"The Dane and the Lady"

Mylecent looked up at Eric when he entered. Although she wasn't afraid of him, she dreaded to hear whatever degrading comment he had to offer. She was a bit surprised when instead he sat beside her. Telling her about Giselle being their healer. The woman looked like a wild gypsy, and slightly unnerved her.

She rolled her eyes when he said he would try to be nicer to her. Then raised an eyebrow when he gave her an ultimatum. She had no doubt that he would follow through and she was in too much pain to fight him much.

Sucking in a deep breath Mylecent squeezed her eyes and lips together tightly and gritted her teeth, engulfing her hands in the water. Tears sprung from the corner of her eyes, her body leaned to the side and she banged her head against Erics shoulder in effort to keep from crying out.

In that moment what she realized more then anything is she wanted his arms around her, holding her, embracing her as if he cared. Why couldn't they get along? Would it simply just be a marriage for land and title?

Within seconds she just laid her head against him as the pain disappeared. It was like a wave of agony that had been lifted and her eyes opened. "thank you Giselle" She said with genuine feeling in a soft voice.

Lifting her head from Erics shoulder she looked at him in the eyes. "thank you for seeing that I go through with this" she said softly. "Hagar was right, you should be nicer to me" she teased bumping his shoulder with hers.

"When do we go back to SortVand?" she questioned trying to keep the conversation useful. "We'll have rebuilding to do, a ceremony to plan, and a few other things to ensure our union is legitimate in the eyes of the king." she paused for a moment and then continued. "I heard laughter out there, it seems that the merging is working out. There will be some that are skeptical, it's just the way it goes. But i ask you to give them time to adapt. Some weren't brought up with the same view."

When the soaking was complete, Giselle wrapped her hands in odd looking bandages. She wasn't going to say a word, after removing the pain as she did she wouldn't question this healers ability again.

Mylecent's reaction to the hot water didn't surprise Eric in the least. He'd suffered this treatment often after injuries from both battle and simple accidents. But when she leaned her head into him seeking some sort of compassionate company, that did surprise Eric. It wasn't like they were friends now or like they ever would be.

Would they? Eric couldn't help but wonder. He'd essentially blackmailed her into marriage by threatening to sell her people off into slavery. Ironically, he hadn't been encouraging Mylecent toward offering herself up as his English wife: Eric had actually only been trying to get her to willingly offer up herself as his new sexual partner. As the word got out across the Northeastern Kingdoms that Eric was regularly abusing (in the most personal of ways) the daughter of an English lord, the boost to his reputation amongst his fellow lords and even the Royalty would have been worth more than the sacking of ten villages.

But marrying one? Marrying an English noble woman, marrying Mylecent instead of just fucking her regularly? Of letting her own enslaved people hear her crying out in anguish night after night, then letting one of them escape to flee back to her own people and report the abuse? Even though emptying his cock into her evening after evening might have been more fun, the marriage idea Mylecent had proposed to him was far more satisfying in the long run.

"Thank you Giselle."

Mylecent's words of appreciation brought Eric out of his reverie about his future with this woman. For her part, Giselle only grunted a few words which likely would have been unintelligible to the English woman. It wasn't just the healer's volume and slurring that made understanding her difficult: Giselle was actually Basque, and while she understood both Eric and Mylecent's first languages, she rarely spoke either one of them.

The only time Giselle really said much at all was when she was performing her other significant duty, foretelling the future of Eric and his people. Giselle was a Seer as well as a Healer, and before making any big decision, Eric always went to Giselle to watch her shake and spill the bones and tell him what would happen before it actually did.

The timing for the attack on SortVand had come as a direct result of Giselle's reading of her tokens. As they'd sat in her cave in the rock face uphill of Kjelst, surrounded by a cloud of scent-heavy smoke that made breathing almost impossible, Giselle had told Eric, "Victory will come on the third moon after the third day after the third wolf howls."

The prediction had been both exact and vague at the same time. Third, third, third: all Eric had to do was be aware of the moon's phases and the howls coming from the wolf packs hunting in the woods surrounding Kjelst. Yet, the wolves howled nearly every night. Which wolf? One wolf? Or three? And were they to howl on the same night or three different nights? No, that wasn't what Giselle said. Was it? And was he to wait for the third wolf before counting full moons? And Giselle hadn't actually said full moon: it had been implied, because when the Danes spoke of the moon without any other descriptive words, that always meant full moon.

But Eric had learned not to seek clarification from Giselle. His father had told him that once spoken, the foretellings were not to be questioned. "It will come to you, the meaning. It will come to you: don't seek it."

Eric had become obsessed with finding meaning in the prediction, almost to the point of not being able to pay attention to anything or anyone else. Moira had seen the effect on her master and had often offered her body to Eric in an effort to relieve his tension, only to be ignored or even sent to find another place to sleep for the night.

Then it all came together in a way Eric would never had interpreted. While on a solo hunt away from Kjelst, seeking answers more than prey, Eric fell into a crevasse and was wedged, unable to free himself. His suspicions that he'd been being tracked by wolves was confirmed when just minutes later he looked up to find one looking down at him. It went away without a sound, only to be replaced by a second canine, then a third. And this one howled loud and long, sending a chill through Eric's pain wracked body like nothing he'd every felt before.

With the pack of wolves slowly assembling above him, Eric fought to free himself. He had a destiny to fulfill, a foretelling. He had no fear of the wolves: Giselle had said nothing of his being killed and eaten by them. He would struggle, becoming weaker and more dehydrated as the elements threatened to kill him then and there. Finally freeing himself, Eric pulled himself up and out to find himself surprisingly alone, with the exception of the howling wolf. The rest of the pack had mysteriously disappeared, yet this third wolf simply sat on its haunches and watched as Eric searched for a heavy limb to use as a crutch and began his way back to Kjelst.

It would take Eric three days to reach the trail on which some of the massive search party found him. As they lifted him into their arms, Eric looked behind him to the woods, then to the sky above: the wolf had followed him and now, after making eye contact with him, turned and disappeared; and above him, the moon was in its first quarter. Eric had his date.

The fleet had launched in time to get here, to rest, to prepare, and to attack, as planned on the third moon after the third day after the third wolf howled. And the Vikings had been victorious.

But there had been a second half of Giselle's prediction: "But be wary! Foe becomes friend becomes family becomes foe ... becomes death!"

That hadn't made any sense to Eric, not that it had been meant to. After Mylecent had proposed they be married, the foe becomes friend part made sense; friend becomes family obviously meant that they were going to have a child together, right? But family becomes foe becomes death? Eric didn't like that part of the predication at all. It could be that he was misreading Giselle's foretelling altogether. Only time would tell.

"Thank you for seeing that I go through with this," Mylecent told Eric. "Hagar was right, you should be nicer to me."

Eric laughed, responding quickly with a humorous tone, "Yes, well, I'll speak to him about presenting me with impossible tasks."

Giselle stepped up, handing Eric an odd looking tool and murmuring again in her Basque gibberish. Eric told Mylecent, "This will hurt a bit, but it's needed."

The tool was a small bellows, which he aimed toward Mylecent's hands and began squeezing. Air rushed out over her sensitive skin, drying it. He gestured her to roll her hands so that he could air dry all of her skin.

Near them, Giselle (with the aid of another slave who had accompanied her here) was sprinkling a light powder into long, thin strips of cloth. The bandages were very lightweight, almost like cheese cloth. It was also expensive, rare, and limited, something the Vikings had gotten via trade with Bulgars from the east years earlier. If Mylecent had known just how rare it was, she would have realized how important Eric believed her healing and comfort to be, for of all the Danes in his community, only he, his mother, and now Mylecent had ever been afforded it.

As they worked on her, Mylecent asked, "When do we go back to SortVand?"

Eric only glanced up at his betrothed, unsure of how to answer. After putting the village to the flame, there wasn't much left of it except for the stone walls of the church and the small keep in which Mylecent and her family had lived. The huts and most of the buildings, made of wood and reed, were now little more than ash.

"We'll have rebuilding to do, a ceremony to plan, and a few other things to ensure our union is legitimate in the eyes of the king."

"Word must be sent," he said rather vaguely. He could see in Mylecent's reaction that she didn't quite understand his meaning. He clarified, "The English must know that you are alive and well, that you have not been harmed or violated."

By violated, Eric meant of course raped. He went on, "With word, the English will know that you and your people are with me and mine willingly. That our people are together as one."

"I heard laughter out there, it seems that the merging is working out. There will be some that are skeptical, it's just the way it goes. But I ask you to give them time to adapt. Some weren't brought up with the same view."

Giselle and the other Danish woman began wrapping Mylecent's hands in the bandages, the former chastising the latter each time she flinched at the pain and messed up the delicate work. Eric pulled his dagger from his hip to cut the bandage when the healer finished the first hand, only to be surprised when Giselle reached up to the rat's nest atop her head and pull a thin, razor sharp blade from it. She easily sliced the bandage, then jabbed the blade back into her hair seemingly without concern that she was going to slide off an ear or scalp herself.

Soon, Mylecent's hands were encased in the yellowish-white cloth. Giselle asked her to wiggle her fingers to ensure she had range of motion and circulation. Then, just as suddenly as Giselle and her helper had appeared, they turned and were gone.

"We need to talk about those who won't, what was your word, merge?" Eric asked. His expression was a serious one now as he continued, "Your people, your people, the ones who will not be party to this marriage, this merging of your people and mine into ours. They can not remain here with us. We would not be safe..."

By that, Eric specifically meant that he would not be safe. One of the less submissive English would certainly try to put a blade in his back. He continued, "...and they would not be safe, even as slaves. They would have to be sold, or released. I know you prefer released. But..."

He didn't know any other way to say it but bluntly. "But it is not our way, to let go of slaves without payment."

"Your way, our way" she sighed laying her head back against his shoulder again. She thought for a moment and then considered her words carefully before responding.

"You want to be Lord legally under the eyes of England, so that 'our' people have the opportunity to take foot in a new land and prosper. To do that you cannot sell your new countries people, or ransom them. That would be considered a 'criminal' act against the crown. That would give the king a reason to disclaim the rights, which means he will take our lands for himself. You cannot fight the whole land of England and prosper Eric." she said softly Taking his hand and laying her bandaged one over it.

"You are right in the sense that those that disagree with our union can cause mayhem where there not be any. But if you condemn them with only your fear of what they may do, then you are not being just and fair and that will not win you favor with your new people, or your new country,.. or your wife" she said the last part elbowing him lightly with the attempt to lighten the conversation slightly.

"I understand your concerns, and for such there should be a plan in place that will prevent any 'revolt', either from your or my people. Such as guards and such for both you or my person. For just as some of my people are not happy, i am certain that there are some of yours that are less then happy about the recent developments as well.

It is easy to say that 'my people are loyal and would never betray me.' However, we cannot control another persons thoughts or actions. We can only be aware of the possibility of such an occurrence and hope it does not happen. In the event any such attempt is made, there will be steps in place to ensure that person is made an example of so there shouldn't be revolt from either side, instead a combined unity."

She thought for a few more moments before bringing her hand to her lips and kissing it lightly before laying it back upon her leg with her own.

"There are some major differences between our ways of living. There are some things that can not be done as you have done before. At least at Sortvand, they can not. The King, if we do this correctly, will have no recourse in legally removing you from Sortvand, or from England. But he will be looking for any way he can to do so. That will also mean that the actions of our people will be under scrutiny as well.

Despite giving my father Sortvand, the King wasn't a big fan of his. That is partly why we became self sufficient. With a combination of skills and resources we never ran out of food, water, we never had a need of requesting a favor. We paid our taxes without failure, which was his only recourse. We have trade set up with some nearby villages, we are settled and solitaire. We do not raid, steal, and plunder, there isn't a need for it. We do not sell people like farm animals, or force people to serve us. We pay them to."

Eric understood every thing Mylecent was telling him. And while she was correct on every point, it didn't mean that all of it was going to sit well with either him or his warriors. There were Viking: it was their nature to pillage and plunder, the very basis of their being. It had been hard enough for Eric's grandfather to restrain his people after being given SortVand so many years earlier. And now, Eric was asking his people to do the same and join their cultures and homes with people who just yesterday had been the enemy.

"Come with me," Eric said with an inviting tone, helping Mylecent to her feet without engaging her wrapped hands. Eric had been bothered by Mylecent's reaction to his walking away from her and her people earlier in the day and now wished to make amends for what must have seemed very disrespectful. "I wish to speak to your people, with you at my side."

They made their way out of the small hut and toward the largest structure in the temporary village. It was a longhouse in name only: it was fare less than half the size of Eric's longhouse back in Kjelst, barely 30 feet long and 15 feet wide with a peak of only 12 feet, and because it had been constructed in just 3 days, it lacked the sturdy construction such a house back in Denmark would feature.

This village on the shore was had never been intended to be a permanent settlement. It left the Vikings vulnerable to attack from both the sea and cliffs above. But either was unlikely: the English in this region did not have boats for such attacks like did the Vikings; and the cliffs were even more difficult to reach to attack the beachhead than they were reached from the beachhead itself. Scouts on the cliffs could see every direction from which an attack might occur.

Even more that the concerns of battle, though, were the concerns of sustaining a growing village. This beachhead offered none of the farm and ranch lands that did places like SortVand. Even if Mylecent had suggested that she and Eric marry and claim SortVand together, the Danes would have had to find an inland settlement before the upcoming winter.

"Gather everyone up!" Eric called to his men as he escorted Mylecent through the small village. "Dane, English. Everyone!"

As the entirety of the community's population either filed into or was herded into the structure, Eric quickly saw that the longhouse was actually a not-quite-long-enough longhouse. It was soon packed with the 24 English, mostly women and children with only 4 older males who hadn't seemed a threat but were still able to sustain the march; and 60 Danes, of which (now after 3 deaths in SortVand) included 39 male warriors, 8 female Shield Maidens, and 13 other men, women, and children, the latter ranging from 8 years of age up.

As the group packed inside, Eric noticed that, for the most part, the English gathered together to his right while the Danes did the same to the right. There was some mingling nearer the interior and Eric even noticed that some of the English women seemed to have intentionally stuck close to the Dane men with whom they'd been getting familiar through the day. He glanced to Mylecent to see if she, too, was noticing this merging as she'd called it.

"Please sit," Eric encouraged.

At their end of the longhouse's interior, Eric had led Mylecent to a small platform built of split logs laid curved side down onto a built up mound of dirt. There was a crudely made throne of sorts constructed of sawn, split logs. Eric gestured his bride to be to it, telling her, "I'll have to have one made for you, too, m'lady."

Looking back toward the other end, at which the last of the Danes were herding in the last of the English, Eric was looking over a ten foot long fire pit that ran down the center of the longhouse. When they'd first arrived here, all of their meals had been cooked and eaten here. There were simple split log benches flanking the pit, and along the walls of the structure were most of the community's supplies, possessions, and pillage. Amongst the grain bags and collected grasses and foliage were large furs and cloth blankets still used as beds for many of the Danes who didn't live in the dozen or so huts that had been constructed after the longhouse's completion.

Once most of the community was seated or standing aside near the walls, Eric began.

"I brought my people here, to England, to Northumberland, to seek revenge for what was done to me, to us. SortVand. It was given to my grandfather as a place to build a settlement and begin a new life. Given, not taken! Given freely, by the English king, as a way to find peace and friendship between our very different peoples. For years, for two generations, Danes lived there, farmed there, birthed their children there. It was their home, and my birthright."

He hesitated for a moment, glancing between the mostly Danish cluster to the left and the mostly English one to the right. "Then, SortVand was taken from us by the English. By force! My grandfather's people were slaughtered. My people were slaughtered. And SortVand, their birthright was stolen from them."

Eric hesitated again, then swept a hand out before him to indicate the English as spoke to the Danes. "But these English. They are not the English who slaughtered our people. They did not commit this treachery. They will not be held responsible for it. They will not be punished for the treachery of others."

Glancing to his Jarls, Eric could see in their faces that some of them were not content with a bag of gold and the possibility of a peaceful future in Northumberland, possibly with an English wife or lovers. He had talked to Hagar, Rogan, and Gunnar individually, as well as together with the other 3 Jarls here in England with him, about his and Mylecent's plans. Each had had a very different opinion on it.

Regretfully, Eric feared that he was about to lose the loyalty of some of them. One of his nobles had expressed an interest to return to Kjelst, while another wanted to stay in England and continue pillaging. Eric had compensated his Karls and Jarls with coin. But it hadn't been enough for all.

"It is tragic that our people, English and Dane, Christian and Pagan, has to come together like this the way they did," Eric said, looking from Danes to English. "But we have come together. Or, at least will."

He looked to the English woman sitting on his throne, then back to the entire assemblage as he explained, "Lady Mylecent and I have made a commitment to one another. To return to SortVand. To be wed. To rebuild. Not a town of Danes. Not a town of English. A town of and for both."

Eric descended from the platform and looked again to the clump of English. "Those of you who do not wish to live in such a community will be allowed to leave. You will not be sold into slavery. You will not be ransomed to family or to your King. You will not be harmed in any way. At the next moon, when I feel it is safe to release your without harming those remaining behind, we will take you down the shoreline to the nearest town, where you will be released. You will be given coin to begin your new lives."

Eric glanced back at Mylecent for her reaction, then turned to look between his Jarls. "Those of you who wish to return home may. You are honored and loyal subjects. I hope with all my heart that you will return to Kjelst and continue to protect our people."

He didn't touch on the subject of some of them continuing their pillaging of English villages and towns. Eric knew that Mylecent would object to that, that she would try to talk him into talking them out of it. He wasn't going to even try.

Instead, he returned to the platform and again helped Mylecent to her feet with a hand to her arm. "I have something to show you."




"This is for you now," Eric told Mylecent after they'd returned to what had been his hut. "I hope you will be comfortable here."

While he and the noble woman had been speaking to the others, Moira and a second slave had been cleaning and arranging the hut to be less a man's home and more a woman's.

"I wish to speak to your people, with you at my side."
"our people" she lightly corrected with a smile and walked with him through the village to the meeting area. When he directed her to his throne, she smiled and gave him a slight curtsy.

The wooden structure swallowed her small frame, she felt like a child's toy upon a shelf. But she watched him with a new found respect as he gathered everyone and began speaking to the crowd. She watched curiously as his words resonated with the crowd. Some nodded, others frowned. But when he looked back to her after his statement of those that wished to be free of the situation could be and with coin as well, she smiled genuinely at him. He would indeed make a great lord, and she would make sure of it.

With a little work he could even possibly be a King. Yes he was a Dane, but he was smart enough to recognize change was required to survive in Northumberland the way his ancestors did. But there may be a solution for his warriors that still had the itch to plunder and pillage. He hadn't said it, but he also hadn't addressed it, which led her to think that perhaps he would be open to another solution.

She listened to the whispers while pretending to be solely focused on what he was saying. She watched the expressions, and heard the mumbles. Yes some would be fine, others not so much. But Eric had made it clear that no one was a prisoner, and all would soon be free to do as they wish.

Bowing her head at his request she rose from the chair and took his arm as he led her to his hut. "This is very kind of you mi Lord" she said lightly. "But this was not necessary, I could have stayed with the woman. Closing her eyes for a moment he reopened them looking up at him. "I appreciate the effort you had the girls go through to make this a ladies chamber sir" She gave a slight curtsy not releasing his arm however.

"Ladies would you please give my betrothed and I a few moments to speak alone."

Moira and the other girl looked up to Eric for his approval.

Mylecent wondered if Eric picked up on her irritation about the girls looking to him for his approval when he paused for a moment before nodding that it was okay for them to do as she asked.

Once the girls left she took a seat on the edge of the bed that he had once slept in. "I think i may have a way for you to maintain your ...vikingness.. if you will" she said trying out the word for a moment. Northumbria is only one part of this continent that Sortvand is part of.

There are others, that are well..in conflict with other parts. If we were to word it as a service that you would be willing to provide to the King, i'm quite sure he could and or would name several rivaling Kingdoms that he would like to see..put in their place if you will. Your reward would be to keep what you pilliage, but your identity as a Lord would have to be kept secret.

If you were to say, just speak your native tongue, and maintain your appearance as such for the purpose of this. It is quite possible that none would be the wiser. There are places in which you could sell such treasures or trade for things Sortvand needs none would need to the wiser.

I would not however recommend keeping any part of your pillage in Sortvand, the king would double cross you and use anything he finds as proof and probably say treason So perhaps not including him in the process may actually be for the best now that I have further thought about it.

I still do not condone the idea of selling people into slavery, nor murdering them, but what I don't know won't hurt me. Blissful ignorance if you will."

She blushed and stopped for a moment realizing she had been doing all of the talking. "I greatly appreciated what you did and said tonight" she said softly. "It's important that they see us as a united front. But as Lord and Lady of Sortvand, we are responsible and liable for their actions and welfare. Of course you already know that.

I do believe that it's important that when i say something, it is the same as if you were saying it." The last reference was directed more to the girls or his whores as she thought of them, looking for him for direction.

Eric was somewhat shocked by Mylecent's proposition that his heathen warriors continue doing as Vikings do. To this point, with the exception of nearly taking out one of his men's eyes at SortVand, she'd seemed very much the pacifist.

"I will take it up with my warriors," he responded, adding with a wide smile, "I'm sure that one or two of them would be interested in the idea."

The second topic was going to be a more difficult subject, Eric knew.

"I am the Earl of Kjelst," he said with a matter of fact tone. He looked and gestured toward the door, as if indicating those people beyond it. "The warriors out there, they follow me out of obedience and loyalty. As my wife, they will come to follow you out of the same obedience and loyalty."

He moved closer to her as he continued, "But they will only do so if they see you show that same obedience and loyalty to me. You are a strong willed woman, Snotra."

His lips spread wider at his use of his nickname of Mylecent. He continued, "I suspect that you will not like the idea of kneeling before me, of swearing your obedience and loyalty to me, of acting the subordinate when I demand it of you. But, if you want my people to follow you, Mylecent, you will have to follow me first."

Mylecent rose from the bed and stepped closer to him. Her eyes looking up to his. "I can promise, that i will never contradict or demean you in front of 'our' people. In all appearances I will be the doting wife, and support your decisions in the eyes of our people.

I will also promise that I will always tell you my thoughts whether you want to hear them or not, in private. It is much the same for an English wife's duties as it is for a vikings. Though you're right, i will never kneel in front of you, but i will always stay a step back and allow you to lead as a strong leader does. Even if you take my advice, I will always give you the credit.

The fact that you have willing to listen to what I have to say shows your strength and confidence as a man, and a leader. But these are 'our' people now. Your are an Earl, and you will be a Lord, but i am still the Lady of Sortvand." Her fingers slowly rose up to his face and lightly brushed against his cheek. "You should smile more, I like that look on you."

Eric studied Mylecent as she spoke of the union she saw ahead. She reminded him of his own mother in the way she swore loyalty while at the same time declaring that she would never kneel to the man who, while her lord, was also her mate.

“Kneel you will not, then,” Eric declared. When she touched his face and told him he should smile more, Eric reached a hand out to Mylecent’s waist and pulled her up against him with a chuckle. “I smile when I am happy. I would be very happy if you were to ask me to your bed tonight.”

Mylecent let out a gasp and a giggle when he pulled him tight against him. Her heartbeat was racing, not from fear, but from something else entirely. She was not familiar with this new feeling of desire that flooded through her.

Her voice now slightly raspy, "I promise when we are wed, i shan't deny you there either, unless you're drunk and being an ass. But if i invited you to my bed tonight, Sortvand would be lost to us, I and my people then of no use to you." she said softly unsure about the last bit, but not wanting to believe he had any attachment to her. After all they just started getting along, and it took a tree with his face to be the cause of it.

"So, if I am being an ass, you won't let me in you bed," he mused playfully, "Good to know?"

Despite her telling him that he wouldn't have her tonight, Eric pulled Mylecent tighter to him, lifting her to her toes to bring their faces closer together.

"I make you a vow here and now, Snotra," he whispered to her, smiling. "You were, are now, and will tomorrow be the Lady of SortVand. And you and your people are and will be of use to me today, tomorrow and all days to come."

Eric could feel his rapidly hardening cock pressing against Mylecent's belly as he told her, "Waiting until we are wed will not change that."

He pulled her even tighter to him, asking with a devilish smirk, "So, why wait?"

"Because my heiðinn" she said almost breathlessly. "The English will find out, they will examine me to find if I am not pure, If I am not, they will take me from you, hang you and our people (referring to his portion), and say you forced yourself upon me.

Because a lady, never would allow herself to be seduced by a Viking, and dishonor herself, her family name, and her King before they were one under her god."

Her lips closed in and kissed him with a soft tender lingering passion. Slowly she broke the kiss her eyes fluttering open.

"Come my Lord, we should join our people, or they too will think you have plowed my field, and someone will say something that will be heard by someone else. That is simply the way it goes."

Eric loosened his grip on Mylecent to let her think he was letting her go. But then, with a sinful grin, he pulled her back to him with one arm wrapped around her back and the hand of the other, grasping her ass. He lifted her so high against him that her toes were barely on the ground as he engaged her in a full on, passionate kiss.

Mylecent returned his kiss with the fire and passion that he brought out with in her. When he began to move back toward the bed. It took all she had to stop him. Her body was aching in a way she never experienced before.

Breaking the kiss and catching her breath she murmured "No my heiðinn, but soon. We will be wed and as I promised, unless you're being an arse, I won't say no." Her hand ran lightly over his face as her eyes looked upon him with a new light. "We need to make an appearance as one before they start to make assumptions."

Her lips found his once more and gave him a small tender but passionate kiss. Breaking it once more she smiled up at his handsome rugged face. "See what being nice does" she teased waiting for him to let go.

"See what being nice does."

Eric laughed and snagged one last passionate kiss before releasing his hold on Mylecent. As he snatched her hand and began leading her toward the door, he grumbled over his shoulder, "I can be nice without any clothes on as well, m'lady."

Outside, the community was once again full of activity. As he scanned the empty space surrounded by huts that served as the village square, Eric found about half of the residents involved in construction and chores while the other half were engaged in conversation, mostly with their own kind but some with those of the second faith.

Eric had taken note of three Vikings in particular who had been showing attention to Mylecent's SortVand survivors. It wasn't as if Eric had been keeping a close eye on them, but he'd taken notice.

Gunnar, who had been very eager to help the English with the construction of their new homes, had found a young woman who seemed to spend half of her time around him blushing and the other half giggling. Gunnar's command of the English language was nearly as good as Eric's and far better than most of his warriors. He could just imagine the conversation taking place between the two of them.

The second Viking who'd found an English friend was Olaf, one of the Karls who owed his indirect loyalty to Eric through his direct service to Hagar, who was his uncle. Olaf's English was poor, consisting of a few dozen words that rarely found themselves becoming full sentences. But apparently this language barrier hadn't prevented him from making the acquaintance of an English woman who looked to be a bit older than Mylecent and who nearly always had a little boy trailing close behind her. Asking around to the others, Eric would learn that Olaf had very nearly built the woman her own little hut on his own and that by sundown, it would be complete enough for her and her son to sleep under its roof and nearly finished walls. Eric imagined that Olaf had designs on keeping her warm under that roof in a soon to arrive evening.

As they walked about together, Eric and Mylecent got encouraging nods, bows, and words. Although they were less in number and obviousness, though, there were also some negative expressions, from both Dane and English. Eric hadn't expected this union to please everyone, but it was going to happen.

Mylecent playfully hit him before they exited the hut to enter the world adding "It will be quite the feat" she teased regarding him being nice without clothes on. Eric could have made this transition much much worse. But gratefully he seemed to see sense in the words she spoke and if not value, at least be willing to listen to her opinion.

Mylecent was sure to add light touches and send flirty smiles his way. Orginially it was to help convince the people that she had forgiven him for their attack and the murder of her father, and was looking forward to sharing her life with him.

It would have been silly of her to blame him for the death anyway. It wasn't as if he'd singled him out. It was the risk of holding the position her father held, and the fact that the king should have never taken the land from the danes to begin with.

All of those lives destroyed and ended for what? Land, greed, money, power and favor to a king that only cared about the previous. But the truth was Eric had supplied her with the the willingness to hear her out. Her father accepted her for being smarter then the average woman, but at the end of the day. She was a woman and a bargaining chip if need be.

Erics kiss still lingered on her lips. She could still feel the hardness of hi manhood pressed into her stomach and the firmness of his hands holding her ass cheeks like handles and keeping her pressed against him.

She was sure to ask questions during their dinner, and learn all she could about the people of the man she was to be wed to. They were fiercely loyal. It was apparent that he was a wonderful leader.

At the end of the night he offered to warm her as Moira had the night before. She wanted to say yes more then he knew. Her lips wanted to feel that sensual passion that burned throughout her body as she had earlier. But she knew that it took a strength she wasn't aware she possessed to stop him from following where their bodies wanted him to lead.

That and other people were watching, they were always watching. So at the door to her hut she offered him her hand to kiss. Knowing that she wanted to, oh hell with it, her arms went up around his neck and her body closed in tight against him kissing him with the same fire they'd kissed previously.

"Soon" she said breathlessly when her lips broke from his. "soon i won't have to say no"
____________________

Virginia had been scared through her mind when they first arrived here. But since the Lady formed an alliance with the Viking Earl Eric, things were looking up. She had been introduced to Gunnar from a Viking named Hagar who had only kind things to say about the Lady.

Gunnar wasn't as ruggedly handsome as Eric was, but he was in his own right a sweet man, and a good warrior. They had sat for hours after he helped her build her hut. His english wasn't that good, but they had a connection between them that she hadn't expected to occur.

Virginia had been Mylecents sparing partner on occasion. Gunnar soon discovered she was good with a sword, and they passed the time training with each other, and at some point decided they were the one the other wanted. Gunnar promised to approach Eric in the morning about her training to be a shield maiden. In the mean time they flirted and giggled like school children.

Olaf had found Rebecca, a recently widowed woman who was fond of his broad shoulders and once her child slept, she would becoming acquainted with his hard shaft pounding her in any fashion he chose, as often as he chose in exchange for becoming his wife, and he her provider. both women now wore the brown cuffs upon their wrist as mylecent did.