The God’s had led Rollo to find Edithe. Now he would lay claim to her.
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Rollo’s smile never faded no matter how much his little Saxon kicked and screamed with every step. She had pleased him although he could not explain it to her. The man she killed was called Ake and not long ago he had cheated Rollo out of a lot of money and it was not something he could easily forget or forgive.
So seeing Ake’s end met by a woman who was barely big enough to reach his chin had amused him and it was a fitting death in Rollo’s opinion. This Valkyrie might not have been a warrior like the shieldmaidens he fought with, but he could see her fighting spirit, even if it was hidden underneath the frail exterior the Saxon men expected of their wives and daughters.
As he carried her to where the slaves were being held she continued to struggle, clawing his back like a wild animal but Rollo simply chuckled. He enjoyed the weight of her writhing around on his shoulder and it only gave steam to his imagination. Soon enough he would have her in his bed and what a night it would be.
When he finally dropped her to the ground she landed in a pile of skirts and flailing arms before quickly standing up to remind him of the beauty which had first captured his attention. Even in the almost dark he could see her pale unblemished skin which stood in contrast with her raven black hair. Her features were striking, making her seem like a creature of legend yet she was not. She was standing before him. Flesh and blood, waving her fists and cursing him in vain.
Rollo knew the odd native phrase but not enough to understand the exact details of what she was proclaiming. It didn’t matter to him anyway. Even with her face screwed up she remained just as captivating and he couldn’t resist the smile that held onto his lips. Women with wild tempers certainly made for the better bed companions and women with beauty such as this made for even better mates. He would be the envy of all around him and she would produce beautiful, wild, raven haired children.
“Ragnar is looking for you,” Rolf said and Rollo grunted. Taming his Valkyrie would have to wait at least a little longer and perhaps the wait would quell some of the fire that raged in her temper. Although Rollo wasn’t entirely sure he wanted that.
He instructed Rolf to bind her hands and keep watch for when she tried to escape. In Rollo’s mind there was no question of if, only when. With the unruly look in her eyes, escape would only be a matter of time and he wasn’t going to lose her before they had been properly introduced.
“Brother,” Ragnar smiled when Rollo found him. “We have done well this night.”
“You were right about this place,” Rollo conceded, watching as the flames engulfed what was left of the village. Their bounty was good and the men of these lands had been no match for the sheer number of vikings. Certainly no match for Rollo who was unstoppable when the blood lust took him.
“I want you to take some men to scout the woods and kill any stragglers,” Ragnar directed.
Rollo grimaced, his hands balling into tight fists. The main fight was over, Rollo should have been relaxing and enjoying his spoils yet his brother was sending him on a lesser man's errand and, from the smirk on Ragnar's face, he knew exactly what he was doing. Sometimes there was no end to Ragnar’s provocation.
Still, Rollo did as he was asked, finding warriors hiding in the woods and dealing them a swift death at the edge of his blade. Twice he came across sobbing children and perhaps it was more cruel to leave them alone but his bloodlust was ended and he had no interest in slaying pitiful creatures.
When daylight was finally breaking over the scorched earth the air hung with death and Rollo ached for rest. Instead, he again found Ragnar. His beady eyes were surveying all the prisoners while Athelstan stood at his side, speaking in the tongue of the Briton’s, coaxing them to speak with him.
They all remained mute. All except the priest. The priest begged, his face puffy from a night of sobbing and his hands clasped together in desperate prayer. Athelstan soothed him, patting his head and offering the blessings of a fallen angel. A holy man turned heathen Viking and at that Rollo couldn’t help but laugh. These priests were all the same, terrified of meeting their God, which only made killing them taste even sweeter.
But Rollo’s smile was short-lived. Before long the priest began to point towards the Valkyrie and his brother's gaze was as hungry as Rollo had ever seen it.
“The daughter of the Lord,” Athelstan relayed, “betrothed to King Aelle’s son.”
This news only made Rollo happier with his conquest and before his brother could even think to claim her he took a stand. “She’s mine,” he asserted, laughing as he relayed the way she had killed Ake and quietly hoping there would be no contest to his ownership.
“Perhaps we could ransom her. Hm? Ask for her weight in silver,” Ragnar said and Rollo could not tell if his brother was toying with him.
“That could take weeks. We already have more than we can take home.”
“That is true but she is worth more than simply being a slave, no? She is the daughter of a Lord. I could send you to bargain for us and if you’re quick I’m sure we could set sail before the seas change.”
Rollo towered over Ragnar and this time he would not accept his brother's orders so easily. “I will not bargain for her. I am claiming her now and I don’t want her to be my slave. I will make her my bride and she will bear me sons.”
Ragnar laughed at this, his eyes dancing with pleasure, “you will marry this Christian woman?”
For a while he had looked for a woman who would be worthy to carry his sons. The way she killed Ake had caught his eye but it was her beauty which had sealed her fate to his. It was meant to be that he had found her. He was sure of it. “I will,” he said with determination.
“Well then I wish you luck, brother. Keep the Saxon and we will bring her back to Kattegat.”
Ragnar’s words should have pleased Rollo but he found himself filled with suspicion like he always did when it came to his brother. Competition was deep rooted in their bond and there never seemed to be a single thing which Rollo did, or had that Ragnar did not take, or better. But this time Rollo would not share. He would keep his little Valkyrie close. The closer the better.
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Rollo is called the Bear but that doesn’t mean he’s an animal.
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If his little Valkyrie had wanted to escape then she had done nothing more than make a fool of them both and Rollo hated to be laughed at. He could almost see the look on Ragnar's face and the way the story would be told at the feast this evening.
‘Rollo can’t control his tiny Saxon, Rollo returned home like a wet dog, Rollo almost killed himself for a woman.’ Perhaps that was the worst thing of all. Diving into the water had been a risk he’d taken with barely a second thought.
Maybe the Gods were teasing him. Or perhaps he was like all men, a fool for a beautiful face. Either way he was incensed. His blood was pumping in the way it did when he was in battle. But the only outlet was her, small and soaked and not daring to look at him.
“I could kill you where you sit, woman,” he barked, dragging her onto her feet. She might not have understood his words but saying them soothed his ego.
She inched away from him and he followed, backing her up until she was against a rock and looking like a pitiful creature rather than the goddess who had slain Ake. Her teeth were chattering with cold, her hands desperately trying to cover her modesty as her undergarments clung to her shape leaving little to the imagination.
“There’s nowhere for you to run,” he said, his words softening as anger gave way to an altogether different feeling.
Greedy eyes now devoured every dripping wet inch of skin before resting on her breasts where pink nipples budded tightly against sheer fabric. Rollo swallowed hard, lengthening uncomfortably in his sodden trousers.
When his eyes finally trailed their way to her lips he saw they quivered with a tinge of blue and he urged to warm them. To crush his mouth against hers and cover her body with his, filling her with heat. He could almost taste her, almost feel her legs around his waist.
Kattegat was a short walk away and when he finished with her here he could take her to his bed and claim her over and over again. But stealing pleasure from between her thighs would leave her broken and he did not want a broken thing. He’d seen far too many men with one of those.
This woman standing before him was no slave or lowborn creature. She was the daughter of a great lord and betrothed to the son of a king. He wanted her to be on fire when they came together and that meant he needed to kindle the desire his body already burned with.
He reached towards her, his thumb wiping away a drop of water which lingered on the cupid's bow of her lips. How soft she felt, how shallow her nervous little breaths, how wide eyed and beautiful her face. Temptation pained him like the edge of a blade but this gentle touch was all he would allow himself. For now.
“Rollo,” he said, thumping his chest like he’d done the first time he’d seen her.
She understood his meaning, he could at least see that much in her eyes and after a stubborn pause she whispered. “Edithe.”
Now he smiled, repeating her name which was not too strange on his tongue. In fact, he could already imagine himself calling it out like his favorite word when the time was right.
“You are mine now, Edithe,” he told her, knowing she did not understand but enjoying the pleasure of telling it anyway.
When they made it to the dock he shouted for Solveig who reluctantly fetched a blanket for him to cover Edithe with. He did not want her to fall ill with cold but more than anything his woman’s body was not for other men to see.
“Do you want me to take her to your home?” Solveig asked and Rollo thought about it for a moment.
“I will take her. You can fetch the slave Haedde and some clothes for her to wear.”
Solveig sneered, “you should make her suffer for making a fool out of you, Rollo.”
“She is too beautiful to punish,” he praised and Edithe returned his smile with a look of pure hatred.
“Then she will never learn,” Solveig warned but Rollo was not concerned. He was not bringing home an obedient dog, he was bringing home a Valkyrie.
Unhappily his return did not go unnoticed by Ragnar who approached them now with his smile broad across his face. “You’re a drowned rat, brother.”
Before Rollo could reply Ragnar was already bypassing him, his focus on Edithe. He spoke to her in the words of her people and her face filled with surprise at the sound of it. Yet again Rollo was eclipsed by his little brother, born after Rollo but always one step ahead.
“What are you saying?” he demanded and Ragnar turned, smirking.
“I am saying welcome to Kattegat. What do you think I would be saying, brother?”
“She will learn Norse. No more talking in Saxon,” he recalled Solveig's words, “or she will never learn.”
Ragnar sniggered good humouredly but still his words tested him, “with you as her teacher then perhaps not.”
So many times Rollo had been impatient and brute headed but not this time. Edithe would teach him restraint and he would teach her the ways of his people. “We’ll see won’t we,” he said, squaring up to Ragnar, “ little brother.”
He placed his hand on Edithe’s back and hurried her along, towards his home.
It was not much compared to some of the places he had seen in Briton but it was his alone and with two large rooms it was certainly big enough for the both of them. Although he would concede it was a little unkempt especially for the daughter of a Saxon lord.
He could sense Edithe’s disapproval as he nudged her through the door. But he was not sure if it was the surroundings that bothered her or simply his presence in them. She eyed the room warily before her head turned towards the sleeping chamber, the bed freshly stuffed with hay for his return home and the soft furs spread across it as invitation.
He knew what she was thinking and by the Gods he was thinking it too but he had made a promise. One more little touch couldn’t hurt. He reached for her, his fingertips tracing lightly over her spine. Beneath them he could feel her tense but it was only the first day. She would soften. He was sure of it.
“Welcome home, Valkyrie,” he said and she moved away from him, slumping into a chair and tightening the blanket about her shoulders.
Rollo was used to icy waters of the Baltic sea but she was still shivering so he took the time to light the fire before he left to unload the longboats with the others. Tonight there would be a feast and he had already decided that Edithe would not be joining him. He did not want to conceal her but he wanted to enjoy the festivities instead of carefully watching her every move.
The slave he had sent for would keep her company. She was a Saxon woman who had been captured on their second raid to Briton but more importantly she was old and obedient and could teach Edithe the words of his people. For she would need to know them if they were to be wed.
