Erik woke with a start, his heart racing as the memories of yesterday's boat wreck flooded back. The warm bed in Leif and Freya's cottage did little to comfort him as the weight of their predicament settled heavily on his chest.

  He dressed slowly, his mind churning with grim realities. Five days had passed since they left Skogstrand. Within days, Torbjorn would have accepted their betrayal, and could be sending men to search the surrounding settlements. The wedding was impossible now, and with it, any hope of alliance with Gunnar's clan. Erik could almost feel the mounting tension in Skogstrand as they braced for Gunnar's inevitable fury.

  The gravity of his failure pressed down on Erik like a physical weight. He had not only jeopardized Astrid's future but also that of his entire clan. How could he possibly fix this mess? While the others saw their extended stay as an unexpected pleasure, Erik knew the true cost of each passing day.

  As he made his way to the main room, the scent of porridge and fresh eggs filled the air. Laughter drifted from the kitchen area, where Astrid and Sigrida were helping Freya prepare breakfast. Erik's stomach churned, his appetite deserting him at the sound of their carefree chatter.

  "Good morning, sleepyhead!" Astrid called out, her smile bright as she set a steaming bowl of boiled oats before him. "We thought you might sleep the day away."

  Erik managed a weak smile in response, unable to match her enthusiasm. He stirred his porridge listlessly as the others settled around the table, their animated conversation washing over him like waves on a distant shore.

  Astrid, noticing Erik's subdued mood, leaned in close, her voice dropping to a concerned whisper. "Is everything alright? You've barely touched your food." Her eyes searched his face, worry creasing her brow. "If you don't like it, I can make you something else."

  Erik blinked, suddenly aware of his behavior. He straightened, forcing a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "No, no, it's fine. Thank you, Astrid," he said, but his tone sounded hollow.

  Across the table, Brandr, Sigrida, Leif, and Freya were engaged in animated conversation, their laughter and excited chatter filling the room.

  Astrid's gaze remained fixed on Erik, concern etching her features as she observed him. A pang of guilt twisted in her stomach as she realized she had never considered how the escape might have felt for Erik. Did he miss his family? His own home? Only now did she understand the sacrifice Erik had made when she had begged him to help her and Sigrida escape.

  Determined to cheer him up, Astrid leaned closer to Erik. "The storm has passed and it looks like a beautiful day," she said softly, hoping to coax a smile from him. "Would you like to go for a walk in the valley later?"

  Erik's eyes met hers for a moment, but there was no warmth in his gaze. "No, thanks," he said flatly, turning back to his untouched food.

  Astrid's heart sank, hurt by his curt response. She looked down at her own plate, appetite suddenly gone.

  Sigrida noticed their exchange and gave Astrid a comforting pat on her arm. Before she could say anything, Freya's cheerful voice broke the tension.

  "Girls, would you like to help me collect honey today? The hives should be full by now," Freya asked.

  Sigrida glanced at Astrid, giving her a little nudge. "We'd love to," she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Wouldn't we, Astrid?"

  Astrid looked up, a small smile forming on her lips. "Oh yes, that sounds wonderful," she agreed, giving Erik's hand a gentle squeeze before standing up.

  As they got ready to leave, Brandr stood up from the table, stretching his arms. He grinned at them, his eyes lingering on Sigrida. "Be careful out there, girls. Those bees can be quite dangerous," he said with exaggerated concern, clearly trying to impress them.

  Sigrida turned to him, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I think we can manage, Brandr. Besides, Freya will be there to protect us from any overzealous bees."

  Brandr's smile widened, enjoying her attention despite being called out. He then turned to Leif, noticing Erik's subdued demeanor. "Hey Leif, how about Erik and I chop some wood for you? Seems fair after all your kindness."

  Leif's face brightened. "That would be a great help, son. These old bones aren't what they used to be."

  Brandr nodded, then turned to Erik, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, Erik," he said with a grin, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Let's see if you can keep up with me out there. Or are you afraid I'll show you up in front of the ladies?" He winked at Sigrida and Astrid, his playful jab at Erik an attempt to rouse him from his brooding mood.

  As Brandr and Erik headed outside, Sigrida and Astrid rose to help Freya clear the table. While stacking dishes, Sigrida nudged Astrid gently. "I can't wait to see those beehives," she whispered, her eyes bright with excitement. "Maybe we'll even get to taste some fresh honey." Astrid's mood improved at her friend's enthusiasm, a small smile tugging at her lips.

  Meanwhile, Erik, shaken from his brooding by Brandr's challenge, followed him out the door, his posture straightening slightly as he stepped into the crisp morning air.

  The rhythmic thud of axes against wood echoed through the air as Brandr and Erik worked side by side, sweat glistening on their brows under the warm sun. Leif's woodpile grew steadily, a testament to their efforts. While Brandr seemed to draw energy from the task, his mood lifted despite the boat wreck, Erik remained withdrawn, his strikes lacking their usual vigor.

  After a particularly forceful swing, Brandr paused, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He glanced at Erik, noticing his pensiveness. Brandr lowered his axe and turned to face him. "Erik," he said, his tone direct but not unkind, "what's going on?"

  Erik paused mid-swing, his axe hovering for a moment before he lowered it. He glanced at Brandr, his expression guarded. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

  Brandr didn't buy the act. He leaned on his axe handle, studying Erik's face. "The boat wreck," he said bluntly. "It seems to have really affected you. You're not yourself."

  Erik opened his mouth, ready to brush off Brandr's concern with another casual remark. But as he met his companion’s steady gaze, he hesitated. The weight of their deception suddenly felt too heavy to bear alone. He let out a heavy sigh, leaning on the handle of his axe. "It's... complicated," he said, his eyes meeting Brandr's with resignation. "But you should know the whole story."

  Brandr set his axe aside, giving Erik his full attention. Erik squared his shoulders and began to unravel the tale - Astrid's arranged marriage to Einar, Sigrida's fate as a concubine, their daring escape, and his own ill-fated plan to return them home. As he spoke, the weight of his choices was evident in his voice and posture.

  "And now," Erik concluded steadily, "with the boat wrecked, I've jeopardized everything. The alliance with Jarl Gunnar is almost certainly lost. Torbjorn will lose face, and my father's standing with him will be ruined. Astrid and I... our reputations will be in tatters." He paused, letting the implications sink in. "This delay doesn't just affect us, Brandr. It could change the balance of power between our clans."

  Brandr listened intently, his expression growing more serious with each revelation. As the full picture emerged, a mix of emotions played across his face. He realized that this instability could potentially benefit his father, Jarl Magnus. Without the alliance between Torbjorn and Gunnar, Magnus wouldn't have to worry about a strong neighbor aligning with a rival.

  However, Brandr's own involvement in bringing Erik and the girls to Honningdal suddenly took on a new, more dangerous dimension. He had unwittingly entangled himself in a political mess that could have serious blowback for him and his clan.

  "By Odin's beard," Brandr said, running a hand through his hair. The gravity of the situation settled over him like a heavy cloak. His usual carefree behavior vanished, replaced by a look of deep concern. "This is... far more complicated than I imagined."

  Brandr took a deep breath. "Do Astrid and Sigrida understand the full impact of this?"

  Erik shook his head. "No. They believe we're escaping south for good. They didn't know about my plan to convince them to return, or the political consequences we face."

  "Perhaps it's better they don't know yet," Erik continued. "Let them have this brief peace before I have to persuade them to go back."

  Brandr considered this, then clapped Erik on the shoulder. "Look, if we're keeping them in the dark so they can enjoy themselves, we might as well do the same. No use in brooding when we're stuck here anyway. Let's at least be good guests to Leif and Freya."

  Erik nodded, a hint of relief crossing his face. "You're right. I'll try to shake this mood off." He felt a surge of gratitude towards Brandr, appreciating the man’s perceptiveness and willingness to help. It was comforting to know he wasn't alone in this predicament.

  With renewed purpose, they returned to their task, the rhythm of their axes matching their determination to make the best of their situation.

  As Brandr worked, his mind churned with the implications of Erik's story. Sigrida, the vivacious girl he'd been playfully pursuing, was a thrall. The revelation shifted something inside him, challenging everything he'd assumed about her.

  All his life, thralls had been background figures, barely worthy of notice. Yet here was Sigrida - intelligent, spirited, and undeniably human. He couldn't forget how Sigrida would gaze out to sea, lost in quiet contemplation, or how her eyes would light up at the mention of adventure. There was a depth to her that he'd never thought to look for in a thrall, and it challenged every certainty he'd held.

  Erik and Astrid's treatment of her puzzled him further. Their genuine care and respect for Sigrida went against everything he'd been taught about social hierarchy. Strangely, he found himself admiring them for it.

  Brandr's brow furrowed as he processed this new information. After a moment, he made a decision. Thrall or not, Sigrida was still the same intriguing, spirited woman he'd been drawn to. He resolved to push aside thoughts of her status and focus on enjoying their time together in Honningdal. It was easier, more comfortable, to keep things light and fun.

  As they resumed their work, the steady rhythm of chopping wood provided a welcome distraction. The growing pile of logs bore witness to their efforts, and Erik's mood seemed to lighten with the physical exertion. Brandr, too, found some respite in the task, though his mind occasionally wandered back to the complexity Sigrida represented.

  Their concentration broke at the sound of approaching footsteps. Leif emerged from the cottage, his eyes widening at the sight before him. "By Odin's beard," he said, awe and gratitude mingling in his voice. "You boys have done more in a morning than I manage in a week!"

  Brandr mustered a grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Wiping sweat from his brow, he said, "Happy to help, Leif. Though I'll admit, my arms might not forgive me come morning." His tone was light, but there was a subtle undercurrent of something more serious.

  Erik, his mood somewhat lifted by the physical labor, nodded in agreement. "It's the least we could do after your hospitality."

  Leif's weathered face creased into a warm smile. He moved closer, his gait slightly uneven, and patted both young men on the shoulder. "You've no idea what this means to me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "These past few years, since my injury... well, let's just say winters have been harder than they needed to be."

  Brandr and Erik exchanged a curious glance, their earlier concerns momentarily set aside. "Injury?" Erik prompted gently.

  Leif nodded, gesturing for them to sit on a nearby log. As they settled, he began his tale. "I wasn't always a simple honey trader, you know. In my younger days, I was a skald - a poet and storyteller. Traveled all over the northern lands with my Freya by my side."

  His eyes took on a faraway look, lost in memories. "Ah, the adventures we had! Freya was a fierce shieldmaiden back then, my protector and my muse. But during one particularly nasty storm at sea, I took a bad fall. Damaged my back and shoulder something fierce."

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Leif rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly at the movement. "Never quite healed right. Made it hard to keep up with the physical demands of our old life. So, we settled here, found a new calling with the bees and the honey."

  Brandr leaned forward, intrigued. "That must have been quite a change for you both."

  Leif nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "It was. But we've made a good life here. Still, some things remain difficult. Gathering and chopping wood, for instance. I've had to be frugal with it, only using what's absolutely necessary to get through the winter."

  Erik's brow furrowed in concern. "You mean you've been living in discomfort all this time?"

  Leif shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact. "It is what it is, son. The cold makes the old injuries ache, but we manage."

  Brandr and Erik shared a determined look. "Well," Brandr declared, "while we're here, we'll make sure you have enough wood to keep warm all winter. Right, Erik?"

  Erik nodded emphatically. "Of course. We can take a trip to fell some trees if you'd like. And we'd be happy to help with any other work you need done around the house and yard."

  Brandr chimed in, "Absolutely. Just point us in the right direction, Leif. We're at your service."

  Leif's eyes misted over, touched by their offer. "You boys... I don't know what to say. Thank you."

  As the sun climbed to its zenith, bathing the valley in a brilliant light, Leif led them around the cottage and yard, pointing out other tasks that needed attention. Brandr and Erik listened attentively, their earlier worries momentarily forgotten in the face of Leif's gratitude and the satisfaction of honest work.

  Not far away from the men, Freya led Astrid and Sigrida through the sun-dappled meadow, the path to the beehives winding through a sea of wildflowers. The girls' eyes darted from one marvel to another, drinking in the vibrant colors and lively sounds of the valley.

  "Look there," Sigrida whispered, pointing to a patch of bright blue flowers where a butterfly had just alighted. Its delicate wings, painted in hues of orange and black, fluttered gently as it sipped nectar.

  Astrid's attention was caught by a rustle in the tall grass nearby. A moment later, a hare poked its head out, nose twitching curiously before it bounded away. "It's so peaceful here," she sighed contentedly.

  As they walked, Freya shared tidbits about the local flora and fauna. "See those purple flowers? They're great for soothing upset stomachs. And over there, those yellow ones attract the bees that make the sweetest honey."

  The gentle buzzing grew louder as they neared their destination, a symphony of industrious bees at work. Astrid and Sigrida exchanged excited glances, all their cares forgotten in the face of this new exploration.

  As they approached the scattered log hives nestled along the meadow's edge, the air filled with a steady hum of activity. Freya guided them closer, her movements slow and deliberate.

  "Now, watch carefully," Freya said, demonstrating how to lift the lid of one hollowed log hive. "The key is to be gentle but confident. Bees can sense fear." She turned to the girls, her eyes twinkling with wisdom. "Many animals can, you know. Even humans, in their own way."

  Astrid and Sigrida leaned in, fascinated by the intricate world revealed inside. Freya pointed out the wax honeycombs, glistening with golden nectar, and the busy bees working in perfect harmony as they moved from cell to cell.

  "It's like a tiny kingdom," Astrid marveled, her eyes wide with wonder.

  Freya nodded sagely. "Indeed, it is. You can learn everything you need to know about life from a beehive. This simple colony mirrors the complex social worlds we humans create."

  The girls fell silent for a moment, pondering Freya's words. They exchanged thoughtful glances, each seeing their own experiences reflected in the bustling hive before them.

  As they worked, carefully extracting sections of honeycomb dripping with golden nectar, Freya watched them intently, her eyes thoughtful. After a moment, she spoke, her tone casual but probing. "So, tell me, girls. What made you want to leave your home for this corner of the world?"

  Astrid and Sigrida exchanged a quick glance before Astrid answered, "We're looking for new places, new experiences. There's so much we want to see."

  Freya nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Ah, I remember that feeling well. I was much the same at your age."

  "Really?" Sigrida asked, with interest.

  "Oh yes," Freya said. "But it wasn't just adventure I was after. I wanted to chart my own course, on my own terms." Freya looked at them knowingly, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Sometimes," she said, "the world has a way of being far too imposing on young women."

  The girls exchanged nervous glances, wondering just how much Freya had intuited about their situation.

  Freya's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief and continued, "I wasn't always a simple beekeeper, you know. In my younger days, I was a shieldmaiden. Traveled far and wide with Leif before we settled here."

  The girls' eyes lit up with excitement. "A shieldmaiden?" Astrid said. "That's... that's exactly what we want to be!"

  Sigrida took a deep breath, her heart racing at the prospect. She glanced at Astrid, then back at Freya, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "Yes," she agreed, her voice filled with a mix of hope and determination. "We've dreamed of becoming shieldmaidens."

  Freya's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Is that so? Well, there's much to learn if that's the path you seek. Things only a shieldmaiden can teach another." She paused, considering. "I could show you a thing or two if you'd like."

  Sigrida nearly dropped the honeycomb she was holding. "You'd do that for us?"

  Freya nodded, her eyes twinkling. "Why not? We’ll start tomorrow morning if you're ready." As she began to close up the hive, she paused, her gaze drawn to the top. "Oh, look," she said, pointing. "There’s the queen!"

  Astrid and Sigrida leaned in, captivated by the larger bee moving gracefully among her workers, performing a subtle dance. They watched in awe, the difference between the queen and the others becoming clear, while Freya observed them with a knowing smile.

  As they made their way back to the cottage, baskets heavy with honeycomb, Freya pointed out various herbs and plants. "See that one there? It's rare, but excellent for easing joint pain. I use it in compresses for Leif's old injuries."

  "Harder every year," Freya admitted, her eyes scanning the distant treeline.

  "We could help you gather them," Sigrida offered immediately, her voice eager. "While we're here, at least. We could cover more ground together."

  Astrid nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, we'd be happy to help. You could show us what to look for."

  Freya's face softened with genuine gratitude, her eyes warming with emotion. "You girls... that would be a great help, thank you." She reached out and squeezed their hands. "It's been a long time since I've had young helpers. This old shieldmaiden appreciates it more than you know."

  While they walk, Freya began pointing out various plants and their uses, her voice animated and energetic. Astrid and Sigrida listened intently, their earlier worries momentarily forgotten in the face of new knowledge and the satisfaction of being truly helpful.

  As Astrid and Sigrida approached the cottage, they spotted Erik and Brandr helping Leif in the yard. Astrid felt her spirits lift when she saw Erik, his earlier gloom seemingly dissipated as he worked alongside Brandr. She smiled to herself, glad to see her lifelong friend in better spirits. It made it easier for her mind to quickly return to the exciting prospect of shieldmaiden training.

  Astrid waved at Erik, making him blush as he smiled and waved back. The girls helped Freya bring the honey in and store away in small wooden barrels. Afterwards, each washed all the stickiness, enjoying a tasty lick here and there.

  As they finished up, Erik and Brandr, having completed their chores for Leif, joined them in the cottage. The small space soon filled with the gentle hum of activity and the lingering scent of fresh honey.

  Freya surveyed the group with a warm smile. "You've all been working so hard," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "How would you like to learn something new? I could show you how to start a batch of mead."

  Their eyes lit up at the suggestion. Even Erik, despite his recent quietness, looked intrigued by the prospect.

  "I'll help too," Leif chimed in, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  Freya shot him a knowing look. "You mean you'll taste-test, dear?"

  As they gathered around the large wooden table, Freya laid out the necessary ingredients: honey, water, and old mead. She explained each step as they went along, from mixing the honey and water to adding the old mead, which would help the fermentation process begin.

  "The key is in the balance," Freya said, demonstrating how to stir the mixture. "Too much honey, and it'll be too sweet. Too little, and it won't have the strength we're after."

  Leif, true to form, couldn't resist dipping a finger into the honey jar for a taste. "Quality control," he said with a wink when Freya raised an eyebrow at him.

  As they worked, Leif's eyes took on a faraway look. "Shall I tell you the story of Odin and the Mead of Poetry?" he asked, his voice taking on the cadence of a practiced storyteller.

  The four nodded their heads, eager to hear.

  "Ah, it's a tale as old as the hills," Leif began. "You see, Odin, in his endless quest for wisdom, stole the Mead of Poetry from the giants. It's said that this mead is the source of inspiration for all poets and skalds."

  As Leif wove his tale, they continued to work on their mead, measuring and mixing under Freya's watchful eye. The story flowed as smoothly as the honey they poured, painting vivid pictures of Odin's cunning and the giants' fury.

  "And that, my young friends," Leif concluded as they sealed the mixture in a small barrel, "is why we say that poetry and creativity flow from Odin's mead. It's more than just a drink to us; it's a connection to our ancestors, to the gods themselves."

  Freya nodded, adding, "Mead has been part of our culture for generations. It's present at every important gathering, every celebration."

  "Speaking of which," Leif said, a twinkle in his eye as he disappeared into a back room. He returned with a dusty ceramic vessel. "I think this calls for a taste of properly aged mead. To celebrate your hard work."

  As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, they gathered around the table once more, this time with small cups of golden mead before them. The rich, sweet aroma filled the air as Leif poured.

  "To new friends and old stories," Freya toasted, raising her cup.

  The group clinked their cups together, the sweet mead warming their throats as they drank. As they set their cups down, a comfortable silence settled over the room. Astrid fidgeted in her seat, exchanging meaningful glances with Sigrida. The excitement of their secret seemed to bubble up inside her, threatening to spill over. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The moment felt right to share their news.

  "We have something to tell you," she began, her voice quivering slightly with anticipation. "Freya has offered to teach us shieldmaiden skills!"

  Erik's eyes widened, while Brandr let out a boisterous laugh. "By the gods, that's brilliant!" he said, slapping his knee. "Soon you'll be leading the charge on my ships, terrifying our enemies with your battle cries!"

  Sigrida leaned forward, her thoughtfulness giving way to eager curiosity. "Do you truly mean that, Brandr?" she asked, her blue eyes searching his face. "Would you actually allow us to join your crew as shieldmaidens?"

  Brandr's usual quick reply caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, surprised by the intensity of Sigrida's gaze. His chest tightened, a feeling both unfamiliar and exhilarating. "Well, I..." he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He cleared his throat and continued, "Any warrior who proves their mettle is welcome aboard my ship. Remember what I said before? Hard work, persistence, and passion – that's what makes a true shieldmaiden."

  Freya nodded approvingly. "Wise words, young Brandr. That's exactly what I plan to instill in these girls."

  A smile broke across Sigrida's face, transforming her usual composed expression. Brandr found himself unable to look away, the sight of her unguarded joy more intoxicating than Leif's finest mead. His heart raced, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

  But then, unbidden, the knowledge of her thrall status crept back into his mind, casting a shadow over the moment. He struggled to reconcile the spirited, capable woman before him with the rigid class distinctions he'd always known.

  Shaking himself from his daze, Brandr reached for his familiar charm. "And just imagine the terror on our enemies' faces when they see such beauty charging towards them, axes raised!" The words felt hollow as soon as they left his mouth, his usual guard unexpectedly difficult to maintain.

  The light in Sigrida's eyes dimmed almost imperceptibly. She turned away, her attention drawn back to Freya. "What sort of training will we start with?" she asked eagerly.

  Brandr's smirk faltered, an unfamiliar sense of discomfort settling in his chest as he watched Sigrida's earnest enthusiasm directed elsewhere. He found himself at a loss, unsure why his usual lighthearted approach felt so inadequate in the face of her sincerity.

  Beside him, Erik's chair creaked as he leaned forward, his forehead creased with concern. "Astrid," he said, his voice strained, "have you really thought this through? Battle isn't a game. You could be seriously hurt, or worse."

  Astrid turned to Erik, her eyes flashing with determination. "If I wanted to be safe, I would have never left that morning with you and Sigrida," she said, her voice sharp with frustration. Seeking his gaze for a moment of understanding, she said, "Erik, this is exactly the kind of chance I've been dreaming of."

  Erik opened his mouth to argue, but Freya cut in, her voice gentle but firm. "You know, Erik, being able to defend yourself is a form of safety," she said, laying a weathered hand on his arm. "These girls will learn skills here that will serve them well, no matter where their path leads. Sometimes we must trust in others' courage as much as our own."

  Leif chuckled, the firelight dancing in his eyes. "Reminds me of the time a hulking warrior thought he could best our Freya in combat," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Shall I tell them the tale, my love?"

  As Leif launched into his story, Erik found his gaze drawn to Astrid. Her face lit up with excitement as she listened, hanging on every word. He felt a tightness in his chest, realizing that trying to hold her back would only push her away and he didn't want to ruin the precious time he had with her. Slowly, he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're right," he admitted softly. "I'm sorry, Astrid. I'm sure you'll learn a lot from Freya."

  Astrid's expression softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Erik's hand. The touch sent a jolt through him, and he found himself wishing the moment could last forever.

  Brandr, noticing the exchange, cleared his throat. His usual flamboyant response died on his lips as he caught Sigrida's gaze. "Well," he began, his voice more subdued than usual, "I know you'll both work hard and apply yourselves." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "Shieldmaiden training is no easy task, but I'm sure you're up for the challenge."

  He lingered on Sigrida, a mix of admiration and confusion playing across his features. "I look forward to seeing your progress," he said, his tone genuinely supportive despite his inner turmoil.

  Sigrida met Brandr's eyes, offering him a soft smile of appreciation for his support. Then she turned to Astrid, and the two girls sat close, exchanging excited whispers and bright-eyed glances. Their dreams of becoming shieldmaidens suddenly felt tantalizingly close. Erik watched them, a mix of concern and pride on his face. He was still adjusting to their new reality, but seeing Astrid's joy, he found himself increasingly supportive of her aspirations.

  Brandr, usually the life of any gathering, found himself uncharacteristically quiet. His gaze kept drifting to Sigrida, her laughter and enthusiasm stirring conflicting emotions within him. He struggled to reconcile her spirit with what he now knew about her status.

  As they finally retired to their beds, the cottage settling into a peaceful quiet, each of them felt the spark of something new igniting. For Astrid and Sigrida, the thrill of learning combat skills tingled in their muscles. Even Erik, despite his worries, found his perspective shifting as their familiar world expanded in unexpected ways. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but tonight, possibility crackled in the air like lightning before a storm.

  Who wants a glass of mead now?