Chapter Sixty-nine

Enid threw on her cloak, tossing a few more logs onto the fire before she headed for the door, her breath coming out in big bursts of mist before she'd even stepped outside, but he was standing there when she opened it, his fist raised as though he was about to knock, Frigga still clutched to his chest, and he looked so tired, his eyes sunken and dim and lined with deep, dark circles.

"Sorry," Ivar said. "I have to go and the others are still sleeping."

Enid shook her head, her hands reaching for Frigga, her eyes lingering on his face. "I was on my way anyway," she said. "But you should get some sleep, Ivar. You look like you've been up all night."

"It's alright," he said. "I need to speak to Rolf. It's my fault for putting it off for so long," he sighed, and Enid wanted to hold him then, to lay him down under the furs and run her fingers across his skin until he was fast asleep, but she nodded, grabbing Frigga under her arms, both of their faces scrunching up in fierce winces as Frigga started screaming.

"No! No, 'Nig! Far!" Frigga cried, her fingers curling and uncurling as she reached for Ivar, her feet kicking in the air.

"It's alright, Frigga," Enid said, trying to hold her to her chest, but Frigga only cried louder.

"Morning…" Erik sighed from back in the room, and Enid heard him kicking off the furs, his feet slapping against the floorboards as he headed towards them and Enid saw how Ivar's eyes fell on Erik's bare chest, how they lingered there for a moment before the corners of his lips twitched and he hooked his thumbs on his belt. "Frigga…" Erik sighed, leaning against the doorframe and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Enid watched as Ivar opened his lips, ready to snap, ready to grunt something sharp and rough at Erik, but soon those lips closed. Frigga reached, her feet kicking in the air as she tried to grab at Erik and Erik sighed, taking her from Enid and holding her to his chest, and then Frigga stopped screaming, resting her head on his shoulder and rubbing her eyes.

"Erik…" she mumbled.

"I know…" he sighed again. "But you have to sleep at some point, Frigga."

Erik's eyes flicked to Ivar, the two men staring at each other for a long while, their faces stiff and tense, Ivar's face only growing paler.

"What is it?" Enid asked.

"It's nothing," Ivar snapped. "She's sick."

"She's not sick," Erik said, and Enid watched as Ivar's jaw clenched, his hands turning into tight fists at his sides and he closed his eyes.

"Ivar…?" she whispered.

"It's nothing, Enid," he sighed. "I'll be back in a few hours. Look after her until then."

Enid watched him go, her hand clutching at her shirt, tears in her eyes though she couldn't say why. "I don't like this," she whispered. "You're hiding something from me, both of you!"

"Keep your voice down," Erik hissed, his head jerking to Frigga on his shoulder, and Enid could see her back rising and falling, those little hands hanging limply at her sides and she knew that Frigga was sleeping, so she gritted her teeth, throwing herself down by the firepit and burying her face in her palms. "Can you get my cloak?" Erik asked, closing the door behind him with a kick of his foot.

Enid wrapped it around his shoulders when he'd sat down by the fire, watching helplessly when Frigga woke and started crying as Erik moved her from his shoulder to lay in his lap.

"No more, Frigga," he said, and she stopped when their eyes met.

"Bap, mor," she whined, and Erik sighed then, folding her up in his cloak and trailing her nose with his finger. In a short while, she was gone again, her eyes opening and closing as they followed his finger until they didn't open at all.

"Erik…?" Enid whispered, her voice cracked and catching in her throat.

"I can't, Enid."

"I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

"There's nothing you can do," Erik said. "This is between her and the gods."

"The gods…?" Enid gasped. "You said she wasn't going to die."

"She's not."

"So what is it?" she asked, and Erik stared at her then, those eyes suddenly sharp, suddenly cold and dark.

"Enough," he warned, but Enid felt that terrible burning in the pit of her stomach, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists.

"Give her to me, Erik."

"Enough, Enid."

"You can't-!" she shouted, and then her eyes flicked to Frigga. "She's mine, Erik," she said, her voice softer. "You can't keep this from me. Tell me what's going on or hand her over."

"No."

"Give her to me," Enid hissed.

"What would you do then, Enid? Hmm? What will you do when she starts crying and she won't sleep? Calm down and let her rest. You're not helping anyone right now."

A few hours later and Enid watched him go, watched him open his door and sigh before he came back to the firepit and she looked away. She didn't look up, not at him or at Ivar beside her as she sat there, her finger tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tapping at her arm.

"What did you do?" Ivar asked, his voice deep and low, but when Enid studied him from the corner of her eyes she saw he was glaring at Erik across the flames, his forehead furrowing in a slight crease, his face stiff and tense as Erik tutted, laying Frigga back down in his lap and kicking a foot up onto his knee.

"Enough," Erik snapped. "You two figure out if you want my help or not. I won't keep doing this."

Enid stared at him, her face scrunching up in a fierce scowl, something hot and blazing stirring in the pit of her stomach, but Ivar sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his eyes. For a moment longer she held on, for a moment longer she could bury that sadness and that heaviness she felt at the sight of him suffering, but then she closed her eyes, her shoulders sinking and that finger stopping at her arm.

"What did Rolf say?" Erik asked.

"Nothing new," Ivar sighed again. "He just wanted me to help him fix things with Knut. I don't think he's thought much further than that."

"It's not him," Erik shook his head. "But I'm not sure he'll be any help either. What do you want to do?"

Ivar rubbed his chin, those sky-blue eyes staring off into the flames almost like he was searching for his answer there. "I have to try," he said. "Knut is still suspicious of me, but it'll only be worse if I don't stand up for Rolf."

"He suspects you?" Enid whispered, and Ivar looked at her, his head tilting to the side, his fingers dropping from his chin.

"Of course, he does. Why do you think he's keeping us at the longhouse?"

"But Sigurd's men attacked your farm."

"Yes, and that's the only thing keeping us alive right now," Ivar nodded. "I'm not even sure they were Sigurd's men…"

"Knut might have sent them," Erik nodded, and Enid stared at them, a chill running down her spine, her chest heaving as she shook her head, trying to still her mind, trying to think of something, anything, that could make this all go away.

She felt that hand that gripped her own, squeezing it and pulling her closer as Ivar kissed the top of her head, letting her hand go so he could rub her back.

"Stop it, Enid," Erik warned. "You're not helping."

"Shut u-!" she started, but then she couldn't finish.

She glared at him for a moment, wanting so desperately to jump at him, to dig her fingers into his skin and rip and tear at him, but he was right, so she closed her eyes then, her shoulders dropping as she nodded, a quick, curt nod, one that was more to herself than to anyone else.

"You're right," Erik said then, his eyes flicking to Ivar. "Knut would expect you to defend Rolf and Enid reminded him of that yesterday… Which was the right then to do," he said, turning to her, and Enid let that breath out then, let stiffness go from her back as she nodded to Erik.

For a long while they sat there, all of them staring into the flames, only the soft crackling of the fire making any noise between them, and then Erik sighed.

"Go get some sleep," he said. "I'll look after Frigga… and take her too. She's not been the best company today."

Enid glared at him, her hands clenching into tight fists in her lap, her lips parting ready to snap at him, but then she saw that smile, heard him laughing lightly to himself as he closed his eyes.

"Damn Christian," he sighed.

"Filthy Pagan."

When they got back to the room she watched Ivar, her heart sinking, her shoulders growing heavy as she watched him almost fall into bed. He didn't even kick off his boots, he only sighed and rubbed at his eyes with the tips of his fingers, squeezing the bridge of his nose and wincing.

"Should I go?" she whispered.

"No!" he said, that hand falling as his head whipped round to search for her. "Don't," he said, this time his voice soft and quiet, and she climbed in beside him, his arm wrapping around her and holding her to his chest.

She could feel his fingers brushing through her hair, all the way from the top of her head to her waist, warming her skin, far stronger, far warmer than any fire and far softer than even a hot bath.

"I missed you," he whispered, and she felt that smile spring to her lips, her fingers pulling at the strings of his shirt, her head tilting up to look at him and she wanted to tell him that she'd missed him too, but he was already gone.

So slowly she reached a hand up, trailing that crease in his forehead, tracing his temples and the bones in his cheeks and she watched that crease slip away, watched something soft, something warm, spring to his lips as he smiled in his sleep. She had to stifle it then, that laugh she felt building in her chest, the one that had her own lips twitching as she fought it.

"I missed you too," she whispered.