FORTITUDE

by chocolatejet

. . .

Part I: Solace

. . .

Gyda is mortified when it's Athelstan who finds her, huddled in a darkened corner of the goats' pen. She holds her breath as he comes to sit next to her, an attempt to stifle her sobs, but ends up hiccupping instead.

"Will you come back to the hall?" asks the priest after a spell. "Your parents are worried."

She doesn't believe him. Her father is too concerned with Princess Aslaug, and her mother is too concerned with her father.

Athelstan sighs softly at her reticence, and Gyda feels as though she's disappointed him. Her eyes sting with fresh tears.

"I do not know what to do," she says in a small, congested voice. "I wish…" What? she wonders to herself. You wish your father was not so selfish? You wish your mother was not so proud? You wish Aslaug had never come?

"I know," says Athelstan quietly. He tugs her to his side, a hand smoothing over her hair, and she feels a flutter in her chest. Both gratitude and something else.

They sit that way for what feels like an age. So long that Gyda is almost asleep when Bjorn comes upon them.

"Gyda," says her brother sharply. "I've been looking everywhere for you." His gaze is steely, fixed on Athelstan as he speaks, and Gyda frowns at him as she stands.

"You did not look very hard." It's out before she can stop it. Bjorn's eyes briefly widen in surprise at her tone. She's been too soft-spoken for too long. A moment later, he's frowning right back.

"Come," he commands, and Gyda almost resists. She's not a dog.

"Go," says Athelstan, still sitting in the hay. "Listen to your brother."

She looks at him and he smiles back. A smile that doesn't reach his eyes that are dark and tumultuous like the sea in a storm.

Gyda nods though she'd rather stay with him. "Goodnight, Athelstan."

"Goodnight."

She climbs over the fence, then turns back. "And thank you."

He nods in acknowledgment before Bjorn drags her away, back to the hall where tension still thickens the air.