People stood in front of the Jarl waiting for his words at night. Soapstone oil lamps littered tables, while fire blossomed in the middle of the chieftain’s hall room safely confined. Norsemen did not build chimney’s, rarely were windows made, so the smoke raised to the ceiling where a plain hole acted as ventilation.

An assembly had been called, men and women murmured wondering what Erik Tokesson planned. Some cast a glance to see Halle sitting to the left of his father, who usually did not attend these meetings unless forced. Erik raised his hand signalling silence.

Trygve, his guard and servant on his right shouted seeing people still whisper, “Quiet!”

The karls came to absolute stillness, no sound heard. A coin falling to the ground would be louder amongst the ruffling feet of the Jarl’s people.

“I have called for this meeting to announce fortunate news. There will be war with England.”

Townspeople whispered between each other, some scared for their lives.

“There is no need for worry, Harald Sigurdsson, king of Noreg has asked for aid from all the clans. The Ulfhednars who have been fighting alongside us since Halle’s first viking will join in this attack.”

People’s shoulders loosened, relieved to hear Ulfhednars were joining, their names held weight.

The karls trust with Ulfhednars had been built over years and they were proud to call them as part of the Hati clan. Often known as wanderers before they came to the Jarl, Erik Tokesson seeking refuge here. When they revealed themselves to the townspeople, their show of strength brought fear, then envy until it became awe and admiration.

Someone shouted amongst the crowd, “What about the Berserkir. Will they join us?!”

Erik answered, “No they are traitors who proclaimed themselves as warriors for Danmǫrk after betraying king Harald Sigurdsson’s conquest on the very same kingdom for the throne.”

Karls gasped, astonished hearing this.

Erik’s booming voice stretched across the hall which held hundreds of people to witness his speech, “We do not need the Berserkir, we need honourable men to win this battle. It will not be a viking but a conquest to take England. Men who think of themselves as brave! Will you join this conquest for land and riches?!”

The karls' response to their Jarl’s question were fierce roars that made the hall shake with loud screams.

Erik raised a closed fist again, stifling people’s yells.

“The Sverke tribe shall visit us soon during the summer. We shall strengthen bonds with them and show we are no weaker than them as we celebrate the Hestavíg festival!”

Erik threw his closed hand towards the ceiling. “Men train yourselves hard so your wives can wear clothes softer than silk and jewellery worth more silver and gold!”

Erik’s voice was already coarse by now, as the jarl though he continued, “We will feast ourselves tonight. But in two winters England shall call us as the rulers instead!”

Karls cheered jumping on tables dancing whilst food was brought for everyone to feast on. Children giggled and smiled laughing at their mother’s and father’s happy smiles.

Bread, buttered meat and mead for all to eat and drink, no one left empty-handed with a mug or bowl. Servants boiled meat and vegetables into a pot: Potatoes, carrots and beans floated to the top. The procedure of cooking the stew included serving the already boiled ingredients and replacing them with fresher ones to make the broth thicker. Concentrated in flavour stirred alongside additional spices.

People became flushed with alcohol being drunk as if it were water. Sudden wind hailing from the hall’s door opened for people to see Ulfhednars. Some fell to the ground tripping on tables halted in their dance.

Erik answered the peoples’ silent questions that everyone wanted to ask, “I invited the Ulfhednars to celebrate with us, just as we feasted on food long ago with them. We shall again, as comrades in war!”

Karls raised their mugs high full of mead that swashed side to side, none denied the Ulfhednars of entry. Some fearless men offered drinking horns holding a litre of mead to the Ulfhednars wearing wolf hides. People wrapped their arms around the shaman-warrior’s shoulders.

They smiled at the welcomed mead and food, the feast went on its way with entertainment. People clamoured their already finished bowls creating a rhythmic beat as men and women sung songs.

A joyful night, as Halle sat on a table shared with his thralls Jehanne, Ulfberht and friend Agneli. Ulfberht quickly grabbed at a chicken leg, ripping off flesh and skin with every bite.

The old man’s eyes tasted the food with long stares. He announced aloud, “I can’t remember the last time I was given good food.”

Jehanne gleefully ate in secret pretending to be here by the pretence of being ordered to feed Halle dried fish, which was his favourite dish. Other thralls and servants were serving people, while she sat.

Halle was fed by Jehanne though, she deboned the fish and carried a spoonful to his lips. Norsemen did not use forks. Utensils being knives, spoons and their fingers.

He closed his mouth on the spoon accepting her kind gesture. Agneli watched the two in regret that he could not get Jehanne to feed him.

“Jehanne why don’t you feed me as well?” Agneli widened his mouth waiting.

Jehanne shot down his request in a heartbeat. “I’m not your thrall.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re not my thrall, we’re friends aren’t we?”

Hall room conquered by noise and shouts, no one could overhear their conversation properly, so it was somewhat safe to drop etiquette.

“Don’t listen to him, give him an egg and he’ll take your whole farm of chickens,” Halle whispered to Jehanne mocking Agneli. He said it loud enough for him to hear.

“Gunhild is the one who’ll steal your chickens! I should feed you to the pigs at home, they’ll munch on your corpse when I’m finished with you.” Agneli rolled the sleeves of his tunic up.

Halle began to roll his sleeves up in response to Agneli’s taunts.

“Let's not fight here,” Jehanne chorused out worried for the both of them. More so for Agneli because she knew there was no chance for him to win in a fight against Halle.

Halle raised an arm. “Men should fight to their heart's content, isn’t that right?”

“Spoken like a true man,” Agneli replied.

Both of them rested their elbows at the table gripping each other's hands in a fierce hold. They began arm-wrestling with intense passion.

Jehanne realised she worried for nothing and sighed, “Men.”

She shook her head smiling and cheered the two on. It was even since Halle trained his body to move fast and be as accurate as possible with his attacks. His naturally large figure of refined muscles did the rest for weight behind hand.

Agneli yielded a figure of toned muscles. Long gone was the scrawny child starving for food, but a man who challenged Halle in strength as he hammered and lifted metal every day. A blacksmith’s labour was hard on the body.

People noticed the challenge, men placed their bets on whether the son of the Jarl would win or Agneli who they bought swords from if they had enough silver coins. Agneli’s lips quivered as he fortified his mind to win in front of Jehanne.

Halle gritted teeth ground together and his eyes tensed knowing Jehanne watched him. He hoped she rooted for him.

Both sweated as if they were standing in front of the blazing sun during summer, neither was willing to give up. Agneli screamed pushing with all his strength, slowly he ran out of energy.

Halle smiled with a frightening expression of clenched teeth, eyebrows scrunched together. His hand did not move with Agneli’s final push. The table jumped when Agneli’s hand gave way for Halle to bring it down like a sledgehammer.

“I will never lose to you Agneli because l am the almighty!” Halle gloated in victory.

“You animal, did you have to take it so seriously?” Agneli winced feeling cramps in his shoulder.

Men emptied their pockets for coins while other men took coins into their pockets. Some who watched did their own matches, one lady walked up to a man who’d beaten someone in arm-wrestling.

“Let's arm-wrestle,” Gunhild said.

“Miss I think it’s best for a beauty like you to have a drink with me instead.”

Gunhild smiled showing a carved line running across her teeth with blue filling it in.

“Lets arm-wrestle,” Gunhild repeated.

The man who’d beaten three men gulped knowing he was up against an Ulfhednar. A long war of three minutes, a standstill before Gunhild won after she pushed her hand down against the man she’d challenged.

Leaving the shocked crowd that witnessed her beat a man nearly twice her size she felt refreshed. Gunhild glanced around the room looking for other challengers until her eyes locked onto Halle. She smiled again brightly flashing teeth carved blue.

Agneli saw Gunhild and exclaimed, “Pigs tits, Gunhild is walking towards us isn’t she?”

“The one and only,” Halle answered when he caught a glimpse of her.

“Last time I met her, she stole four whole bloody chickens for herself to eat from me! How the hell did she eat them all?” Agneli asked Halle.

“She probably took them since she knows you're still afraid of her.”

“Who’s afraid of who? I’m never scared of her.”

“You ran away like a scared deer when she growled and chased you when we were kids.”

“Shut it Halle,” Agneli silently murmured to Thor for him to give courage on this night.

“Is that the girl you mentioned in your past story Agneli?” Jehanne remarked.

“Yes…” Agneli gulped seeing Gunhild five paces away.

“What story did you share with Jehanne that made her cry.” Halle could not forget the sight of Jehanne’s dried tears.

Agneli grumbled, “Nothing you don’t know.”

He almost yelped aloud for people to hear seeing Gunhild leap over the table of mugs and nimbly sitting down beside him with a teasing smile.

“It appears you’re still scared of me.” She stared into Agneli’s fluttering eyes glancing everywhere but her.

Agneli ate his food in silence, he couldn’t find the confidence to speak even with Thor’s given courage.

Jehanne sat admiring Gunhild’s looks, she knew of her from Agneli’s story and now she was in front of her. Gorgeous with dirty blonde hair not dyed golden. Alluring, different from Norsemen’s hair coloured to be more blonde.

Unconsciously she offered her name, “I’m Jehanne.”

“Gunhild.” The Ulfhednar did not refrain to show her smile bearing sharp teeth.

“You're the first Ulfhednar I’ve met.” Jehanne’s eyes practically twinkled at the blue line marking Gunhild’s teeth.

Gunhild slurped soup from a bowl and asked Halle, “Another thrall you treat kindly?

He nodded.

“Do you want to be a mother?” Gunhild asked Jehanne.

She took Agneli’s spoon sipping at a bowl stolen from another drunken man. Peeved, Agneli downed a second mug with mead high in alcohol content.

Jehanne blushed at the question she never saw coming. “I don’t know.”

Gunhild had many tendencies and she often spoke her mind. “My father says you should bear children before reaching your thirties, less strain. You look to be in your...”

“I’m twenty-five winters.” Jehanne’s ears burned.

“You should look for a man,” Gunhild stated as if it were obvious.

“Yes?” Jehanne timidly replied not knowing if she answered right. She asked curiously, “How old are you Gunhild?”

The Ulfhednar owned an appearance of someone in their late twenties in the eyes of Jehanne.

“I do not know, l was found in the woods by my father when l was very young.”

“I’m sorry to hear—” Jehanne was halted by Gunhild.

“Don’t be, my parents who abandoned me would never be greater than the one who raised me.”

Jehanne wondered how old Halle was, he never mentioned it. Her stare did not go unnoticed to him and he answered her questioning look, “I am twenty-eight winters.”

“Born on the night of a blue moon,” Gunhild added.

Jehanne had seen it once and recognised the familiarity with Halle’s eyes pale blue like the rare moon that came every few years. Irises matching the ocean water’s depth.

She couldn’t stare for too long as Agneli slammed his mug down. Drunk after downing four mugs he shouted, “You got a problem with me Gunhild, why by Thor’s hammer did you steal three chickens from my farm?”

“It was four chickens,” Gunhild replied without a crack in her stoic face.

“That’s even worse!”

“l was hungry and besides you didn’t look like you were going to eat them anyway.”

Agneli shook in his seat more angry than ever bumping into Ulfberht. He roared, “Of course I wasn’t going to eat them! l wait for them to lay eggs you stupid—”

Ulfberht shoved a loaf of bread into Agneli’s mouth, he had no clue what everyone was saying, only knowing langues d'oïl unlike everyone else who spoke West Norse.

“I want to eat in peace.” Ulfberht went back to draining his bowl into his mouth, endless in room to fill.

Agneli slumped into his chair falling asleep snoring with the loaf of bread in his mouth. He wasted all his energy arguing to the point where he passed out from the alcohol.

Halle laughed, Agneli always knew how to make him chuckle even when unconscious. Jehanne couldn’t help and giggle too.

Their snickering captured Gunhild’s watchful eyes and being straightforward she was. She said, “You two look good together.”

Not caring if the two had a relationship of thrall and master, Gunhild spoke her mind. She knew Halle was not a man who would be irked by such a statement.

Status meant nothing to an Ulfhednar anyways, love was love to them in plain simple words. No matter gender or class, if they saw the other suiting their taste they would take them to bed to sleep with. Her father did this with anyone that fancied his eyes.

Halle was drinking until he spat mead onto the floor hearing Gunhild. Jehanne coughed and searched for a mug of water but all were filled with alcohol. None to be found, Halle went to another table and fortunately found one handing it to Jehanne or so he thought.

Jehanne downed the mug, before becoming flushed red.

“This is half mead and water.” She started to hiccup every few seconds.

“Can’t handle alcohol well?” Gunhild stared at Jehanne with pity feeling sorry for the woman unable to enjoy mead’s pleasures for longer.

“Very—much,” Jehanne hiccuped.

“Sorry, it looked like water.” Halle rushed to find anything clear of mead or ale to redeem his mistake.

“It’s fine, I quite like it actually. It’s sweet,” Jehanne took more sips and more until she became exactly like Agneli, passed out.

Halle watched his two friends sleeping their heads laid out onto the table. Ulfberht and Gunhild continued to drink mugs of alcohol, while Halle stopped at his third slightly red.

Celebration dying down, Erik Tokesson retired to his room fatigued. Halle realised it was time to leave and asked Ulfberht to take Agneli home. There was trust between the two after so many months.

It wasn’t worth the risk for Ulfberht to try to escape when he was so close to finishing the sword, which allowed him to be freed. It would be his last work and Ulfberht already considered Agneli to be his disciple, he’d seen the young man’s talents and wanted to take him back to the kingdom of Francia with him to forge more swords. His body was getting weaker with time.

He saw no one fit in his family fit to forge like him and he needed someone to pass down the legacy of Ulfberht branded blades. A blessing in disguise, this time spent being a thrall was worthwhile to Ulfberht.

Gunhild left with the rest of Ulfhednars that walked steadily on two legs, their tolerance for alcohol being incredibly high. Halle princess carried Jehanne to his room that they both shared as thrall and master.

Opening her eyes, Jehanne’s pupils saw a figure veiled in darkness. She squinted to see Halle carrying her in his large arms. She asked, slurring words under the effects of alcohol, “Is this a dream?”

“No.”

“I don’t think the Halle l know would carry me.” She poked at Halle’s face that very much felt real.

“Why is that?”

“Because he doesn’t see me as a woman.”

Halle could not see the connection. “What does carrying you have to do with seeing you as a woman?

“Lots of things,” Jehanne mumbled incoherently.

Halle was curious now. “Like?”

Jehanne flapped her hands about gesturing as she said, “A man who carries a woman in her arms when in need of saving and help is someone that loves her.”

Halle froze in his steps as he walked. “Who said that?”

“My father.”

“Then does that not mean Halle loves you?” He spoke in third person for Jehanne’s sake and slowed his steps waiting to hear Jehanne speak.

“No, Halle carrying me in his arms makes me think even more strongly that he doesn’t see me as a woman.”

“Why?” Halle knew women were challenging to understand from Agneli’s constant rants, but not to this extent. Jehanne was like a puzzle impossible to solve.

“Because he looks so calm.” She stared into Halle’s eyes reflecting her flushed appearance.

Halle could not help but laugh, “Is that it?”

“No!” Jehanne exclaimed.

Halle chuckled, “What more can there be?”

“There’s much more.”

“Tell me.”

“He acted so calm when he took his clothes off when we first met, even when he pulled me into his chest l couldn’t hear his heart beating as fast as mine. He’s seen me bare naked and doesn’t steal looks at me like other men.”

Halle’s eyebrows furrowed confused. “Is he meant to stare at you when you change clothes?”

“NO!” Shouted Jehanne.

“Then what should he do?”

“Be like any other man, does his heart not race when he sees me. Am l ugly?”

“I think he hides the fact very well that his heart beats faster every time he stares at you,” Halle laughed.

“Liar. l don’t even know if he likes women, Agneli keeps saying he loves swords over women. Does he like M—”

“Ahem, l don’t think that is the case.” Halle didn’t want to hear the last two letters of ‘E’, as well as ‘N’ that would ruin the mood.

“Then what is it?”

Halle pondered and asked his own question, “What would it take to show he sees you as a woman?”

“It’s impossible.”

Jehanne crossed her arms adorably in the eyes of Halle, his eyelids smiled at this unseen side of her being drunk.

“Just ask, is this not a dream as you said?” Halle spoke with the confidence he’d gained from the mead he’d drank. He reassured himself that Jehanne would not remember anything. He felt his mother’s amulet gave him the strength to pursue a taboo love.

“Even in dreams, it’s not possible.”

“Tell me.” Halle stared straight at the blushing Jehanne who had tomatoes for cheeks.

“If Halle could kiss—”

Halle raised Jehanne’s head in his arms and stole her breath, silencing the woman of any more words. He nibbled at her lower lip, biting gently for him alone to own. Jehanne’s lips answered back pushing forwards.

Lost in passion, Halle forgot how to walk entranced in Jehanne’s lips sweeter than honey. Her seductive response ended as she fell fast asleep too tired. Smiling, he pecked her on the forehead with one last kiss as he arrived at his room’s door.

Gently Halle laid her down onto the bed she’d made for herself on the ground a winter ago. Unlike the first day, they did not sleep together anymore. Jehanne refused to do so. She collected straw and then placed fur on top to keep herself warm from the cold floor.

Halle truly did not mind, but he let it be. He regretted on days like this that he should’ve argued with her to continue sleeping on his bed.

Staring at Jehanne’s face breathing shallow breaths, he wanted to kiss her once more. Her small nose wasn’t sharp but round as he studied her delicate features. Jehanne’s lips quivered at the cold night and Halle raised the blanket higher covering her slim neck to her dainty feet.

He realised he wanted all of her for himself.

To hold her, yet distance was necessary to maintain or else he may become the thing she feared. If he loved her, he would not ever let her go to escape back to Francia, Halle dreaded such contemplations. Her home she missed dearly. His festering fiendish desires wished to swallow his thoughts whole, tainting them. Telling him to keep her forever as a thrall.

To do as he wished with her, to devour her for him alone to taste from lips and more—to become a monster.

For now, the lingering flavour of her blessed lips was enough to satisfy him. He went to sleep holding his amulet hoping his greed did not become akin to his father who did not know when to stop. There was no limit to his unquenchable thirst for more when he began wanting something.

Jehanne's breaths were quick, her eyes opened slightly to see Halle asleep. She raised a hand touching her lips softly recalling a kiss, had it been real?

It couldn’t have, but yet it felt too real.

A dream that felt so real she’d imagined Halle kissing her? If real, was it a mistake or an accident caused by the consequences of alcohol?

Jehanne wanted to know to the point where she had the urge to stand up and wake Halle up, asking if he’d kissed her on purpose.

The thought made her blush deeper, the kiss felt...nice.

Maybe the forbidden fruit was not too far away for her to reach, but what would come of it for her to grab it. A rotten apple of misery and misfortune or a fresh fruit ripened with happiness.

Still drunk, she could not remember everything save for the stinging touch of a kiss that shocked her body letting thunder course through her tongue to toes. It made her hot, warmer than the blanket wrapped around her.

A thrall stayed awake while her master slept more peaceful than ever. The wolf, ‘One who hates’ eclipsed Halle’s enlightened mood for the moon’s shadows seized his dream irked by his happiness.

“Maybe there is a chance,” Jehanne whispered, not noticing the sweat brewing from Halle's scrunched eyebrows. A nightmare visited his restful sleep.

In the night across town, Ulfberht helped carry an intoxicated Agneli speaking gibberish. Befuddling the senior blacksmith.

“Youuuu, why are you so good at makinggg sword?”

Ulfberht couldn’t understand Agneli and it did not help him when he spoke like a caveman.

“This feels familarrrr, l remem...ber the shaman made me feel this way—”

Agneli vomited onto the dirt floor, Ulfberht frowned disgusted at him.

“Are you not a man who can hold your mead down, you bring shame to men.” Ulfberht shook his head disappointed.

“I have no clue what you’re saying and yet I know it’s nothing good,” Agneli felt soberer after spewing the contents spinning in his stomach.

He gestured for Ulfberht to give him his shoulder again, the old man sighed before doing so.

“Halle’s going to war isn’t he?”

“What?” Ulfberht remarked not understanding a single word coming from Agneli’s mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Agneli sighed. “It seems we’ll have to make the best sword before he goes so he can become the greatest warrior.”

“I’m going to stay here old man until Halle returns, we’re like brothers. I need to know if he's in one piece before l can leave for adventure. The idiot always made me worry when he went viking.”

Ulfberht learned to just ignore the grumblings of Agneli.

“When l know Halle is safe, I’m going to Normandy to become a Norman. Then I’ll go to Francia to steal all your tricks old man. I’ll become the greatest blacksmith.”

Agneli raised his hand pointing to the stars. “Our promises achieved, the greatest duo. Me and Halle, comrades who’ll reach Valhalla no doubt.”

Being ignored by Ulfberht, his words falling on deaf ears, he wished Jehanne was here to hear of his moving speech. Halle and he were going to change the world and bring a new era.

“I swear on Thor’s hammer, Halle and I will—” Agneli vomited again, nearly spraying the puke onto Ulfberht.

“Will you quit talking for goodness sake.” Ulfberht now knew how Halle felt, remembering how he once rambled on asking constantly when crossing the woods to Halle’s home town.

A summer and winter had passed by then, so much changed for the old man. He wished these youths fortune, they had grown on him, an old man who’d seen more than the eye’s of trees. Some grew like mould and other flowers. He hoped their lives didn’t wither too early as none were safe from the fate of death.

You could only prolong your demise before the grim reaper greeted you with a smile.