twyla whispered, looping her arm around her friends as they walked through the busy streets. ‘THE EMPRESS?’ Fyza exclaimed, a few bits of pastry flying from her mouth, gathering attention from the strangers around them. ‘Shhhh’ Twyla exclaimed, squeezing her friend's arm. ‘Did she ask you about your lessons again?’ Fyza asked more quietly. ‘I never could understand why she was so concerned with you,’ she said as they continued the trek home. ‘Neither did I.’ Twyla responded quietly, but has now begun to wonder, judging by the Empress’s comments about her father. 'Well, the sun is still out; we might have time to go to the tree,’ Fyza said, clutching onto Twyla’s hand and pulling her before she could protest.
When Twyla had started going to the palace, Fyza had been excited to know everything. What her teacher was like, what the inside of the palace looked like, what sort of things she was learning. What had started as genuine curiosity over time turned into lessons as Twyla began to share everything she was learning. Twyla used sticks, writing words and letters she had learned into the mud by the tree that the pair had claimed as their own. Fyza, copying her friend, taking in all the information with wonder and amazement, just as Twyla had when she first started her lessons. What started as simple things like how to write one's own name or write numbers had progressed to making their own archive of knowledge; using sharp rocks, they carved words into the big tree, even stashing bits of paper into jars they hid in the spaces between the roots of the tree. The girls had promised early on that this place and its doings were their little secret. Not because they believed there was any shame in it, but because the pair knew that their friends and people would likely not understand their bewilderment with the things they discussed. People would tell them to focus on better things like sheep rearing, weaving, or gathering crops.
While Twyla knew that getting an education was something to be grateful for, it wasn’t easy. Her access to education also brought the young girl a dreadful burden of guilt and shame. The guilt of having a noble education, even though she lived a life of anything but nobility. The shame of having such an opportunity while knowing that it made her different and that her friends didn’t have the same privilege. Teaching Fyza everything raised the burden slightly, but the burden only doubled when she thought realistically that she shouldn’t have to keep something like this a secret.
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I could barely peel the smile from my face. My humble home was now a neighbourhood meeting spot; people constantly popped in and out, Twyla’s friends a constant. I never thought it would come to this, but Constantinople had become a home. I couldn’t help but think of my childhood and how much my mother would have loved to have made a life for us like this. The room bustled as people sat chatting, each with a hot drink in hand, enjoying the cosy environment and the pleasure of each other's company. I couldn’t have imagined any neighbourhood would be like this—how perfect strangers could create such a tight community. That this little shack, made from clay, sticks, and stone, was entirely our own.
People watched gleefully as Mathilda’s youngest son lay on the floor, trying to shove his toe into his mouth, unaware of the audience he had accumulated. As the seven years passed, it seemed she had a child each year. Her husband often comes back with news of the Emperor’s army before leaving to reunite with them. I knew I should ask after Harald, but it felt strange. Yes, he was my husband, but I hadn’t seen him or had any news or letter from him in seven years. Harald Sigurdsson had simply become an enigma.
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‘I’m home!’ Twyla announced as she entered the small cabin, the bottom of her dress covered with soft dirt. I couldn’t help but smile; she always had a good day when her clothes showed evidence of dirt and mud. ‘You were gone awhile,’ I noted, ruffling the top of her curly hair as I kissed her forehead. Usually, Twyla would poke her tongue out or even make mocking kissy faces when I did this, but instead, her little arms wrapped tightly around my waist as her head nuzzled into my stomach. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ I asked, gently slipping my hands around her and rubbing her back in a comforting manner. ‘I want to stay here,’ she muffled. I chuckled. ‘Well, I’d love to hug you forever, my darling, I responded, leaning down and placing another kiss on the top of her head. She wriggled, pressing her chin into my stomach as she gazed up at me. ‘No, I mean here, at home, she repeated, a look of worry in her eyes.
I unlatched my arms, bending down to look at her directly. ‘You want to stop going to your lessons?’ I asked, concerned with her distressed comment. She shook her head furiously. ‘No. Here. Home! I don’t want to move away from home,’ she responded. ‘Why would we ever leave?’ I asked, my stomach dropping slightly. She looked at me, clearly deep in thought; her shoulders slumped slightly. ‘Well, what if my father comes back?’ I knew Harald intended to return to his homeland. I know he would want his children to go with him. I let out a sigh, the cause of her heaviness now evident. ‘Your father loves you. If your father returns, he will want to spend time with you; of course, you’re wonderful, and he’s missed out on you growing up,’ I said, brushing the untamed curls behind her ear. 'But this is our home. Your father will have to deal with that. This place is important to you, as it is to me, and he’ll see that. Your father won’t want to make you unhappy.’ I said, trying to give her the most comforting words I could. Her shoulders perked, the corner of her lips turning upwards as she leant back into my embrace.
As much as I wanted to ask her why or where this sudden concern had come from, I didn’t want to push the subject of her father further than she was comfortable. Having never had a father, I didn’t want to get it wrong—to burden my own daughter with thoughts and feelings that could upset her.
‘The Empress spoke to me today’, Twyla murmured as I tucked the blankets tightly around her at bedtime. I could feel my body tense, forcing an effort to keep a calm expression. ‘What did she speak to you about?’ I asked, trying to keep a friendly tone, but when it came to the Empress, that was always difficult. ‘She asked how my lessons were,’ she said, clutching onto the soft embroidered doll Harald had left her before he left for war. ‘Well, how are they?’ I asked, trying to broach more of her exchange with the Empress. Her face sunk slightly, and she embraced her doll closely to her chest as her gaze left mine and went to her doll. I could feel my heart crack slightly. Was I a bad mother? Was this all just too much for her?
‘I like learning... I don’t like learning there...at the palace,’ she nervously emitted. I reached forward, slipping my hand into hers and rubbing my thumb across her palm. ‘I won’t lie to you, sweetheart’ I let out a little breath, knowing my words could do more damage than they did good. ‘Having private lessons at the palace is an incredible opportunity; it's something your father was able to give you because of the man he is.’ I could see her eyebrows crease with uncomforted worry. 'But if it makes you unhappy, then I will never force you to keep going; all I want you to know is if you decide to stop going, then there is little I can do to undo it if you change your mind’, I said softly. I could feel my conscience rattling inside my head. Was this too heavy a burden to put on a child? Would any other parent so easily dismiss such an education for their child? But her eyes flicked up, her face warming. ‘I know Mother,’ a relieved smile washed over her face, naturally causing me to return the smile.
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The young girl walked through the palace corridor, her stomach in knots as she tried to slide along the wall, out of sight of the Empress. She feared the Empress would further push the matter of her staying at the palace in her mind; if the Empress simply never saw her again, then she couldn’t make her stay. She quietly approached the scholar's room, waiting dutifully outside to be invited in. ‘You should never assume you’re just welcome to come in at your leisure, child,’ her teacher had scolded the first time she attended class.
‘Between you and me, she comes in most mornings smelling of sheep excrement, and it’s appalling the child's mother sends her to here of all places in such a state’, A muffled voice sounded on the other side of the door. Twyla couldn’t help but slide down the wall so that she sat next to the crack at the bottom of the door, intently leaning into the sound of the conversation happening inside. ‘I don’t tell you this to be a gossip, but only to assure you that I believe your concerns are valid.' The smell of earthy floral herbs wafted underneath the door, her teacher entertaining someone for tea. ‘It’s as if everything I teach her during our lessons is lost on her. I’ve been with her for over a year, and she is still completely illiterate. Twyla sat, confused by her teacher's words. He couldn’t have been talking about her; she was an excellent reader and writer for her age, and her mother always made sure that she wore a clean dress every single day for her class. ‘You don’t believe this is a reflection of your teaching?’ The Empress’s voice responded. Twyla’s chest jumped at the voice, rigidly forcing herself from the floor. ‘Your majesty, I can assure you, my teaching methods have always had sufficient results. What concerns me is that the child’s home life is not enriching or stimulating enough for her to retain the information she learns here.' There was a moment of silence behind the door, the young girl nervously shifting to the other side of the doorway, next to the hinges. ‘I will relay this information to her father; it is evidently clear that Twyla will be better off at the palace. Thank you for your time.’
Any colouring from Twyla’s face was completely drained. A simultaneous feeling of fear and anger churned her insides. Complete anger with her teachers’ blatant lies and fear of the Empress’s control. Footsteps clicked from the other side of the door towards her. Twyla pressed herself against the wall as the door slowly pushed open, causing the young girl to camouflage herself as the Empress and her tutor bid each other goodbye, and the Empress walked back down the corridor. ‘Like living in the palace will help civilise that savage child, not even the Emperor’s bastard’, her tutor murmured to himself, closing the door again.
She stood there silently, pressed against the wall as she battled her emotions. Maybe she should pretend nothing happened and that she never heard anything. Perhaps she could confront her tutor for his blatant lies. No, no, that would be an admission of guilt, she protested to herself. Part of her wanted to go in and tell him just who her father was, that she wasn’t the Emperor’s bastard child, but not even Twyla knew much about her real father at all. Her sense of courage was outweighed by her logical brain. Who cared about the truth? Nothing would change that stubborn old impertinent’s mind. He was, to himself, the smartest man alive; he wasn’t going to take her word for it. In the end, all she knew was that she couldn’t face her tutor, the Empress, or any remnant of this place today.
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Twyla waded through the crowds of the Constantinople market, searching for the one person she knew could make her feel better. Fyza stood hunched; her mother stood lecturing her, three smashed apples on the ground in front of her. Twyla couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing her friend all too well. Fyza’s mother spotted Twyla, a look of surprise on her face. She stared at the child intently, knowing that something with the young girl wasn’t quite right. She then shooed her child away, pointing in Twyla’s direction and shoving her towards her as she returned to her stall.
‘Did you try juggling with the produce again?’ Twila asked her friend with a smirk. ‘It gets people's attention, at least, her friend shrugged, matching Twyla’s cheeky smirk. ‘Why aren’t you at your lesson?’ The young girl sighed, looping her arm around her friends, finally spilling all that had been troubling her since the Empress’s tea party.
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‘YOU CAN’T MOVE TO THE PALACE!’ Fyza exclaimed as they sat on the empty fishing dock. ‘If you go, who will I play with? How will you teach me? Who will I do the washing with? Who’s going to help me scare my brothers away when they are annoying me?’ Fyza’s endless concerns and questions rattled on as Twyla sat there, her attention drifting between her friend and the fear of leaving her home. She didn’t want to leave her home; she didn’t want to leave her friends; but most of all, she didn’t want to leave her mother.
‘AND WHO IS THAT OLD FART TO SAY YOU CAN’T LEARN ALL THE THINGS YOU HAVE BEEN, AND TEACHING THEM TO ME?' Fyza exclaimed, her face now red as she thrashed her arms around, making Twyla dodge her friend's movements. ‘Why do people like that think they are better than us? They eat food from our farms; they eat our livestock, and they need our plants to make medicine!’ Twyla sat there, her full attention on Fyza and her words. ‘You know I tried to buy a piece of parchment this morning, and the seller laughed at me.' Fyza said, her tone turning to one of defeat, which was unusual for her outspoken friend. Twyla felt her blood begin to pump faster, a light sweat as she began to heat up. Not from a feeling of overwhelming panic, but of pure anger. She stood up, placing her hands on her hips. ‘Someone laughed at you for trying to buy parchment?’ Twyla angrily exclaimed. Fyza rubbed her palm against her eyes, turning her head in the other direction, embarrassed by the sudden emotion.
‘Give me your satchel and follow me.’ Twyla demanded, stomping up the dock and towards the palace.
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‘You wait here,’ Twyla instructed, practically shoving her friend into the archway that sat on the back edge of the palace gardens. Fyza looked at the garden, the exotic flowers, the perfectly trimmed hedges, and the extravagant statues that decorated the grounds. It was the closest Fyza had been to the palace grounds. The gardens were scarce of people, further fueling Twyla’s plan.
She strode forward slowly, her mind racing with the same mantra. ‘It’s okay, they have plenty’. She knew this was wrong; she knew that stealing was wrong. But she also knew that you can’t always fight fair with fair. If her tutor was going to call her a savage and a bastard, if the Empress was going to rip her from her own home, and if some man was going to come home and expect her to respect him as a father, she was going to take something for herself.
She walked around the perimeter of the castle, stealthily crouching behind pillars, plants, and bushes until she stood outside the window of her class. With the hot weather, the window sat slightly ajar, enough for the young girl to peek through. She slipped her shoes off, gripping onto the stone window sill and hoisting herself off the ground, using her bare feet to push herself up. The stones dug into her skin, but living a farm life meant her hands were well-calloused. She peeked through the window to see the room completely vacant, but the door inside was wide open. She hoisted her legs up, scooting her knees underneath her, sitting on the small outer edge of the window. Delicately, she slipped her fingers through the tiny gap, slowly opening the wooden window shutter. She slipped her head inside the room, inspecting the contents littered on the table. Steadying her hands on each side of the window frame, she slipped her legs inside and jumped down onto the ground.
Her heart began to thump wildly, hyper-alert to everything around her. She quietly lifted one of the small wooden stools, placing it under the window to allow herself a much less effortful escape through the window when needed. She clutched onto Fyza’s satchel, which hung snugly across her body. She rounded the edge of the room, making her way to the door and peeking down the corridor. As far as she could see, the halls were empty. She took the opportunity to slowly shut the creaking wooden door of the classroom, taking a deep breath as it shut.
She didn’t waste a moment. She hurried to the cupboard where her tutor kept a handsome supply of goods, one that she was never allowed to touch. She opened the door, hastily reaching inside and filling the satchel with stacks of parchment, a half-full pot of ink, and a couple of shoddy reed pens that had been discarded behind his collection of newer and unused ones. She could feel her palms sweat, her conscience telling her that stealing was wrong, but an even stronger sense of justice propelled her to keep going. Twyla knew that her tutor would likely not miss the contents she had helped herself to, mindful not to be too greedy with what she took. She strode to the other side of the small circular room, her eyes searching over the seemingly endless collection of books. Multiple bibles, tattered notebooks that belonged to scholars, and rolls of parchment were stacked on the ceiling. She searched until she spotted her favourite book. A small book she had hidden inside bibles and textbooks, her tutor unaware that she was reading something different than what she appeared to be. A topic that her tutor herself had called ‘a total waste of time.’ She swiped her finger over the spine, her hand shaking as her finger slid down each word. Ornithology and the Natural World. Not even Twyla could remember where it started, but her fascination for birds had always been a constant in her life.
‘Found what you’re looking for?’ A teeth-chattering, snide voice sounded behind her. Twyla whipped around; her tutor stood with a look of fury on his face. The cupboard doors to his private collection were wide open, obvious that it had been ransacked. ‘I needed some parchment... for writing practice,’ she murmured. He strode to the cupboard, inspecting the contents. She stood, her leg quivering as she tried to keep herself composed. ‘You didn’t come for your lesson today’, he said, opening the drawers of his cabinet. She stood quiet, knowing better than to speak back to him, especially in such a state of fury.
However, when he turned around, his face was completely composed. He gazed around the room, his eyes calculating as he stood deep in thought. ‘I’m sorry’, Twyla whispered, reaching into her satchel, pulling out the contents and placing them on the table. He walked slowly towards his desk, reaching for a long piece of wood, holding one end and smacking his palm against the other. Her tutor was not shy of threatening the young girl with a smack from time to time, but he had never actually done it. Twyla took a step back, pressing herself against the bookcase as if trying to disappear through the solid wood. Her tutor, instead, tucked the wooden crop under his arm and walked back to the drawers, pulling out small relics. A small golden cross, a tiny silver box with religious imagery, and a string of rosary beads. He sat down in his chair, ignoring the parchment and other goods on the table. ‘Guard!’ He yelled, the door now wide open. Heavy footsteps sounded from the corridor, and a large butch man entered the room. ‘I would like to request an audience with the Empress. I caught my student here stealing from the palace,’ he said. But instead of gesturing to the loot Twyla had surrendered on the table, he gestured to the priceless objects on his desk. Twyla’s jaw dropped, her mouth stuttering aloud before she could stop herself. ‘I…I…no…no’ she repeated, but the guard ignored her, turning back towards the corridor, calling for assistance.
With an unwavering thought, a thrust of adrenaline. The young girl turned around, grabbed one of the vases that decorated the bookcases, and threw it towards her tutor. Pieces of porcelain smashed against the stone wall, and her tutor fell to the floor as he dodged the sudden attack. She grabbed a stack of books, throwing them in his direction as he crawled across the ground. ‘YOU LITTLE BASTARD!’ he yelled angrily. But his name-calling only fuelled the child with more adrenaline. ‘YOU’RE A LIAR’ She screamed back, continuing to flood the room with books. ‘I CAN READ, AND I CAN WRITE, AND I AM NOT THE EMPEROR’S BASTARD’. His face froze at the shock of her words. She grabbed another vase, throwing it at the wall just above her tutor's now curled-up body. As it smashed to pieces, she reached forward, stuffing the parchment, reed pens, and ink back into her satchel. She grabbed another book to throw in his direction, but the cover caught her eye. Ornithology and the Natural World.
Instead of throwing it, she slipped it into the satchel and charged towards the window. She hoisted herself up on the wooden stool as a trio of guards marched into the room, clearly struck by the sight in front of them. An elderly man sat amongst pieces of smashed porcelain, a collection of books and paper tossed amongst the room, and a young child sitting on the window sill. ‘THIEF’ her tutor cried, pointing at the young girl. Twyla didn’t think twice, her knees buckling to the ground as she jumped from the window onto the ground outside.
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Fyza barely had a moment to register her boredom before her now barefooted friend gripped her wrist, dragging her away from the palace walls, a group of men shouting from behind as they ran.
‘THIEF’
‘STOP’
‘GUARD’
The girls ran, their small feet carrying them faster than ever. Twyla heard a small giggle from her friend as they dodged through stunned and dumbfounded citizens who could barely process the scene before them before the girls had disappeared. Twyla’s thoughts spun, horrified by the sudden uncharacteristic actions that had resulted in what she could only describe as an explosion of emotion. She couldn’t tell if pure adrenaline or shock suddenly made her feel sick to her stomach.
‘Here’ Fyza whispered, suddenly yanking her arm in the opposite direction of Twyla, causing Twyla a harsh whiplash. The girls suddenly propelled forward, practically flying as they jumped from the small bridge on the city path down into a garden bed of shrubs and weeds. The pair hissed at the sudden impact, the scratching of twigs and loose rocks that dug into their skin.
The girls crouched, listening to the sound of footsteps pounding on the path just above them. A few of the guards stopped, debating where the pair could have gone. They could hear one voice in particular, ordering the guards off in different directions, and much to the girl's dismay, posting two guards to stay at the bridge while they continued to search. The pair looked at one another, their faces dropping at the realisation. This was going to be a long day of silent waiting.
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The girls silently sat for hours, listening to the world above them pass by. They listened as the guards questioned people who walked along the path, asking if they had seen two children running. But just as the boredom settled in for them, the same happened for the guards as the streets became sparse.
‘That man has always been trouble’, one of the guards grumbled to the other. ‘Who?’ The other asked, ‘That scholar, he always seems to find issues with everyone he encounters; this whole chase is probably a total waste of time.' The girls looked at one another, Twyla’s eyes wide with stupefaction at the revelation. Fyza’s lips curled into a smile, clearly excited by the gossip between the guards.
Another hour passed, and the girls sat digging at their fingernails and ripping dead leaves from the shrubs. The sound of a bell chimed a rare occurrence. The girls sat up, a look of confusion as they listened to the bell ringing furiously. The sound of marching and heavy footsteps sounded, making their way to the ringing. Fyza slipped her hand into Twyla’s, nodding her head in a gesture as if to say, ‘Let’s get out of here.’ But Twyla resisted her friends' pleas, holding her hand up and urging her friend to wait just a moment longer, pointing up at the still busy footsteps and clanging metal of the palace guard uniforms.
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Twyla picked up one of the pebbles beneath her feet and threw it on the garden wall, silently waiting for any reaction. The marching had disappeared, and the bells had stopped ringing. Much to their relief, there was nothing. The girls stood up, both their knees buckling at the sudden change of posture. The sky now cast an orange hue, evidence that it had been a long day for them both. As they waded out of the shrubbery, the pair found themselves standing at the edge of the garden bed, another intimidating drop if they wanted to get anywhere.
‘I don’t know if my legs can take it’ Twyla murmured to Fyza, her friend nodding in agreement. ‘The way I see it, we either die here or we die at the hands of angry mothers,’ Fyza said with a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood. Twyla rolled her eyes, dismayed at the thought of what would happen if word got to her mother about her actions at the palace. ‘I’m going to be in so much trouble,’ she said, her hands gripping the strap of Fyza’s satchel that still hung across her body. ‘Maybe you’ll be banned from the palace instead?’ Fyza hopefully quipped. ‘You can’t live at the palace if you’re not allowed inside’. The corner of Twyla’s lips tugged upwards.
‘Come on’, Fyza said, lowering herself to sit on the edge of the garden wall. Twyla followed suit, both the girls looking at the drop below, at least double their height. ‘Here, give me your hands,’ Twyla said, kneeling behind Fyza. They gripped one another's wrists, Fyza now slowly dangling down the side of the wall slightly. Twyla’s weight thrust forward, forcing her stomach to smack on the ground in front of her, the edge of the rock garden wall digging into her abdomen as her friend dangerously dangled on the side. The girls both let out a simultaneous panicked yelp at the sudden thrust of gravity. The contents of the satchel spilt out onto the ground, the jar of ink smashing on the path beneath them. Sharp shards of glass and wet ink littered the ground beneath them.
The sound of a startled neigh caused both the girls to let out a scream. Fyza’s fingers dug into Twyla's wrist, and Twyla’s grip slightly loosened. The horse bucked, standing up on its hind legs, causing the rider to fall with a loud clanging thump. Fyza’s feet immediately found themselves on the garden wall, trying to climb back up. ‘IT’S A GUARD’, Fyza exclaimed as the person stood up, a groan as he clutched the rails of his startled horse. ‘Woah, woah, woah,’ his deep voice cried. But his concern for his horse quickly faltered as his eyes cast to the scene of the two girls in front of him. He quickly strode over, effortlessly clutching onto Fyza’s waist with one arm, alleviating the weight from Twyla’s grip.
Fyza thrust violently, not making any difference, as the man effortlessly gripped his startled horse with the other hand. ‘Stop screaming; you’re startling the horse’, he scolded. He stepped over the shattered glass, placing the young girl on the path. ‘What are you two doing? You’ll kill yourselves,’ he scolded, gripping tightly to his horse as he patted it into calmness. As Twyla lay there with a startled shock, she hardly noticed her friend running up the path, away from the catastrophe they had caused. The man curiously inspected the shattered ink, the parchment now stuck to the ground, the young girl fleeing from the scene.
Without hesitation, the man strode back to the wall where half of Twyla’s body hung. He placed his hands under her armpit, gently pulling her from the high garden wall and carrying her onto the path. His statue towered over her as he intimidatingly looked her up and down. She looked down at herself. Her dress was ripped, her bare feet raw, and leaves and dirt stuck on her. He stood, his arms crossed, a grumpy look on his face. He assessed the scene around them—the shattered glass, the parchment blowing down the path, the tattered reed pens. But it was the book that caught his eye. Ornithology and the Natural World. The binding was in perfect condition, and the lettering on the cover embodied gold. He took one look at the book, then one at the tattered little girl. It was easy to conclude with one look. These items didn’t belong to her.
He placed his hands on his hips, turned to the young girl, and started to shout.
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While most parents would feel anger, I only felt panic. When Fyza had burst into the hut, coughing and wheezing as she collapsed onto the floor. 'Twyla...guards...market square...the bridge’. I yelled for her mother, shocked by my negligence, as I ran, leaving Fyza. I ran down the hill, down the fields, dodging goats who jumped at the sudden disruption to their peaceful slumber.
The word radiated continuously through my brain. Guards. What had happened to my little girl? What could she have done? She hadn’t a troublemaking bone in her body. Was she hurt? Was it something worse?
The streets were empty of life, making my fears all the worse. The desolation of noise, people, and the overabundance of life—something I hated when I first came here, something I never thought I’d get used to—now was petrifying.
It was moments like this, when things had been going right, that I wondered if I had made the right choices as a mother. Had I pressured her into going to classes? Should I have burdened her with the thought that I couldn’t do anything to change the circumstances of her education?
The sound of a deep voice yelling sounded from the lower path. I stopped to a halt, causing myself to trip over my skirt and onto all fours. The stinging sensation pierced the palms of my hand. ‘Your little friend has run off; if you weren’t stealing, then why did she leave you?’. I could feel the hairs on my body stand to attention like a piercing shock as if lightning had struck me frozen. Your little friend? Fyza?
I gathered my skirt in my hand, running down the path towards the deep voice that was likely growling at my little girl. Stealing? She would never steal. I could feel my feet padding against the pavement harder and faster, letting gravity push me as I wound down the path closer to the voice. I could feel my insides churning, adrenaline, anger, and primal protective essence washing over me. As I finally reached the bridge, I could feel my neck crack as I stopped, whipping my head around as the lecturing and shouting of the man ceased. ‘Where are you?’ I urged myself.
‘Mother!’ Her voice was a sweet relief. I walked to the edge of the bridge, looking down to see her gentle eyes looking at mine. She took off, running up the path. ‘Hey’ that deep, burly voice called again. I could hear the sound of metal clanging. The guard probably followed her as she rounded up the path, her body coming clearer into view. Her feet were bare, remnants of dirt, twigs and leaves clung to her dress, a large torn slit riding up to her knee. Her hair was frazzled, the curls untamed when she had been running about or spent too much time in the sun. I squatted down, matching her height, my raw palms outstretched with relief as her body collided with mine.
I picked her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, her arms clung tightly to my neck, her face pressed in the crook of my shoulder as her tears began to dampen my collar. ‘Are you hurt?’ I whispered, rubbing my hand up and down her back. She simply shook her head, her fingers clutching at the back of my shirt. A feeling of relief calms my insides, but that primal protective urge remains. ‘I don’t know what happened, but I promise I didn’t mean to cause such trouble,’ she said, her sobs still escaping. I could feel her muttering, words spilling out, but I couldn’t make out what they were.
I could hear the sound of metal clanging, the guard's uniform like a bell, the sound getting closer and closer. Hadn’t she had enough? Her muffled wailing and cries were surely evident enough to prove that whatever she had done, she wasn’t in a rush to do again anytime soon. Even though my stomach knotted at the thought of whatever happened, I wasn’t going to let some palace guard continue to vilify her. I took a deep breath, slightly bouncing with my daughter in my arms as if consoling a newborn baby.
‘Your daughter seems to have a heavy conscience’, the deep voice sounded. I took a breath, turning around to face whoever it was. Don’t shout, don’t scream, and don’t scare Twyla anymore than she already was.
But instead, I crumbled to my knees as I faced him, Twyla still clinging on. The voice I hadn’t recognised, but a face that I could never erase from my memory if I tried. Even after seven years of his absence.
The Vikings Ambition and the Emperor’s Request (Part 23)
Warnings: Language, gendered themes, warfare, violence, themes of pregnancy and infertility, religious themes, and smut. Please be careful not to engage with the content below if any of these warnings are inappropriate or impact your well-being.
This is a long chapter with a bit of time jumping so please bear with it.
-The Introverted Imagineer.
The markets of Constantinople were busiest in the early hours of the morning. Families buy bread and produce for the day, fishermen trade their catches as they row in and out of the harbour, and farmers sell milk and eggs before they are spoilt by the burning sun. It was easy to lose oneself in the crowd, the crowding and bustling a welcome change to the quiet and control inside the Emperor’s palace. The Emperor had been unduly generous since our arrival in Constantinople. His unwavering kindness reminded me of sweet Kurya…but unlike Kurya, something about it felt rather sinister. The influx of luxurious gifts, the invitations to dine with the Emperor and Empress, and the constant influx of service people always insisting on cleaning and cooking for us. I remember, back in London, a life like this seemed a total dream, never having to worry about what to cook, your room always clean, everyone at your beck and call. But now that I was experiencing it myself, instead of being on the other side, I despised it.
I quietly slipped out of our room, smiling as Twyla slept soundly in her basket Harald’s arm draped over the side, his fingers resting on her blanket. I gently clutched the bag close to myself, tip-toeing down the hallowed halls of the palace, and slipping out the closest exit. I never understood why I tip-toed, there was always a guard at every exit…there was no way to leave the place unnoticed. I clutched the bag closer as the sky gleamed with the rising sun, walking past a tired guard as he stood solemnly at his post. Getting things out of the palace was easy…getting stuff in was a little trickier.
I blew a sigh of relief as I walked down the cobbled decline amongst the streets of Constantinople. I looked inside my bag, taking note of the items: a delicately embroidered scarf, a selection of soaps, and a white linen undershirt. The Emperor’s influx of gifts and goods had come in useful the past couple of months since we’d been here. I knew I should feel guilty, selling the things that he generously gifted, but the reality was not even the Emperor would notice that things were missing. I didn’t tell anyone, not even Harald or Mathilda. To them, this life seemed to suit them…but it didn’t suit me. While it was clear, these items were more valuable than what merchants were willing to pay for them, I had gathered a reasonable saving. But with the constant bustling of life within and outside the palace walls of Constantinople, earning coin, particularly undetected, was rather easy.
It had been two months since our wedding, the Emperor and Empress’s grand union following a month later, and Mathilda and Consus’s only a mere week ago. Life had not slowed down enough to allow much time to spend as a family. I had spent most of my evenings alone, Harald usually coming back to the room well after we were asleep. Harald, though he tried, was kept busy by the Emperor and Empress. The Emperor was meticulous, cunning and driven; Harald knew that to help his campaign, he must help the Emperor with his first.
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I wandered around the market stalls, looking for new merchants to sell to. While merchants I had sold to in the past would likely accept more goods, I was cautious to refrain from trading with the same people. I couldn’t risk building a regular business with individuals, that’s when people would start to ask questions. ‘Where did you gather these herbs? How do you make these soaps? Where were these goods made?’. Truth was, Constantinople was still a strange land, lies like this would have been easier to tell back in London, but here I didn’t know anything.
An elderly man stood at his makeshift table, people walking past him without much interest in his goods. Small balls of thick yarn and strings covered his table, people likely judging that his wares would not be palatable for the summer heat. I approached him wearily, pretending to pick up a few of his goods and inspect them as I did. ‘Does anything here catch your eye, my dear?’ He excitedly asked. I put the string down, smiling at him as I put on my friendliest voice. ‘My sister, she’s looking for some thread, she’s unwell and has sent me to the markets to shop for her’ I reached into the bag, pulling the scarf from inside, holding it out for the man to inspect. He pulled it closer, running his fingers over the flowers and swirls that adorned the fabric, nodding impressed at the detail. ‘She likes to make scarfs like this, do you have any threads that are similar?’ He looked at me, shaking his head slightly in bewilderment. ‘Your sister has expensive taste, I’m afraid my wares don’t match the quality that your sister uses…’ I watched intently, inspecting him as he looked at the garment, impressed, almost intoxicated by the quality. This was the moment. ‘Well, between you and me sir, she’s really not well at all…if you are willing, maybe I can tempt you into buying it?’ He raised his eyebrow, looking me up and down. I purposely dressed modestly, careful not to wear anything that might alienate me from the ordinary worker in Constantinople. ‘Such quality of work is well beyond my means’ he said, tentatively placing it on the table. ‘Truly Sir, someone with such knowledge and taste like yourself would appreciate this better than I could…besides I’d be willing to part with it for a very agreeable fee’. I battered my eyelids slightly, cringing at myself as I took on the part of a helpless person, letting him believe that he could easily take the scarf for a tiny bit of what it was worth. He looked up at me again, pursing his lips together as he dug into his pockets, a sound of clinking as he shuffled his hand around. ‘This is all I can offer’ he said, sliding three copper coins across the table. I smiled, being sure to breathe loudly as I thanked him profoundly as if he were some sort of hero. ‘Bless you, sir, you are most generous!’.
Another person approached the table as I slid the coins into my smock, leading the man’s attention away. ‘You know, that scarf looks as though it were fit for a King’ a deep gruff voice whispered in my ear. I jerked away slightly, turning to look up at the person. His body was so large it cast a shadow over me. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, his words sinking deep into my stomach, a simmering panic bubbling in my stomach. Had I been too careless? Should I have chosen something less exquisite? I shielded the sunlight from my eyes as the man stood to reveal his full height. Through his thick dark beard, a set of smiling teeth gleamed. He held a small netted bag, contents filled with a selection of food and herbs. I felt my insides slither as I retreated into character. ‘Well I will pass your regards onto the maker’ I said, smiling as I tried to elegantly shift away from the man’s intentions. ‘You know, if you had anything similar I’d be willing to pay, certainly more than what you got for the scarf’. I shrugged my shoulders innocently. ‘Sorry, all I have is soaps’ I said, slowly wandering to the next table over. ‘Well that’s very lucky, my mother has asked for soaps too’ he chuckled, holding the bag of food up slightly. ‘Your mother is lucky to have such a devoted son’ I said, stopping to face him as I inspected him. His clothing wasn’t overly grand, the produce in his bag was modest enough. He smiled, nodding at the awkward compliment. ‘I’d like to think every mother deserves such treatment’. I nodded in agreement, thinking of my mother. I’d like to think that someone would have looked after her when I was taken into service. My thoughts were distracted as he dug into his pocket, the clinking sounding as he pulled out a silver coin. I hitched a laugh in my throat, his offering slightly too generous for a simple bar of soap. ‘That’s much more than any bar of soap is worth’ I said, turning my attention back to the stalls. ‘Well I figured, anywhere where you were able to get such a beautiful scarf, must also be selling soaps of high quality’ he said, dipping around and blocking my other side. ‘Also, anyone willing to sell a scarf for that price will likely need more than just a bit of money’.
‘Is there something I can help you with?’ I asked, my tone short as his persistence began to irritate me. ‘Just a bar of soap’ he said, holding out his silver coin. I huffed, snatching the coin from his grasp, pulling out all 3 of the soaps and shoving them into his hand. ‘One for you, two for your mother’. He brought them up to his nose, sniffing at the floral scents. He smiled, closing his eyes. ‘A smell of home’ He noted, slipping one into his pocket and two into the small shopping bag with the merchandise for his mother. I knew I should walk away, but it seemed my mouth got there before my brain could stop it. ‘Why does the smell of home please you so much? You do not live with your mother?’. He licked his lips, his shoulders tensing slightly. ‘I have been summoned to serve in the Emperor’s army’ he said, his voice slightly distressed as he said it. This is opposite to Harald’s when he talked about armies and war. While the Emperor had kept Harald busy, I had not known exactly what the Emperor had kept him busy with…nor what Harald had been supposedly ‘helping’ the Emperor with. ‘The Emperor is recruiting an army?’ I questioned, curiosity and questions generating unwillingly in my brain.
The kind stranger explained the political climate, how the Emperor was seeking to expand his Empire, and how he amongst many men was being recruited and sent to training camps. I could feel my insides boiling. I knew that Constantinople wasn’t a permanent home for us, but for Harald to possibly be so entwined with all this and not say a word. ‘I’m surprised you do not know of this, it is common knowledge amongst Constantinople that the Emperor is building an army?’. ‘I haven’t lived here long’ I noted. He nodded his head solemnly. ‘Might I be correct in sensing that is why you were willing to part with the scarf so cheaply?’. While he seemed well-meaning, his persistence and reference to that damn scarf had become annoying. ‘I don’t think that is any of your concern’ I noted, trying to end the conversation entirely. But predictably, he hadn’t finished. ‘Please forgive me…I couldn’t help but think we might be able to help each other.’ I clutched tighter to my bag, balling my other hand into a fist. I had seen these interactions growing up, and how they unfolded for women like my mother. ‘My mother has a rather spacious home, and with her being old, and with my call to service, she is seeking a new tennant to help her in her home.’ I could feel my grip loosening, a window of hope. ‘I only mention the scarf because nobody would be willing to part with such an item if they didn’t need to.’
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The elderly woman’s home stood on the far end of Constantinople. While most homes were stacked together and stood amongst the streets, a small village of homes stood independently amongst a field of green. While not isolated, many people walked amongst the grassy area; gardening, harvesting wildflowers, children playing and climbing the trees. It was a vision of heaven itself compared to the same walls inside the palace. I couldn’t help but feel butterflies in my stomach, a fluttering of comfort and calmness as the scene reminded me of summers from my childhood. The farmers, their children, and meadows of grass; something I had only admired from a distance. But this could be the opportunity to give my daughter what I never had. The kind stranger, who had introduced himself as George, wandered to a small straw triangle hut held together with dried hardened clay-like mud and woven twigs. An elderly woman sat out front on a large boulder, shucking a cob of corn from its leaves. ‘Mama’ he called, his arms wide-spread, his shopping hanging from one hand. The old woman dropped the corn, her hands coming to her face, gushing at the sight of her son. She seemed overwhelmed by his presence, speaking to him in a language I could not understand. I looked on curiously from afar as her slender frame circled her large son. She pulled him right down, gripping his cheeks in her hand and kissing his cheeks fiercely and repetitively. The scene was curious as if she had not seen him in some time.
When she finally released her son, he handed her the shopping, she looked overwhelmed with happiness as she inspected the contents. He gestured in my direction, speaking to her in their language. She glided towards me, a smile on her face as she gripped my cheeks in her hand, kissing them fervently like she had her son. Her son’s voice emitted. ‘Forgive her, she has lived a long life, and can get confused.’ However, the feeling of tender mothering, the warmth of her hands, the pressing of her thin lips against mine, the feeling was almost intoxicating. Something I had so dearly missed, I didn’t mind it. She gripped my hand, pulling me inside her home excitedly.
The inside was sparse. A simple table and chairs, a fireplace, a straw bed in the far corner, and a set of shelves that were home to her cookware. Next to her fireplace, a pot simmered, a line hung from one wall to the other, a smell of honey wafting as her homemade candles rested on the line drying. A small archway with a curtain hung at the end of the room, which pulled back to reveal another small bedroom with another straw bed. While not as grand as the palace, it was more than what my mother and I had. Some baskets and a bucket full of water sat pushed against the wall of the smaller bedroom. The elderly woman quickly tended to the room, trying to fluff the pillow and straighten the blanket on the bed to make it look more appealing. I walked to the small window, opening the wooden shutters. The sun shone brightly, the grass shimmering with the light. George stopped his mother’s efforts. ‘Maybe it’s not quite what you thought?’ He questioned, his tone laced with a bit of disappointment. I turned back towards them, his mother clutching onto her son’s side, a tight lip smile as if she were trying to apologise. ‘What sort of arrangement are you suggesting?’ I asked, making the tall man smile with a sense of relief. ‘My mother needs help around the home, things like collecting water, going to the market, and helping her in her garden and with her sheep, things her body is too tired to do.’ ‘I have one stipulation’ I noted. George tilted his head curiously. ‘I have a daughter.’ His mother looked between us, confused by the language barrier. I couldn’t understand his translation, but there was one word I did. ‘Baby’. With that, the elderly woman seemed more spritely with excitement as she repeated the words, nodding with delight. ‘Baby, baby.’
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The room back at the palace was empty. Harald likely taken Twyla for a stroll like he did most mornings. I put my bag down, reaching under the feather mattress and pulling out the bag of coins, adding today’s money to the collection. I nervously slid the coins into my bag, wondering how I was going to tell Harald the news. Our marriage had been civil, but nothing more extended beyond fussing around after Twyla and sleeping in the same bed at night like two strangers forced to share. We could be independent, and Twyla would be around other children, endless fields to play and explore. Maybe I was making a mistake?
The door creaked open, and I could feel my insides knotting themselves into tight circles. ‘Harald…I need to talk to you’ I said, turning around to face the door, only to find it was not Harald. ‘Such a content child’ her voice sounded, floating across the room, piercing my ears. I stood up, dipping into a deep curtsy. ‘Empress’ I greeted dutifully. She stood there, looking around the room curiously, Twyla sitting soundly in her arms as she looked at me. I could feel every instinct in my body become alert, my eyes bulging slightly, my jaw clenching my teeth together tightly. ‘I’m so sorry if Harald inconvenienced you’ I said, walking towards her and stretching my arms out to take Twyla. But Elena didn’t budge. ‘We have spent many mornings together haven’t we?’ She said, tickling her little stomach and making her squeal in delight. I could feel a vein protruding from my forehead, I could just imagine a cloud of steam radiating from my ears. ‘You have?’ I asked wearily. ‘Well with you going to the market so frequently, and my husband requiring Harald, who else is there to mother his little girl?’. She smiled, my body freezing at her comment. She knew what she was doing…and I couldn’t do anything to her. Elena was maddening, but the Empress was vicious. ‘Well, hopefully, you’ll be mothering your own baby soon’ I said, offering a friendly chuckle at the end to mask the sarcasm. She walked forward, placing Twyla in her Moses basket. ‘I intend to make sure of it’ she said, her smile polite as she walked out of the room.
As soon as the door shut, I got busy. I opened every drawer, every bit of Twyla’s clothing, and a few pieces of mine, packing our belongings for our new home.
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‘What are you doing?’ I jumped in surprise as Harald’s voice sounded. I tucked Twyla’s blanket into the bag, wiping my eyes before facing him. ‘I have found somewhere to live’ I replied so clinically. Harald’s eyebrows bent in confusion, as he looked around the room, his hands gesturing to the finely furnished room around us. ‘This isn’t a home Harald, it’s a constant watch guard’ I replied swiftly. ‘So you just decided without talking to me that we’re all moving?’ He asked sarcastically. ‘No, Twyla and I are moving, doesn’t seem like you’re staying here for long anyway.’ His face went stiff, the natural pink from his upper cheeks going pale. ‘You’re taking our daughter away from me?’ He asked, his voice quiet but his tone emitting one of panic and anger. ‘Harald, I would never take her away from you, but it seems as though you’ve allowed other people to mother our daughter’ I spat, slamming the contents into the bag violently, forcing them to fit. ‘Excuse me?’ He said, unlacing his weapon belt as he threw it on the bed. ‘Elena came in this morning, she seems to have been spending a lot of time with Twyla’ I put my hand on my hip, firmly placing my feet on the floor as if to match his large stature. ‘Even had the nerve to tell me that she had been mothering our daughter because my husband was too busy running around after the Emperor’. Harald quickly walked toward the other side of the room, closing the door quickly but quietly to not disturb the sleeping baby. ‘Y/N you must not be so careless! Elena is now empress and we must speak of her as such’ he spoke quietly, his body now inches from mine, his hot breath warming my cheeks. ‘And I have not placed our daughter in the care of the Empress, if you are not back from the market, which you spend a suspicious amount of time doing, by the way, I bring her back to the room myself or yes on a rare occasion Inaya would bring her back for a sleep.’ He sighed, brushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead. ‘The Emperor has requested mine and Leif’s presence a lot this week, so I confess Inaya has been caring for her a bit these past days.’
‘Is the Empress at these meetings?’ ‘No, she simply dismisses herself…the Emperor has only confided in the help of Leif, his general and some of his men, and I’ he spoke, but I could tell by the way his forehead creased, that both our minds were rattling with questions. ‘Is it true the Emperor is raising an army?’ I asked curtly. Harald peeled his eyes away from mine, focusing his attention on Twyla as he watched her soundly sleep in her basket. A pang of guilt washed over him as he exhaled loudly. ‘The Emperor has appointed me as part of his personal Varangian guard…the Emperor wants me to go to his camps and train his men should the moment arise that would require an army…’ I crossed my arms as he sat cautiously at the end of the bed. ‘I spoke to the Emperor and he insisted that you and Twyla would still be cared for here at the castle while I fulfilled my new duties, I wasn’t going to just leave again. My family is my first priority.’ he said, shaking his head, as he glued his eyes to Twyla. The bed dipped as I sat down gingerly next to Harald. Harald’s entire life revolved around his ambition to be King of Norway, to return to his home once again and rule. His admission that his family was now his priority was unexpected. I waited for Harald to break the silence. But instead, he gently slipped his hand into mine.
‘So, tell me about where you intend to live’ he said.
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Whispering winds sang across blue skies, the grass danced with the breeze's rhythm, and birds chirped like a choir in church. It had been nearly a month, and now, every afternoon was like this, sitting in the sun, our toes curling in the blades of grass, dandelion seeds and wisps slowly nettling into the locks of my hair. A baby who rested solemnly, playing with whatever her hands could grasp, finding a world of fascination in the things we forget to appreciate. The feeling of steady ground beneath my feet was pure ecstasy. We would sit for hours, listening to the sounds of nature, enjoying the sounds away from the city of Constantinople, watching children run in the meadows, people picking wild mushrooms and herbs for medicines in the secret secure spot that lay outside the walls of the city. I would tell Twyla stories of her grandmother, of her guardian angel Kurya, whether she would retain any of that information I couldn’t know…but it felt right to tell her.
These days were blissful, and too long overdue. Like the small farm from my childhood, this field of seemingly nothing was now everything to me.
The change of pace was wonderful. To have purpose and routine every day. To cook one’s own meals, to freely walk around without a guard watching your every move, to become part of a community where other people lived their lives simply and happily. Our elderly landlady, Emera, while we didn’t speak the same language, seemed overtly grateful for our company. She loved to help with the mundane tasks of parenthood, like bathing, feeding, playing, and dressing Twyla. She was knowledgeable in tending to her garden and precise in demonstrating how to identify and pick weeds, to use and dry manure to effectively fertilise the soil. She was even happy to invite her neighbours over, often slipping extra herbs to them when she had them spare. It seemed she was motherly to all, she was the essence of tenderness and love.
It was almost ironic, how living apart, we had seen more of Harald than we had since living in Constantinople. Harald would make the effort to come to the sparse little village each evening, his new Varangian uniform often catching the excited attention of the children. They would flock to him, trying to spar him with twigs and sticks, the way they would gleefully giggle when Harald would put them over his shoulder and spin around. It was a side of Harald I had not seen, but one that was easy to love. He would often sit in the grass with us, holding Twyla up by her hands as her wobbly legs tried to balance beneath her. She would inevitably giggle, falling so gaily into his arms on purpose. Like she knew, her daddy would always catch her no matter what. Emera would also try to slip Harald her homemade salves, but he would always sweetly put them back on her shelf without her knowing. Harald joined us for meals most nights, sneaking bits from the palace kitchens to make fragrant and delicious foods.
Today’s visit, however, Harald seemed to have something heavy on his shoulders. Instead of playing with the children and Twyla, he held her close and tightly. I watched wearily, unsure of what was to come. Emera watched warily, an essence of uncertainty as she looked between Harald and me from her garden. I feared what Harald had to say, but I dearly hoped I was wrong.
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‘The Emperor is sending me to the camp to train his men to fight’ I closed my eyes, the sky now dark, the only light coming from the huts. The only sound Emera singing to little Twyla from inside. ‘How long?’ I asked wearily. ‘I cannot say’ he said, with just as much despair. While I knew the wise thing to do was to accept the information and discuss what this would mean for our future, my stubbornness was much too strong. ‘The Emperor does not care that you have a family, that you have a child? Not even the decency to tell you for how long you will be separated?’ I asked, adrenaline radiating through my body as I stood up, scuffing and kicking the grass at my feet. ‘I don't think the Emperor quite understands…’ he wearily noted in a quiet tone. ‘He's married! He should understand, but being the so-called leader that he is I bet he's not even leaving the comfort of his palace is he?’ I exclaimed more viciously. ‘Shhhh’ Harald said, reaching out and grasping my forearm. ‘The Emperor is looking to expand his empire, but this could benefit us too.’ ‘Benefit us how?’ I questioned. ‘The Emperor has made an offer; any people I can recruit, I can use to build my army’ he said so diplomatically. ‘We can leave Constantinople, we can go back to Norway, we can build Twyla a real home, teach her about her culture, her ancestors’ he said, standing up, placing both his hands on my forearms. ‘Don’t make this about us, this is your army, your ambition’ I said jabbing my finger into his hard chest. ‘We agreed y/n, Constantinople wasn’t forever, where did you think we were going to go?’ He fiercely retorted. ‘No, no, no, you can’t use this, building an army to get us home excuse as a valid reason to just leave us in the shit’ I exclaimed, stepping out of his grip, and throwing my arms up. ‘This isn’t about the Emperor, it’s about you! Every single thing is about Harald Fucking Sigurdsson!’ ‘You have no idea what I’m trying to do’ he seethed back. ‘There are some dangerous people here, and there are some dangerous plans in place, and I am doing what I can to keep you and Twyla safe and keep this family safe’ he said, trodding heavily after me as I walked aimlessly through the field. ‘You know what, I believe we were starting to become a family, but here’s the god-damn truth Harald, there are dangerous people everywhere, and dangerous things that happen everywhere, so forgive me if I don’t fucking understand how building an army and trying to take the throne in a country that you haven’t been to in some time I take, is going to keep us any safer than we are here!’ ‘Might I remind you, that my family and Twyla’s family extends beyond you!’ He spat.
I stopped in my tracks, turning back in the direction of the house. ‘Well Harald Sigurdsson, I’m so pleased to know that you’re willing to risk all our lives so we can all go back to Kattegat to chase ghosts from your past, who may or may not fucking exist anymore, but why am I surprised? This is Harald’s world, we’re all just living in it! God forbid that you or your children don’t become Kings and Queens of Norway!’ I spitefully yelled, walking right past Harald, and back to the house.
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As the days passed, I couldn’t help but wonder about Harald. Had he decided to stop visiting altogether or had the Emperor already sent him to the training camps? Only once had Emera tried to ask. ‘Harald, no?’ She had asked, pointing at the house on a sunny afternoon in the garden. ‘No’ I responded curtly, digging into the soil for potatoes.
However, the days turned into weeks, and there was nothing. I worried that Twyla had noticed, the way her father had stopped coming. I made sure to play with her every afternoon the way Harald did, encouraging her to stand, to walk, to fall into my arms. I had also spent time wondering about Harald’s other child. Were they even alive? Where were they? What did they look like? Did she have a brother or a sister? Would she ever meet them? I remember my mother making her special concoctions and herbs she would take every day. Had the woman from Harald’s past also taken such precautions? I hadn’t thought so much about Harald’s other child, but since that night the questions kept creeping into my head. How I, as a child, had so desperately wished for a sibling, someone to play with every day, to cuddle up to at night when the nights were cold, to have a friend that wouldn’t judge my birth status. But then again, I wouldn’t wish such a lonely existence on any child, and I was determined to make sure that Twyla had friends.
The markets themselves had become a little less busy, Emera’s son George hadn’t been seen since the day we met. Slowly word spread that people were being sent to the training camps, but it didn’t stop life in Constantinople.
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I sat outside the house on a wooden bench, the sky turning orange as the sun began to make its way to bed. The village was empty, everyone inside cooking their evening meals as smells wafted with the gentle breeze. Twyla sat on my lap, clinging onto strands of my hair, fighting her eyelids that were heavier than her will to keep them open.
‘Beautiful Twyla’ a voice sounded. I could feel my neck click as I whipped it around to the voice. My heart dropped slightly, that the presence that I had hoped was not there. The Emperor stood with a smile, two guards stood behind him. I stood, dropping into a curtsey as Twyla nestled her head against my shoulder. ‘Emperor’ I greeted. He looked around, taking notice of the small little huts, the gardens sparse compared to his own. I could only imagine what he was thinking. ‘She chose this over the palace?’ ‘I hope you have not gone to such trouble just to visit little Twyla’ I said, forcing an enthusiastic smile on my face, breaking the silence. He walked forward, gently holding his hand out. Twyla reached forward, gripping his hand, gently tugging his fingers close to her face as she poked and prodded at the jewels bedazzling his hand. ‘Be careful, she’s taken to putting just about anything in her mouth these days’ I said. ‘She has grown much’ he said, gripping onto her fingers, giving her hand a little shake. He sat down on the bench, gesturing for me to join him. His friendly presence, now solemn worried me.
‘You must know y/n, I hold your husband in the highest regard’ he said. I nodded in agreement. ‘I am visiting and telling you this as a friend y/n.’ I could feel my insides crawl, forcing my face to remain neutral. It felt improper, sickly even for the Emperor to regard me in such a way. Friend. While the Emperor had been generous in many ways, he had been cruel in others. ‘Has something happened to my husband?’ I asked, a sudden panic dawning on me. Why else would the Emperor come other than to deliver the sad news to his widow? ‘Harald is fine for now, his campaign is successful, and he is proving worthy as my Varangian guard’ he said, offering a friendly laugh. But I did not share his amusement, my teeth grinding together as I held the Emperor’s gaze.
‘I intend to expand my Empire, this army, with the help of Harald, and my general, my army is strong.’ I could feel my palms sweat, my body getting hotter by the word. How these men played childish games at an expensive price. How war was treated as such a normal part of life. He placed his hand on my knee, patting it to soften whatever blow he was about to deal. ‘My army will be leaving for the South West soon, and I will not lie to you, I don’t expect our entrance will be welcomed’ I could feel my nails dig into my palm. An ambition I couldn’t understand. How could someone with so much demand so much more? ‘As Harald is my dear friend, and you are his wife, I am telling you that it is possible that Harald will not return for a long time.’ I clutched Twyla closer, my grip disturbing her as she tirelessly wriggled, a small grunt emitting. ‘Sorry Emperor, could you excuse me for a moment?’ I said, more than asked, excusing myself quickly.
I opened the door to the house, Emera sitting soundly next to the fire. Her calm and content expression turned to one of concern as she pulled herself from the chair, reaching out and cupping her hand to my cheek. She swiped her thumb under my eye, wiping away a tear I didn’t even know was there. I returned her kind gesture with a tight-lipped smile, handing Twyla over as Twyla instinctively leaned into Emera’s reach. I turned back to the door, steadying myself to face the Emperor again.
The Emperor’s message was simple. His army is going away, and Harald might not come back at all. As much as I was annoyed at Harald, how harshly our last meeting had ended. I had only one thing to say to the Emperor.
‘Take me to my husband.’
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*Knock knock knock*
He opened the door wearily, just so much that I could see only half of his face. He clenched his eyes slightly, adjusting to the bright lantern in my hands, making out my features in front of him. ‘Y/N?’ He whispered, carefully opening the door slightly more as he carefully assessed the environment behind him. ‘What are you doing here’? he whispered nervously, his conscience wavering if he was going to let me in or not. ‘I need to talk to you’ I whispered. ‘I need to talk to you too’ he whispered back, his chest rising and falling as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. ‘The Emperor already told me…I just came to say goodbye I guess’ I murmured. He opened the door only slightly, grasping my wrist and pulling me inside the tiny room, closing the door with an agonising squeak. I looked around. His shirt lay on the floor torn and withered. On the small table a collection of battered weaponry and a shield. I glanced at Harald’s back noticing the bruises and scrapes. I could feel my heart drop into my stomach. If this was the state training had left him in, what would the real battle be like?
He stood still, our eyes locked as we waited carefully, listening intently to be sure that nobody else in the camp was awake. The only sounds being the quiet breathing, and the sound of the flame flickering from the lantern. ‘Harald I’ I began to whisper, a depth of sorrow in my tone. ‘Shhh’ he whispered, pressing his ear against the wooden door. A sound of gentle footsteps cascaded down the hallway, stopping right out front of the door. A gentle tap on the door sounded. ‘Harald…’ The Empress’s voice gently carried. ‘Harald, are you in there?’ Harald ducked his head, his stray hair falling in front of his eyes as he tightly pursed his lips together.
Maybe this was a mistake. I started to reprimand myself, you stupid idiot. Had I indulged too much in a fantasy that we could be some happy family? But the Emperor’s words were like an explosion as if only now, I realised that Harald Sigurdsson was an integral part of my life. My husband, my daughter’s father…my ally in this strange place. ‘He may never come back’ the Emperor’s words kept ringing in my head. Against all consciousness, against all good reason, against all the hurt caused in the past, against my own self-discipline, I had to say goodbye. But here she was, the Empress knocking on his door in the middle of the night. How would this end? Would it be easier to just let him go…to finalise whatever wishes he may have if he never did return? What should I tell our daughter? The Empress’s voice whispered again, this time closer to the door. ‘I can see the light from under the door.’ Maybe it was best to just accept defeat. I took a step forward, only to be gently pinned against the cold solid wall, as Harald’s hand cupped over my mouth, his body pressed firmly against mine. Our eyes locked, his eyes alert, but the skin underneath them was dark and sagging. He gently lifted his other hand, bringing his finger to his lips to ensure my silence. I nodded, his palm, however, was still firmly placed against my mouth. The sound of her heels clicking together sounded outside as she uncertainly paced outside the door. Another voice sounded, one much deeper than her lilted tone. ‘Some of the men have gone for a meal, but I must insist that I escort you back to the castle, this is not the place for a lady, the Emperor’s orders.’ The man’s tone reasoning, but firm in conveying this was a direct order of the Emperor. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor sounded as the pair walked down the long corridor, away from Harald’s door.
Harald removed his palm, but his body stayed firmly pressed against mine, his forearm mounted on the wall above my head. ‘Why are you here? Is Twyla okay?’ He asked, his eyebrows knotting in worry as the lines on his forehead involuntarily creased. ‘She’s fine, she is with Emera’ I whispered. ‘I just…I wanted to apologise’ I whispered. ‘I never knew my father, it was just me and my mother. I don’t even know if he knew I existed at all. But it was wrong of me to accuse you of using your children like pawns to get what you wanted.’ He dropped his eyes to the ground, breaking eye contact. ‘And I’m sorry for dismissing your other child…I just, when I saw the Empress, her holding our baby and her arms, and things had been going so well since we moved away from the palace, and maybe I was just too naive in thinking that we were all going to be some happy family’ I just…I just’ I stuttered. ‘I promise you. You are my wife, and you are Twyla’s mother.’ He took his arm from the wall, tracing his finger gently down my arm as he wrapped his hand around mine, the heat from him his naked torso exposing me to the cold as he walked over to the bed. He patted the spot next to him, offering me a seat. ‘This could be treasonous’ he said, battling with whatever thought was running around in his brain. ‘The Empress confided in me that she does not know if the Emperor was capable of giving her children.’ He whispered. I looked back at Harald, a quizzical look on my face. ‘It’s only been a short time…surely that is not enough time to?’ I said, miming a bulging stomach with my hands. ‘She had expected to be at least a mother to his children from his previous marriage…but he had not sired a child at all.’ I looked at our hands, realising they had reconnected, my fingers mindlessly trailing around his palm.
It had begun to make sense. It was no secret Elena was infatuated with Harald long before we stood on the shores of Constantinople. But her effortless flirting and amorous suggestions around him…her need to sire an heir to secure her own marriage. While her desire for Harald was still longstanding, her efforts since her wedding had been newly developed. Having Harald to herself would be a bonus, but having a child would be everything for her. As a woman, as a wife, but in her position, as an Empress, not bearing children for her husband was not an option. ‘I promise, I have been a faithful husband to you since we wed’ he insisted, wrapping his other hand around mine like a security blanket. My heart felt heavy for The Empress…her desire to have a child. Something I hadn’t ever struggled with myself. ‘Speaking of Twyla…when she’s older she may ask questions about her father…and if you weren’t to come back…’ I whispered, bringing my other hand to cup Harald’s. He let out a heavy sigh, his forehead pressing against mine. Something neither of us wanted to think about, but we both knew we had to be practical about it. He took a deep breath, his hands giving a gentle squeeze. ‘Tell me about your father y/n’ he quietly questioned.
I leaned back, looking at him cautiously. My stomach was turning in knots. It felt like a forbidden subject. I remember asking my mother when I was younger, but her response was clear. Never ask. We had never discussed it, but nobody had ever asked me. ‘When I asked my mother about it…she scolded me. There was no attempt to lie or make something up about it. She just said it wasn’t worth discussing ever.’ I shrugged my shoulders, it didn’t seem as much of a deal to me as it appeared to Harald as he glared at me with a pitiful look. ‘I remember I would wonder, for a period of my childhood always intensely looking at the men my mother was around, trying to find any similarities between us. It drove me mad for a while… I suppose I just learnt to live with it.’ Harald nodded, taking in my words as he sat pondering in contemplation. ‘What about your father?’ I asked, sliding further onto the comfort of the small bed.
‘My father Sigurd Syr, he wasn’t a man who chased political ambition as much as his sons. My brother Olaf, my father was very supportive of his leadership and command. But he was modest with his wealth, and took much care of his properties…he was promised the throne…but he didn’t seem to mind so much that his sons wanted it more.’ I admired the way he smiled when talking about his father, similar to the way he smiled when he was with Twyla. Deep down, maybe Harald was similar to his father, a simple family man. But Harald was also very dutiful to his famous lineage, with an equal desire to keep the legacy of his ancestors alive. But how was Twyla going to fit into all of this?
His fingers twined with mine, the words dragging out sorrowfully. ‘I don’t want Twyla to worry about me. That is too cruel a fate to force onto a child’ he whispered, leaning forward slightly. I didn’t know what that meant, but I too didn’t want the same fate for our daughter. I simply nodded, sliding off the bed, and placing my feet gently on the floor. ‘If we don’t see one another again, I will make sure she knows that her father is kind, loyal…and brave’ I mustered out, my throat tightening as the words came out. The aura was depressing, I wanted to leave…but part of me didn’t want to leave Harald Sigurdsson just yet. I stood up slowly, unravelling my hand from his as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. I gently cupped his cheeks, bringing myself down and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. I leaned down and whispered against his ear, his long hair resting on my lips. ‘Come back to us.’
His eyes rose from the floor, connecting with mine, his eyes flickering as they searched my face. It was like a trance, my limbs no longer in control of my body, an urgency taking over. Instead of slipping my hands away and walking to the door as I planned, instead, my hand moved across his face, smooshing his lips into an awkward purse as my fingers squeezed his cheeks. I knew it would just make things harder…but I couldn’t resist. I pulled his face to mine, pressing my lips tenderly on his. Our lips locked together in a sweet embrace. Harald’s hands quickly cupped my cheeks, pulling my face tighter towards him as he stood up, his lips desperately chasing mine. I slid my hands down to his neck, tenderly pulling away from his lips to connect my lips with his neck.
Gentle pecks on his neck turned greedy as I softly nipped and sucked on his salty skin. He groaned gently, his hands wandering down my chest, one hand cupped gently on my breast, the other balling the fabric of my dress into his palm. I begrudgingly pulled my lips from his neck, the hairs on my arm standing as I whispered into his ear.
‘Take it off’
He didn’t hesitate. Our hands almost fought as he clawed at my dress, the fabric of my dress emitting a gentle rip as he pulled from the collar, revealing the skin of my shoulder, his lips attacking my newly exposed naked skin. I pulled him closer, my hands on the firm curve of his bottom, a firm bulge pressing into my stomach as I dipped my thumbs into the waist of his trousers, basking in the feeling of skin I had not touched in so long. I ran my thumbs around the perimeter feeling the soft hair around his pubis. I reached my fingers inside the front of his trousers, gently slipping one hand to cusp the bulge. He let out a heavy groan, but in typical Harald fashion, was not willing to relent control that easily.
He reached down, pulling my hand from his groin, spinning me around, his hands running from my shoulders, down my arms, until his calloused hands gripped tightly to my wrists, pinning my hands against the wall. His lips attacked my neck, as he pulled my dress down, his lips trailing down my body following each inch of exposed skin. When my dress finally pooled to the floor, my naked body fully exposed, I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. He placed his hands on my hips, spinning me back around the face him. His trousers were only slightly unbuttoned, exposing just the top of his erection. I so desperately wanted to fall to the floor with him, to feel his skin pressed against mine. But instead, his hands still gripped my hips, he pushed me back against the wall, his tongue gliding down from my belly button, as he seamlessly hooked one of my legs over his shoulder.
The pressure of his lips, the swift kisses, the running of his tongue. I quietly tried to contain my moans, but the feeling was too electrifying. But as my hot breaths turned into pants, muffled sighs turned into moans, this only encouraged his efforts further. It was like my skin was on fire, a powerful surge radiating, my legs becoming weaker.
Harald unhooked my arm from his shoulder, sliding me down the wall by my hips, pulling my chest firmly against his as I straddled him, a new wave of pleasure rushing over me as my pulsing heat grinned against his still-clothed bulge. Our tongues collided, but instead of a rushed desperate kiss, it was slow and sensual. I desperately rubbed against him, my hips grinding as my hands caressed his back, pulling him closely so that no gap was left between our skin. He slid his hands around my wrists, pulling my arms around his neck, his arms then looping around my lower back. With no warning, with no effort, Harald lifted me, shuffling onto his knees, and lowering me gently onto the floor without even breaking the contact of our skin. Finally, he reached down, pulling his trousers off.
I waited desperately for contact, for that feeling I hadn’t felt for so long. I arched my back in anticipation, pushing me further against his chest. ‘Do you want this y/n?’ He whispered, the hair in my ears standing to attention. I lifted my neck from the floor, looking straight into his eyes. ‘I want my husband’ I breathlessly moaned out. Harald’s lips reconnected instantly with mine.
As he entered me, I let out a little squeak. The feeling was so tight, I had not expected it after having a child. He stopped immediately, trying to pull out gently. But I ran my hands down his back, gripping onto his butt cheeks to halt his movement. ‘Stay. Right. There’ I whispered between kisses. He stayed there, our lips doing more work as I slowly pushed his hips forward until I felt him completely inside me. Slowly he began to move, the slight sting going away, and the feeling of him inside me became electrifying. His movements were slow, our foreheads pressed together. The only sounds emitting from either of us were our panting breaths.
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We lay on the floor, our legs tangled into one another, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead as I rested in his arms, my arm lazily draped over his stomach. It was like the high was pouring from my body, where I had felt full, I now felt low and empty. My brain rattled, wanting to scream my innermost thoughts. ‘Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave us. Let’s just take a boat and run away.’ My mind racing with any possible scenario, any way of escape. But I knew Harald too well. His loyalties to his family, to his men, to his duty were strong.
‘You have endured so much my love…so I will not lie to you, but I will do everything I can to come back to you both’ he whispered, pulling a blanket from the bed with his free arm, draping it across our bodies as we lay solemnly in each other’s arms. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but the emptiness of his words hit me hard. This could likely be our last moments together forever.
When I finally parted from him in the early hours of the morning, our final exchange was simple. ‘Goodbye, Y/N’. ‘Goodbye Harald Sigurdsson’.
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True to his style, the Emperor wasn’t going to lead his army off into battle without the grandest of ceremonies. I held Twyla on my hip, Mathilda at my side as we watched from the crowds as the Emperor grandly announced how he had trained and built the finest army the empire had ever seen. The Empress sat dutifully at his side, clothed in grand gowns and covered in expensive jewels.
‘Let me introduce to you, our experienced, loyal, and skilled warriors. Harald Sigurdsson!’ The crowd roared in applause, I clutched tightly to Mathilda’s hand, the noise overwhelming. The Emperor stood on the stage, his smile visible from afar, beaming as Harald walked on. He was adorned in uniform, a large helmet within his grip as he obediently bowed to the Emperor, waving at the crowd. ‘He looks so natural up there, don’t you think?’ Mathilda spoke. I simply nodded. But I couldn’t understand how anyone could be so happy standing up there, considering the circumstances. When the crowd’s cheers began to die down, the Emperor need only clap his hands together for his constituents to fall to obedient silence.
‘I also introduce, my personal choice, a great and skilled warrior indeed, General George Maniakes!’ The crowd emitted even larger screams and cheers as the General began walking up the stairs. Like Harald, he bowed to the Emperor, but it was only when he stood and faced the crowd that I realised I had met him before. I leaned into Mathilda, my heart racing as she gripped tightly onto my side, steadying herself with my weight now leaning against her. ‘What’s wrong?’ She asked in a panicky tone. ‘That…That’s him…that’s…it’s his mother’s house’ I stammered. ‘He looks so different…’ I stated, confused by his imposing presence on the stage. My eyes flicked to Harald, who looked tensely at the General.
The Emperor handed a goblet to each of the men, the priest having blessed the contents. The Emperor offered a cheers to the crowd. But the General struck my soul. I looked at him, his eyes directly on me and Twyla. He smirked a sinister smile, lifting his goblet in my direction, laughing deeply as he took in the expression on my face. His face said it all. ‘I know exactly who you are.’
Warnings: Language, religious, and gendered themes (In keeping with historical beliefs and practices from the 10th century in which the show is set). Smutty themes. Please be careful to not engage with the content below if any of these warnings impact your well-being.
We had been married by a priest in a Christian ceremony that night. For an empire that prided itself on being faithful and dutiful to its Christian roots, the priest had no problem accepting a hefty bribe to overlook the fact that our daughter had been born out of wedlock. Similarly, the Emperor had no issue providing that bribe. ‘A wedding gift, from my bride and I’ he called it. Elena and I clearly both furious with this notion, but for totally different reasons. Like London, even in Constantinople, Christianity had a price.
‘We must also baptise this child’ the priest had insisted. My hand gripped tighter onto Harald. I knew Harald was committed to his faith, but as we stood at the altar, I squeezed his hand, silently pleading. But even I knew, deep down, that this was something entirely out of both of our control. ‘There is no need’ Harald announced so casually, a smile on his face as he so nonchalantly addressed the room. ‘We have already baptised our daughter.’ I felt Harald’s hand gently squeeze mine back, a silent understanding, and a plea to go along. The Emperor looked at Harald, his head tilting to the side as he silently inspected us. I forced myself to smile, although tight-lipped, I hoped it had been enough to match Harald’s casual demeanour, as if to say ‘This wasn’t such a big deal.’ Elena’s eyes looked intensely at Harald, a look of contemplation on her face. Whether she reveals to her groom that Harald did not know his daughters’ existence up until that very morning. Technically, whether the Emperor believed it or not, he only knew that Harald had a daughter, and possibly a child elsewhere, but he knew nothing of the history of either child to accuse him of lying. Elena had everything and nothing to gain if she did reveal this information. Everything to gain with her husband-to-be, but nothing to gain with Harald. I could only assume what was more important to her.
‘It is true’ Leif said, stepping forward as he awkwardly, and stiffly carried Twyla in his clutches. ‘I was there.’ The Emperor gazed curiously at Leif, the story unfolding for all of us as we silently tried to convince the Emperor and the priest of our fragile lie. ‘We did it at the river…informal yes, but it was important to us’ Harald continued, filling in gaps that seemed to make the Emperor nod in understanding. He seemed satisfied, my grip loosening slightly in relief as the Emperor and the priest silently conversed with one another, satisfied by the idea of our daughter having had some Christian influence in her short life so far. ‘I suppose we can continue with the ceremony?’ The priest asked, looking to the Emperor for confirmation. ‘I suppose…’ the Emperor began to announce before a voice interjected. ‘Does the child not have elected Godparents?’ Elena announced.
Bitch.
The Emperor and the priest looked at one another. ‘We have already discussed our choices for her Godparents Your Highness’ I interjected, like a protective primal instinct, a natural urge to fight against an enemy. ‘Our choice for godmother is Mathilda’ I announced. I could see Elena’s forehead tense, her cheeks slightly redden in silent fury. If she was going to try and weave her way into my family, she had never seen the consequences of trying to come between a mother and her child. I held her gaze directly, raising my eyebrow with a look that said it all. Checkmate. ‘Leif is already her Godfather, as he was there’ Harald added. I looked at Leif, the way he awkwardly held the baby in his arms, clearly never having held a child before. But he kept his face steady, not wavering. ‘I didn’t think you were a Christian?’ The Emperor asked quizzically. ‘I am open to learning and engaging with many beliefs Your Highness’ Leif announced. I looked at him, even though he was only adding to the lie, his words appeared to be true. The Emperor and the priest silently whispered to one another, being tactful to speak in a tongue that was not familiar to any of us, not even Elena.
‘I suppose we shall continue with the wedding then’ the Priest announced, bringing the lengthy interruption to an end. I gently squeezed Harald’s hand again, this time not in panic, but in a way that silently said what I couldn’t say out loud, knowing that it went against some of his crucial beliefs. The lying, the deceit, the false pledge of faith in the house of God, but the power to let me make a choice of free will for our daughter. Thank you.
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The ceremony was quick, the feast quiet as everyone felt the tenseness at the table. No speeches, no toasts, no nothing. I pushed the food around on my plate with a fork, a single grape making me feel sick. I just wanted the night to be over, to be able to take my daughter and go to sleep. To take this dress off, to throw the ribbon in my hair into the fire. But the Christian dictations of marriage continued to rule the evening.
The Emperor stood, breaking the tension as everyone looked at him as he sat at the end of the table. Leif, Elena, Harald, the Priest, and me. ‘Please, take the child to her godmother’ he asked, gesturing to who I recognised as Inaya. She walked over, without any sense of authorisation or consent, entirely comfortable in her privilege to do so, and whisked the infant from my clutches so quickly, walking out of the room. This only confirmed my fears further…we needed to get out of the palace. ‘As is custom with a marriage, it is time for the bedding ceremony.’
I looked to Harald, my eyes struck with panic, his gaze rather shocked at the brazenness of the Emperor. ‘Emperor, considering the circumstances…is a bedding ceremony entirely necessary?’ Harald asked, being sure to lower his tone to not come across as angered or threatening in any way to the Emperor, but completely submissive. ‘It has been a long day for us all my love, maybe on this occasion we can spare the formalities’ Elena said, slipping her hand into her husband’s as she sat next to him. The Emperor grasped her hand, kissing it gently. ‘I know it has been a long journey for you all, but we must unionise the new bride and groom, so we may observe that their marriage is sanctified. Once we have done this, we may all rest.’
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The couple were whisked into a room attached to the Church where the Emperor had them married. The Emperor himself didn’t care about the bedding ceremony, in his eyes, the pair had already committed fornication, and they would be punished for their sins because of it. It was not for him, nor the couple, not even the church that he insisted on the formality. The only reason he demanded it take place was for the same reason he had plotted this whole marriage between Harald and Y/N. To show Elena once and for all that she could not have the Viking.
The wedding party awkwardly gathered around the bed in the centre of the small room, the curtains around the canopy drawn to offer some sort of privacy, but their purpose to block anything from view was void of purpose. The material was so thin, that there was no use in them existing at all.
The pair stood awkwardly at each side of the bed. The bride pale, the groom tense. Harald had bore witness to bedding ceremonies before, but he had never thought of how awkward it was for the couple. They were supposed to be happy, eager to join together and become one flesh. He never imagined his own wedding night would be so displeasing. The tenseness of it all making him feel completely impotent. As for the bride, she had only seen one, and she was very aware that even though the marriage was motivated by political tactics, the bedding ceremony between Canute and Emma was extraordinarily passionate. While she had grown to care for the Viking, the thought of making a passionate display of affection to him and for everyone else at that moment was entirely impossible.
‘My darling, I only ask as you are the only other woman in the room, maybe you can assist the bride by undoing the back of her dress?’ the Emperor asked politely. But Elena knew this was not a suggestion, but rather a command. Elena walked over, her hands almost ripping the buttons that held the dress against Y/N’s skin. Y/N not able to keep herself still against the violent thrashing of Elena’s hands at the back of her dress. The dress which so improperly fit her malnourished body fell effortlessly from her frame, leaving her in a thin slip hanging from her shoulders.
Harald and Y/N awkwardly shifted into the bed, being sure to slip under the sheet to allow for more privacy. The priest carefully closed the sheer curtains behind them, but the view behind the curtain was very clear.
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I lay on my back, bringing the sheet right to the underside of my chin, my slip still lying at my knees. Harald awkwardly, so nervous, and unsure sitting with his tunic still covering his top half, but his bottom half protected under the privacy of the sheet. He looked around, so uncertainly, his breathing rapid as he finally looked at me. My eyes locked on the canopy as I lay with my head on the pillow, staring at the wooden engravings. I could feel Harald’s weight shift as he did the same, lying down on the bed and staring at the wooden canopy. I could see the figures on the outside of the curtain looking at one another confusingly. As much as I didn’t want to do this, as much as I wanted to scream, to tell the Emperor himself to fuck off. I gently shifted my hand, brushing against Harald’s forearm, dragging it down gingerly until I slipped my hand into his. Our fingers instinctively locked together.
I could feel the hairs on his arms, stood to attention, his leg not quite settled as it gently shook under the sheet. I shifted onto my side, finally drawing my eyes from the wooden canopy. Harald nervously followed suit. Our hands still intertwined, I gave him a gentle squeeze. Harald squeezed back, but his grip kept tight. ‘Um..should I?’ I whispered, shifting myself to move, but his hand unlaced from mine, sitting himself up slightly. He shifted on top of me, awkwardly holding himself up by his forearms. I nervously ran my hands down my legs, beginning to shift my slip up as Harald reached down. However, instead of taking off his tunic, Harald’s hand gripped my wrist, stopping my hands from moving my slip further up. His hands caressed my thighs, causing the hairs on my legs to stand to attention. I felt hot and cold, sweaty and shivery all at the same time. His hair covered his face as he looked down, awkwardly trying to shift himself into a comfortable position as he tried to hold his weight with one arm, his other hand gently caressing my waist. I lifted my hands, snaking them underneath his armpits, pulling his body on top of mine. Our clothed chests pressed against one another, our hearts beating as quickly and fiercely against each other. I brought my lips close to his ear, his body shivering at the sensation of my hot breath against his skin. ‘Just do it’ I said, closing my eyes and preparing for contact.
He shifted again, slightly, his thumb brushing against my naked waist. He shifted, turning his neck slightly so that his lips pressed against my ear. ‘Grunt’ he whispered. He dipped his head into my neck, his lips pressed against my neck as he breathed loud and slowly. I lay there, my arms resting on his back waiting for that feeling I hadn’t felt in so long. But it never came. He thrust his body forward against mine, my breasts rising and falling against his chest as he moved up and down. I grunted, letting out a small groan with each of his movements.
I could hear the small chatter on the other side of the curtain. Satisfied by what they believed to be unfolding between us, the small group of spectators quietly shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind them. It wasn’t until I felt a wet drop on my neck that I pushed Harald off gently. He turned around, his tears flowing as he sniffled. ‘I’m sorry’ he choked out, his shoulders shaking as his tears flowed. I was shocked at his demeanour. I wanted to ask him why he was sorry. Was it for everything before? The marriage? The awkward bedding ceremony?
‘Stay here’ I commanded, slipping out of the bed and walking out of the room.
The Church was another part of the part of the endless palace. The palace was empty of life, the halls dark, lit only dimly by candlelight. My bare feet padded against the bare concrete, the skin rough. I wandered down the corridor, seeking any sign of life. As I turned the corner, a body collided with mine. ‘Inaya’ I whispered, relieved to find people still awake at this time. ‘I need my daughter.’ She looked at me curiously, her eyebrows knitting together as she began to shake her head. ‘The baby is asleep, I have just put her down’ she impatiently replied. I brought my hand up, grasping her forearm within my clutches. ‘The baby is my baby. So I will ask you one more time kindly. I need my daughter, where is she?’ The world had always dictated every aspect of my life, but it stops now.
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I slowly opened the door to the room, a candle in hand, my daughter in the other. I walked to the bed, placing the candle on one of the tables, giving a small breath of light to the now dark room. I peeled the canopy curtain back quietly. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep, but his quick breathing suggested that he was not. ‘Harald’ I said, the weight of the bed dipping slightly as I crawled back into the bed. His hand came up to his face, rubbing his eyes, but his back still turned. ‘Harald’ I said more sternly, a gentle nudge to his shoulder blade. ‘I think it’s time you properly met your daughter’ I whispered. His quick breathing stopped, his limp body now stiff as he pushed himself from the mattress, cautiously looking over his shoulder, not quite believing his eyes. He shifted himself, sitting upright as he looked over her carefully. I watched him, the way his breathing slowed, the way amazement and fear washed over him simultaneously. Twyla looked at him, her eyes identical to his.
It felt like an eternity, the way they just stared at each other. I decided to break the silence, words that I didn’t think would ever come out of my mouth. ‘Do you want to hold her?’ He looked at me, only his eyes shifting. I gently cradled the little girl, placing her against Harald’s chest. It took a moment for him to move, but he gingerly wrapped his arms around her, cradling the girl to his chest. She lay there, her little cheek smooshed up against him as her eyes darted around the room. I so desperately wanted to know what was going on in her mind. Was she okay? Did she remember me? Does she know where she is? Does she feel as much love as I do her? So much doubt and so much hope rattled around in my brain.
She gently reached up, her small fingers gathering the hairs on Harald’s beard. He quietly laughed at the touch, even when she did pull a bit harshly. I watched her, the innocence, not knowing the politics of the world around her, the worries, the obligations. I wish she could stay like this forever, to simply just enjoy what was around her. Her little eyes began to droop, her breathing slowing into a gentle pace as she rested her head against Harald’s shoulder.
‘This is what it’s all about from now on. Saying you are sorry won’t change the past…but we can shape a future where we don’t have to be sorry.’ I said, gently brushing the wispy baby hair behind her ear. Harald gently placed his hand over mine as it rested on Twyla’s little cheek. ‘I promise, I will be a good father, and I will try to be a good husband’ he said, gently taking his hand from mine.
I didn’t say anything more, instead choosing to gently lay my head on Harald’s shoulder, Twyla’s sleepy head resting against his other. The day finally caught up to us, as we all fell into a blissful sleep.
Warnings: Language, religious, and gendered themes (In keeping with historical beliefs and practices from the 10th century in which the show is set).
The Emperor had grown up in a world of privilege; the best education money and status could buy, a constant influx of goods that could fill every castle across the empire. A life where the word ‘no’ did not exist. His world on a golden platter that he didn’t have to share with anyone else; Entitled? Yes. Naive? Most probably. Trusting? Possibly. Inattentive? Absolutely not.
The Emperor stood at the stern of his ship, his chin held high as he seemingly gazed upon his empire. The loyal friend, the sleepy infant, and the bewildered mother sat at the ship's bow. The Emperor’s bride stood starboard side, her eyes like daggers as she gazed at the trio. It had not escaped the Emperor, the way that his bride’s attention went straight to the Viking warrior when she emerged in her sacred garments rather than her husband-to-be.
Instead of the joyous union the Emperor had hoped for, sailing into the ports of his empire with his bride’s hand in his, he stood there silently plotting.
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It had seemed like an age since I had seen a city. The noises of people talking, the sounds of blacksmiths banging their hammers against sizzling hot metal, the smells of spices, herbs, and fresh fish as the ports busied with fishermen disposing of their catches. This would have all seemed wonderful, but the only thing my mind could focus on was the sleeping bundle in my arms. The way her tiny body cradled against mine, her head nuzzled upon my breast, my heart beating fast. Was it relief? Nerves? Panic? The questions spinning in my head. Was I holding her correctly? Was she warm enough? Did she seem healthy? So many aspects of motherhood that seemed so natural, but now I questioned if I was capable of caring for her every need. Mathilda sat closely, my head resting on her shoulder. Her arm pointing, words emitting from her mouth. I could feel the vibration of her words as I rested against her body, but I couldn’t hear a word.
It had been only a fleeting minute that Harald had met the daughter he didn’t even know existed. Only moments before Mathilda eagerly led us to the ship they had travelled upon. As we descended down the hill to the boat, I glanced back to see Harald’s hand delicately nestled within Elena’s grasp, the pair whispering. As we boarded the Emperor’s ship, Harald, Leif and the rest of the group boarding Harald’s ship, I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. How could his attention be so quickly dismissed from his own daughter to the new empress? A feeling of betrayal as he didn’t even try and insist on chaperoning his own flesh and blood to the place where our new lives would be taking us? Did he not care? Was he angry that I had kept her existence a secret? Was he too infatuated with Elena? But I quickly reprimanded myself. Harald Sigurdsson does not owe me anything, I do not owe Harald Sigurdsson anything.
I am free.
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‘Y/N’….’ Y/N…’ Like being awakened from a deep slumber, except I was already awake. My body jolted like I had been struck with a thunderbolt. The noises of the city pierced my ears, if it had not been for the sleeping bundle in my arms, I would have pressed my palms tightly against my ears to stop the noise. The sun shone so brightly, I would have shielded them if I could, as I looked up from that sweet innocent slumbering face to the thousands of people, the tall buildings and the vast colours that decorated the city of Constantinople. Mathilda stood, her hand outstretched. I looked around, the boat now populated by strange men boarding, tossing ropes across the boat. I gingerly stood up, letting Mathilda’s arm wrap around me as she guided us towards the wooden plank that led down to the dock. I took a deep breath, looking at my surroundings more closely. A feeling of overwhelming crisis taking over. How I had travelled so far, not of my own accord. If it weren’t for Twyla, I knew I would have been angry, destroyed, and possibly even violent. But even as much as I doubted my own ability to be a good mother, the overwhelming urge to protect her and not myself was stronger than those feelings of resentment.
I slowly shuffled down the plank of wood, the Emperor stood at the bottom of the plank, one hand outstretched to me, his other dutifully holding up the hand of his new bride. I nervously gripped onto his hand, welcoming his steady grip as I clutched Twyla tightly, careful not to disturb or drop her. My senses overwhelmed, barely noticing the sizeable number of people gathered around the port, excitedly watching as the ships and their newcomers disembarked. ‘It’s beautiful, is it not?’ The Emperor’s deep voice emitted, his gaze fixated on me as my face emitted more emotion than I could explain. I looked at him, his face smiling as he clearly enjoyed the moment of a new person seeing his dazzling empire. It was only the feeling of his thumb gently brushing over my fingers that my old instincts kicked in. I gently dropped into a deep curtsey, aghast at my actions as I realised my hand was tightly gripped to that of an Emperor. ‘Forgive me Your Highness for my brazenness.’ The Emperor gently squeezed my hand. ‘For you my dear, your enchantment on this occasion is understandable.’ As I rose from my curtsey, he lowered my hand, gently brushing his fingers against Twyla’s cheek. His face softened as he admired her. ‘Your daughter has and will continue to bring much joy to my Empire.’
‘Harald Sigurdsson’ Elena announced eloquently. I turned slightly to see Harald’s ship docked, looking unseemly behind the Emperors. The Emperor swiftly rounded me as he placed himself directly in front of the group. ‘Welcome to Constantinople’ his arms outstretched like a god, as the people behind him erupted into cheer. He turned around, addressing the crowd of people fixated upon his every move. ‘My people!’ He announced, bringing the cheers and clapping to a dutiful silence. ‘We welcome these newcomers to Constantinople. We celebrate and honour them, as they have returned one of Constantinople’s greatest treasures to its home.’ The crowds erupted into even louder cheers, some even brushing their weeping eyes. I gently pressed my hand against Twyla’s ear, attempting to deafen the overwhelming noise.
A man waded through the crowd, his hair long and dark, his clothing modest but grand in material and embroidery. The Emperor laughed, his arms outstretched as he gruffly embraced the man, their hands slamming against each other's backs. The man’s eyes gazed at Mathilda with a large smile. The Emperor was quick, however, to turn his attention to Elena, the man dutifully bowing, kissing her knuckles gently as the Emperor looked on proudly. They chatted momentarily as we watched, too nervous to move. Another man swiftly joined, a much larger-looking man in a gold and red uniform. His protruding height made the Emperor look slightly smaller as he craned his neck, whispering something to the Emperor as his eye flickered to the rest of us. The Emperor turned, addressing Harald, Leif, and the rest. ‘Please, follow me’. The group tenderly waited for Elena and the Emperor to lead the way, Harald leading the group, his eyes only casting a look at myself, Mathilda and Twyla momentarily before he trekked after the pair. I stood by Mathilda, confused as she stood, not moving to follow. My confusion however grew as the man who had so gleefully embraced the Emperor hastily walked toward Mathilda, wrapping his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning in a circle of embrace causing her to joyfully laugh. As he set her on the ground, he passionately kissed her, Mathilda smiling into the kiss as she tightly locked her arms around his neck.
When they parted, he looked confusingly at Mathilda. ‘Where is?’ He began to ask before Mathilda quickly drew his attention. ‘Y/N, this is my betrothed, Consus’ she introduced stagnantly. ‘Conus, this is ‘Y/N, my dear friend, and Twyla’s mother’ she introduced. ‘Your betrothed?’ I asked confusingly, my eyes darting between the pair. She wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘Consus found Twyla and me after many days and nights after you and Kurya were taken, and brought us to safety in Constantinople’ she said, beaming up at him utterly lovestruck. He nodded ‘Hello Y/N, I know much about you’ he said with a tentative smile. ‘You…you bought my daughter and Mathilda here?’ I asked, shocked by the act of kindness that didn’t seem to phase him. ‘I was travelling here anyway, meeting Mathilda and your beautiful daughter was simply a happy coincidence.’ He explained, brushing the act off as if it were nothing. I walked forward, reluctantly parting from my daughter for the first time since our reunion. Mathilda, equally as confusingly, cradling Twyla to herself. I jumped, wrapping my arms around Consus’s neck as his arms caught my body surprised. ‘Thank you…thank you so much’ I cried into his shoulder. He placed me back down on the dock, as I unlaced one arm, wrapping Mathilda into the embrace. ‘Thank you both so much’ I repeated as I wept uncontrollably.
It wasn’t until my crying had stopped I released the pair from my tight grip. But the pair didn’t seem to mind, they simply smiled at one another, engulfed in a spell-binding love for one another. I lifted the sleeve of my grotty garments, wiping the tears from my face. As I cleared my eyes, the obvious questions only then started to gather in my mind. ‘Wait…the Emperor?’ I asked pointing to him confusingly. ‘Oh.. my goodness, I’m so sorry’ I muttered, plunging myself into another instinctive curtsey. But Consus was quick to stop me. ‘Please Y/N, there is no need. Emperor Romanos and I are distant cousins, but I am not of noble birth.’ I looked at Mathilda, confused. ‘If Consus is not with me, he is with the Emperor, like two children playing together all the time’ she laughed, making Consus chuckle and nod in agreement. ‘I am simply, like you, a guest of my cousin’ he explained. His kindness was overwhelming, his natural conscience of goodwill was unbelievable. It seemed too good to be true…but my understanding of good had been destroyed over the last few years. I smiled slightly, the genuine kindness too much to truly believe; but it was certainly welcome. ‘Please, follow me to the palace.’
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‘You look like a new man’ the Emperor beamed, a friendly ice-breaker as Harald entered the throne room. ‘I smell it too’ Harald beamed, uncertain of the Emperor’s sense of humour, but relieved when the Emperor laughed. The Emperor strode to his podium, taking his seat on his throne, looking down as Harald stood in the centre of the room.
‘My bride tells me that you, Harald Sigurdsson, are the reason that her venture here was successful. Would you say this to be true?’ He enquired curiously, slanting his head slightly as he watched Harald shift slightly uncomfortably. ‘I cannot truthfully say I knew what I was delivering, I can truthfully say that I am glad we have made it here…most of us anyway.’ The Emperor was not satisfied by this answer, however, unable to shake the feeling that Harald Sigurdsson’s rapport with his bride was as genuine as it seemed. He decided to delve deeper.
‘My bride is particularly beautiful, is she not?’ He asked, causing Harald to breathe deeply as he stood solemnly before him. ‘Only the best for such a ruler and empire of your calibre’ he responded confidently. Another answer that failed to satisfy the Emperor’s suspicions. ‘She praises you highly Harald Sigurdsson’ he further commented, a slightly sinister tone beneath his friendly manner. ‘The Empress is too kind, she will make you a very happy man I am sure.’ Saliva hitched in his throat as he finished his sentence. Internally berating himself for his oblique statement. The Emperor simply smiled, but the comment ran silently amok in his mind. ‘So Harald Sigurdsson, tell me, what is it that will make you a happy man?’ He questioned, regaining his composure. ‘Most of my happiness lies back in my homeland of Denmark.’ Harald looked at the Emperor, wary of the sudden interest sparked. The Emperor gestured for him to continue. ‘I am the great-great-grandson of Harald Finehair, the first ruler of all of Norway; I intend to build an army and return to Norway to take what is rightfully mine by birth.’ Harald felt awkward, proclaiming rule in another man’s kingdom somehow felt informal.
Little did he know, this was the most satisfactory answer he had given the Emperor. But something still pressed on his mind. ‘You said ‘most of your happiness’ what more could you want?’ He questioned, finally leaning forward as he placed his hand inquisitively under his chin. ‘My children are meant to be rulers of Norway, and I intend to fulfil that obligation too’.
This caused the Emperor to rise from his seat.
‘And do you have children Harald Sigurdsson?’ He questioned persistently, an emote of excitement in his voice. Harald nodded slightly. ‘I have a child, back with a woman from my homeland; I do not know however if she or the child are even alive.’ Harald said sorrowfully. ‘And a child with another.’ The Emperor walked down the steps of his podium, walking so he stood right in front of him. ‘Who is this other?’ He questioned. ‘The mother of my daughter is y/n.’ The Emperor tilted his head, putting his finger up in the air and he wiggled it in thought.
‘You are the father of Twyla?’ He stated a slight smile on his face.
‘Twyla’ Harald repeated solemnly.
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It felt like time had stopped. Like everything was too good, something bad was bound to happen. My daughter, my friend, and I were together again, alive. I felt like a little girl again, the way Mathilda sat behind the tub, her fingers gently massaging oils into my hair before scooping the warm water from the bath and pouring it over myself. I sat with my knees curled under my chin, desperately fighting my eyelids, too scared to take my eyes off Twyla for a second as she slept soundly in the basket on the floor.
‘Tell me about her’ I whispered to Mathilda. I could hear the deepness of her breath, the sudden tenseness. The sponge came into contact as she rubbed circles on my back. ‘She’s a very quiet wee thing…barely fusses if there is someone she knows or a stranger…’ I rested my cheek on my knees, slightly turning to look in her direction. ‘But she only settles or sleeps in the arms of those she’s comfortable with’ she reasoned. Whether that statement was true or not, believing it was easier than accepting it as a friendly lie. I just wanted to feel connected to her. ‘She’s not a big baby, she doesn’t eat as much as she did with you…we have tried a few wet nurses, but she only takes to their breast if she’s starving, but even then she is quick.’ I smiled to myself slightly, feeling selfish at the thought, the way she was still so very small. A wave of guilt sizzled in my stomach at the thought of her starving herself for the milk of her own mother. ‘She smiles sometimes, she likes birds’ she chuckled. ‘Birds?’ I questioned, peeling my eyes away from Twyla, turning myself in the tub to look at Mathilda. ‘She sort of does a smile, and begins to wiggle when she hears birds chirping. Maybe it’s something she remembers from when she was with all of us, Kurya too’ she theorised. I looked back to Twyla, curious that an infant could have the emotional intelligence to recognise and respond to something as simple as a bird.
*Phwwwwwhht Phwwwwwhht Phwwwwwhht* I whistled, like an experiment, sounding slightly rusty in the dryness of my throat.
A tiny coo sounded from the wicker basket. Mathilda and I chucked at the adorableness.
‘Thank you, truly.’ I whispered, knowing that words alone would never be able to express the depth of gratitude.
The door opened slightly, and a woman ushered herself in with a small pile of folded fabrics. She walked over, placing the fabrics next to the bath, swiftly grasping my tattered, likely mouldy garments and inspecting their worth. Her lips locked tightly together, poking her fingers through the holes and tears, before swiftly waltzing over to the stone fireplace and thrusting them into the flames. She slowly wandered over to Twyla’s basket, crouching down as she smiled, admiring the little girl. Mathilda coughed slightly, sensing my tenseness and wary as I gripped tightly to the side of the tub. ‘Y/N, this is Inaya, one of the wet nurses I was telling you about.’ I felt ashamed, almost angry at the thought of someone else other than me feeding my daughter. Anger at not being there, petty at the thought of women like Inaya having that precious bonding time with my daughter instead of me. But, then again, if it weren’t for women like Inaya, Twyla might not be here. I begrudgingly loosened my grip, wrapping my arms back around my legs. ‘Thank you’ I croaked solemnly. She nodded gently, reaching into the basket and rearranging the blanket on top of her.
‘The Emperor invites you to join him in dining with him tonight. The invite is extended to you and your daughter, it will be a small private gathering.’ She spoke, walking back to the pile of fabrics, unfolding a long, full-sleeved white linen dress, embroidered with tasteful small colourful floral embellishments. I looked to Inaya, beginning to protest. ‘Thi…this gown is much too grand…I can’t…’ ‘This dress was chosen for you by the Emperor himself, you must wear this.’ She lectured, holding a long linen sheet as she hastily ushered me out of the warm tub.
‘Let us properly dress and groom you for the occasion’ she said, wrapping the cloth around my shoulders, and ushering me to the fireplace to dry.
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Harald had attended many feasts, whether he was a guest, or they were thrown in his honour, he would usually feel at ease. However, whether it be the lack of food since Novgorod, or that feasts in Constantinople were just much grander than his homeland, the delicious display of food almost made him feel sick. The table, which had been referred to as ‘modest’ was filled with delicacies. Fruits, loaves of bread, grains, fish, meats, steam still wavering from the plates, emitting wonderful smells and heat that danced across his senses. Leif tentatively walked toward the table, stealing a grape or two. ‘I don’t understand, why does the Emperor want both of us?’ Leif questioned quietly. But Harald did not answer him, instead cautiously waiting for the Emperor to deliver that news himself before Harald could think too much about it.
The double doors to the grand dining hall flew open, a small group of straight-faced guards marching after the pair in front. The Emperor and Empress, dressed in even grander garments than their meeting that morning. Harald couldn’t peel his eyes away, how for the last month or so he had been acquainted with Elena, the humble and loyal daughter, the fearless combatant and quick thinker in the face of danger. But now, within hours, she was no longer that person. Harald couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, yet somewhat relieved that he could pursue his loyalties to another he yearned for. But, the thoughts of the two women still caused an internal battle inside his head, no matter how much he knew that he desired one more than the other, it was still a loss either way.
Behind the group of guards, another entered the room, her head lowered to the ground as she carefully watched her steps. Her dress was too big as it lightly slung over her frame. Her ‘Y/H/C hair was adorned with a silky white headband tied into a neat long bow at the back of her head. A piece of fabric tied to her frame, cradling a small child tightly to her. It took Leif and Harald a moment to recognise the person as the person they already knew so well.
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I didn’t need to look up. I could feel the stares from across the room, but vainly I couldn’t judge them, I was also perplexed by my reflection in the looking glass. The smell of flowery soap was almost sickening compared to the salty, sweaty odour I had become so used to.
When I finally peeled my eyes from the infant gently nestled against my chest, I was struck by the amount of food covering the table in the centre of the room. Even since our rescue this morning, I had not thought for one moment about the empty pit in my stomach. So many colours, so many textures, so many flavours and smells that had become so foreign, even though they were once the same things I served daily in my youth in the castle. A lot of food for a ‘small private gathering’ I thought…
‘My friends’ the Emperor announced, standing at the forefront of the room with Elena dutifully by his side. Her pale eyes piercing as I tried to look anywhere but her intense gaze that lay upon me. ‘Tonight, we are here, I hope for a very joyous occasion’ he announced, a smile beaming across his cheeks. Everyone in the room now watching the Emperor with an aura of confusion. ‘Harald Sigurdsson has confided in me, his ambition to return to Norway to take his rightful place as King, and he will do so with my full support.’ The only person to look away from the Emperor was the Empress herself, her gaze shifting to Harald, an expression of dejection in her eyes. ‘And every King must secure his succession’ he announced, taking a step forward as he gestured toward me at the back of the room. ‘Come, please, y/n’ he spoke.
My stare was blank like my feet were nailed to the floor. Not even the gentle grasping of Twyla’s fingers at my hair was enough to shift me from this moment of derealisation. ‘The Emperor has commanded you’ Elena hissed, taking a step forward. It was only the gentle whisper of my name that prompted my feet to move slowly forward. ‘Y/N’ Leif Eriksson had whispered. I stumbled forward, clutching at the skirt of my dress to not trip over the fabric, while closely clutching the makeshift baby sling closer to me as if I was stepping right into the lion’s den. The Emperor was patient until I stood before him. ‘What kind of life would you both like for your daughter?’ I looked at the Emperor curiously, unsure of his question. Both? ‘You and your husband?’ He questioned. I could feel my insides clenching, and my heart beating faster. The Christian iconography had not escaped me. The adornment of religious relics were scattered all over Constantinople. The large crucifix hanging from his neck. I could feel my arm tighten around Twyla, the way my mother had held me closely as a child when people berated me for my unorthodox parentage. Maybe I could lie? Say my husband was dead? The thoughts running through my head.
‘We are not married.’ Harald’s voice emitted, stepping toward me, standing stiffly by my side. I looked at him, my eyeballs bulging out of my head as I looked at him in a state of panic. The Emperor stared at us both, attempting to look surprised, but there was something about his gaze that emitted the truth. This information was no surprise to him. The Emperor stood there and continued his performance. ‘Harald Sigurdsson, I was made to believe that many Vikings had accepted Christ as their lord and saviour?’ He questioned. Harald reached into his tunic, pulling out his crucifix as a display of his faith. ‘But, you have sired this child out of wedlock’ he stated. I looked at Leif warily, Leif was also uncomfortable as his sister had also supposedly carried Harald’s child. Harald only replied with a curt nod. ‘How do you expect your people to accept this child as a future noblewoman…possibly even Queen of Norway if she is not of sacred birth?’
I wanted to scream. How dare these men assume my daughter’s future for her. How dare they assume that royalty was a safe life for her. How dare they assume that this was my desire for her too. How. Dare. He.
‘I don’t want her to be a Queen…I want her to be happy’ I said, confidently speaking for the first time. The Emperor’s act dropped slightly, the surprise on his face genuine. ‘You do not want this life for her? Education? Protection? Loyalty? Family? He questioned, gesturing to his palace around him, clearly retailing in his own life. ‘It is not that your highness, I want her to have those things, I just don’t necessarily believe that instructing and grooming my daughter for a life of nobility is the only way for her to have those things.’ The room fell even more tense, one might even hear the sound of a pin drop. The Emperor walked forward like time had slowed down. I could feel his every step vibrate across the ground, the sound of his shoe beating against the floor. The callouses of his fingers as he slipped them under my chin, and forced me to look at him. ‘Aren’t mothers supposed to want the best for their children?’ He questioned solemnly. I could feel my heart ripping apart. Every insecurity, every internal crisis I had felt about being a mother. Was this, was my personal feelings a recipe for destruction, was I endangering my daughter?
He stepped back, and his poised composure returned as he fell back into his performance. ‘Here is my offer. Harald, I cannot help you build a Christian army, a Christian empire if you do not practice such convictions in your own life. A King must have a legitimate heir, he must have a legitimate marriage sanctioned by the Church. I have the desire to help you build this but with the eyes of my people, my council, and my bride, you must understand that not even I hold the power to make such a miracle happen without the guidance and principles of our lord at its core.’ Harald shifted uncomfortably, his fists crunching into himself as he put them protectively behind his back. But Harald simply matched the Emperor’s performance. ‘May I have the opportunity to discuss this with y/n privately?’ He questioned in a way that submitted to the ego of the Emperor, making him feel strong in his position. The Emperor peeled a smile across his face. ‘Of course’ he said, gesturing to a small wooden door across the room.
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‘What have you done?’ I hissed quietly, clutching Twyla closely. Harald paced around the small room, his knuckles white as he clutched his fingers within his grip. ‘He promised…he promised he would help me’ he muttered angrily to himself. ‘I don’t give a damn about what he promised you, my baby will not be forced to be Queen of some nation that she’s never fucking been.’ ‘She is MY child too y/n’ he hissed, thumping his hand against his chest. ‘Only in the formal sense’ I hissed back passively. ‘Well you can hardly blame me for that…all that time we travelled across the seas, across countries, and you NEVER said a word about our daughter’s existence.’
‘Why did you leave?’
I finally asked. Never having had the courage to ask that question. He stopped his pacing, placing his hand gingerly against the wall, his eyes darting to the floor, his composure dropping entirely from the fierce Viking he normally was. ‘Why? Why did you leave that night? You left me in London’ my voice cracked slightly, the gasping of my breath desperate to hide my pain, the anger and betrayal, but mostly the sense of loss I had long felt since that night.
‘I had stolen so much from you Saxon…I reasoned with myself that if I left you where you had started…where I thought belonged, that life would be better to you than I had so cruelly been’ he whispered, his voice cracking and he spoke, his hand coming up and gripping his mouth to silence the sound.
A version of Harald that was so rare. A side of him he wouldn’t even let Leif see. And yet, he stood there, his eyes averted in shame, the truth finally spilling. ‘Had I known you were with child…I would have done things differently.’ He turned around, his back turned, hiding the shame he felt spilling his emotions. He let out a sigh, a gentle whistle emitting from his lips.
*phwoooooh*
Her legs began to gently kick, and a small coo at the sound. Harald turned his head slightly, the sound of his baby like a lightning strike to his body. Exactly how I had felt. As much as I wanted to sit here and argue, to curse him for leaving, to execrate him and the Vikings for all they had done to me. But an annoying part of me cared for him. For being Twyla’s father. I closed my eyes, my thoughts running wildly. Outside this small room, the Emperor waited. Inside this room, the fate of my family was still somewhat within my control. An opportunity that could change all our lives for the better, rather than continue to exist in this confusing state of limbo that had gone on long before we set foot in Constantinople.
‘Here is what we are going to do.’ Harald turned around, his eyes puffy, slightly red. ‘Twyla will not be Queen of Norway. She will not be a noblewoman. Our job, as her parents, will be this and only this.’ I stated, raising my finger and pointing it at Harald’s chest. ‘We will build a life for her for which she can be safe, happy, and will have choices.’ Harald finally looked at Twyla, their eyes meeting as she stared at him curiously. ‘You will get the Emperor to help you build your army, but while we are here, you will do some things for me.’ His eyes didn’t shift from Twyla, their eyes firmly locked on one another, but he nodded his head. ‘You will find us somewhere to live, somewhere that is not in this castle, somewhere normal where we can live in peace without the Emperor and the Empress controlling our every move. You will find a tutor, for when Twyla comes of age so she will have the opportunity to learn and have an education. But most importantly, you will let me live a normal life with her, not one dictated by your ambition to be King, but a normal, stable life where she can be happy. Those are my conditions.’ Harald finally looked at me, his face aghast. ‘You mean?’ He questioned. ‘Yes. I will agree to the marriage, but only so that the Emperor will help us, he doesn’t need to know the specifics.’ I raised my arm, holding my hand out. A gesture to seal the deal. I was sceptical if Harald Sigurdsson would be willing to not only lie to the Emperor but to relinquish so much control. But Harald looked at Twyla, his eyes softening, his breath easing. His arm locked against mine, with a firm shake.
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The trio emerged from the room, the Emperor watching carefully, his solution would either fail or succeed. Harald approached the Emperor, a dutiful bow as he did. ‘Your offer is most kind, and with your blessing and support, we would like to accept your generous offer to wed us.’
The Emperor smiled, a joyful laugh emitting as his plans fell into place. With Harald Sigurdsson married, with a wife and child, his own marriage would not be threatened by the Empresses’ obvious care for the Viking. A solution so clever, the Emperor so vainly joyful with his brilliance.
‘Well let us not waste such a glorious moment, let us call upon the clergy and have the beautiful couple wed tonight!’ He announced, his council already walking out of the room to gather the necessary people to unify Harald and y/n.
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The room began to bustle as the Emperor didn’t waste a moment. I scanned the room, only one pair of eyes fixated on me as she stood with the Emperor. I couldn’t tell who was paler. Elena, or me.
Hello fellow Imagineers! Thank you for the messages people have sent saying how excited they are for the story to continue! Vikings Valhalla S3 has dropped on Netflix (or whatever your respective viewing platform may be!) I'm so excited to start watching this week and hopefully will craft some enjoyable reading for us all! Thank you kindly for your patience fellow reader, as some of you may be familiar, I really like to follow along with the show's plotline, so the story hasn't been updated since the end of season 2! But it really is the biggest privilege to see that the story is enjoyed by others (the silly story in my head I refer to it as). Let's see what S3 brings xx
girl i am SO EXCITED !!! please tell me you've got more chapters cooking!! I'm dreaming of baby Twyla in a flash foward!!!!!!!! Deeply screaming it's true
Ahh thank you for reading! 💞 Luckily the new season is set to drop soon! I personally love going along with the storyline of the show, so I certainly have ideas brewing for our baby Twyla based on the trailer, but never know what the show will throw our way 🫣
Premise: Reader has recently moved to Silver Falls after issues at their previous school. Reader suffers from a speech impediment, but that won't stop Danny Walter from trying to make a new friend ❤
Warnings: Swearing.
‘Mr and Mrs Y/L/N, if I understand the notes and transcript from Y/N’s previous school, and from what you’ve told me…Y/N hasn’t spoken in almost two years?’ I hated that…when people spoke as if I wasn’t in the room. My parents anxiously sat in Miss Jacob's office, my Dad anxiously clutching onto my Moms's hand. ‘Y/N has always suffered from a severe stutter, when we moved for my job it got worse which led to bullying, the doctor called it Selective mutism.’ My Dad looked at me, I gave him an approving nod. A small gesture of approval, but I know it reassured my parents, to know that I appreciated their help.
‘So Y/N, academically your reports and transcripts are competent, your attendance…a little shaky’ she said, her hand rising from her desk giving that so-so gesture. I pressed my lips together tightly, an attempt at a slight smile, although an invisible smile at that. ‘I know this can be a topic of sensitivity, but for purposes so that we may better support you here at Silver Falls y/n we will need to know why your previous school dismissed you’ Her face searched all our faces, clearly feeling awkward about approaching the topic. Mom and Dad’s clutching hands and tense posture offering the poor guidance counsellor no comfort. ‘Well…we know y/n’s attendance was shaky, but ultimately the school said they weren’t equipped to handle y/n’s…condition they called it’ Mom responded, leaning forward from the back of the chair and shifting herself unnecessarily. ‘Did you feel unsupported at your previous school?’ Miss Jacobs asked curiously. I shrugged my shoulders, raising them slowly as my lips tilted into a diagonal line. She pursed her lips as her eyes darted between my folder on her desk and back to me. ‘What about you Mr and Mrs Y/L/N, did you feel the school was unaccommodating or disengaging?’ She rested her fingertips on her keyboard, ready for any information they might present. ‘Actually, Miss Jacobs, y/n’s dismissal was a shock to us all, y/n had adequate grades as you can see…never got in any fights, and followed the rules for the most part, she’s an exceptional pianist, but we did notice a lack of responsiveness when we tried to address bullying allegations’ My Dads voice quickly retreating into himself as he spoke as I sunk slightly into my seat. Mom and Dad had always been the type of people who hated making a fuss about things, confrontation made us all feel awkward I suppose…
‘Well, y/n we’d be happy to accept you here at Silver Falls High’ Miss Jacobs said, standing from her desk with her hand outstretched. I slipped my hand into hers loosely, a tight-lip smile more directed at the floor than it was at her. I could hear my mom's loud sigh of relief, a breath of air she had held in the whole morning. Their hands stayed tightly clutched as Miss Jacobs walked us down the hallway towards the front entrance, a habit they had adopted since my stutter turned to silence. My chest felt heavy as they walked close, their shoulders pressed together and Miss Jacobs made polite conversation, her questions conveying the essence of community that washed over the small town of Silver Falls to us newbies. ‘Where have you moved to? Oh lovely, the Andersons always enjoyed living there, I’m sure you’ll find it just as homely as they did. If you want to meet some locals Lark After Dark, an event at our local cafe usually draws in most of our town. How old is your youngest? She must be attending Silver Falls Elementary I presume?’ Miss Jacobs had already established that she was a friendly person, but the entire town was more entwined than we had anticipated… I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread, a hefty weight on my chest, wouldn’t be long until everyone knew about the new family on the block with their poor mute child.
‘Alright, Mr and Mrs y/l/n, thank you for coming in and speaking with me, and I’m confident that Silver Falls High will be the last transfer for y/n’ her gaze directed to me as she gave a confident smile. I looked back at her, making an effort to relax my shoulders as I nodded and smiled back. My parents relieved as they walked out of the school together. ‘Alright y/n, shall we?’ She smiled, her hand gesturing back down the hallway as I tentatively followed, taking one last look out the window as Mom and Dad drove away from Silver Falls High.
‘Okay y/n, this is where I leave you I’m sorry, I have a meeting with another student, but this is your English class with Mr Choudry, here is your timetable’ she explained, pulling papers from her notebook piling them into my hands. She quickly glanced at her watch, her eyebrows raising in surprise as her relaxed demeanour turned to one of worry. ‘I’m sorry y/n it seems I’m already late, but feel free to come by my office after your class and I can spend a bit more time with you to go over things’ she knocked on the door, opening the door and popping her head in, giving a nod to the teacher as she pointed to a chair at the back of the room. I flicked my head back, my face tense, a tight feeling in my throat releasing a little squeak, seeking any solace only to find she was already 10 paces away from the classroom, back to the direction of her office. Shit.
‘We’re just about to start’ the teacher smiled grabbing a stack of books from his desk as he passed the stack to the students at the front of the room, passing a copy back. I slumped slightly into my seat, trying to disappear as each pair of eyes looked at me as everyone passed their books back. It’s funny, how we don’t even need to say anything, and yet everyone in the room was already making their mind up about me as I did them. Nosy, curious…almost dumbfounded? From what Miss Jacobs said about Silver Falls, I had likely walked into a room where everyone had known everyone since elementary school; who was this stranger…infiltrator, fresh meat. I could feel my back digging into the back of the chair, picking at the cuticles of my already damaged nail bed. The last book smacked on the desk in front of me as the girl’s eyes flicked up and down my body, before abruptly turning back to the front of the class. William Shakespeare, I read as I glanced down at the old tattered book.
‘Sorry I’m late Mr Choudry’ The door burst open, and everyone slightly jumped in their seats. A few faces smiled at the arrival of the stranger. ‘No worries Danny, we’re just about to begin’ I couldn’t tell if they were relaxed about attendance here…or if this Danny carried a certain charm that made people who possessed such a gift forgivable in any instance. He looked around the room, his eyes falling on me as I quickly whipped my head back to the book on my desk. Please don’t sit here, please don’t sit here I silently pleaded to myself. Unfortunately, the pleading in my head was interrupted by the scraping of the chair at the table next to fine. Fuck. ‘Oh Danny, I’m so sorry I wasn’t expecting to have this many people in my class this semester, you’ll have to share with our new student for today if that’s cool’ I could see him smiling and nodding at the teacher out my peripheral vision. I could feel the stinging at my fingers as I intensified the picking at my nails. I could feel his gaze glance down to my hands in my lap. He sat up in his chair, slightly pulling back as he pivoted in his chair toward me, holding a hand out. ‘Hey, I’m Danny’ he spoke confidently, a smile spreading wide across his face. I craned my neck slightly, looking at his hand as I gingerly raised my own slipping my slightly sweaty palm into his, returning his shake as he moved his hand with an assertive grip, clearly not worried about the sweat. I slipped my hand out of his, glancing at his face properly for the first time, facing my head back towards the front. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’ He politely inquired, slightly dropping his head as he curiously tried to catch my gaze.
‘Okay everyone attention to the front please’ Ah, a saving grace, as Mr Choudry interrupted Danny’s question. He slipped back into his seat properly, a slight smile on his face as he saw the book in front of us. Never had I ever seen anyone under the age of 50 excited at the prospect of reading Shakespeare. ‘Now as everyone will have noticed, we clearly have a new student with us today, hence the lack of books, sorry Danny’ The class chuckled, I however did not. He didn’t need to even finish his sentence before I could feel my eyes almost popping out of my head. My heartbeat, which had been surprisingly steady all morning, began to pump more ferociously. ‘Would you stand up and introduce yourself please’ He politely requested, gesturing his hand to the back of the room, giving everyone the excuse they needed to properly turn and stare. My breathing began to intensify, I could feel every crevice of my body begin to perspire. I could feel my hands begin to shake. ‘No need to be nervous’ Mr Choudry smiled, still expectantly waiting. I could sense Danny’s energy shift to one of concern as his eyebrows scrunched together, noticing the way the hairs on my arm stood to attention. ‘Cat got your tongue newbie?’ A girl at the front remarked, giggling to herself and her friend. ‘Erin’ Mr Choudry remarked in a strict sharp tone. Not again. I almost pleaded to myself as Erin and her friend silently tried to silence their chuckles. The chair let out an uncomfortable screeching noise as it grated across the floor. I stood up, throwing my backpack over my shoulder as I quickly tracked to the door, not even faltering as Mr Choudry exclaimed for me to wait. I wasn’t a fighter…I needed to fly. As the door creaked shut behind me, a voice carried, escaping the English room as I walked down the empty hallway. It was Danny, his words simple but fiercely sarcastic. ‘Nice one Erin’.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
‘So y/n how was your first day?’ Mom asked curiously as we sat amongst the boxes in the new house, picking at her homemade meatloaf. A food of comfort when Mom suspected the day needed a little more love. I nodded, smiling at her, her cheeks going slightly pink as her smile emitted across her face. I could see Dad out of the corner of my eye, raising his chin slightly, blowing out his mouth with equal comfort. I suppose it wasn’t entirely a lie…first day in Silver Falls maybe, but not school. Silver Falls proved to be an idyllic country town, with everyone waving and passing comments as they saw each other on the streets, greenery as far as the eye could see, animals in every pasture, an elegant stream that glistened all day as the sun shone down.
‘I liked it, but I sorta miss my old school’ my sister innocently chimed in from the end of the table. I twirled the fork in my hand around the mashed potatoes on my plate, my stomach churning at her comment. I never wanted to move, I never wanted to take her away from her stability and routine. ‘Well did you make any friends?’ Dad asked her, trying to pick up the mood. But I could see him tense again as he watched my fork swirl aimlessly around the plate. ‘I met a girl named Parker, she was really nice’ she said, a small smile on her face as she pierced her fork through the green beans on her plate. I brought a small bite to my mouth. At least something good happened for her. ‘Honey, the movers called, it’s probably not going to be till Friday when they’ll get here, so your piano won’t be here for a few more days’ Dad said, the corner of his lip curling down slightly. Great, another letdown. I simply nodded, forcing a tight-lipped smile. ‘Maybe the school has one? Maybe there might be a club or something?’ Mom enthusiastically tried to offer. I knew it was more than just the piano though…make some friends, meet some people. But based on this morning…I already decided I didn’t want anything to do with them.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The halls at Silver Falls High were bustling, chatter echoing throughout the hallways, lockers slamming, people tossing footballs to one another, guys in football jackets walking as a herd as girls trailed alongside them. I looked at the timetable Miss Jacobs had given me yesterday. Homeroom, 13B. I trailed down the hall, ignoring the whispers and chatter as people quietly retorted to each other ‘Who’s that?’ ‘Erin said they choked up and walked out of English’ ‘I think they are the newbies that moved onto Charm Street?’ People here really knew too much of one another’s business. Against the lockers, a large group of guys stood conversing with each other, I looked to find the eyes of girls and boys looking at them in slight admiration, carefully trying to keep their composure as they waited for the boys to finish their conversation. Something about meeting at the car after school. ‘Hey’ one of the voices called as I tried to merge my way past the group. I looked up as his tall frame stood there, a friendly smile on his face. The same beanie as yesterday, an almost identical plaid shirt. Danny from English. I gave a simple head nod, raising my eyebrows slightly in his direction. ‘Who’s the new chick?’ The blonde one emitted, his eyes looking me up and down as I managed to squeeze between the group and the people eagerly waiting to talk to them. ‘Don’t know their name yet’ Danny spoke, very much in a happy-go-lucky voice. Interesting that he didn’t seem to care about the events of yesterday…
The bell rang; a small groan of disappointment, particularly from the girls who stood around Danny and his group. The crowd quickly dispersed as groups flocked to their classrooms. I aimlessly walked down the hall until I stood across the hall from the door that read 13B. I glanced inside the window through the door, only to find a pair of eyes glaring back at me. Seriously, what was this girl’s problem? She sat on the desk, running her fingers seductively through the blonde boy’s hair, even though he seemed more interested in talking to Erin’s friend. A deep yawn emitted from the room, the blonde boy chuckling to himself as he gingerly pushed Erin’s hand away. ‘Dude, I love having my own room most of the night, but ya gotta stop staying up to watch movies all night’. ‘Lay off Cole’ Danny’s voice sarcastically remarked back. I looked up and down the corridor, luckily empty of teachers or other students. I slowly walked away from the classroom, and back down the hall.
Construction Zone
Do Not Enter
A sign read on the door. I slowly pushed the door open, poking my head in to see a large vacant auditorium, a weak smell of dried paint and multiple discarded tools. I slipped inside the room, walking down the steps toward the stage. On the right-hand side, a slightly dusty, but gorgeous baby grand piano. The perfect refuge to pass the day. I could feel my cheeks pinch, a genuine smile. A feeling of relief washed over me for the first time since we moved to this town. I placed my backpack on the ground, approaching the stage.
I could feel the goosebumps on my arms as I gently ran my fingers over the keys. While slightly dusty and with a few scratches here and there, it was otherwise relatively in perfect condition. C D E F G A B. The sound radiated, like an electric shock to my fingers, a spark radiating through my body. Familiarity, sanctuary, comfort. The room had clearly undergone some extensive renovations. The stage floor was polished to perfection, and the seats were not even indented yet, some electrical chords still yet to be tied up. The sound of the piano bench barely made a noise as I slipped myself onto the seat. I closed my eyes, breathing in through my nose, placing my hands on the keys. I began to play.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The hours seemed to pass so quickly as I occasionally looked up to the clock on the wall, the sound of the piano seemingly not carrying outside the room. It was almost 2 o’clock, and no one had come into the auditorium all day. It was as if the notes were dancing around in my head, pops of silver, midnight blue, and purples dancing around as I lost myself in the music. Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Bach, Debussy…I didn’t stutter when it came to playing. Music spoke to the soul, an international language that didn’t require one to verbalise. It was my language. When my verbalisation began to deplete, music was something that comforted my family. It was a way of communication. If the music was lively, my sister would jump around the room, pulling my parents into the room to twirl her about. If times were stressful, a calming sonata to soothe the soul. When Mom or Dad had a particularly tough day at work, a familiar tune for them to sing along to lift their spirits. There was always an occasion for music. The last few days had been unusually quiet at home with my piano still to come. It felt like missing a part of my body. My piano was just an extension of me, and without it, I had been feeling incomplete. But even in this unfamiliar town, in this alien school with these strangers, the piano was a familiar friend.
I glanced at the clock once more. Only 15 minutes remaining until the final bell and I could go home. ‘Play for you, not for anyone else’ Mrs Luella, my childhood piano teacher had said. One last piece to finish the day, to end on a high, to leave my fingertips satisfied until the next time that my soul could reconnect with the music. Clair de lune. A piece written about and for the soul itself. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach at the thought of the notes dancing around the room, the soul outside one’s own body, Debussy’s piece one in a million.
A slow, gentle, delicate touch, a build of intensity, slow and steady, paced so beautifully. I could feel as each note emerged from the piano, a steady vibration as the piano shook against the stage floor. Slow tranquillity transpired, swirled in motions like a dry leaf dancing in the wind. As the intensity of the song, like a slowly building hurricane, the notes just become louder and more defined as the story builds. The bursts of colour in my head, dancing around in my brain, just sparking the right senses in my brain, almost like a feeling of ecstasy. And so slowly, yet so quickly, my fingers slowed, my touch more gentle, intensity turning to calmness…the songs end a perfect moment to let the last key ring. Utterly beguiling.
My body jumped, my fingers still on the keys emitting an unflattering jumble of keys that were quite simply incompatible with one another. From the beautiful final ring of notes, a singular person’s claps cascaded across the room like a pouncing cat. My head shot to the seats to find none other than that familiar plaid-dressed boy sitting up in the back row, perfectly nuzzled into the seat as if he had been resting there for hours. I began to cough as saliva caught in my throat, the goosebumps on my arm no longer one of excitement but of pure shock. Danny stood quickly, profusely apologising as he swung his bag over his shoulder, racing down the stairs as he stepped onto the low stage, his hands out in surrender. I placed a hand out, a signal to stop as I grabbed my water bottle, chugging the unpleasant feeling away.
‘Gosh, I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to scare you’ Danny pleaded. I simply nodded, my mouth full of water as I took a deep gulp. ‘You’re really good’ he said, almost breathless as he nervously shifted the beanie on his head. ‘Clair de lune?’ He posed as a question, even though his tone indicated that he already knew the answer. I stared at him, almost slightly shocked as he slowly waltzed over confidently to the piano, leaning on the other side as he smiled at me. I could feel my body tense, what did he want? ‘Yeah I’m a bit of a film buff myself, and Clair de Lune is probably one of the most amazing scores to just add that…’ he clicked his fingers, slightly looking up as if there were a lightbulb above his head. ‘That raw emotion it adds to a scene, really powerful on the audience ya know?’. I breathed in slowly, nodding slightly. I couldn’t say I knew what the impact meant in a movie sense…but I suppose if it made others feel the way I felt playing it, maybe there was some credit to his statement.
*Bbbrrriiinnnggg*
The final school bell chimed. I quickly rose from the piano stool, walking off the stage to grab my backpack, Danny’s footsteps trailing close behind. ‘Hey, the auditions from the school production are coming up soon, and as part of the drama club too we need talented musicians like you to help bring the magic alive so to speak’ he eagerly suggested. I turned my head slightly, shaking my head. I hated crowds, the only people I played for were my family, and sometimes that was overwhelming enough. I placed my hand on the door, only for Danny to interrupt with yet another statement. ‘Hey, look, is there a reason you won’t talk to me? Have I done something to offend you?’ I could hear him breathe aloud slightly, a slight frustration. I could feel his brain rattling away as he waited for a response. I turned around, facing him as he stood a few steps below me, a look of concern on his face as his eyes sought mine. ‘I don’t even know your name, you didn’t even come to class today’ he noted, a voice of confusion. But all I felt was defeat. A moment of tranquillity and peace ended with yet another frustrating reality of my silence. New school, new people, same situation. I dropped my eyes to the floor, turning quickly, and camouflaging into the crowded hallway, leaving Silver Falls High School, and a puzzled Danny.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
I sat at the table, eating cereal with my sister, the boxes around us slowly beginning to disappear as the items of our home began to slowly find their places in the new home. ‘Oh, y/n I almost forgot’ Mom said, halfway out the door in her scrubs ready for work. ‘Miss Jacobs called, she wants to see you first thing when you get to school okay’ she rushed, a smile on her face as she blew us kisses. ‘Love you guys, y/n please make sure your sister has her bag, I had to leave the hospital yesterday in the middle of my shift just to bring it to her’ she exhaustedly exclaimed as she walked out the door. My sister looked up, smiling at me with pieces of cinnamon toast crunch in her teeth. I smiled back, but inside my stomach felt like it was going to explode.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
I stood down the street from school, waiting to hear the sound of the bell ring before I went in. I didn’t want to accidentally bump into Danny again. I watched as a blue car sped down the road, pulling into the school, The Hives blasting from the stereo. The car parked, like a clown car, teenage boy after teenage boy climbed out. That familiar plaid shirt and beanie climbed out from the front passenger seat. People waving, a few flocking to the car…the boys walking into the school like a tiny parade.
*Bbbrrriiinnnggg*
The bell chimed, and I slowly walked toward the school, only crossing the threshold when every student was inside. I quietly entered the school, pacing towards Miss Jacobs’ office, eager to get this meeting over with so I could return to the almost private sanctuary of the auditorium. I gently knocked on the door, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it at all. ‘Y/N come in’. Shit. I cautiously walked into the room, scooting the chair back slightly away from her desk. Miss Jacobs finished her email, twirling in her chair slightly. Her body language said it all. All attention is on you y/n.
‘Y/N fist of all, I want to formally apologise’ I raised my eyebrow, shocked by her opening statement. ‘I was so busy on Monday, and I forgot to issue an email to your teachers explaining your…well ya know’ Condition, mutism, selective mutism, silence. I’d heard it all before. ‘I am aware of the incident that happened in Mr Choudry’s English class, and it was preventable and I’m sorry that happened.’ It was almost shocking, a teacher apologising. Never had I received anything like this at my previous schools. ‘But please be rest assured, we discussed the practicalities and our requirements to support you at our staff meeting last night.’ Both my eyebrows raised this time…these people were willing to work with me? I could feel my toes curl into themselves, a wave of overwhelming shock washing over me as I gripped the armrest of the chair. ‘I also know that you haven’t been attending your classes the past day and a half, and we can’t let that continue, so if you’re willing to work with me, then I’m willing to work with you.’ She reached into her drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper and surfaced it on the desk in front of me. ‘First of all, it is a requirement that every Silver Falls High student is involved in at least one extra-curricular activity.’ I slowly began to pick at my fingers, looking at the list Miss Jacobs had presented me. Instinctively I shook my head, my eyes pleading as I looked at Miss Jacobs. She took in a breath, looking at another file she pulled from her drawer. ‘Your references from a Mrs Giovanna Luella, she has noted here that you are a very gifted piano player…we do have a piano in our school auditorium?’ Believe me, I know all too well I thought to myself, but the anxiety wasn’t going away. ‘Look, we have our school production coming up, and we need more students who can play percussion instruments. Technically that will make you part of the drama club as that is where you’ll need to be for meetings and practices.’ Fuucckk no no no I internally begged. ‘I already passed it with our drama teacher and he is in full agreement that you only need to participate as the pianist’. It was very clear the decision had been made for me. ‘We also need you to go to your classes y/n.’ A sympathetic smile came to her. ‘Our meeting on Monday with your parents, I could tell that they love you very much, and within that love, I also can see they are worried about you…so if you are willing to join the drama club, then I am willing to let it slide, and we can keep it between us.’ I stopped the picking, meeting her gaze. A compromise. I knew Mom and Dad were worried, but I had also seen how relieved they were even if it was a lie when I expressed that the first day had gone okay. That they were able to sit down at the end of the night, not having to discuss between them as yet school had called them again to talk about my attendance. If not for me, then for them. I looked at her once more, nodding my head in agreement.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The day had passed slowly. Keep your head down, take notes, and nod occasionally and teachers will be satisfied. At lunch, I sat at the back of the empty auditorium eating my sandwich, headphones in until the bell rang. Finally the last class of the day, and it couldn’t come soon enough. I looked at my timetable, my heart slightly dropping into my stomach. 13B - English. I walked into the classroom, taking that same seat in the back corner, looking out the window as everyone else filed in. My daydreaming was interrupted by Mr Choudry slipping between the tables, and bending down in front of my table. ‘Y/N, I’m so sorry about the incident on Monday, I hadn’t been informed about your speech impediment’. I gave him a nod, I could genuinely see the sincerity. ‘Oh Danny, come sit’ Mr Choudry said, my eyes following his as Danny stood behind his chair, his lips awkwardly shifting as his gaze flickered between myself and Mr Choudry. ‘I can sit somewhere else, this sounds like a…private matter’ he said, looking around the classroom only to find every seat taken. I reached over, slowly pulling the chair next to me out from under the table, patting the seat, and inviting Danny to sit down. He smiled, sitting down as he flung his backpack underneath the desk. ‘Fresh start?’ Mr Choudry said, reaching his hand out. I slipped my hand into his, shaking his hand, and giving a curt nod. ‘Also welcome to the drama society’ he said. I looked curiously at him as he began to walk back to the front of the room. ‘Meetings are Thursdays after school, so we’ll see you tomorrow.’ Of course, he was the drama teacher too…
As Mr Choudry read passages of Shakespeare to the class, pulling apart the meaning of each sentence of ye old English literature, I couldn’t help but notice the way Danny focused so intensely on each word. He didn’t bother to scribble any notes down, he just seemed totally lost in the dialogue. His fingers shifted, reaching into his binder without even looking, his attention still focused on Mr Choudry. He plucked a single sheet of paper from the back of his binder, pulling it out slowly and silently, and slipping it on top of my notebook. I looked down to see a sheet of music. The notes already ringing in my ears as I read the paper. It didn’t seem very Shakespearean, nor classical…My eyes darted to the top of the page, reading the bold heading at the top of the page.
‘Don’t Be Shy’
Cat Stevens
Sheet Music
Mr Choudry’s voice completely disappeared, the sounds of scribbling pens on paper gone, the presence of everyone else obsolete. I dropped my pen, grazing my fingers across the page. My heart fluttered. I tilted my head slightly, looking at Danny with my mouth slightly agape. I could feel my heart slightly pumping as Danny looked back at me, his lips curled into a smile. My lips doing the same. I looked back to my notebook, tearing a piece off the bottom of the page as the bell rang and the sounds of students chattering and chairs scraping began to sound again. I quickly scribbled on the paper as Danny reached for his bag. I slid the note in front of him, walking out of the classroom before he could respond. It read
My name is Y/N
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
When I arrived home, a glorious shine glared through the window. An even bigger smile washed over my face. My piano. I rushed inside, tossing my bag to the floor, walking into the living room, ignoring my Dad’s greeting or my sister’s attempt to play with me. I reached into my pocket, unfolding the new sheet of music and placing it on the music stand. The notes immediately cheerful, the music bouncing and echoing in the still largely unfurnished home, boxes still scattered everywhere.
‘I like this one’ my sister exclaimed, skipping into the living room with her stuffed monkey, twirling around. ‘Come Daddy’ she squealed, running into the kitchen, grabbing his hand as she pulled him in to dance. The chorus hit and Dad picked her up, spinning her around as she squealed in delight. I barely noticed the front door open as Mom came into the room, her nursing scrubs still on as she delightfully asked ‘What’s going on?’ My Dad grabbed her hand, pulling her into a twirl as he lovingly took her workbag from her shoulder, placing it on the ground as my sister skipped around the piano. By the end of the song, Mom and Dad were slow dancing in a tight embrace, my sister delightfully flinging her monkey about the room.
‘I’ve missed this’ Mom exclaimed, wrapping her arms around my shoulder, hugging me.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
As students pattered out of school, the busy corridors turned quiet as the day ended. I slowly walked to the auditorium door to find the Do Not Enter sign removed, and instead, a brass plaque that read ‘Silver Falls Auditorium’. I had spent lunch in Miss Jacobs office printing piles of sheet music Mr Choudry had requested. My private sanctuary is now open to all. I couldn’t help but feel my stomach drop slightly. I pushed the door open quietly hoping the room would be vacant.
I stepped into the room, disappointed to find a row of students filling the front row. I quietly shut the door behind me, finding a seat in the back-row corner, waiting for the meeting to begin. I looked at the back of everyone’s heads, my heart pounding, my stomach in my throat as all the drama club members chatted in delight amongst one another. As my eyes scanned across the row, a sigh of relief escaped my lips. That familiar beanie, that bright smile, Danny sat smiling as he talked to his friends. His eyes wandered amongst the room, leaning forward slightly as he looked over the crowd. His eyebrows scrunched, only relaxing when he turned and saw me. He raised his hand, a friendly wave. I curled my lips up naturally, giving a small wave back. ‘Sorry I’m late everyone’ Mr Choudry announced as he entered the room, walking across the stage, a large stack of paper in his hands. He glanced around the room, taking a mental note of attendance as he smiled at everyone in the front row. It was only when he saw Danny’s head turn slightly that he followed Danny’s gaze, finding me at the back. ‘Alright guys settle in, we have a new member with us today, this is Y/N.’ He said, pointing to the back of the room, everyone shifting in their seats as they cast their eyes upon me. ‘Y/N will be our pianist, not an actor, y/n speaks through the music so just embrace the talent and let’s give y/n a welcoming round of applause’. A gentle clap carried across the room, thankfully everyone was too eager to begin the meeting to care so much. ‘Y/N if you could come down and take your place at the piano thank you very much’ he requested, as he walked toward each member of the group handing them a small booklet.
‘This semester, we will be working on none other than William Shakespeare’s play ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ which you will all be aware is this year’s school production.’ I slowly took my place behind the piano, grateful that the angle somewhat gave me some privacy from the rest of the room.
Mr Choudry experimented with the music as much as he did with his directing. The notes intertwined with the scenes, as Danny and the rest of the students took turns reading characters, emitting emotions from the pages in front of them, turning words into something living and breathing. Shakespeare, famous for the iambic pentameter, verses so soft and strong, rhythmic yet no rhyme, a heartbeat to each word. Mr Choudry would round to the piano, requesting notes and pieces that exerted feelings of power, sadness, love, and deception. It was a challenge…but a welcome one to a part of myself I had become too familiar with. Music to dialogue offering a new thought-provoking provocation. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as terrible as I expected…
…After Drama Club…
The sky turned orange through the large glass windows. The drama students quickly, petered out as Mr Choudry dismissed the meeting, their scripts tightly within their clutches. I quietly packed the music in my backpack and walked across the stage. Danny stood his, back turned as he packed his backpack. I stopped in my tracks, my heartbeat slightly skipping. Should I just go? Should I tap his shoulder? Should I wait for him to leave first? Before I could decide, Danny turned around, his smile infectious as the corners of my own lips curled up slightly. ‘Hey, how did you find it?’ I shrugged, smiling as I tugged on my fingers nervously. Danny chuckled ‘Well you sounded great, seriously the music adds feeling to the scenes…makes it easier to get into it ya know?’ I held my hands out, gesturing to Danny, returning his question. ‘Yeah, I mean I’m really happy with the play for the production this year, and Mr Choudry I think is going to be a great mentor for the play being an English teacher too’. He opened the door as I followed him up the steps and out of the auditorium. ‘Anyway, I am glad you joined, you have added a touch of magic to it’ he said. I could feel my cheeks turn red, I stopped in my tracks, taken aback. Danny stopped, pointing to the door ‘You coming?’ He asked. I could feel my heart beating a little faster, a sudden feeling of urgency. I nervously shook my head, looking around, and pointing at the bathroom. He smiled, nodding. ‘Well, I’ll see you tomorrow y/n’. Y/N. It felt nice hearing Danny say that.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
As the semester went on, every week before the drama club meeting, the nerves and adrenaline in my stomach grew each week. I almost wanted to quit, to stop showing up altogether, but those few minutes after practice, when it was just Danny and I…it was like a drug. A hit, a sweet tenderness, a wash of excitement when Danny waited for me to pack my things, and walk out of the auditorium with me. It was an intoxicating, yet scary feeling. What was I expecting? I couldn’t tell, but the fear was beginning to outweigh the warmth. Don’t kid yourself y/n, you can’t even speak to him, he would never. The doubt was exhausting, but still, something in me made me keep going to the drama meets.
Another afternoon the drama club meeting commenced, the auditions for the school production were upcoming, and more people joined. I sat in the corner on the piano stool, headphones in as students desperately asked Mr Choudry for notes, direction and advice. The more people, the busier the meetings became, the less need for music. I would glance up occasionally, looking as Danny sat, pure wonder on his face as he watched the scenes unravel before him, miming the script as his friends rehearsed on stage. It was an interesting sight to watch, to see someone so enamoured and swept up in the art of performance and acting. Truly studying the performance, took notes down on his script when Mr Choudry gave his critique on other students. I’d watch as Danny rehearsed Benedick’s lines, the music slowly dancing in my head, what would make this scene more dramatic? What would make these characters seem more scary? What would make Benedick seem more romantic?
I scrolled through my playlist, adding songs, piano pieces, and movie scores, slowly building the much ‘ado-about-nothing’ playlist, I hadn’t heard Mr Choudry dismiss the meeting. It was only when a shadow slightly blocked the light shining down on the piano that I finally looked up. Danny stood there, leaning on the piano, his familiar smile. I took my headphones out, smiling back as I began to collect my belongings. A wave of nerves washed over me, tingling rushing from my heart to my fingertips. ’I miss hearing you play’ he said as I rose from the piano stool. I could feel my cheeks begin to burn slightly, the corners of my lips pinching my cheeks. ‘y/n, I know it’s a bit late, but I was wondering if I could ask you to stand in while I rehearse lines? With so many brothers, a sister and my cousins, our house is a bit hectic to rehearse?’ He stood with his script, nervously looking to the ground as the paper slightly crumpled in his hand. ‘And I have the car, so I can drive you home after…’ I hadn’t seen a nervous side to Danny. I could feel my stomach churning, on the other hand, my heart felt a little bit fuller. I nodded, Danny, smiling in relief. ‘Okay, if you just stand here’ he said, walking to the middle of the stage. ‘I just want to rehearse some of these scenes with Benedick and Beatrice’ I swear, even beneath my thick sweater, it was obvious my chest was heavy as my breathing intensified. I slowly put down my backpack, cautiously walking to where Danny stood. He could clearly sense my nerves ‘Don’t worry, we won’t do the kiss scene or anything’ he laughed, flicking through his script. My heart cracked slightly, a feeling of despair…of course, someone like Danny Walter would never want to kiss someone like me…not even if it were pretend.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
For a moment, it felt like I wasn’t me, like I wasn’t that person with the stutter or that family that moved around a lot. The way Danny embodied Benedick was captivating, the way he moved across the stage, the way his arms gestured in ways to add liveliness to the scene. The way he created something from nothing. Danny had always been so chipper and nice, it was almost bewitching, the way he embraced the character so flawlessly. It was almost agonising when it ended, when Benedick and Beatrice went back to the page, and Danny and y/n came back.
‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this y/n, having 5 brothers and a sister, as well as my cousins and Jackie at home, the only peace I get is at night when everyone is in bed and I have the TV all to myself’. No wonder he was always yawning during class, I looked at him, slightly embracing the wit of Beatrice, mimicking his constant yawning. He laughed nodding ‘Yeah I know, it’s a terrible habit but sometimes it’s the only solace.’ Boy, I knew that feeling all too well, when I played the piano it was almost as if I was someone else. He glanced down at his phone, the time 6:00 pm. ‘Hey, my house is pretty hectic around this time, I don’t know about you but I could use a bite to eat, do you wanna stop and get something on the way home?’ I wanted to tell my heart to stop, for my head to stop running away with the fairies. He’s not into you, he’s just being nice. I couldn’t even bring myself to call him a friend…I hadn’t had a friend in a long time. ‘y/n?’ He quipped. I nodded my head, looking at Danny to find my bag in his hand, his eyes looking into mine as he had bent down slightly. ‘The Lark, is that okay?’ I nodded in agreement, following Danny out of the auditorium to his car.
The entire drive, Danny spoke of his favourite movies, always making sure to ask if I had seen certain films or if I liked them. He spoke of New York, his desire to go to Juilliard to pursue drama and his dream of being an actor. He spoke of growing up in Silver Falls, and how everyone knew everyone. ‘I have to say it’s nice to finally have a new friend’. I looked out the window, pulling at my fingers. I could feel my tear ducts beginning to well up…a friend. But a little piece of my heart felt slightly disappointed, but the overall feeling was overwhelming. A friend.
The Lark was relatively busy on a Thursday night. As we walked in, a man behind the counter looked at us with a beaming smile, waving in our direction. I looked behind us, expecting to see someone else, but yet Danny was full of surprises. Danny was already waving back at the man behind the counter, gesturing with his hands to him, the man gesturing something back, and pointing to a table in the corner, a reserved sign on the tabletop. I looked at Danny, a stunned look on my face. ‘My brother Will’ he said, pointing nonchalantly as Will rounded the counter, walking to his brother and pulling him into an embrace. I couldn’t help but notice Will wore hearing aids. Will turned to me, Danny smiling ‘Will this is my friend y/n, y/n this is my older brother Will’. Will reached his hand out, I slipped my hand into his returning his shake. ‘Hi y/n, it’s so nice to finally meet you’ he said, his hands gesturing signs as fluently as the words came out of his mouth. Sign language. ‘Danny has told me so much about you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name’ his hands dancing with each word. My cheeks pinched, my teeth gleaming as the smile spread across my face.
Will walked us to the table in the corner, conversing with Danny about the play and the rest of their brothers at home. As we approached the table, Danny quickly rounded, carefully pulling the chair out for me, his brother smiling in approval as he gave his brother an approving wink. I untucked the hair from behind my ear, trying to hide the colour of my cheeks slightly. ‘Lucky you messaged me last night, would have been awkward to have turned my brother away, it’s so busy tonight’ Will said, placing the menus in front of us. Danny quickly looked to Will, signing something, his glare piercing as Will patted his shoulder walking back to the counter. ‘Sorry about him, siblings ya know?’ I nodded, I knew exactly what he meant. My own sister certainly had her moments. ‘You have siblings?’ He asked. I nodded, holding up a single finger. ‘Her name doesn’t happen to be y/s/n?’ He asked curiously. My eyebrows knotted together as I suspiciously met Danny’s gaze. I nodded. ‘My sister Parker has been talking about a new friend she’s made at school’. Goodness…this town really was tiny.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Danny’s conversation was as cozy and warm as the soup we ate. He talked about his family, the ranch he grew up on, the animals on his farm. It was a nice change, to listen to someone talk about stability, it was something foreign to me, having moved around so much. The way Danny talked about it, it seemed the Walter house was non-stop. No wonder he stayed up during the night to watch movies. In return, I showed him pictures of my own family, my little sister, and my beloved piano. By the time most of the crowd had cleared out from The Lark, it was as if no time had passed at all, I could have sat there all night listening to Danny talk about his dreams of Juilliard, his aspirations of being an actor. It was only when Will approached us, with four mugs and a coffee pot that I looked around to realise everyone had gone, the open sign switched to shut. Will pulled some chairs, and the other waitress sat down too. ‘Y/N, this is Haley, my fiancé.’ I nodded in hello as she did too. Will and Haley poured the coffee, diving into a conversation about their upcoming wedding, Will’s new job here at the cafe, and conversations about their siblings. Danny told them about the play, my piano playing, and the upcoming auditions on Monday. We laughed, we smiled, I listened. Will even opened up about growing up with a hearing impediment. I hadn’t felt so included by people outside my own house in a lifetime. ‘Hey, we should give y/n a sign name’ Haley chimed. I looked at her, my eyes softening. I felt taken aback, that these people who had scarcely met me were already willing to include me in such a precious way. I looked at Danny, his gaze looking back at me with pure heartfelt kindness. Danny lifted his hand, shifting from left to right, as he delicately placed his fingers on the table like a piano. At that moment, it was as if Danny Walter had played the keys of my heart.
Only when I looked behind Danny and saw the clock did I realise the time. Danny sat up, clearly worried as my face turned from solum comfort to one of panic. He followed my gaze, looking at the clock. I quickly gathered my bag, the chair scraping across the floor as I stood up, realising I hadn’t texted Mom or Dad to let them know where I was. I grabbed my wallet out of my bag, my hands shaking as I dug out a $20 bill placing it on the table for the meal. Haley tried to protest, but I was already rushing out the door, Danny closely in tow. He rushed ahead, unlocking the car and opening the passenger door for me. I climbed in, already bringing up the GPS on my phone. Danny climbed in glancing at my phone as I showed him the map. ‘Don’t worry, I know where the old Anderson’s place is, I have a shortcut.’ This town was too tiny for its own good.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
When Danny pulled into the driveway, I was surprised to see my parents sitting so calmly, reading their books on the couch through the window. They didn’t even look up at the sound of Danny’s car pulling up. I took a deep breath, leaning back into the seat, unsure of what was happening. I almost expected to return home to a cop car in the driveway. I unzipped my backpack, digging into the bottom to find my phone. 1 text from Mom.
‘Will from the Lark Cafe called to let us know you were there. Enjoy x’
I showed Danny the text, slightly confused. He smiled ‘That’s Will…always thinking ahead, plus he used to hang out with the Andersons kids so I’m not surprised he still remembers the phone number’. I was beginning to get the impression that the Walters were the pillar of the Silver Falls community. I looked back to the window, my Mom giving a small wave as she got up from her spot on the couch, and walked toward the kitchen. I looked at Danny, smiling as I reached for the door handle. It was totally stiff, I jiggled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. ‘Oh yeah, there’s a trick to it’ Danny said, taking off his seatbelt and sliding across the seat, reaching his arm across my body as he un-clicked the door.
I glanced down, Danny’s gaze looking up at mine. He slowly rose, our eyes locked. Our faces were so close, I could feel his breath on my face. My eyes glanced down to his lips, his lips were slightly parted. I looked up, his eyes were on my lips. I moved forward slightly, the tip of my nose touching his, prompting him to move forward. Our noses slid, tucking into one another.
*BANG*
Our foreheads banged against one another, I pulled back pressing my hand up against the throbbing pain. ‘Y/N’S HOME’ My sister shouted, her stuffed monkey in hand, her hair slightly dishevelled as she stood in her pyjamas at the living room window banging away. I quickly grabbed my bag, and getting out of the car, in pure embarrassment, I ran straight into the house.
‘Hey, how was your evening?’ My Mom asked, her voice getting quieter as I walked down the hallway, straight to my bedroom. I leaned against the back of the door, sliding down to the ground, cradling my knees in my chest. I know I should be happy, and I was. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all too good to be true. That Danny was too good to be true. That it would all come crumbling down around me. That all things too good meant that something bad was coming. The only way to stop the bad thing from coming was to stop the happiness from becoming.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
I hadn’t been back at school since the last drama meet. On Monday morning as I approached school, Danny stood there across the road, his eyes searching until his eyes landed. His cheeks were pink, he was clearly waiting for me. It was all too overwhelming. It’s amazing how all the signs are there, and yet my brain could find all the reasons to not let it happen, to not let it be possible. The only way to protect myself, to protect him, was to ignore Danny Walter.
Fear had always been something greater than happiness. Even when I felt happy, like that night at the Lark Cafe, it was the retrospect of it all that made it so frightening. The fantasy was becoming all too real, the feelings were overpowering. Danny Walter was destined for greatness, he would go to Juilliard, and he would meet someone equally as passionate, as dedicated and as confident as him. It wouldn’t have worked I repeated to myself over and over. But it didn’t ease the heartache. Sometimes silence was easier than facing words.
I stared back at him for a moment. Contemplating crossing the road. But I couldn’t. I turned away, walking away from school, leaving Danny standing there.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Sunday Night
‘Y/N would you come here please?’ My Mom’s voice called from the kitchen. Mom and Dad stood at the kitchen island, another figure with them. The person turned around slowly to face me too. Shit.
Miss Jacobs’ sat at the table with my parents, a folder containing my attendance records in front of her. ‘You haven’t been at school all week?’ My Dad stated more than asked, his voice slightly raised as my Mom sat with her fingers tightly interlaced. I shook my head. ‘You’ve been sneaking off with that boy who dropped you home that night after Thursday’s drama meet?’ Dad questioned. My eyes widened. I shook my head, looking straight into his eyes with a pleading look. ‘Danny Walter?’ Miss Jacobs questioned. I looked at her, a look of pure confusion on my face. ‘Danny actually came by my office on Friday, he asked after you’. My Mom and Dad looked at each other in surprise. ‘Mr and Mrs y/l/n, I can assure you that y/n has been the only student absent from school this week consistently, I know that y/n has had issues at past schools with attendance. But before this, y/n’s attendance has been extremely satisfactory.’ My mom reached across the table, interlacing her fingers with dads. ‘Y/N I know you’ve had issues with bullying at your past schools, but you seemed to be doing so well at Silver Falls, is there anyone or anything we need to address?’ I shook my head solemnly. The truth was, Silver Falls had been all too good. ‘You’re a great student y/n, your grades have been satisfactory, you’ve made an excellent addition to the drama club as a pianist, you’ve got a friend who clearly cares about you…what are we missing?’ Miss Jacobs asked. It was only when she mentioned a friend who cares did the tears started to fall. I got up from the table, running to the solitude of my room…
*knock knock knock*
I wiped my eyes, turning over as my Mom slowly opened the door. She closed it behind her, shuffling under the bed's covers with me, as she lovingly brought me into her embrace. ‘Am I right in thinking this friend of yours is a bit special?’ She asked, her cheek leaning on the top of my head. My throat squeaked involuntarily as I cried a bit harder. ‘Oh, sweetheart, did he hurt you?’ I shook my head against her chest. ‘Did you hurt him?’ She whispered. I took in a deep breath, wanting to shake my head, but I knew that would be a lie. I nodded my head slowly. ‘Did you want to hurt his feelings?’ I shook my head. She let out a big sigh, her heartbeat calming down as she began to understand the situation. Many times in the past, conversations like this were always due to bullying, unsupportive school environments…ones that had resulted in moving schools, sometimes towns. I could tell she was relieved, but I certainly was not. ‘Sweetheart, some choices are scary, but sometimes they are worth making…’
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
My mom’s words rang through my head. Sometimes choices are scary, but sometimes they are worth making. I walked into homeroom quickly, I wasn’t going to allow the fear to take control. I opened the door slipping into the classroom. I took a deep breath, looking around the room to find Danny Walter was not there. I looked around, only to find a similar pair of eyes on me. Cole’s gaze was hard as a rock, yet narrow with suspicion. He looked me up and down, slightly rolling his eyes as he pursed his lips and turned his attention back to the girls fighting for his attention.
Deep breath. Sometimes choices are scary, but sometimes they are worth making. I walked straight up to Cole, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around slowly, making it very clear he didn’t have any interest in engaging with me. Danny I signed, his sign name similar to the movement of a director’s clapperboard. He shifted his head to the other side, pursing his lips again. ‘Why do you care?’ He asked, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Erin and Olivia’s glares also fixated on me. I could feel my insides quivering. ‘Don’t let the fear take over, don’t let the fear take over’ I repeated in my head. I signed his name again. Danny. He sat up, leaning back into his chair, crossing his arms. ‘Someone he cared about hurt him, and he didn’t feel like coming in today.’ It was like a heavy weight had dropped on my chest like someone was playing all the bad keys in my head. ‘Probably because of you, he didn’t get the part in the play either’ Olivia remarked in a snarky voice. Danny and Erin both turned around, glaring at Olivia as she looked back at them slightly confused. My heart cracked again…how did he not get the part of Benedick? By the time Cole had started his next sentence, I was already out of the room.
I ran down the hallway, my shoes skidding beneath me as I halted outside the auditorium door. The audition results were listed on the bulletin board. It was true, that Danny had not gotten the role of Benedick. I began to pick at my fingers. I looked up and down the empty hallway. I could go back to class…or I could make this right.
I need to make this right.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
I was breathless by the time I got to the Lark. The place was empty, everyone likely at school and work, the morning rush past as the tables were littered with empty mugs and dirty plates. I looked through the window, Haley was busy collecting plates from the tables. Luckily, she was alone. I slowly opened the door, the bell ringing. ‘y/n?’ Haley asked, clearly confused as I should be at school. ‘Are you okay? Danny came in practically like every day last week asking if you had been in.’ I stood there, my mouth dropping slightly, the picking at my nail beds increasing. ‘You okay?’ She asked again, putting the plates in her hand down as she walked toward me, gently placing her hands on my wrists, and pulling my hands apart. She looked down at my fingers. ‘Will used to chew his nails when things got overwhelming, I’d notice that sort of stress anywhere’ she sympathetically noted, brushing her thumbs back and forth over my skin. I could feel my eyes begin to tear slightly. I shakily reached into my pocket, bringing up the GPS app, and giving it to Haley. She looked at me, confused. Danny I signed. ‘He’s not at school?’ She asked curiously. I shook my head, my eyes pleading as I signed again. Danny. I didn’t know what it was about Haley…it just felt like she understood. She took my phone, typing on the screen before giving it back. ‘The Walter’s ranch isn’t far, but their driveway is rather long, do you have a car?’ She asked, her eyebrows knotted together in concern. I shook my head, but I didn’t care. I quickly gripped onto her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, before tapping Go on the GPS, heading back out the door, toward Walter’s farm.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
*Knock, knock*
I tentatively stepped back from the door. Looking around cautiously, I gripped the envelope in my hand, likely crushing the contents inside. I could feel my heart beating so loudly in my ears, I didn’t hear the door click open. ‘Y/N?’ I looked up. It was the first time I had seen Danny without his beanie on, his hair slightly scruffy. His face seemed one of relief as I looked at him. But the relief turned to one of hurt, the corners of his eyes slightly dropping. I lifted the envelope, holding it out…but he only stared. ‘What do you want?’ He asked, his voice clearly tired. I shook the envelope, begging him to take it. He stared at it, finally cautiously taking it. He opened it, reading the contents of the page intently. ‘This is a Juilliard application?’ He asked confused, crumpling the page tightly in his hand. I pointed to the top of the page. ‘You wrote my name on this?’ He asked again. I nodded, reaching into my pocket and handing him a pen. He looked at the application, his eyes glancing over the contents. ‘I didn’t get the part’ he said, trying to hand the pages back. I looked at him, shrugging my shoulders, as if to say ‘So what’. I held the pen out, taking a step forward, pleading with him to take it. ‘I Didn’t Get The Part.’ He stated. I took another step forward, still holding the pen out. ‘I don’t know why you even care’ he said, beginning to rip the pages in half right in front of me. ‘You knew I was waiting for you on Monday, you saw me and you just walked away’ tearing another page. ‘You stopped showing up to school, you didn’t show up to the drama meet, you even just left the car without even looking back after we almost…’ another rip.
‘I….I thought you liked me back’ he whispered, his head dropping to the ground as he dropped the torn pieces of paper on the ground. I took a deep breath, my throat catching, the pen dropping as my arm dropped back to my side like a floppy noodle. I could feel a single tear slowly shed down my cheek, the salty taste wetting my lip. ‘Besides, Juilliard won’t accept students who can’t even get a lead role in a crappy high school production, so quite honestly, Fuck your application.’
My sadness quickly turned to confusion as I finally looked back up from the torn pieces of paper back to Danny’s face. Confusion turning to anger. How could he think so little of himself? How could he not see how hard he’s worked? How could someone as passionate as him turn so sour and discouraged so quickly? How could he just give up?
I don’t know what came over me. I placed my hands on his chest, slightly pushing him back. He looked at me shocked. Again, I pushed my hands against his chest, the tears blurring my eyes. I dropped to my knees in front of him, falling onto the porch as I began to cry. ‘This was all my fault, this was all fault, this was all my fault’ I repeated in my head. I could feel my heartbeat rising fast, it felt like the blood had drained to my feet. I padded my hands around, my hands shaking as I tried to pick up the pieces of the mess I had caused. I felt a hand gently slip into mine. I looked up to find Danny kneeling on the ground in front of me. His eyes slightly teary as he looked at me. I could feel the ringing in my ears, a feeling of anger, frustration, and sadness was an exhausting feeling all at once. I had finally made a friend, and I blew it. I had finally met someone who didn’t seem deterred by my speech impediment, and I blew it. But what hurt the most, was that my actions, the hurt I had caused, had truly made someone just give up. I was used to disappointing people, myself, and my family. Disappointment had always been a constant, but to choose failure and defeat was to let it win. Even in all our moving, in all my silence, in all the changes, we were determined to never let the failure win. But in this moment, in Danny Walter, it seemed like it finally had. It felt like my brain was going to burst, like every inch of my body was pressing against my soul, like everything needed to get out.
His mouth dropped, a tear falling down his own cheek. I didn’t wait for his response, I didn’t wait for the shock, the adrenaline was too powerful.
I pulled myself from the patio, dragged myself down the stairs, and walked away.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
I wasn’t technically breaking the rules. I was at school…I just wasn’t in class. It had been two days and I had secluded myself to the solitude of the auditorium. I didn’t have the energy or the confidence to risk facing Danny Walter again. I had ruined it all…all because I was too scared to take a chance. Up until Danny, avoiding my problems, and risking too many good things happening had always seemed to work out. But this time, it was even more scary…like something was still to come. I couldn’t avoid Danny Walter forever, but maybe if I avoided him just enough things would be okay.
My eyes were too dry to cry anymore, my chest felt sore, and the cuticles from my nails were all picked off. I spent the day flicking through the folder of music Mr Choudry had me print off. If I just kept playing, time would pass faster. Isolation was something I had become accustomed to. But it felt different this time, the thought that down the hall, in another classroom, the person whose company I still couldn’t help but desire, that if I hadn’t ruined it, I didn’t have to settle for isolation anymore…something I never thought would happen.
I slipped another page off the music stand, the last piece of crumpled sheet music in the pile. My heart dropped.
‘Don’t Be Shy’
Cat Stevens
Sheet Music
I stared at the sheet, it was as if all the happy notes had fallen off the page. Like the song was scrambled, like the lyrics, the words had lost all meaning behind them. I lifted my hands, gently bringing the fallboard down over the keys, leaning on it, my head resting on my arms. I closed my eyes, exhausted by it all, silently begging for the day to be over.
‘Damn, I’ve sat through the entire show waiting for this song.’ I slightly jumped as that familiar voice sounded behind me. I sat up slowly, refusing to turn around, convincing myself it was all in my head. But I couldn’t deny his presence as the stage beneath me slowly vibrated as he stepped forward slowly from the stage wing. I turned around slightly, his figure standing underneath the stage light, his frame glowing like an apparition.
He walked forward, cautiously sitting down on the piano stool. His body brushed against mine, our thighs pressed against one another. I could feel his body slightly shake as he reached into his backpack, pulling out a sheet of paper and placing it on the music stand. What had been twenty pieces of ripped paper on his porch two days ago sat in front of me, every piece taped together again. It was as if all my natural instincts had suddenly stopped working…I didn’t blink, I didn’t move, I didn’t breathe. I simply stared at the tattered page, inspecting every crevice where he had so carefully tried to fit every fraction, every rip, every wobbly bit back together. Not only that, his scruffy handwriting had filled out every section of the application.
So gently, his arm reached up, his fingers gently slipped the hair on the side of my face, blocking my view of him, tucking it sweetly behind my ear. ‘There’s nothing I can say y/n, other than I’m sorry’ his voice slightly faltered. I turned to him, shaking my head. This was my opportunity, I needed to say it, no matter how hard it was. ‘…..I….I….I’m..mm….s..s..sor…r…r…y….D….a….nn…y…’ I said, a single tear slipping down my cheek. Danny’s warm hands cupped my cheeks. He smirked gently, pulling my face to his, our foreheads resting against one another. His thumb gently rubbed over the single tear on my cheek. I couldn’t help but close my eyes, smiling at the sensation of his skin touching mine. He gently pulled away, his lips brushing, pressing a gentle kiss on the spot where he had just wiped the tear away.
He leaned his forehead back against mine, our faces an inch closer, like that night in the car, our noses pressed into one another’s, like a puzzle that fit perfectly. His palms still cupped my cheeks sweetly. “Tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?” Danny whispered. I couldn’t help but giggle. Benedick truly engrained in his soul. I gently brought my hands up, sliding them up Danny’s arms, nervously wrapping my hands around the back of his neck.
Our lips finally touched. It was like a gentle electric shock. Our mouths fit together so perfectly. His lips were tender and soft, his hands on my cheek guiding me. I couldn’t help but feel a little grateful he didn’t have to pretend to be Benedick for anyone else. I smiled into the kiss, prompting him to slip his tongue gently, brushing against mine. One of his hands slipped down, tracing gently over my throat, moving to my shoulder, down to my hip pulling me slightly closer, our chests pressed against one another. It felt like a film, like when Emma Thompson and Kenneth Branagh finally kiss at the end of Much Ado About Nothing when everyone cheers and claps. His hand trailed along my thigh, gripping at it and bringing it over his lap so swiftly. I gripped onto him for life, his arms wrapping around me as the kiss deepened.
‘Oi, Romeo!’ Our lips jumped apart, but our hold on each other was still tight. Cole stood at the top of the auditorium. I slipped my face into Danny’s neck, my cheeks red as Danny turned slightly, facing his brother. ‘Miss Jacobs is heading this way, we gotta get to class.’ I looked up, my eyes peeping over Danny’s shoulder. Cole stood there, a large smile on his face, clearly trying to stifle a laugh at the scene he caught his brother in. ‘Bring Juliet with you’ he said, laughing as he turned around, poking his head out the door. I looked at Danny, our cheeks pink. He quickly looked to his brother again, swiftly stealing one last kiss.
As we stood, collecting our backpacks, Danny stood. ‘Oh, I almost forgot’ he said, reaching into his bag, taking out a piece of paper, and handing it to me with a beaming smile. I took the paper cautiously, looking at the paper. ‘Juilliard Music Program Application’ was written across the top. His scribbly handwriting had already written my name on the top of the page. I looked up, his hand already outstretched like a gentleman. I slipped my hand into his and walked out of the auditorium together.
Warnings: Themes of slavery, death, sex, violence and language. Take care to leave this story alone if it doesn't serve your well-being.
Before we begin, I'd like to thank everyone for being so patient since I wrote and put out the last chapter. My full-time commitments have meant that there has been less time for writing, and I'm sorry for the long wait. Recently I received the most lovely message from someone that read as follows:
'Hey! I really love your Collateral series! I was just wondering when you would ever make the next chapter! I really hope that you're doing okay, you're a REALLY good writer.'
It was the most lovely thing to be told. To all my fellow Imagineers of course, but particularly to the sender of this lovely message, this one for you 💝.
My fellow imagineers, I didn't think I'd even get a single reader, and now I'm posting chapter 20. Thank you so much for the confidence, kindness and love you have given me through following along with this. I'm glad the silly little stories in my head have brought some joy to others.
BTW, as I try to write along with the storyline, instead of making my own, I do intend to continue the story as the series continues.
Yours truly and gratefully
--The Introverted Imagineer.
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I remember the first time I ever travelled by boat. It was dark, the breeze wafting a bitterly strong taste of salt in the air. My mother's arms wrapped around me, her chin shivering up and down as her fingers clutched tightly to me. Her scruffy and itchy poncho wrapped around my small frame as we drifted into the night. A brute man sat at the front of the small boat, rowing us forward around the moat beneath the castle. Another man sat behind, at the stern, his head inquisitively shifting as he startled at the sounds the world around us made. His tenseness was clear, his thighs spread wide as he pulled us into his clutch, my mother desperately trying to be the barrier between us. In the distance, amongst the tall grass on the southern side of the castle, a servant stood silently with a single lantern, pulling the boat as closely to the bank with the line the man rowing had thrown so begrudgingly at him. It was clear that nobody wanted to be here.
‘He is waiting for you in the watchers keep just a mile down the bank’ the servant said, as he carelessly threw a small bag of coin into my mother's hands. The clinking sound was lighter than usual as she disappointedly weighed the contents with her hand. ‘What of my child?’ She asked ‘I’m sure his majesty’s counsellor would…welcome the extra company’ he snidely retorted.
Instantly the clinking sound returned amongst the silence, startling the man on the boat as my mother threw the coin back at the servant's feet. ‘You can tell Godwin to seek his services elsewhere’ she spat as she carefully looped her arms around my shoulders, pushing me behind her, shielding the wandering eyes of the servant as he looked us up and down. The servant bent down slowly, his gaze locked on mine as he did, a chuckle emitting from his pudgy gut. ‘I could…but his majesty’s councillor may not be so forgiving…nor to your child’ he smugly retorted as he took a step threateningly forward. ‘Aren’t you ashamed? That your child must see you in such a…vulnerable position…’ he whispered, his hand coming up and cradling my mother's bosom. ‘I do this so my child will never have to’ she spoke, taking a step forward, her eyes ferociously locked upon his, matching his viciousness.
Without fear she grasped the small bag from his clutches once again, taking a step back as her gaze fell to the ground, retreating from his clutches in defeat. His chuckle emitted again. She turned to the man in the boat, as he sat silently, his oars still in hand as he sat irritated, waiting for the whole debacle to end so that he may return to his slumber. ‘Please’ she said, looking him in the eyes, holding the bag out to him. ‘Just keep her safe until I return, and it is all yours I swear it’ she pleaded defeatedly. He sat there for a moment, looking at her, before reaching out and placing the bag in his pockets. My mother turned to me, kneeling to look at my small frame, placing a gentle kiss on my head and whispering in my ear ‘Go to sleep my darling, and when you awake we shall be home, sleeping amongst the hay’. I could tell by the gentle glimmer in her eye that this was not something she was pleased with in the slightest. ‘Come Twyla’ the servant demanded silently. She stood, looking at the man in the boat giving him a gentle nod, to which he returned. He stood, the boat rocking beneath him as he effortlessly picked me up and placed me onto the floor of the small wooden dingy. ‘Go to sleep child’ he said, wrapping the itchy fabric around me tighter. ‘You. Go get some food from the keep’ he demanded to his other companion on the boat.
As the man had gone, and I lay with my head pressed against the creaky wooden floor, the sound of rustling water beneath me, the sound of clanking metal gently sounded. ‘Make sure you give this to your mother when you awake child’ he gently whispered, tucking a coin into my tightly wrapped blanket. I silently nodded, appeasing the man as he returned to his seat, waiting for the night's events to be over.
I could smell that same smell, penetrating my senses. The silence was the same, the tenseness the same, but this time a new sensation of the vivid memory of the past overwhelmed my senses. The extraordinary sense of loss. Kurya was gone. My dearest friend gone, my closest companion since I had lost my mother…gone. The air was tense, adrenaline still pumping since our escape from the Pechenegs. I had no tears left, empty in the constant companion that death had been in my life.
Nobody had dared come near me for two days. Whether it was from pity, fear, or anger. I didn’t believe I’d see them again, I didn’t want to see them either…but there was a pull. A pull to Twyla, to Kurya…even to Harald Siggurdson. My eyes were so dry a misty fog smeared my vision, everything was grey and dull. All I could feel was the boat swishing as it rocked down the water, in a direction I could not tell. Elena sat close to Harald on the journey, tending to his wounds, pressing her small delicate hands against the Viking's firm chest adorned with new scars that tattooed his chest. Harald sat there, whether he was enjoying the affection I could barely tell…but I couldn’t say I didn’t care entirely. I could feel his gaze shift to me as Elena’s face came close to his, her eyes shifting seductively between his body and his chest. I didn’t want to care.
Mariam sat shivering, like my mother that night, her teeth chattering in the cold as the colour drained from her face, fading to white as time shifted throughout the days. Leif distressed, watching closely, impossibly trying to pull Mariam back…but Mariam was already half gone.
I could feel the tenseness of everyone else…the anger that radiated from them impossible to miss. Logically, I could understand. I had deserted them, told them all to go to hell, cursed their names, shut them out. It was no secret I hadn’t been the best companion on this trip. But this was this journey was the only chance…the only thing that gave me a sense of hope so that I may be reunited with Twyla once more. All I could do was sit and wait…
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‘We will make camp for the night’ Leif announced, Mariam curled into his side as her shakes became stronger, her face more pale, her breaths more desperate. As everyone had spent the day wearily watching Mariam decline, there was no protest from anyone. Without hesitation, Kaysan immediately swerved the rudder, heading towards the abandoned hills that surrounded us. Another reminder of how far away any civilisation was.
We silently climbed the hill as Mariam had insisted. ‘We are less vulnerable if we go higher…I cannot spend another moment on the boat’ she said, almost pleading as she looked toward the orange-tinted sky. A gentle curve of her lips almost escaped as she looked at the sky in utter contempt, admiring its beauty. Leif and Harald walked up the hill, their arms underneath her carrying her to the top of the hill, leaving the boat unmanned at the bottom of the bank.
A gasp emitted from Mariam, making us all freeze, my own heart slightly dropping at the sharpness of breath that escaped her lungs. Was this it? Was this her final moment? ‘…Look…’ she breathed out, making everyone quicken their pace to catch up to the trio as they stood at the summit. I lifted my hand, ready to block the rays of sunlight that would pierce my eyes…but it did not. Instead of more fields, stone columns, some sturdy, some broken, adorned surrounding a stone circle upon the ground. The closest evidence to finding civilisation we had seen since the Pechnegs camp. A structure that was peaceful, and seemingly entirely our own as the orange sky turned to violet.
Harald and Leif gently placed Mariam on the ground, leaning her frail body against a pillar as her strong shaking continued. The sun's glow highlighted the sweat that covered her forehead, and yet she shook as if she had plunged through the ice. ‘We will make camp here for the night, everyone go find anything to burn, you girls find something we can eat. Y/N you stay here with Mariam…you can’t be trusted anywhere else’ Leif snidely remarked as he stalked off towards the primitive woodland area. Harald took in a deep sigh, contemplating his stay as his eyes darted between myself and Mairam.
‘We are okay Harald…please’ she whispered. But Harald stood in place, this time his eyes boring into my soul as his expression looked cautious. ‘Come Harald’ Elena said, slipping her hand into Haralds, grasping tighter onto his hand than he returned, dragging him into the woodland.
‘C..come s..s..sit wi..th me Y/N’ Mariam stuttered, reaching her tremoring hand out to my own. I slowly walked over, slipping my hand into her sweaty cold palm, shocked at the icy feel. I sat in front of her, resting her hand in the lap of my dress, giving her a gentle squeeze in a lost attempt to provide some warmth and comfort. ‘I’m sorry about Kurya…I know you two were close’ she whispered, her eyes glazing over and she reminisced about him. I flashed a weak smile, but even the kindness of her words could not undo what had been done. ‘He loved you very much’ she said, a single tear escaping. I could feel my lips begin to quiver as I pictured Kurya standing there, the army and family he once would have died for, slaying him like cattle. The image was clear as anything, and the tears began to flow again.
Mariam’s weight collapsed into me, as she weakly flung her arms around my body, letting my tears soak into her dress. She held me, not letting go. ‘Family has never been a constant in my life…Kurya was an extraordinary presence’ I sobbed, my voice cracking at the first words I’d spoken in days. Her lips gingerly pressed against my head as she rested against my body. ‘I don’t have anyone anymore’ I whispered into her ear. Her hand lifted, as she lightly stroked my hair. ‘Kurya will always be with you…your daughter will be with you once more…’ she muttered. I pulled back, looking deeply into her sickly yellow eyes, her look one of compassion, her hand falling from my head, trailing to cup my cheek. ‘Kurya spoke of a beloved baby girl’ she spoke softly, her lips curling into a smile. ‘It wasn’t hard to piece together’ she remarked. ‘But you never spoke of her, so nor have I my dear one…that is your heart whether you choose to share it or not’ she pronounced. It felt a relief…to know that she had kept it to herself for all this time…never uttering a word. ‘Thank you’ I whispered, but no words came out. Mariam gave a nod, pulling me back into her weak embrace.
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Mariam’s gasps for breath became more strained as the stars arose in the sky. She silently tried to hide the pain she felt, Leif comfortably sitting behind her, his heartbreaking before him. I still hadn’t said a word to anyone but her, silently sitting there watching as Mariam sat dying before me. Death was a constant companion. Elena sat by Harald, curled into his side as she watched with weepy eyes, like everyone else's, as they watched Mariam suffer.
‘I’m sorry, it is finally my time.’ Mariam announced weakly. It was almost as if you could hear everyone's heart cracking in two. One by one, everyone resentfully got up to say goodbye, cursing time for the thief that it was, taking away another person. I looked at Lief to find him staring back at me, his face one of despair and sorrow as Mariam kissed and hugged her friends goodbye.
I could sense Harald in my peripheral vision, waiting for me to approach expectantly. But I sat frozen in place, looking back at Lief, trying to ground him as he held onto Mariam. Little did everyone know, we had said our goodbyes already, but I could not do it again. I had said goodbye too much, too many times, and our goodbye was as perfect as it could be, and we were both content with that.
When Leif had finally carried Mariam off into the privacy of a warmer place, we sat around the fire listening to the crackling. Nobody dared to speak…or so I thought.
‘Do you think you’re the only person who’s lost anyone Y/N?’ Elena announced spitefully from across the flame. I looked up to meet her, my blank face adding fuel to the fire that had woken inside Elena. ‘You couldn’t even bring yourself to go and so much as kiss Mariam as she died before us’ she said, standing up, sauntering around the fire (closely dragging her hand across Harald’s shoulders as she did) and taking a seat so close to me that her body rubbed against mine. ‘What have you really lost Y/N…I’ve lost my father, I lost Kurya too, and now Mariam…people who actually cared for me. After all this…what have you really lost if nobody really cared for you’ she spat, her face inching closer as she spoke each word. ‘Elena’ Harald howled, making everyone else jump. ‘She’s right’ Brigtoc joined. ‘No goodbye is just heartless’. Elena’s chin rose, a confidence building within her as her feelings appeared to be mutual between some of the group. ‘We should have left you to the Pechenegs…maybe Kurya would have still been here if we did’.
I stood forcefully, grabbing Elena’s arm and pulling her up with me. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, my body temperature matching. ‘You don’t know shit.’ I retorted, getting just as much in her face as she had mine. Dorn let out a pathetic chuckle… everyone's eyes trained on us…but I could sense loyalties didn’t lay in my favour. ‘You have no one’ she whispered, her nose almost touching mine as she dared to get closer. Without thought, my hand reached up, clasping her jaw, pushing her away as sharply as I could. Her jaw dropped, a sinister smile appearing on her lips as she readied herself for a fight.
‘THAT’S ENOUGH’ Harald roared, standing up himself as he walked over to the fire pulling Elena away by her arm at least a foot away. Voluntarily she curled into his chest, grasping onto his shoulders, but Harald did not return her touch, his eyes piercing as he looked at me shockingly. A tense silence washed over us as everyone's eyes darted to me. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes in deep thought.
‘I’m done. FOR GOOD’ I spat, turning without question, stalking back down the hill we had spent the afternoon climbing. ‘Y/N’ Harald yelled, ‘I ORDER YOU TO COME BACK’. I stopped in my tracks to see him at the top of the hill, a few steps away. However, instead of the fierce look of the angry Viking, I was expecting, his face had dropped, realising the words that escaped his mouth.
An order. As if once again I were the thrall, and he were my master.
‘Y/N…I didn’t…’ he began stuttering, lifting his arms and smacking them against his head in desperation, his eyes begging to take back the words he had just said.
‘Curse you Harald Siggurdson’ I whispered, my eyes glazing over once more. I turned around, refusing to let him see what he had done. I stalked down the hill, into the darkness. Out of view from Harald Siggurdson.
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When the sun had risen, the voices trailed as the wind swiftly danced down the mountain, carrying the prayers and words of everyone. There was no mistaking what was being said. Mariam was clearly no longer with us. I sat in silence, listening to their words…their words of praise, of sorrow…of love.
It was best to leave them in peace, to grieve their friend. Little did they know, as I sat on the sandy shore, my heart wept for Mariam too.
Only hours later, after hours of silence did I hear any movement or talk from the group at the summit. This one however was not the piercing threats of Elena, Brigtoc or Dorn; nor the pleading apologies of Harald Siggurdson, but the sound of Leif Erikson as he sat beside me.
‘I know why you didn’t say goodbye Y/N…Mariam told me everything. I know I was angry at the time…but I understand’ he said, sighing as he scooped a handful of sand, rustling it within his palm, before angrily throwing it over his shoulder. ‘I’m tired of death’ he sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead, and swiping it across his head in defeat. I simply nodded, knowing exactly what he was feeling. ‘I know you don’t want to come back to us, and I can’t say they want you back either’ he sighed looking into the distance as I was. ‘I promised Kurya I would protect his family, but he did not say any specifics…I will not force you back on the boat, but I will tell you that Constantinople is closer than you think. It is your choice whether you choose to come with us or not. I sighed deeply at the thought of being so close…but it too all seemed out of reach. My thoughts were interrupted as Leif stood. ‘But I do ask one thing of you Y/N…if you choose to leave, talk to Harald.’ My shoulders jumped as Leif put his hand on my shoulder, but I relaxed at the feeling of comfort as he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Please. You owe me that much…’
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•
I could hear whispers down the shore. I had not moved from my spot since Leif had spoken to me. But he was right…if I choose to leave, I need to speak to Harald. That much, I owed him.
I slid my tired legs underneath me, standing to walk down the beachfront, towards to voices that carried down the shoreline. As I rounded the corner, a loud gasp escaped my lips. Harald pushed Elena away gently, wiping his lips as Elena’s face dropped, clearly disappointed by the sudden break in their moment of passion. ‘Y/N’ she began distastefully, but Harald’s words stopped her before she could continue with her tirade. ‘Elena. Please, a moment of privacy’ he silently pleaded, as mine and Harald's eyes locked on each other. When she didn’t move, his eyes broke contact as he slowly turned his head to face hers ‘Please’.
Elena unwittingly began her descent back up the hill, stomping on the thick mossy plants as she did, making it very apparent she was displeased. Harald’s eyes had locked back on mine, his breathing increased as his chest rose and fell. ‘Y/N…I’ he begged, taking a step forward gingerly. ‘I need you to free me’. I said, not demanding, not asking…but informing. ‘I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me that I am a free person and that any ties I had, and any I have with you are done. I need you to know that I don’t owe you anything, and I will bestow the same upon you. I could feel a hot tear escape my eye as I was adamant, that this would be the last encounter I would ever have with Harald Siggurdson. ‘I didn’t mean’ he pleaded. ‘It doesn’t matter if you meant it…but deep down something in you believed it. So tell me now. Free me and we can be done with this all…I can be done with this all’ I begged my voice crackling as I said it.
His chest rose and fell again, his own eyes glazing over. ‘Of course’ he breathed out, the tears finally falling down his cheek. But his words didn’t give me the relief I so desperately craved..but it was enough for me to turn around and walk away forever from Harald Sigurdsson.
‘Y/N!’ He spoke, making me stop in my tracks immediately. Even feet away, I could still sense the way his body shook, I could picture the tears that ran down his face. ‘I need you to know…that I am totally, utterly, divinely in love with yo’
‘THERE’S TWO MORE DOWN THERE YOUR EXCELLENCY’ A foreign voice interrupted. Our heads both cocked towards the top of the summit. A man with a blue cape stood with his hand resting at the hilt of his sword, his finger pointed down to us as more uniformed men came into view. ‘COME!’ He demanded. I looked at Harald, his equally confused and cautious look matching my own as our eyes met. Harald stood firmly, gazing back at the men at the top of the hill, weary of meeting their demands.
A bird circled the men, squeaking and singing as he rounded them again and again, refusing to leave what would normally scare such creatures away. Its wings flapped, casting a shadow as it drifted in the wind down the hill, only to land feet away from me, blocking the path at which I had been so determined to walk. Away from everyone and everything. I looked back toward the men, my insides calm and steady as I felt a strong sense that there was something with these men. I glanced back at the bird, its eyes meeting mine as it sat in its place. I gazed back toward the men and began to walk up the hilltop. Moments later, Harald's footsteps followed my own.
‘Which one of you is Harald Sigurdsson of Norway?’ The man asked as we walked towards the stone ruins, only now to find it decorated with a violet tent, men in blue matching the equal grandness of our surroundings that had magically transformed. ‘I’m Harald’ Harald said, walking gingerly toward the man. ‘The Emporer Romanos has travelled from Constantinople to greet you’ he said, moving to reveal a heavily bejewelled man sitting upon an even grander chair. I could feel my heart pumping, adrenaline begging to race throughout my body, my veins pumping blood as I cast my eyes upon him. The Emporer looked between us, offering a gentle nod in my direction, before casting his entire focus upon Harald.
Harald bowed, I followed suit, curtsying deeply to my knees at the foreign man before us. He arose from his chair, walking towards Harald ‘We heard rumours that a mighty band of Vikings had made it past the Pechengs with a group of women’. Harald’s breathing slowed into a more normal pattern, realising that the men before him were friends rather than foes. The Emporer was clearly pleased and even more impressed with the news of the Khans’ death.
‘Did your Highness come all this way just to thank us?’ Harald asked. ‘No, I came to see if you brought the treasure from Vitmor of Chude’ he said, a smile on his face. Harald conveyed the news that Vitmor had died on the journey, but that his daughter Elena had the object he desired. The Emporer smiled at Harald ‘We have already confirmed its authenticity’.
The Emporer suddenly turned towards one of the many tents that had been erected in our absence. The curtains flicked open, and there stood Elena, bedazzled in jewels and exquisite fabrics. Her eyes locked on the Emporers only, the rest of ours locked on her. She sauntered grandly toward the Emporer…as if they were old friends. He took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. ‘My bride’ he announced proudly, his gaze locked upon Elena’s. ‘The new empress of Constantinople’ he announced, shocking us all as our hearts pounded.
Disbelief washed over me…this whole time…Elena was more than the simple girl we believed her to be. Her eyes cast over us all, as we all dutifully dipped into bows and curtseys…myself included. The Emporer’s attention then cast upon me, as he let go of Elena’s hand, walking toward me. I looked toward Harald, his look equally as confused as my own.
The Emporer lifted his hand, gently placing his fingers under my chin, inspecting my face. A gentle smile appeared on his lips. I could sense Harald’s chest beginning to rise and fall again as he watched the Emporer as he closely inspected me. Elena’s eyes cast longingly upon Harald. ‘Tell me my dear…what is your name?’ His fingers still resting underneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. ‘Y/N’ I whispered cautiously. His pearly white teeth appeared as his smile erupted, a pink tinge appearing across his cheeks. The Emporer turned toward one of the tents, holding his hand out expectantly. I gently slipped my hand into his, following closely as he walked toward one of the heavily guarded tents. ‘I believe, my dear, that we have found whom you seek’ he spoke to the tent.
A man opened the flap, the tent too dark to reveal what was inside. A shadow cast out before the girl exited the tent. She was dressed in an exquisitely made burgundy dress, matching the colours of the flags that flew in the breeze around us, her hair pulled tightly into braids, wildflowers adorning her hair. As she stepped into the light, that familiar smile I had only seen in my dreams for months. On her hip, a baby sat in bewilderment inspecting her surroundings curiously.
I gripped onto the Emporer, my hand flying to my mouth as I fell to his feet. A cry escaping from my gut…a cry I had longed to release. The Emporer chuckled, shooing the men away who instinctively darted to his side. But the Emporer only graciously wrapped his arm around my waist, bringing me forward to Mathilda as tears escaped her own eyes. ‘Twyla, a very beautiful name for a beautiful child’ the Emporer spoke his hand cupping Twyla’s face gently.
Locked in an embrace, Mathilda pulled to the ground with me as my arms wrapped around her and Twyla, our faces smooshed into one another's shoulders and we cried and cried. I could feel Twyla’s tiny hand grasping at the strands of my greasy hair as she tugged. But I didn’t mind at all. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’ I cried aloud. Mathilda’s embrace only tightened. She pulled back, a teary laugh escaping as we looked at the state of one another's faces. I looked at Mathilda, a pleading look on my face. ‘You don’t need my permission’ she whispered cupping my face. She carefully handed Twyla to me, as I held her close, letting her little hands grip onto my grimy dress as she curiously looked at the world around her. Mathilda looked up, looking to see the man I also longed for, her face falling at the realisation that he was missing. Our eyes locked, and the sorrowful look on my face said it all, Kurya was not here. I wrapped my other arm around Mathilda, bringing her back into my embrace, crying in both mourning and relief that our family had been reunited once more.
The commotion behind me faded away completely, my whole being focused on the three of us as we hugged and cried. The only thing I could hear from the commotion behind us ‘I’m in your debt’.
I couldn’t guess how much time had passed, but my arms were sore, my eyes completely dry, and my beautiful daughter soundly asleep in my arms. As I finally pulled away, I looked up to find Leif’s eyes upon us, a gentle smile appearing to his lips as his eyes cast between Twyla and myself. Dorn and Brigtoc’s eyes both flickered over us, guilty looking to the floor when my gaze met theirs.
‘Y/N’ that familiar deep voice sighed. I stood up, my legs numb, and turned towards him. Harald Sigurdsson, for the first time ever, looking entirely lost.
‘How…?’ He whispered, his eyes darting in disbelief between the sleeping baby and myself. ‘Who…’ he asked, a desperate plea in his tone. I took in a deep breath, my voice clear as I spoke. ‘There's no other possible way’. Harald took a step back, his eyes glazing over. He brought his hand up to his face, hiding the quivering of his jaw as he looked on in disbelief. Elena watched carefully, her eyes focused solely on Harald, trying to unravel the emotions he was feeling.
Harald took a step forward. Instinctually I cradled Twyla closer, making him freeze in his steps. Mathilda stood closely by. Harald’s face dropped, sorrow cast over him as more tears fell down his face ‘I…I would never hurt her.’ He pleaded. I looked at him, simply giving a nod, permitting him to approach. He delicately walked forward, cautiously stepping over the stones, as if terrified of waking the sleeping bundle in my arms. He stared for a while, not daring to touch her. Her restful breathing loud in its own small way as we both looked down upon her. I raised his hand, like a dandelion drifting in the wind, he delicately placed his finger on her cheek, placing his touch upon his child for the first time. Twyla gently stirred in my arms, but her sombre remained silent as she reached up, grasping her tiny hand around his finger gripping tightly. His heart melted before him.
‘Now my dear friends, a hero’s welcome awaits you in Constantinople’ the Emperor announced, a satisfied smile spread across his face, ready to take us onto the next part of our journey.
Sometimes the most powerful weapon of all is the ability to block out the things that overpower us. To shield our eyes in the face of grief, to conserve our hearts from those that make them ache, to preserve time in a memory that gives us the ability to remain constant in a time that’s long passed. It seems a gift outwardly, to harness a power that philosophers, seekers, kings, queens, and warriors have spent ages trying to perfect…the art of not caring. The aches, pains, and yearnings trap us in feeling, but in reality, it gives a person life.
In this moment, I am totally dead.
When Harald announced the great river fall was imminent…everyone responded in what I could only imagine was completely rational. Fear, refusal…total debilitating anxiety at the suicide mission ahead. I couldn’t even feel my own heart beating…I didn’t care. Like death walking, not even the feeling of bodies crushing on top of one another as we cascaded down the horizontal drop of the river falls. When Cadlin’s innocent lifeless body floated over the rocks, the pained cries of her loved ones. Nothing…total nothingness. I had seen death too much that it had become a companion. The only constant in this world. When we buried her, not even the painstaking eyes, the fury from those who couldn’t understand why I was so heartless in the wake of tragedy. Harald missing, Cadlin dead, our vessel destroyed, the Pechneg’s imminent attack, how could anyone be so horrid as to shrug their shoulders and proclaim that this was just life? I cannot control it more than the next…but as much as I tried, I was simply a walking shell of the person I once was.
‘What about Twyla?’ Kurya announced from behind me, as I sat motionless on the side of the riverbank. ‘Wherever she is, she’s somewhere safer than here.’ I responded without looking up to acknowledge his presence. The pebbles cracked together as I could feel Kurya bring himself to the ground, his shoulder nudging against mine. ‘You? Y/N? Losing hope after all this work?’. I could feel Kurya’s body tense as my shoulders simply shrugged against his side. He exhaled deeply in a frustrated manner. ‘You don’t care…not even for your own daughter Y/N?’ He questioned furiously, a tone of accusation in his voice as he had already deciphered the answer to his question before I could even blink. ‘Nothing we do matters…nothing we do will ever matter’. The sharp shards of pebble and rocks crushed beneath my palms as I grasped at the ground beneath me. ‘Twyla needs you’ Kurya stated dismissively, as if it were a fact.
‘IT’S BEEN MONTHS KURYA’ I screamed from the depths of my gut, the words vibrating my vocal's chords, scratching my throat. From a distance, the sound of cluttering, crushing and chatting turn to silence as everyone's attention directed down the riverbed. ‘MONTHS KURYA, I WOULDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE EVEN IF SHE WERE STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!’ ‘There’s more to people than just being able to see them, you don’t need to lecture me about that Y/N.’ Kurya seethed back angrily, his voice getting louder, desperate to hold them back, fighting as each word escaped. ‘IT’S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU KURYA’ I retorted aggressively. ‘NOTHING YOU DO MATTERS, NOTHING I DO MATTERS, NOTHING THAT ANYONE HERE WILL EVER DO WILL EVER MATTER!’ The shards of rock scraped against my legs as I gathered myself from the ground ‘MATHILDA DOESN’T MATTER, THE VIKINGS REVENGE DOES NOT MATTER, THAT FUCKING BOAT OF THERE DOESN’T MATTER, NOT ME NOT YOU, NOT THEM, NOT YOUR SIGHT, NOT MATHILDA, AND NOT YOUR DEAD FUCKING WIFE’.
‘You would be wise not to speak a word about my wife, child’ Kurya fiercely spat as he gathered himself from the ground, his body facing toward me as all his senses came alive at once in the face of vengeance. ‘FUCK THE VIKINGS, FUCK THE SAXONS, FUCK THE PECHNEGS, BUT MOST OF ALL FUCK YOU’ I savagely berated, not only directing my fury at Kurya but at everyone else as they looked on baffled at the unfolding scene before them. ‘I’M BETTER OFF ALONE, I ALWAYS HAVE BEEN AND I ALWAYS WILL BE!’ I stormed past Kurya as his breathing intensified, stunned to silence, his body frozen…but I couldn’t deal with anything or anyone anymore. I stormed over to the vessel, grabbing one of the few furs Harald had kept from his stock. Leif stood watching on as Mariam curled up into his side, almost fearful as I threw items around, dismantling everything we had spent the past few weeks gathering and transporting. Adrenaline rushed uncontrollably through my body, and everyone was wise to not restrain me. I stormed up to Leif, Mariam grasping onto him tightly as he quickly shielded her small frame behind his larger one. I could feel his hot breath on mine as I stood face to face with his, our noses bumping slightly. ‘If you ever see that Viking again…you tell him I said the world will be a doomed one if he ever sits on the throne’.
I was done with these people…I would never see them again.
‘Kurya’ Mariam whispered tentatively as she slowly walked up behind him. Kurya had not moved for some time since Y/N stormed off, declaring she was done with anything and everything for good…not even for the dearest friend she’d ever had…not even for her own daughter. ‘Let’s find Harald’. He demanded, turning away from the direction Y/N had stormed off too.
The terrain was mostly flat, not proving ideal for anyone who wanted to hide within the depths of the Pechneg territory. But I wasn’t trying to hide. The only peace I needed was knowing that Twyla was somewhere safe…I know I didn’t know it for certain but anywhere was better than here. She was one of the very few people in this world I had truly loved and lost, there was nothing from here, I wasn’t at peace with the world, but at peace with death.
‘HYA! HYA!’ The sound of horses’ hoofs beating against the ground carried out in the distance as the sound of deep thick foreign voices shouted at one another. I stopped, slowing circling around the deserted fields as the noises seemed to get louder. Endlessly circling, a pang in my gut begun to ring at the realisation…something I hadn’t experienced in an age. Being truly, completely and utterly alone…susceptible and vulnerable to whatever prowled within close proximity.
Maybe I wasn’t at peace with death as I wanted to believe.
‘ARGHHH’ That scream…a voice I’d know anywhere. The pang in my stomach turned to a punch. Harald’s cries echoed from behind the trees as the sound of horse hoofs carried in the same direction Harald’s screams did. I didn’t care anymore…I couldn’t…I wouldn’t let myself, circulated through my brain, filling my head so I couldn’t think of anything else. I couldn’t care…I shouldn’t care…My head said one thing, but I couldn’t ignore the pangs deep within my stomach that radiated through my chest…I shouldn’t care
But I must.
On the other side of the trees, Leif and Kurya silently stalked towards the smell of burning wood, smoking flowing freely through the air, proving that without a doubt this was, and always will be the pechnegs territory. A small camp, the tribe clearly showed no fear in their significantly small number. There was no concealing it, no worry, no fear…this was Pechneg territory.
“Kurya and I will bargain with the leader for Harald…If they don’t bring us horses it means we have failed…You must get back to the boat and leave as quickly as possible” Leif instructed the girls as the group sat lowly in the fields, camouflaging themselves within the tall grass as they formulated a plan. Kurya sat silently amongst the group, listening intently to the conversations of his former people. There was no doubt in his mind, the urgency they spoke to one another, the sound of sharpening tools and metal scarping together. Harald was within his brothers grasp…and they were prepared for anything.
“No. We wont leave without everyone…including Y/N” Eleana stubbornly exclaimed, her eyes bearing deep into Leif’s as she was intent on manifesting a safe return for all. Even Y/N. Leif sighed, bringing his hand to his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a frustrated groan. “Y/N has made it very clear, they do not want anything to do with us anymore, Y/N has gone and we will leave them.” Eleana looked back at Leif with anger, frustrated by Leif’s lack of hope. Before Leif could protest any longer, her grasped Kurya by the arm, crawling closer to the camp, leaving Eleana and the girls alone, their quarrel unresolved.
As Leif and Kurya edged closer to the camp, the sound of the Khan’s voice could be heard laughing through the camp. Simultaneously, Leif’s cries could be heard borrowing deep from within his gut. The Khan clearly enjoying the torture at hand he dealt.
“Leif…you must promise me something” Kurya whispered, lowering himself down to the ground, forcing Leif to do the same. “Y/N is a stubborn, impulsive, unpredictable individual, I would be a fool to not recognise how she angers you and has betrayed everyone with her sudden abandonment…But you must understand, my young friend, Y/N has lived and endured a life that not even I know the extent of. You must promise me Leif, you will find her and take her with you to Constantinople. Y/N will fight you, argue, make your life hell all the way there…but will regret it if they don’t.” Kurya pleaded, his eyebrows bunching together and he extended his hand towards Leif. “You heard Y/N, Y/N has no use for us anymore…Y/N is gone for good,” Leif whispered back, saliva escaping his mouth as he seethed with anger at the thought of risking everyone's lives to find Y/N again.
Leif took a deep sigh, reaching out again, placing his hand on Leif’s chest. “Y/N has a daughter. A beautiful little girl who she has been separated from mere months after her birth.” Kurya could feel the beat of Leif's heart rise at the news, shocked at the prospect of Y/N having had a child since he last saw them. “My wife and I were never blessed with children ourselves, through Y/N, and through her daughter have I finally experienced the type of love my wife and I craved…a love for a family so pure that you would do anything for them. I cannot presume you understand that type of love yourself, but I urge you…protect my family.” Leif felt his heartbeat speeding up as he thought of his own family…his sister, the child that she had bore. Leif’s concentration from the Pechnegs to Kurya’s pleas stifled at the thought of the parentage of the child Kurya spoke of…Leif knew all too well who the father of Y/N’s baby was.
“I will do this for you Kurya, only you…but you will be with me to bring Y/N back yourself”.
The smell of smoke engorged my senses as I trailed closer to the sound of foreign words that carried through the trees. Each step forward, the louder his screams carried. Through the trees, the camp was prominently erect. This was Pechneg territory, and by the sounds of the screams, and the clutter of weaponry that stood outside the minuscule number of tents, the Pechnegs were not a forgiving lot. I didn’t need to do this…I didn’t owe Harald Siggurdson anything. My body however defiled my thoughts, with each protest, another step forward.
As I reached the edge of the surrounding forest, I knew there was something deep down that wasn’t going to let me leave. Kurya…Harald…they had become so ingrained in my life that I could barely remember the hustle and bustle of everyday life before Æthelred’s castle…before the Vikings…before Kattegat…before Twyla.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden disturbance as the Pechnegs drew their weapons running in one direction toward the long grass across the other side of the field. Their shouts turned to roars as the men called and shouted toward the camp. From a tent, one man emerged, his eyes squinted as he strode out, fighting the sun rays as he bore his eyes to where the Pechnegs had all run to. The men circled something, and their shouts turned to cheers as the man near the tent took a step back in somewhat disbelief. The men walked back toward the camp as two foreign-looking bodies strode back to the camp with them…Leif Erikson…with a knife held to Kurya’s throat.
“CUT HIM DOWN OR I KILL HIM” Leif demanded as he stormed into the tent, escorted by the men that had just ran threateningly towards the pair, now looking at Leif as some kind of hero. “You know who this is do you?” Leif questioned, staring up and down at the man who looked the pair up and down disbelievingly. Harald panted profusely beside them as he hung, strung up by the flesh of his own skin. “This is the brother to the Khan…” the man mumbled to himself, his eyes bewildered at the sight of the brother which the Khan had spent years vengefully seeking. “Cut him down or I kill him” Leif demanded. The men stared at Leif, the fate of their Khan’s long-sought mission, all within destruction at the blade of a stranger who had barged into their camp like a hero.
Harald’s sharp breathing turned slow as his knees hit the ground hard…the metal pins pulled from his chest proving instant relief to the torture he had just endured. There was no time to curl over in pain…instead adrenaline rushed through his body, ready to return to the one person who seemed to bring him a small sense of peace in the chaotic world he existed within.
“Somethings happened, they haven’t come with the horses Eleana exclaimed, as the trio crawled across the field, edging closer to the camp. From the camp, Kurya, Harald and Leif emerged from the tent, Leif’s heroic welcome turned completely as the Pechnegs dragged the three men across the ground to the pillars, tying all the men up. A man exited the tent, another pechneg following closely behind them, clutching a wooden box within his grasp. The man stalked toward Harald, Leif and Kurya, carefully inspecting them as they kneeled, tied to the pillars, totally at mercy to whatever the man had planned for him. He turned around, retrieving a knife from the box, speaking triumphantly to the army of Pechnegs around him theatrically…enjoying the moment as if it were long awaited. The Pechnegs laughed as they intently watched him wave the knife around as he spoke to them.
Kurya, Leif and Harald’s eyes flicked about in panic as they watched the man tauntingly stalk between them, deciding whom his first victim was going to be…ultimately deciding on Leif. He ran his knife up the back of Leif’s shirt with total ease as if he had done this a hundred times before. The girls could barely hear a sound from Leif as the man sliced his knife alongside the Vikings back. They stalked toward the camp slowly, unsettled and lost in thought as alternative plans ran through their heads. They were not going to leave their comrades…but they had no idea as to how they were going to come out of this alive.
Lost in thought, they could hear grunts slowly escape Leif as they crawled closer and closer to the spectacle of torture that befell their friends. They were outnumbered, there was nothing.
The sound of laughter was suddenly replaced by yells of terror as the sound of horse hoofs trampled through the camp. The girls stood from the ground, amazed at the sight before them as dread turned to hope. The stampede flew through the camp, galloping and neighing gloriously through the Pechneg camp. As the stampede galloped around the camp, a figure emerged from behind the tents. “Y/N” Eleana whispered to herself.
“GO” I screamed at the women as they stood in shock at the sight before them. Their stunned frozen silence turned into total adrenaline as they ran toward the camp, grabbing onto the discarded weaponry that lay unattended across the field.
‘KURYA’ I yelled sprinting desperately toward him as the chaos begun to settled, the Pechnegs realising they were no longer in the comfortable dominant position they thought they were before. My feet carried me so fast, it felt like I couldn’t keep up with myself. My balance faltering me as I fell towards the ground. ‘Ahhhhh’ a deep foreign voice screamed, emitted louder as the sound carried closer and closer. A new group of men emerged from the trees, one man dressed much grander than the men that surrounded him…it didn’t take much debate to realise who this man was. Kurya had cursed his name so many times, vowing to be the end of him.
The Khan.
However his attention was not fixated on the chaos of the camp before him, but on the person that had just desperately called his brother's name…and his horses were racing toward me.
My legs kicked beneath me as my body was hoisted from the ground. A foreign body clasped tightly behind me as I kicked and flailed, desperate to escape the grasp behind me. The person barely struggled against my flailing movements, seemingly unfazed by the fight I attempted to put up.
My body was thrown to the ground behind a tent. I reached across the ground, clutching one of the swords that lay aimlessly on the ground, clutching its hilt and bringing it up to whoever had flung me to the ground as if I weighed nothing. ‘Easy Saxon’ Leif muttered, looking around the camp, searching for the others. ‘You leave us again, I’ll kill every Pechneg before I get to you myself’ he lectured, huffing at the end of his sentence clearly not too pleased with my return. I stumbled to a stand, Leif gripping his own weapon slightly tighter in his clutch. ‘I DIDN’T COME HERE TO BE RESCUED’ I shouted back, matching the anger Leif was clearly trying to bottle up.
‘THERES NO TIME, GET A HORSE AND GET OUT’ Leif yelled, running back towards to fight at hand.
‘Y/N’ Brigtoc cried, galloping around the corner, her red hair flowing in the wind behind her as she clasped onto the reigns of another horse. I clutched the reigns of the horse, throwing my leg over the horse, climbing up onto the horse desperately as it trotted amongst the chaos unfolding. The smell of smoke intensified as the tents began to blaze intensely.
‘Where’s Kurya?” I cried at Brigtoc. ‘Y/N’ Kurya’s voice sounded desperately, calling my name. I whipped the reigns, mentally apologising to the magnificent beast beneath me as I galloped toward Kurya. I grasped onto Kurya’s shoulder desperately squeezing it as if to convince myself this was all still real. ‘CLIMB UP’ I yelled, watching as our comrades galloped off across the field towards the waterfront. ‘Y/N’ Harald’s voice cried as his horse roared to a stop…his eyes bearing into mine. Staring back into his, I could see Twyla’s. I could feel my heart starting to beat again…and I knew that I couldn’t give up. Not for Kurya, not for Harald, not for Twyla.
‘THEY’RE COMING’ Leif’s voice cried as the boat came within sight. Batu and Kaysan hurried toward the boat, desperately pushing at its clutches as our horses came roaring towards them. Kurya’s clutch around my waist slightly begun to loosen. I reached down, holding the reigns strongly with one hand, grasping onto where Kurya’s hands clasped around my front. ‘I’m sorry Kurya’ I wept desperately. ‘I never should have said what I said, I never should have left, the truth is you have filled a hole in my heart that has long been missing, and I could never ever not love you. You are my family now’. His clutch slightly tightened, as his head lovingly curled into my shoulder blade.
As we reached the boat, we desperately de-saddled, smacking the horses behinds, sending them flying away from the chaos. Every desperately pushed onto the boat. ‘C’mon’ I said, grasping at Kurya’s forearm leading him towards the boat, but instead, he clutched onto me grasping my shoulders, forcing my body to face his. His hands gently trailed up my neck, toward my face as he placed his palms on my flustered cheeks. ‘You and Twyla will always be my family…the amount of love I feel for you both, I would never be able to put into words my young friend’. He gently brought my face towards his, placing a gentle kiss on both my cheeks, leaning back stroking his palms down the sweaty hair on my head, smoothing it down. ‘Goodbye dearest Y/N’ he said, taking a step backwards, turning toward the sound of the stamped of horse hoofs that cascaded through the trees towards us. ‘NO KURYA’ I cried, stomping after him, only to be lifted from the ground from behind. My sight blurred as the tears flooded my eyes. I could barely grasp a breath as the blur of Kurya’s body stalked back inland. ‘I’m sorry Y/N, I made him a promise’ Leif’s voice whispered in my ear as he walked up the plank of the boat, placing my body down as the weight of the boat shifted, flowing slowly down the river, scraping against the rocks below.
‘ÜLGEN I AM READY’ Kurya’s voice cried. My screamed shrilled, echoing as I stumbled toward the edge of the boat, desperately trying to climb over the edge. ‘Y/N’ Leifs voice yelled, his hands grasping at my waist, dragging me back onto the boat. ‘LEIF PLEASE I NEED HIM’ Leif let out a defeated sigh, my cries intensifying as the sound of Kurya’s shouts sounded further and further away. ‘LEIF PLEASE’ I cried.
Leif’s footsteps slowly stalked across the wooden boards of the boat. I wiped my eyes looking towards Leif to find him stood with a bow and arrow in hand, a whistling sound screeching over my head as Leif released the arrow.
Suddenly, Kurya’s cries silenced. His footsteps sounded toward me again, his body crouching beside mine. Leif lent in, silently whispering into my ear. ‘We will find your daughter Y/N…I promised Kurya that.’
Warnings: Descriptions of assault, abuse, slavery and extreme violence. Adult themes. Please avoid and protect your well-being if you suspect this work might not be for you.
(Part 18)
I impatiently paced across the ground as the boat sat stranded on the riverbank. A broken rudder…a bloody piece of useless material…one single part of the whole ship kept me from Twyla. ‘They will be back soon Y/N’ Mariam soothed…a tired smile on her face as she busied herself sorting the collection of books she lugged everywhere with her. What would she know about anything…books could only tell you so much.
Leif and Harald had trekked in search of a township by the name of ‘Kodak’ not too long ago in search of materials to fix the rudder. Each morning as the sun rose, and when it set in the evening it became harder and harder to clutch onto the hope of seeing my daughter again…my friend…my family. I stomped over to Kurya as he sat away from the rest of the group, listening, feeling and sensing the world around him. I didn’t even need to announce my presence as I slumped down next to him.
‘Tell me something good’ I whispered, watching the river flow gently to where I yearned to go. His shoulders rose and fell slowly as he inhaled deeply, the corner of his lips perking up and he readjusted his bandages.
‘You remind me of my wife sometimes Y/N’ he giggled slightly to himself. ‘Yesty was also very stubborn…but had a kind heart’ he said, his voice drifting into sadness. I lifted my hand from the grass, grasping onto his hand, and giving him a comforting squeeze. ‘How did you meet?’ I questioned gently. Kurya, of course, had mentioned his wife in passing, a story here or there, but never any specific details. He had never explicitly said she had died, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. Kurya walked around with a broken heart…
‘There had been strife between the tribes…her father presented her to my father as a peace offering, to unionise our tribes through a marital union’ Another inhale, fiddling with the bandages on his face pointlessly. I gently squeezed his hand again, prompting him to continue his story. His despair comically turned to laughter as he chuckled breathlessly to himself. ‘What?’ I questioned, my own lips raising into a smile at the ridiculousness of it. Kurya was always the sensible voice of reason, it was rare to see a relaxed side of him. ‘W..Wh’ he emitted through laughter. ‘When my father presented my brother and I…it was assumed, him being the older of us, that she would wed him…she took one look, and without hesitation said I’m not marrying him, but the younger one I might’. He lost himself in laughter, a radiant glow on his face that I had not seen…only when he ever talked about his wife. ‘My brother was furious’ he chuckled, clearly satisfied by the memory. ‘Her father was so mortified by her brazenness…within the week we were married’ he said, his laughter depleting, but the smile on his face remained the same. ‘Did you ever have children?’ I asked curiously. His head turned toward me, as he lifted his hand to the crown of my head and soothed my hair. ‘I have all the family I need’.
As I sat with Kurya, my thoughts were lost to memory as I stared at the river flowing down the bend, I barely noticed that everyone's attention had shifted elsewhere.
‘Something smells good!’ A foreign voice sounded. I turned around to find a strange man, decorated from head to toe in tattooed ink, cockily and confidently approaching the camp. He did not seem deterred by the number of people who stood to attention at the sight of his presence grasping onto weapons as he stepped forward. I stood, making my way back toward the camp as the stranger and Gestr greeted each other with enthusiasm. It was no secret, Gestr was an immoral being, but his hubris made him a total imbecile. The natural comradery between the pair however was frightening.
‘I see your boat is missing its rudder’ he noted, inspecting the vessel with great interest…and everything on it.
‘It is being repaired in Kodak’
‘So there are more of you?’ He questioned
‘Just two’ Gestr replied.
The energy shifted as everyone, but Gestr, tensed at the sudden reveal of information to the stranger. I clutched my fist tightly as I whipped my eyes around to see everyone else similarly on edge as the stranger seemed satisfied with this newfound information. I looked back to find his eyes locked on mine, his own eyes flicking up and down as he sauntered toward me.
He pressed his chest against mine, his rugged breath brushing against my head as he towered over me. ‘How much for this one?’ He yelled at Gestr, bringing his hand up to move the hairs that fell over my forehead. I brought my hands up, pressing my palms against his chest and pushing him a step back. ‘Not one of mine, unfortunately’ Gestr said, his voice seething in self-pity. The stranger's eyes did not leave mine as he took in every inch of my body. ‘My name is Baggi’ he introduced in a flirtatious tone. My stomach churned as an overwhelming sense of revulsion came over me. I glanced over at the boat behind Baggi, Gestr’s eyes intently watching my every move as his newfound friend directed his interests at me. ‘You are certainly a rare find in these parts’ he said in such a slimy tone, I could feel my spine shiver with discomfort.
‘Leave my wife alone’ Kurya’s voice sounded from behind me as he sat still where he had before. Even from a distance, Kurya could always sense when something was wrong with me. Baggi scoffed at his remark. ‘Your husband?’ He questioned. I simply nodded, taking a few steps away to put some distance between us. I could hear the enslaved girls giggling between themselves. Baggi’s face fell slightly in disappointment, his chest raising in slight anger at the public rejection. He strode forward slowly, his eyes locked on mine as he rounded me carefully, his chest poking against my shoulder…taking a whiff of my hair. I remained facing away as Baggi continued his stalking amongst the camp. It was tensely silent as everyone remained frozen in place. It felt like forever in the few minutes that passed. The silence was interrupted as he slowly stalked back toward me, his footsteps creeping up like a predator on a hunt…a chuckle emitting from his gut. ‘You don’t know who this is, do you?’ He triumphantly sounded as he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. I stood frozen as his rough calloused fingertips stroked the skin on the back of my neck. A fury of anger washed over me as my breathing increased. I could feel my heels digging into the ground as everyone's attention was solely focused on me. Baggi laughed.
‘You are not this man’s wife…this man's wife is dead’.
I stood frozen, tense in fear, anger and confusion as this man so confidently narrated Kurya’s life to the group.
‘This man is the Khan’s brother, Kurya’ My stomach churned as Baggi so knowingly told the tale of Kurya’s wife, and the Khan’s brutal assault and murder of his fallen wife. It felt like the world was spinning around me as I didn’t know any such thing about Kurya’s past. I knew he had a brother, but I had never imagined he had been a brutal ruler. Maybe this was why Kurya rarely spoke of his life as a Pecheneg. All Kurya had said about it was that he had chosen a different path…but never would I have known the consequences of his old one were so severe.
‘Now the Khan drinks wine every night with a silver cup made from her skull’ he said as his fingers trailed up, grasping the hairs on my head as he forcefully craned my neck back. He inched his face so close, I could feel his chapped lips brush against my cheek.
‘And put a bounty on his missing brother's head’ he said, his raspy breath blowing into my ear, his fingers releasing. I breathlessly dropped to the ground, scuttling towards Kurya on my hands and knees, desperate to get away from Baggi. I clutched onto Kurya’s robes as he sat, frozen in place…as if he didn’t even realise I was there right in front of him.
‘He is worth money?’ Gestr questioned, striding down the board to Baggi. I quickly stood up, my fingernails cutting into my palms as fury took over. I was going to kill him. As I took a step forward, I was thrust back just as quickly as Kurya had grabbed onto the fabric of my dress, holding me back from perpetrating the extremely brutal violent attack I had spinning in my head as I watched Gestr. The rest of Baggi’s presence escaped me as I stood there, vowing with every inch in my body and soul to put an end to Gestr’s greedy, vile, degenerate, pathetic existence.
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In Kodak
‘Harald, Freydis is carrying your child’
Harald had endured many hardships in life. He had fought bravely in battles that left him forever scared, he had loved and lost people throughout his life, he had an enemy in his own brother, he had left the person he truly loved, and he had even battled his own demons and morals throughout his life…but nothing was as painful as hearing this.
‘How long have you known this?’
‘Since we left Norway. She made me promise not to tell you’
‘You Bastard. I thought you were my friend’
The shock was almost as powerful as when he saw Y/N again, after all that time. The person he truly longed for…he had spent days and nights wondering if Y/N was still alive, if Y/N thought about him, if he would ever lay eyes on Y/N again…A year yearning after someone he thought he had lost. Now he would likely spend a lifetime wondering about the child he had never known about. Had he known, things would have turned out differently. The immense love he thought he had felt for someone…an enigma, and now he felt a love so overwhelming he thought his heart might burst.
‘She understood that if you knew you were to be a father, you would not leave her’
‘and she’s right’
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Back at Camp
‘Don’t ask any questions, just follow my lead’ I whispered to the enslaved girls as they sat hopelessly on the boat, their hands bound in heavy chains that rubbed against their skin. ‘YOU’ Gestr yelled, charging back onto the boat, his axe in hand as he readied himself for a fight. What he didn’t realise was that I was just as ready for him.
Gestr stomped across the boat, he reached his arm out clutching onto the neck of my dress and threateningly pushing me harshly into the side of the boat. The look in his eyes was one of pure evil as he held his axe up ready to strike if needed. ‘I’VE TOLD YOU BEFORE AND I’LL TELL YOU AGAIN, YOU DO NOT ENGAGE WITH MY PROPERTY’ he spat angrily. A could hear a whimper let out from one of the girls as their eyes locked onto the scene in front of them. ‘You don’t have Harald to protect you now’ he taunted, bringing the blade of his axe right up against my neck. My throat bobbed as I took a deep gulp, my skin pressing into the blade, reminding me of my mortality at stake. ‘I don’t need Harald Siggurdson’ I whispered against his pressing blade’.
*BANG*
Within seconds, Gestr lay unconscious on the floor, a small rush of blood spilling from his temple. Elena dropped the heavy plank of wood by her side, shaking her arm to relieve the pain in her joints from the strike she had just delivered. I took in a deep breath, rubbing at the skin on my neck which luckily had only just been indented by the pressure of the blade leaving a red mark that would fade soon enough. I looked at Elena, as she looked back at me. We gave each other a knowing nod.
I reached down, whipping the belt from Gestr, sliding his ring of keys he so mockingly jingled day in, day out. I threw them to the girls as they sat there in disbelief. ‘You belong to no one but yourself…do you understand me?’ I spoke, watching as all their eyes stared at the keys in front of them. One of the girls nodded, her eyes watery. As Elena jangled the keys, jamming different keys into the locks, one by one a satisfying clang sounded as the metal cuffs hit the floor of the boat.
‘We must hide him’ Mariam sounded from behind me, as she boarded the boat with a handful of ropes. As quickly as they had been uncuffed, the girls knelt to the floor practically snatching the ropes out of Mariam’s grip and taking the opportunity to tie up the man who had kept their freedom from them for too long.
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‘Welcome back! I see you have brought friends’ Batu called radiantly as the inevitable return of Baggi finally arrived. He dismounted his horse, trudging forward seemingly confused by the warm welcome, compared to before. I sat on the edge of the boat, my legs dangling over the edge, my skirt ridden up slightly in a flirtatious manner.
‘What is this?’ Baggi questioned, pointing to Kurya as he stood underneath the branches of the tree chained by his neck. It killed me to see him like this…a man whom I only now understood why he was so broken in so many ways. Why did it have to be him that these brutes wanted? Kurya deserved more.
Batu explained a fabricated story…how he killed Gestr (if only) and went crazy. That suddenly a group of people who disliked Baggi before, now welcomed his friends with open arms? This was too risky to play off I had argued, that he would never fall for such a ridiculously unrealistic story. But as their horses rounded the trees, there was no other option to decide on another plan. Gestr looked toward the boat, his greedy eyes hungrily fixated on me. I lifted my hand, fluttering my fingers in an amorous manner as if to say ‘It’s you I want’. But Baggi stopped in his tracks, clearly stumped particularly by my welcoming manner. He turned his head, making a halt sign to his friends. They instinctively grasped at their weapons, following Baggi’s lead as he began to question Batu aggressively. ‘What’s with my friend from earlier?’ He spat cautiously, with an aggressive tone. Batu stood there stumped, looking between Baggi and myself as I tried to sit effortlessly on the edge of the boat. ‘W..what do you mean?’ Batu coughed. Baggi lifted his fist, gripping onto Batu’s shirt. Metal clanged behind them as the men pulled their weapons from their hilts and belts. ‘We put something in her drink’ one of the enslaved girls, whose name I had learnt to be Cadlin, shouted as she cheerfully lifted her cup in a fictional drunken slumber.
I took her lead, slushing the cup around in my hand, downing it’s invisible contents, and letting out a satisfying ‘ahhh’ sound. The girls giggled along with Cadlin ‘Y/N is a bitch anyway’ they chuckled as they mockingly laughed as I pretended to sway on the edge of the boat. Mariam ran over, pretending to grip onto my body, as I leant my body back into her grip, falling back onto the boat.
I could hear Baggi laughing, his friends seeming to laugh alongside him, clearly relaxing amongst the environment, believing the story unfolding in front of them. ‘Well done’ Mariam whispered, a slight smile of relief on her face at the performance we had just delivered. I couldn’t help but smile back at her efforts too. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all…
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The Varangians slowly loosened up throughout the afternoon…Elena, Mariam and the girls pouring more drinks as quickly as the men consumed them. I spent the time continuously embarrassing myself, pretending to embrace the lustful suggestions of someone as horrid as Baggi. There was one thing these men liked, possibly even more than Gestr. Attention. It wasn’t hard to gage, but it’s all we had to work with to lower their guards. How powerful the Varangians were, how they were so skilled, and how they were talked about with great fear and respect in the cities. Luckily Baggi’s attentions were now more focused on hearing legendary tales of his people, rather than roughhousing me like his friends were the girls.
‘Well, well, well beautiful’ one of the men tutted as he boarded the boat, his eyes trained on me as his cup swished in his hands. Baggi sat rigidly, looking between me and his comrade, a seething jealousy evident on his face. I continued my facade, greeting him with a pitched giggle that washed a feeling of self decrepitation over me entirely. Batu clearly peaked at the sudden tenseness between the men as he grabbed another wine pitcher, filling Baggi’s cup. ‘I have more stories if that is of interest to you?’ He said cautiously. Baggi sat there, his eyes flicking between myself, his friend and Batu. He finally took a deep drink, wiping his mouth with the fabric of his shirt, satisfyingly turning to Batu to listen to another made-up story about the great Varangians. ‘You can come with me gorgeous’ the man said, holding his hand out so chivalrously. I reached down, grabbing another pitcher of wine as I clutched onto his hand, giggling more, being sure to stifle my balance as he lead me down the plank. ‘Don’t be long Engil!’ Baggi cried ‘I will be needing her soon enough’ he said with a laugh, Mariam and Batu following suit. But Mariam's eyes trailed on mine as she worryingly watched as Engil lead me off the boat…stalking away from camp out of sight.
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‘No wonder Baggi was so eager to bring us all back after he found you this morning’ Engil moaned as his hands ran up and down my boat, his tongue swirling around in my mouth. We hadn’t had a plan past getting them drunk and assuring them Kurya was crazy…but after hours it seemed as though they were never going to leave and we were all but entertaining these creeps. I let out a fake moan as his stubble beard hair rubbed roughly against my chin. ‘Kiss my neck…I love neck kisses’ I moaned. He was ravenous for more…and I could only hope they would leave soon before he tried something else. His stubble grazed the skin on my neck, but it was much preferable to the tongue I had down my throat for the past half hour.
As he busied himself, biting at my neck, I couldn’t help but notice the silence in the distance. What was once chatter, laughing, and the clanking of cups was now utterly silent. My stomach dropped…this was not good. Had they all gone? Had someone else come? Had they taken Kurya?
I hardly realised my body went stiff as the gnawing on my neck disappeared, Engil’s hands no longer roaming over my body. He pulled away slightly, looking at my face questioningly. His head began to turn slowly as he noticed the silence too, his hands pulling away from the lustful distraction he was already lost in. Shit.
I reached down, grasping onto his hard cock that had been poking into my legs. He let out a loud moan at the sudden contact…the tenseness of sudden silence was replaced by satisfaction. I grabbed his face with my hands, shoving his face back into my neck as I fondled his groin over his pants, his body shaking eagerly as I busied myself trying to figure out why there was a sudden silence. However, it was not to last.
The clanging of metal sounded as the silence turned to shouts. I desperately held Engil against my neck, but he pulled away strongly, throwing me to the ground as grabbed his axe from his belt. He stalked around the bushes that hid us. I couldn’t see what was unfolding, but enough to know it was bad as he stalked back toward me, pulling me by the hair on my head and laying me on the ground. He mounted me, holding my body down with his heavyweight as he delivered a piercing slap to my face. ‘YOU BITCH’ he yelled, lowering his face, smashing his lips against mine, sinking his teeth painfully onto my bottom lip making me scream. ‘WHO ARE YOU? WHAT IS YOUR BUSINESS HERE?’ He cried as he grasped onto my wrists as I tried so desperately to wrestle from beneath him…but even drunk he was much stronger than me.
He gripped the neckline of my dress, ripping it, pulling down my smock and exposing my breasts. I continued to wrestle beneath him, trying desperately to pull myself from the ravenous, raging man on top of me. He gripped onto my breast, squeezing it with all his might and twisting the skin. It was complete agony. His grip became slippery, however, as he pulled away to find the palm of his hand covered in a warm liquid. Only instead of being crimson ready as expected, his palm was doused in milky white. I began to cry as he let out a deep evil laugh, gripping again at my already tender breasts, torturously squeezing my pulsing nipples demanding answers to his questions.
‘Please…please s..st..stop’ I pleaded through cries of pain, but with every pleading, his grip tightened. ‘TELL ME’ he screamed. My eyesight began to blur at the sensation of unbearable pain. My head spun as his words began to slur, the world in front of me disappearing into blackness before my eyes. He delivered another slap, making me conscious again. But my body was weak and in excruciating pain and torture it wasn’t going to last.
‘I’LL FUCKING KILL Y…’
A metal arrow shot through his neck and he began to croak at the sudden impact. He gagged, blood pooling from his mouth into my eyes as his body shook, becoming even heavier. I screamed, crying at the sight in front of me. I had experienced violence, abuse, fear…childbirth…but nothing could compare to the dread of watching a person die right atop of you. Bleeding, eyes dilating, total and utter dread as his eyes locked on mine, his lips turning blue. My cries continued as he fell atop of me, the impact of our bodies pushing the arrow back out the other side of his neck, a sickening slushing sound-emitting. My cries continued and screams protruded from deep within my gut. The world around me was silent, the only sound being the final desperate breath from the man dying on top of me.
‘Y/N!’ A voice cried desperately. My rough rugged breathing had turned to hyperventilation as I cried out. ’T..tw…twyla’ I cried as the mans blood soaked my body. My sight was too blinded by my tears to see anything.
Suddenly the body shifted from me, a voice huffing as they practically threw the man's lifeless body away. Those familiar hands grasped my cheeks. ‘y/n’ he whispered worryingly, looking down at my almost naked, blood-stained body. He pulled my tunic up, covering my bruised chest carefully before tucking his arms under my limp body, pulling me into his embracing rocking me back and forth.
‘Harald…’ I whispered
‘Y/N’ he replied.
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For hours he sat there with me, rocking me back and forth as I cried into his shoulder, too weak to hold my own body up. Nobody had dared come interrupt his act of tender care as I continued to cry, soaking his shirt.
By the time the moon had risen and the sky had turned black, only then had my eyes become too dry to let any more tears flow. Footsteps sounded behind faintly as I sat there, limply lying in Harald’s embrace. ‘Here…it’s one of mine’ Mariam sounded as she placed something on the ground next to us. Harald’s hand came up, soothing my hair down on my head. ‘Thank you’ he whispered back, her footsteps retreating back to wherever.
Harald gently leaned back, still being careful to hold my forearms as I was barely able to hold my own body up. ‘If I have your permission, I think we should clean you up?’ He questioned, trying to find my eyes. My throat was scratched and dry, my body was limp. It took all my energy just to give a single nod of my head.
Harald’s hands wearily went down to the bottom of my dress, gently clutching the stained fabric in his clutches. He trailed the fabric up my body, being careful not to touch my bruised skin. He gently bunched up the fabric, his hands accidentally brushing against my tender breasts, making me seethe, as he rolled the fabric over my head, leaving me totally naked. He took in a deep sigh, taking in the sight of what the moonlight allowed, his face wincing in pain as he looked at the state of my bruised neck and chest. I could feel his shoulders drop as he took in the sight of me. The way his eyes looked into mine, I could tell he was blaming himself.
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Harald gently lifted my arms, wrapping them around his neck as our bare chests pressed against one another. His bands gently slotted underneath my legs as he lifted my body effortlessly, walking us into the chilly river. He walked deeper into the water until the water was up to his chest. I could feel his chest rising and falling quicker at the sudden cold temperature that took over his naked body. I barely registered it. He gently lowered himself into the water, taking the opportunity to slide his hands from underneath my legs, tucking his arm securely around my waist, making sure to keep a close hold on my weak body. I let my head drop into the crook of his shoulder, my arms still placed securely around his neck.
The sound of water splashing sounded gently as Harald took the time to carefully scoop handfuls of water into his palm, washing the blood off of my body. His hands danced carefully and gracefully over my body as he made sure to erase every single patch of red that stained my skin.
‘Lie back’ he whispered, placing his arms under my body, lying me back into the water. His fingers massaged my scalp as he washed the remnants from the day out of my hair. I closed my eyes, taking in the feeling…it was pleasant. The only sound being the swishing of water. I could now begin to feel the chill of the water.
Harald’s arms untucked from my legs, bringing me back into a standing position. This time our chests pressed against one another, instead of me being tucked into his side. I brought my arms up, weakly wrapping them around his neck, pulling our faces closer. Our foreheads pressed against one another, our eyes closed as the only sounds between us were the sounds of our breaths.
‘I’m sorry y/n’ he whispered, as his arms protectively wrapped around my waist.
‘I’m sorry for everything…I realised today there are things much more important than becoming King of Norway’ he breathlessly began to explain. But I simply kept my head pressed against his, taking in his words. ‘I learnt today that Freydis has carried my child’ he whispered, an utter saddened despair in his tone. I could feel my heart stop…
‘If ever someone put my child through the things I put you through…I would find that person to the ends of the earth’ he whispered, a sniffle sounding as he tried to hold back tears. But he did not, his tears fell as he mourned the past, the present, the future, the child he would probably never know. A shattered parent. A feeling I could empathise with all too well. It was a reaction I never expected.
I tilted my head back slightly, but our arms stayed wrapped around each other. I gently slid my hand from around the back of his neck, placing it gently on his cheek as his tears subsided, but the pain was still very much there.
I leant in, placing a single peck gently onto his lips, pulling myself back into an embrace as we clutched onto one another, him mourning his child he did know of, and me mourning the child of ours he didn’t.
mkay I just gotta say, I’m obsessed with your Collateral series. It is SO GOOD. And definitely not to pressure you, because writing takes time… but OMG i wish it was done because after reading every chapter I just CAN’T wait to know what happens next (even though I’ve watched both seasons). Basically, I just wanted to say, you’re writing is amazing and don’t ever stop pls!!
Honestly, this has made my day/week/year/life! So sorry to leave you in suspense after each chapter haha, but I cannot thank you enough for your kind words <3 As an aspiring writer, this story is slowly building my confidence to put my own ideas onto the page one day, it's feedback like this that I cannot express just brings joy to my heart (which you, my fellow Imagineer, have done with this message)! xxx
