Since Steinbjorn adopted Thora, he, Sigvid, and Slode took her under their wing and unanimously denied her the right to become a Drengr. Shieldmaidens are as fierce, if not deadlier, than many men. However, rearing a child meant the ferocious Drengr all went fucking soft for the little girl. When she sliced off two of Steinbjorn's toes when she was six, Sigvid should have relinquished his rules.
Dammit, she has earned the right to start on the path. And Steinbjorn would have agreed.
“How do you feel, Thora?” Avina asks.
“As if a weight has lifted from my shoulders, Aunt V.” Before Sigvid can step out of earshot, he hears Thora whisper to Avina, “Thanks for convincing me to talk to him. Maybe I can sleep tonight without seeing Sven’s body in the water.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Avina hug Thora.
“Do you want to finish our sparring session? I would be honored to be trained by a future Drengr.” Avina prompts Thora, who jumps to her feet.
“I thought you would never ask.” She runs upstairs. He can hear the back door open and close.
“Avina, wait.” He catches her wrist before she can follow.
“Yes?” Her lovely pink lips tug at the corners of her mouth.
“You seem in high spirits.” His tone is light and pleasant, unlike his usual gruff timbre.
A sadness he cannot understand perpetually clings to her sweetness. He suspects the past, perhaps even a dark realm of her mind haunts her.
She shifts her weight between her boots without looking at him. “Is happiness a crime?” She whispers.
“I did not expect you to tend to my animals or Thora while I was away. I am half-shocked to find you still here.”
Not that she would have had a chance to run. Calder watched Blackwood the last week while ordered to tend the farm and ensure a particular Queen did not flee. Judging by his kitchen, Avina managed everything. Between Helga, Kar, and Ingirid, he had someone she was familiar with stop by several times a day.
“Caring for the farm brings me joy, especially cuddles with the hounds,” she mutters.
He grins as he feels the same way.
When I trapped this woman in my clutches, I had no idea the depth of her heart. And I will destroy anyone who ever dimmed her light.
“The creatures have a way of quieting my simmering rage, much like you do.” He licks her lips, inducing a tremble in her. “I will not keep you from Thora.”
Begrudgingly, he releases his touch, allowing her to toss him a grin before following Thora outside.
Sigvid returns to his chair and lights his pipe with a rare smile.
November 21st, Year 100 9th Era
Toftlund City, Salt Province
Sigvid adjusts his forearm bracers while leaning against the rope fence of the Toftlund City indoor sparring ring. Living in Salt means there is no shortage of locations to beat the shit out of your friend or asshole brother.
Sweat drips down his tattooed bare chest from the pummeling he delivered to poor Slode, who sits icing his left knee. His closest friend is not the intended target of his frustration this morning.
One of the doors to the street opens, and Thrain enters, surrounded by a blizzard.
“Brother.” He opens his arms wide, still covered mostly in snow. “Are we still solving the problems of the province with violence?”
From the viewing seats, he can hear Slode scoff.
Sigvid slams his fist against his palm, “how else would we accomplish anything without hurting each other?”
Thrain casts off his clothing until he matches Sigvid muscle for muscle and ink for ink. “What is this about, Sig?” He jumps beside him with snowflakes still lingering in his chestnut hair bound at the nape of his neck.
Except for Slode, the brothers are entirely alone.
