Chapter Eighty-four

Somehow the room was already impossibly loud and somehow it seemed to only grow louder. Enid sighed to herself as she walked around, one of her eyes always peeled to Knut on his throne and not knowing what to do. The feel of that pouched tucked in her boot was heavy. It seemed to grow corners and jab and prick almost like it was a knife, but Enid had to do it, she'd promised the princess she would try.

And to see Gro sitting there, smiling and laughing, to see her enjoying this night like she should, only made that feeling in the pit of Enid's stomach grow stronger. She didn't want to see Gro crying anymore. She didn't want to see those bruises or imagine her struggles when Knut had her alone in their room, so Enid walked to the backroom, filling her pitcher and taking that pouch from her boot. She stared at it, wondering one last time if it was the right thing to do, and then she sighed, tipping it into the mead and watching that powder melt away. Enid heard a scuffing of boots on the floorboards behind her and when she turned, she saw one of those giants, swaying and heaving like he was about to be sick.

"More," he said, holding his cup out to her, and Enid looked at that pitcher, trying to guess without knowing how much she needed to make sure that Knut left the Princess alone that night.

"This is for the Jarl," Enid shook her head.

"More!" that man growled.

"No."

His face scrunched up in a fierce scowl as he threw his cup at her before he came flying, grabbing her by the hair and slamming her into the table. Enid gasped, reeling from the sudden pain, her eyes going hazy and spinning for a moment, and then she gritted her teeth, lifting her leg as high as she could and reaching for her knife in her boot.

"Damn, Christian," he grunted, slamming her face into the table again before his knee came crashing into her side.

Enid gasped, falling to the floor and rolling away as that man swayed on his feet, stumbling for a moment and then he knocked the table over. Enid watched as that pitcher rolled, spilling mead all over the floor and shattering, and then she felt that burning in the pit of her stomach, felt her eyes strain and go hazy as she grited her teeth and screamed.

"What have you done?" she yelled, and then she flew at him, that knife in her hand swinging and pointing and aiming for his neck, but that blow came so quickly, slamming into the side of her face and knocking the air out of her lungs.

He punched her again, this time in the side, this time sending her flying backwards and gasping for air. He knelt over her then, his fist pulling back for another blow, her mouth going thick and sticky with blood, and then Enid stabbed at his leg, digging that knife into his thigh and making him yell. He fell off of her, clutching at his leg as she rolled out from under him, her eyes searching desperately for something, anything, that she could use to defend herself, but then she heard a rumble of boots beside her, heard a big crack of bone and saw Little Frigga running towards her.

"'Nig! 'Nig!" the girl wrapped her arms around Enid, pulling and grabbing at her dress like she was trying to get her to sit up. "Red, 'Nig. Red! Mor!"

Enid turned, grabbing the girl in her arms and jumping to her feet to make sure that man didn't hurt her too, but then she saw Ivar, his fist bloodied and his eyes dark as he punched the man again. The man collapsed, his breathing stuttered and shaking and his face scrunching up in a wince as Ivar yanked her knife free. Ivar's hands shook when he came back to her, the corners of his lips twitching like he was fighting something back, something powerful, something dangerous deep down inside him. He gripped her chin, running his thumb and his fingers over her cheeks and stopping when he saw her wince, and then he kissed her, so softly like he was afraid that she would break, so fiercely like he had been afraid he would lose her all together.

"You're free, Enid," Ivar whispered. "Don't argue."

Enid stared at him a moment, not sure what to say, not sure if she should agree or still fight to help Erik, and then she nodded, rester her head against his chest and lifting Frigga higher up in her arms.

"Good, 'Nig," Frigga smiled, a big, wide grin almost like she had understood all that had happened. "Red," she said, pointing at Enid's forehead. "Far," she laughed, and then she rested her head on Enid's shoulder, looking at her father and yawning. "Good."

Frigga didn't fight when they put her back to bed. The children didn't argue when they found them out in that bustling hall and sent them to join Frigga and Gro's children in the backrooms, and then Enid felt Ivar pulling on her arm, dragging her to a bench and pushing a plate in front of her. His hand reached out, piling that plate with greasy meats and dried fruits before he turned to her, licking his fingers, a sudden softness springing to his eyes. Enid couldn't help it, she forgot that heaviness in her heart, she forgot that weight hanging on her shoulders from that cracked pitcher and Gro's pain and she smiled. Ivar grunted, those sky-blue eyes half-closing as he grabbed a cup, taking a big gulp of mead as he moved closer to her on the bench, a knee each side of her.

Enid felt that heat rise to her cheeks, felt that warmth spread and glow deep down in her stomach, and then she turned away, her mouth suddenly dry, that smile on her lips growing. She was free, free to sit here with him, free to lean into those arms, to bury herself into that chest or just to smile and kiss him. Her smile grew then, dangerously close to being a grin, that heat almost making her cheeks blaze and burn.

"There you are, Ivar," she heard and Enid turned, watching as that woman cleared the table beside her and sat up on it, kicking one leg over the other and smiling at Ivar. "I heard you'll be leading your own raid when we sail west again."

Ivar grunted, chomping down on a piece of meat, those sky-blue eyes then cold and sharp, and that woman laughed, that smile on her lips turning into a grin as she leaned in closer, brushing Enid's hair behind her shoulder and nodding.

"And I heard you have your own house here now. Maybe we'll be seeing a lot more of each other again."

Enid felt that heat in her stomach turn into something else, something almost sticky and heavy, something that made her want to smack those fingers from her hair and that smile from that woman's lips, but then she heard something else, the thud of heavy boots and a voice straining as they half-sang, half-screamed, "My mother told me…!" Hilda fell, landing in that woman's lap and spilling her drink all over herself, and then she laughed, looking down at her dress before coming closer to that woman and resting her head against her chest. "You look so pretty tonight, Gertrud."

Enid watched as Gertrud laughed, catching Hilda's swaying finger in her hand and squeezing it.

"You're in a good mood, Hilda."

"Of course, I am!" Hilda shouted, sitting up and clutching onto Gertrud's knees. "The gods are here, don't you feel them? And they've brought my Helga," she said, burying herself into Gertrud's chest again. "My sweet, sweet Helga..." she hiccuped. "She's come to share in my good news, Knut and I are having a son!"

Gertrud's forehead furrowed into a slight crease, that smile never leaving her face as she shook her head. "You're still sleeping with him?" she laughed. "That's not like you, careful you don't get too attached."

"Aahh, what's not to like? He's perfect," Hilda swayed. "Every time I get tired of him, he leaves," she smiled, poking a finger into Gertrud's chest. "Where's your husband?"

"You won't share Knut, but now you want to share mine?" Gertrud grinned. "Tell you what, you can have my husband tonight if you'll help me with Ivar."

Enid gritted her teeth, her hands clenching into fists as she whipped her head around and glared at Gertrud, but then Hilda pulled away, her face scrunching up in a fierce scowl as she poked at Gertrud's chest again.

"Ivar…?" she asked. "No, you can't have Ivar. Ivar is for Enid," she shook her head and hiccuped, turning and swaying on her feet, her face suddenly shining and glowing as she stared at them beside her, almost like she had just noticed they were there. "Enid!" Hilda shouted, falling forward and knocking Enid's plate from in front of her as she landed on the table. "Are you done for the night?" she asked, grabbing Enid's hand and squeezing so hard Enid almost yelped.

"She's done for good," Ivar said. "I freed her."

"What?" Hilda gasped, her eyes pink and hazy as they flicked between their faces, and then she laughed, a big, loud laugh as she punched Ivar's leg. "Ha! Ha! Good!" she hiccuped, her hands fumbling with her fingers. "You have to look free, Enid!" she shouted. "Take this, put it on, put it on," she grabbed Enid's hand, struggling to slip on one of her rings, and Enid stared at that gold band, not knowing what to say, her eyes going big and wide as she watched Hilda pull a flower from her hair, leaving it tangled and messy. "Here, here…" Hilda swayed, sticking that flower in Enid's hair and brushing it behind her ear, and then she cupped her cheek, running her thumb across Enid's skin and smiling. "Beautiful, Enid," she grinned and then that light in her eyes faded, going dim and hazy. "Beautiful, beautiful, Enid... Don't leave us, alright? Not yet, not like…" she cut herself off, her jaw clenching shut, a wince springing to her face, and then she hiccuped, suddenly sitting up straighter and holding her arms up in the air to start singing again. "A galley with good oars! Sail to distant shores!"