Rebekah stirred slowly, her eyelids felt heavy as if weighed down by fish hooks trying to coax her back into sleep. A dull ache throbbed at her temples, and her mouth felt dry, tasting faintly of honeyed wine and something earthier. She blinked against the light filtering through the cracks in the longhouse.
"Mmmm," she groaned as she shifted around, finding her body tangled in a warm heap of limbs and bare skin. As she inhaled the scent of sweat and smoke from the dying hearth filled her nostrils, there was also the lingering musk of passion from last nights celebrations.
To her right, Lagertha lay half-naked, her tunic twisted around her waist, one arm draped over Gyda's bare shoulder. Meanwhile, Gyda breathed softly in sleep, her fair hair a wildly strewn about, her own clothing reduced to a blanket. On Rebekah's left, Thyri and Sophia were entwined in a more intimate sprawl, with Thyri's head nestled against Sophia's exposed breast, their legs interlaced and the former slightly grinding against the latter.
The hall was a sea of similar disarray with dozens of bodies slumped over benches, scattered furs and discarded garments forming makeshift nests. The only ones awake amongst them were the slaves, who moved quietly among them, stepping carefully over limbs as they gathered empty horns and cleared the worst of the mess.
Rebekah's heart gave a sudden lurch as fragments of the night flooded back; the wild dancing, Thorfinn's return like a dream made flesh. But where was he now? And Freydis! Gods, where was her daughter? She sat up abruptly, ignoring the protest of her sore muscles, her head whipping around in a frantic scan of the hall.
The children... there, in a far corner by the hearth, a cluster of little ones curled together under furs. Freydis was among them, her white hair peeking out like fresh snow, fast asleep with Ubbe's arm slung over her. Relief washed through Rebekah like cool water, but it was short-lived as Thorfinn was still nowhere in sight.
The bench where he'd last held her, the spot by the fire where they'd collapsed together was empty. Panic clawed at her chest. Had it all been a hallucination from too much drink? No, she would not humour that thought, the ache between her thighs was a testament to the night's reality.
She pushed herself to her feet, only to freeze as a draft kissed her bare body. She was completely naked, her skin marked with faint bruises and love bites, the cool morning air raising gooseflesh along her arms and legs.
She glanced around, spotting some of her clothing newrby as well as a discarded cloak, stained but serviceable. Snatching them up she got dressed before she wrapped the cloak around herself. It barely covered her thighs, but it would have to do.
Her bare feet padded across the floor, stepping gingerly over a snoring warrior and around a puddle of spilled ale. The slaves paused in their work, offering her bows, but she barely registered them, her pulse racing as she made for the door. Pushing it open with a creak, she stepped out into the crisp morning air of Kattegat. It was early in the morning so the village was only just stirring and with a lot of the village being at the feast last night, not many of them were up.
But more importantly there he was. Relief crashed over her like a wave, loosening the knot in her chest as she saw Thorfinn leaning against the outer wall of the longhouse, clad in a simple tunic and breeches that did little to hide the powerful build he'd gained in his years away. Beside him stood his friend, The Nubian, equally relaxed, the two of them passing a slender, carved pipe between them; what looked like a piece of wood hollowed out and smoldering at one end, releasing thin tendrils of smoke.
"Aru menkha tal'ib, Thorfinn. Sura kalem nadu!"
Thorfinn snorted, already smiling as he took the pipe.
"Ha! Tal'ara? Djemu ketara?"
The Nubian slapped his thigh and leaned forward, clearly delighted.
"Ketara? Hah! KETARA! Sura melka—naru, naru!"
He gestured with both hands in a wide exaggerated motion that made it perfectly clear what he meant. Thorfinn nearly choked on the smoke, coughing once before laughing.
"By the gods... Sura melka?"
"Melka! Melka!" the Nubian insisted proudly, thumping his chest. "Naru setra, Thorfinn. Setra!"
Thorfinn shook his head, still grinning as he passed the pipe back.
Rebekah couldn't say why but she enjoyed seeing Thorfinn with his friend, It was a side of him she hadn't seen before, it warmed her even as curiosity tugged at her thoughts. What stories were they sharing? What secrets from his travels?
Thorfinn's gaze shifted then, catching sight of her in the doorway. His expression softened instantly, a warm smile spreading across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He handed the pipe back to The Nubian without a word and crossed the distance to her in a few long strides. Before she could speak, his arms enveloped her, pulling her close against his solid chest. She melted into the embrace, her hands sliding up his back, inhaling the familiar scent of him mixed with the pipe's smoke, something that smelt fresh, like mint mingled with earthy herbs, soothing and invigorating all at once.
He tilted her chin up gently and captured her lips in a kiss, soft at first but deepening as she responded, her body arching instinctively toward him. The taste lingered on his tongue, that same minty herbal essence, tingling against her mouth, making her sigh into his mouth. When he finally pulled back, his hands lingered on her waist, his thumbs tracing circles through the thin cloak.
"I hope you slept well," he murmured, his blue eyes searching hers with a tenderness that made her heart flutter.
Rebekah smiled up at him, her fingers toying with the edge of his tunic. "Better than I have in four years, truly. It was like all the weight I'd been carrying just... lifted. Having you back, feeling you there beside me was perfect. Though my head's pounding a bit now, and I ache in places I didn't know I could."
Thorfinn's smile widened, a soft chuckle escaping him as he brushed a strand of her disheveled hair behind her ear. "That's the mark of a proper feast."
She turned her gaze to The Nubian then, who had hung back with an amused grin, still puffing on the pipe. "Good morning to you as well," she said warmly, stepping slightly out of Thorfinn's embrace but keeping one hand linked with his. "I didn't get to thank you properly last night for bringing him home. And for all those tales you spun."
The Nubian's eyes lit up, and he bowed dramatically, one hand over his heart as he exhaled a plume of smoke that carried that same minty scent. "You honour me Rebekah. Ah Thorfinn, to think I would be honoured by such a woman, even the sunrise on this beautiful day pales in comparison to the beauty that stands before me. Your eyes shine like the fjord under moonlight, and your smile could melt the winter snows. It is I who should thank you, for gracing us with your presence this morning, disheveled as we all are, you make it feel like a dawn worth waking for."
Rebekah felt a flush creep up her neck, but she couldn't help giggling, the compliment landing with a playful sincerity that charmed rather than offended. "You're too kind, truly. I've heard flattery before, but you make it sound like poetry."
Thorfinn rolled his eyes, though his lips twitched with amusement. "Leave her be, you old charmer. Don't listen to his silver tongue Rebekah, he's met at least a hundred women more beautiful than the sunrise on our travels alone."
The Nubian's face crumpled into an expression of shock, his free hand flying to his chest as if struck by an arrow. "Wounded! Betrayed by my closest brother-in-arms! How can you say such things after all we've shared, the sands we crossed, the beasts we slew? A hundred women? Perhaps, but none with the fire of the North in their veins like this one. You wound me deeply, Thorfinn. I may never recover. Tell me, fair Rebekah, do I not speak truth? Or has this brute poisoned your ears against me already?"
Their joking drew a genuine laugh from Rebekah, She leaned into Thorfinn's side, hugging herself against his warmth, her head resting briefly on his shoulder. "Oh, I think you're both lechers. But it's good to see him like this with friends who can stop him from brooding."
Thorfinn wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer with a squeeze that made her breath hitch slightly. He glanced back at the longhouse door, where faint sounds of stirring were beginning to emerge. "Are any of the others awake yet? The hall looked like a battlefield when I slipped out earlier."
She shook her head, her hair brushing against his chest. "Not that I saw. Everyone's still tangled up in there, snoring away. It was quite the feast last night, wilder than anything I remember. I don't think half the village will stir before noon, and the other half might wish they hadn't. Gods, the stories that'll come out of this one... Floki alone could fill a saga."
The Nubian nodded vigorously, taking another pull from the pipe before offering it to Thorfinn, who waved it off with a grin. "Ah, yes, quite the feast indeed! I've sampled the delights of many lands, but the women of the North? They've climbed to the top of my favorites now. Strong and hard in some places but oh, so soft in all the right ones. Fierce in the dance, generous in the embrace... it's a combination that could ruin a man for lesser pleasures. Tell me, have I found paradise here, or is this just the welcome? Because if every night is like that, I may never leave."
"It's true," Thorfinn agreed with a chuckle, his hand sliding down to give Rebekah's arse a teasing squeeze through the cloak. The sudden touch sent a spark through her, memories of the night flashing vividly. She grinned up at him, playfully swatting his arm but not pulling away.
Before she could retort, the longhouse door creaked open again. Elijah stepped out first, his dark hair tousled, tunic hastily laced as if he'd dressed in a hurry. Blaeja followed close behind, her hand tucked into his, her cheeks still flushed from sleep.
She smoothed her skirt with her free hand, offering a smile as she spotted the group. Elijah's gaze swept over them, lingering on Thorfinn with a nod, the morning light catching the subtle lines of fatigue around his eyes.
"Thorfinn, Rebekah," Elijah said with a respectful nod. He stood a pace away, one hand resting lightly on Blaeja's lower back as she leaned into him, her own cloak pulled tight against the chill. His gaze shifted then to the towering dark-skinned man beside Thorfinn, who was still idly turning the carved pipe between thick fingers. "Ummm... I apologise, but I don't believe I got your name last night in all the... revelry."
The Nubian's face split into a theatrical grin so wide it seemed to catch the sunrise itself. He straightened to his full height, his chest swelling like a ship under full sail, and spread both arms as though addressing an entire army.
"Ah, my friend of the straight blade and serious brow! Names! What a treacherous, glorious thing is a name!" He took a dramatic step forward. "In the south they call me the Moon and the Stars as wherever I walk, the night becomes brighter and women sigh like the tide. Others whisper of the Dark Blade, the shadow that cuts through armies without ever drawing steel. Some... some even speak of the Man with the Largest Cock in the Mediterranean... though I must humbly insist the bards exaggerate by at least two hands' breadth." He winked, utterly shamelessly. "In the spice markets of Alexandria they know me as He Who Makes Camels Blush. In the shadow ports of the Black Sea, the Laughing Storm. And once a very drunk Persian prince swore I was the reincarnated god of—"
"Enough you old windbag," Thorfinn said with a sigh, he then turned to Elijah, "He comes from a people who believe a name and a soul are the very same. When a father names his child, he is breathing a soul into the babe. Outside their blood kin, they never speak their true names to anyone. It is sacred. To give it freely is to hand another power over your very spirit."
The Nubian nodded solemnly. "Names carry weight heavier than iron, my serious friend. Speak a true name with ill intent and you can bind a man, curse his line, steal the fire from his hearth. Even the gods grow wary when mortals know their true names. So I travel light and carry only the names others choose to gift me for they weigh nothing and cost nothing."
Elijah's brow furrowed in thought, the way it always did when something puzzled him. He glanced at Blaeja, then back, choosing his words with careful respect. "I... see. It is a strange custom to us, but a worthy one. We will not press."
Blaeja gave an understanding smile, though her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Just then Nubian, then," she said lightly, tilting her head toward the big man. "Though I'm starting to think his real name simply sounds ridiculous and that's why he doesn't want any of us to know it."
The words landed perfectly. Thorfinn barked loud laugh that rumbled through his chest. Rebekah pressed her face into his shoulder to hide her grin. Even Elijah's stern mouth twitched. The Nubian threw his head back and roared with laughter,.
"Ridiculous!" he wheezed, slapping his thigh hard enough to make the sound echo. "Oh, you wound me deeper than any blade, fair Blaeja! But aye perhaps it is true. Perhaps my name is something ridiculous like 'Little Fish Who Swims Upstream.' Who can say?" He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand, still chuckling, then took another slow pull from the pipe, the fragrant smoke curling around his face before he offered it back to Thorfinn.
Thorfinn accepted i, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips. He inhaled deeply, holding the smoke a moment before letting it drift from his nose in twin streams.
Rebekah watched the thin blue thread of smoke rise and tilt her head. "What is it, exactly? It smells... clean. Like mint and something sweeter."
Thorfinn lowered the pipe, offering it to her with an easy smile. "It is a pipe, a small hollowed out piece of wood, a simple thing. You put the herbs in the end and inhale them. I first found one like it when we landed in the great desert after crossing the southern sea. The Mandinka people use them to ease the heat and clear the mind. Here—" He placed it gently in her hands, guiding her fingers to the correct hold. "Small breath at first."
Rebekah hesitated only a heartbeat, then brought it to her lips and drew. The smoke hit her tongue, tasting of wintergreen and dried berries and something faintly sweet. Her eyes widened in surprise; then she coughed hard, doubling over as the unfamiliar burn filled her lungs. Thorfinn's chuckle rolled out, while he rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. "Easy, love. It takes getting used to."
Elijah eyed the pipe with open suspicion. "Smoke from any fire is poison. I have seen men choke to death in burning halls. Why would you willingly draw it into your lungs?"
Thorfinn met his gaze steadily, the scar on his chest shifting as he breathed. "These are no hearth flames. They are dried berries and medicinal herbs. It settles the mind after too much mead, eases the ache in old wounds, and clears the head. Nothing that harms I promise you. Try it."
Elijah took the pipe after a long pause. He inhaled with the caution of a man testing a new blade, held the smoke, then exhaled smoothly without so much as a cough. A faint look of surprise crossed his face. He nodded. "It... does not burn. Feels almost pleasant. You have an extra one of these?"
Thorfinn grinned. "I will carve you one before the sun sets."
He leaned back against the longhouse wall then, watching the sunrise paint the rooftops gold. The village was waking properly now. "Kattegat has changed a great deal since I've been gone," he said quietly, almost to himself. "I scarcely recognise half the streets from the last time I walked them. New roofs, wider paths... even the smell of the place feels different."
Rebekah followed his gaze, her hand resting lightly on his forearm. "The harbour additions helped more than anything. Floki widened the docks to three new piers now, deep enough for the biggest knarrs from the south. Traders come from every coast and bring lots of things we've never had before. It brought wealth we never dreamed of after... after what Dahlia left behind."
Thorfinn's jaw tightened for the briefest moment at the witch's name, then softened. "It is good to see it thriving. Four years ago I could not even imagine Kattegat rising again. The longhouse was rubble, the people broken. To see it standing tall, full of life and laughter... it heartens me more than I can say."
The Nubian exhaled another plume of smoke and spoke with rare solemnit. "Time is a strange river, my brother. It drowns some villages and lifts others like driftwood. You left a wounded pup; you return to find a wolf grown strong on its own blood. That is the way of things. The gods smile on those who refuse to stay broken."
Elijah shifted his weight, the serious set of his shoulders easing only slightly. "Speaking of strength have you kept up your sword training while you wandered the world?"
Thorfinn turned to face him fully. A slow, dangerous smirk curved his mouth, the same one Elijah remembered from four years ago. "A little," he answered.
The Nubian burst out laughing, a great booming sound that made heads turn from across the square. Blaeja sighed heavily and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead in a perfect face-palm, her dark hair falling forward. "This lump I married has trained himself damn near bloody these past four years," she said, voice dry as winter wind. "Every dawn, every dusk, rain or snow. I swear the training posts fear him more than his actual enemies now."
Elijah's eyes met Thorfinn's, the old mentor-student spark igniting between them. "Then perhaps we should see how much you truly remember. Care for a spar, old friend?"
Thorfinn's smirk widened into a full grin. "I would like nothing better."
Elijah glanced toward a nearby thrall who was sweeping the steps and called out, "Boy fetch two wooden swords from the rack inside. The long ones, not the children's toys." The thrall nodded and darted away.
The two men walked together into the open square in front of the longhouse. Elijah stopped at a rain barrel, rolled up his sleeves, and splashed cold water over his face and neck, shaking droplets from his dark hair like a dog.
Meanwhile Thorfinn stretched slowly, rolling his shoulders until the joints cracked, then reached back and pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion, tossing it over a nearby fence post.
A few early risers, stopped dead and stared. The scar across Thorfinn's chest stood out; a blackened, circular brand ringed with dead-looking flesh, as though something had tried to hollow him out from the inside. Elijah's eyes narrowed on it, concern flickering beneath his usual stoicism. "That scar... it is new. What in the gods' names did that to you?"
Thorfinn glanced down at the mark, his expression darkening for a heartbeat. He traced it once with two fingers, then dropped his hand. "It is a scar from a time I wish not to relive," he said quietly. "Leave it at that, my friend. Some wounds are better left in the dark."
Elijah gave a respectful nod.
The thrall returned at a run with the wooden swords in hand. He passed one to Elijah, one to Thorfinn. Both men tested the weight, gave the hilts a practice swing.
At that exact moment the longhouse door creaked open again. Sophia stepped out first, yawning widely, one of Thorfinn's spare tunics hanging loose on her smaller frame, hair a wild dark cloud around her face. Right behind her came a sleepy Niklaus with his arm slung around Tatia's shoulders, both of them still rumpled and flushed from the night's exertions.
Sophia blinked at the scene, rubbing one eye. "What is going on out here?"
The Nubian grinned, pipe still in hand. "Our white-haired brother and the ever-serious Elijah are about to spar."
Sophia's laughter rang out bright and clear. "Oh, this I have to see."
Rebekah tilted her head, curious. "Why are you both laughing like that? It's only a friendly bout."
Sophia opened her mouth to answer, eyes sparkling with mischief, but the Nubian raised a hand quickly, shushing her with a theatrical finger to his lips. "No, no do not spoil it, little storm. Let them discover for themselves."
Niklaus chuckled, still half-asleep, and scratched at his beard. "Elijah is one of the best warriors in the village if not the best outright. He was Thorfinn's teacher back when the boy could barely hold a sword straight... Gods, that feels like a lifetime ago."
Rebekah laughed softly. "It does, doesn't it? Back when everything was simpler."
Thorfinn and Elijah faced each other now in the centre of the square.
"Ready?" Elijah asked.
Thorfinn answered with a smile. "Always."
He let the sword dangle for half a heartbeat, then flipped it upward in a lazy spin. The ash blade turned once, twice, three times above his head before he caught it behind his back with two fingers. He brought it forward again, spun it along his forearm, flipped it under his armpit, caught it with the same hand, and finally sent it cartwheeling end over end so it landed perfectly in his palm. The whole display took no more effort than breathing.
Elijah watched without moving a muscle. "Fancy stick twirling never won a fight," he said flatly, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet. "If that is what you learned wandering the world for four years, I may need to train you all over again, boy."
Thorfinn chuckled and rolled his shoulders. "From the earth to the last sea there is not a better swordsman than I."
Elijah's mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. "Then prove it."
They stepped together without another word.
The first clash rang out loudly. Elijah came in quickly, the way he always did with his blade sweeping for Thorfinn's lead knee. Thorfinn did not step back. He simply turned his wrist, met the blow at an angle no one should have been able to find, and the wooden swords kissed with a crack. Before Elijah could reset, Thorfinn's blade slid along the length of Elijah's, twisted, and flicked upward. The sword flew from Elijah's hand, spinning high into the air. Thorfinn caught it left-handed, spun both blades once like a juggler, and tossed Elijah's back to him with the pommel first.
"First," Thorfinn said quietly.
Elijah caught it, his eyes narrowed now. "Lucky."
The second exchange lasted longer. Elijah pressed harder than before with his blade whipping in powerful arcs meant to crowd Thorfinn's space. Thorfinn gave ground exactly one step, then planted his feet. He parried once, twice, then suddenly dropped low and swept his sword in a wide horizontal arc. Elijah leapt over it, but when he landed Thorfinn was already inside his guard. A single rolling motion of the wrist and Elijah's sword sailed away again, clattering against the side of a rain barrel twenty feet off.
"Second," Thorfinn said.
From the edge of the square the Nubian let out a whistle. "By the gods of my fathers," he called, pipe still smoking in his hand, "the boy moves like the wind itself. I have seen kings and champions from every shore and none of them dance like that."
Sophia folded her arms. "He is a monster with that thing."
Elijah shook his head once, more in wonder than anger and retrieved his sword. "Again."
The third time Elijah came at him with everything he had. He feinted high, cut low, reversed into a thrust that would have opened a lesser man's belly. Thorfinn met every strike without hurry. His blade seemed to know where Elijah's would be before Elijah himself decided. He turned one blow into a spinning parry that carried him all the way around Elijah's body, then simply reached out and plucked the sword from Elijah's fingers as if the man had offered it to him.
"Third," Thorfinn said softly.
Elijah stood empty-handed, his chest rising and falling. For a long moment the square was quiet except for the distant cry of gulls over the fjord. Then Elijah started to laugh... quiet at first, then louder, the sound rolling out of him like thunder. He clapped Thorfinn hard on the shoulder, the impact loud enough that half the watchers flinched.
"Gods damn you," Elijah said, still laughing. "In all my life I've never had a man pick the sword out of my hand... I'm glad to see you haven't gotten rusty after all."
Thorfinn laughed with him, the two of them standing there in the middle of the square like old friends who had never been apart. "You have grown better yourself," he answered, tossing the second sword back. "That last combination would have taken my head four years ago."
They might have said more, but at that moment small feet pounded across the earth and a loud voice cut through the morning air.
"Papa!"
Freydis came running full tilt from the longhouse door, white hair flying behind her like a banner, and her bare feet slapping the ground. She did not slow down until she slammed into Thorfinn's legs and wrapped both arms around one thigh as if she meant to climb him like a tree.
Thorfinn's whole face changed. The warrior mask dropped away and left only the father. He dropped to one knee in the dirt, scooped her up with one arm, and lifted her high so her legs dangled and she squealed with delight. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, the way she had done the night before.
"You were fighting," she said, voice muffled against his skin but loud enough for everyone to hear. "With Uncle Elijah. Did you win?"
Thorfinn pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his big hand on her back. "I did. But only because your uncle let me. He is too kind to an old wanderer like me."
Elijah snorted, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. "Do not listen to him, little one. Your father has become a terror with a blade. I fear the rest of us will have to work twice as hard now just to keep up."
Freydis peeked over Thorfinn's shoulder at Elijah. "Can I learn too? Mama says I am too small, but I can already beat Ubbe and Hvitserk."
Rebekah stepped closer, the borrowed cloak still wrapped around her, and rested a hand on Thorfinn's free shoulder. "We will talk about that when you are taller than a goat, my wild one."
Thorfinn bounced Freydis once, making her giggle again. "We will see. First you must show me how well you can hold a stick without dropping it. Then we talk about swords." He glanced sideways at Elijah, the old easy grin returning. "What do you say, teacher? Shall we start the girl on wooden blades before the summer raids?"
Elijah rubbed his chin, pretending to consider it while he smiled slightly. "Only if she's not as talented as her father. I have my pride to think of."
Everyone in the square laughed at that, but none more than Thorfinn whose deep chuckle rumbled through his chest as he bounced Freydis once more on his hip. Rebekah leaned into his side, her hand resting on his arm as she giggled, while the Nubian threw his head back and let out that great booming sound that always seemed to shake the very air around him.
Rebekah wiped a stray tear of mirth from her cheek and looked up at Thorfinn. "Come back with us to the house Lagertha and I keep here in Kattegat. It is not far, just past the new market stalls. I will set the hearth going and make a proper breakfast for all of us. No one should face the day on an empty belly after a feast like that one."
Before Thorfinn could answer, the Nubian stepped forward, one massive hand clapped over his stomach. "By every god who ever walked sand or snow, woman, you speak the words my belly has been screaming since the sun rose! I am starving like a wolf that has not seen meat since the last full moon. Lead on, fair Rebekah lead on before I start gnawing the fence posts!"
Thorfinn snorted. "Careful brother, you have been getting fat since we crossed the Alps. Hold back on the food or you will need a new belt before the next moon."
The Nubian's eyes went wide in outrage. He set the pipe down on a barrel, grabbed the hem of his tunic with both hands and yanked it up to his neck in one smooth motion. The light caught every ridge and swell of muscle across his chest and belly. "Fat? Fat, he says!" He slapped his stomach hard enough that the sound cracked across the square. "Does this look like porridge can maintain it? Simple oats and fish could never hold a body like this together. I am carved from the same stone the gods used for mountains, you jealous pale whelp!"
Freydis buried her face in Thorfinn's shoulder and giggled so hard her small body shook.
Thorfinn rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched with a grin he could not quite hide. "Come on, then, before you start finish everyone's breakfast."
They moved together through the streets of Kattegat, the little group swelling as they walked. Sophia fell in beside Thorfinn, her hand brushing his free arm now and then. Elijah and Blaeja walked close behind, Niklaus and Tatia trailing with smiles still on their faces. Freydis rode high on her father's hip the whole way.
The house Rebekah and Lagertha kept in Kattegat stood just beyond the market square. Rebekah moved inside, stirring the fire back to life while the others found places on the benches and stools. Soon the smell of porridge bubbling with honey and berries filled the air, bread warmed on the stones, and strips of smoked fish sizzled in a pan. They ate like people who had never eaten before, talking with their mouths full, laughing when the Nubian told another story about a camel that had once tried to make love to him, passing horns of mead around the table.
The morning stretched out as they ate. Gyda wandered in a little later, her hair still a little wild from sleep, rubbing her eyes and demanding to know why no one had woken her. Thyri arrived not long after, yawning but smiling when she saw Thorfinn. Lagertha came through after that with a basket of fresh eggs just as the first bowls were being refilled.
Floki and Helga appeared before the sun had climbed much higher, Floki already halfway through some mad tale about a dream he had the night before involving ravens and a talking axe. They spoke of old raids and new ships, of the new people in Kattegat, of the strange herbs in the pipe, and of the summer raids that were already being planned. Hours slipped by in the warmth of food and company, the kind of day that felt like it could last forever.
It was well past midday when a heavy knock sounded at the door.
*Knock*
*Knock*
*Knock*
Rebekah rose, wiping her hands on her skirt and crossed the room. She pulled the door open, expecting perhaps one of her brothers or someone else.
What she didn't expect was her father, Mikael.
Who stood there grimly until his eyes found Thorfinns.
"We have business to speak," he said. "Now."
(AN:A bit of a relaxed chapter. Just thorfinn getting to relax with his family again before we go into the raids and shit like that. Anyway hope you enjoyed.)
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