⚠︎︎-𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗-⚠︎

ᑕᕼᗩᑭTᗴᖇ 18

"I swear, you look uglier each time I see you." The feast that night was strange. Jarl Borg arrived in the afternoon with Rollo, bringing along his wife and men. Horik's surviving son was following Bálburunn around, for some unknown reason. She wished Björn were with her to scare the skinny boy away, but he was busy staring down the slave girl. "I just do not understand why they would let a silly, weak girl lead a raid." Erlendur spat, following Bálburunn to the ale barrels.

"Perhaps I am not as silly and weak as you think." She mumbled, scooping her horn into the ale.

"I find that hard to believe." The boy scoffed.

"Your brother did not seem to struggle with such ideas."

"Yes, well, he's dead now, isn't he? Ragnar only let you do it because you are Floki's daughter. It's pitiful, really – letting a little girl lead a group of men because he feels sorry for her."

"I'm not Floki's daughter." The redhead said, throwing the ale in her horn down her throat. "And I'm not a little girl."

"Yes you are. I wouldn't dare sleep with someone as underdeveloped as you. You may be the right age to be a woman, but you certainly don't look or act like one." Bálburunn rolled her eyes, looking for anyone in the longhouse to save her. She spotted Ragnar not far off, whispering something into Helga's ear. She frowned. "I've been with a real woman. I bet you haven't even bled yet-"

She snapped, grabbing the front of Erlendur's shirt and slamming him into the closest wall she could find. The boy let out a small gasp, but still tried to keep his composure. "Do you ever shut up?" She asked. The crowd went silent, staring at the altercation in confusion.

"She is threatening the prince."

"Does Floki not know how to control her?"

She slowly let him go, sighing as she turned around, staring at the concerned people.

"See? You are a weak coward." Erlendur smirked. Bálburunn spun around quickly, bashing her right fist into his jaw. The boy grunted, clutching his face in pain. All of a sudden, she felt a familiar boney hand grab her shoulder. She looked up to see Floki's wide, charcoal-drawn eyes. He was frowning at her. He turned to the crowd, which was still flooding with whispers. His eyes darted around, reading their faces.

"SKÅL!" Floki cheered, raising his horn.

"SKÅL!" The men returned, clinking their cups and cheering. Floki grinned, rustling Bálburunn's hair before dragging her over to the fire.

"Why must you always keep your hands bloody, my child?" He asked through a gritted smile.

"It was his fault. He's been pestering me all night." The girl responded, crossing her arms.

"Could you not let him pester you a little longer, at least while Horik remains our ally?"

"That could be years!"

"Well, perhaps in a few years, you would find that boy more suitable to marry."

"This again?" The redhead muttered, glaring at the fire. "For the last time, Floki, I am not-"

"No child at your age wants to be married. That does not mean you shouldn't do it."

"You're not even married, you boney bastard." She hissed, which made the man giggle.

"The Gods blessed me with you, and they will bless you with a husband. I know it. Odin has told me."

She ignored him, looking over to see Ragnar talking to Helga again. She grumbled, marching over to the two. The redhead grabbed both of their arms, leading them through a set of doors to a quieter hall. "What in Odin's name is going on between you two?" She hissed, smacking Ragnar. "All this whispering, secretive touches, do you think no one would notice?"