CHAPTER ONE; tova

"Are those more flowers you have there, Tova?"

"A flower crown," The young girl sat across from him with a long blue dress covering her crossed legs responded quietly, all too focused on perfecting the design that her Mother had once taught her. She had been obsessed with them ever since, they were times she could spend with her sister and fuss onto the head of her big brother. "This one is for Ragnar."

The elderly man afflicted with blindness hummed, in his hand laid his own flower crown that he would soon place with the others she had made for him over the course of the sunny week. "Yes, you favour making them for your brother."

Tova glances up to her Grandfather, Ravn, a smile on her lips as she knows her family would soon be back, either at a win or being defeated after riding to battle. Her Mother and elder sister, Thyra, were stressed with worry, but Ravn had coated his youngest grandchild into business, so she did not think of the fighting.

"He tells me he likes them," She shyly admits to the older man who isn't surprised by these words. It was without a doubt known that Young Ragnar favoured Tova the most, being the first to hold her as she was birthed to life, his suggestion had given her the name she wore now. "I hope he does not lie to me."

Ravn's favourite thing to do was hum. Sometimes, he didn't even respond at all if he didn't see it fit to do so, but he favoured the children of his eldest son of all that sat in his company. Ragnar and Tova most, for Thyra herself favoured her Mother's talks, and so that bonding didn't come all that often.

"The day may come your brother lies to you," Ravn tells the girl who stops her work on the flower crown for a moment, frowning as she looks to him. He's staring straight ahead, as if knowing exactly where she was, "But that day has not arrived yet."

The girl's frown flips, understanding that even her blind Grandfather understood that Ragnar liked the shows of effort his youngest sister made for him, a smile on her face as she nods, "Thank you, Grandfather Ravn."

The blind man lifts his head the tiniest bit, "Do not thank someone for what they did not do."

Tova didn't understand, he had made her feel better after wondering whether her brother had betrayed her trust, but the young girl doesn't say anything back, nodding though he could not see, and returning to her flowers.

She began to hum a tune that her Mother had sung to her, fingers gently moving through the chain, the sound bringing a touch of a smile upon the elderly man's face. Night had began to fall, no word of her Father and brother in battle had gotten back to them yet, and her Mother hadn't left the comfort of her room where Thyra was too.

"I believe Father has won the battle," Tova suddenly told her Grandfather, the man's smile dropping at the words.

Before he could say anything back, a question on the tip of his tongue, always so curious on how others thought, the sounds of the main entrance doors opened, men who threw their arms up and cheered barging through, and others who dragged men with strange looking clothing by their feet.

She immediately places the flower crown on the table, moving closer to the edge of the wooden railing as her bright blue eyes peered over, taking in the way the grown men were soaked in blood, eyebrows coming together when she doesn't spot Young Ragnar nor her Father.

"Neither Father or Ragnar are here yet," Tova tells her Grandfather automatically, used to updating the man on things he could not see but only hear. He hadn't always been blind, she had been told, but when he became it, her Father took over being Earl, Ravn becoming his advisor instead. Tova thought all the men in her life were smart, but she was just a child, everything they did fascinated her. "Oh! I see my brother!"

Ragnar came through, his arms hooked around another's shoulders — Ubbe, he was called, somebody Tova did not mind for he made her giggle — as they appeared.

"Ragnar!" Tova's call wasn't heard, making her frown and clutch her fingers around the wood, sitting up on her knees that rested on the chair base. Her brother goes to fetch ale, more laughter being shared as the men dressed in funny clothing were pushed around, ropes being tied to their hands and feet. "He could not hear me."

Ravn did not reach out for her, his hands would move without direction known until his fingertips reached anyhow. "Perhaps you should go to him."

But the way the man who was muttering something underneath his breath was being hung up with ropes to his wrists, on display, made her shake her head, pushing herself away from the railing. "Father would be unhappy with me."

As she settled back into her chair, almost hiding away from what was happening in the main hall just below her, Tova did not pick her flowers back up, only fiddled with the material of her dress, wishing for her Father to return.

"They have hung a man up," She whisper-yells over to Ravn, who hummed — in amusement of her tone, as if it was a crime, leaning her body forward before slamming herself back again, "And my Father is still not here."

"Are you sure?" Ravn makes her question herself, "I feel he has arrived."

For a seccond, Tova's blue eyes stare into the man, her Grandfather feeling the hardness of the questioning linger, before she's hurrying to grab the wooden railing again, looking over the top with her hair flying around her shoulders. She does not spot Earl Ragnar, and even her brother has seemed to disappear in the mist of it all. She reminded Ravn of his son as a young boy, all too eager and curious, and much too gentle for a time.

Her eyes fell on a young girl by the stairs up to where they sat, she was crying as a Dane pulled her around like she was nothing more than a rat, Tova's eyes widening in slight fear before she jumped away, off the seat and past her Grandfather who did not move, even when he felt her hair skim his left cheek.

Perhaps her Father and brother would not be happy with her if they knew or saw her becoming involved with any of the drunken men and their ways, but she was racing down the steps before she could think about it, her long blonde hair flying behind her, most of it having escaped the braid her Mother did that morning from all the playing.

"Get off her!" Tova shouts, landing at the bottom and grabbing the man's arm, who turned to look at her. Everybody who travelled with Earl Ragnar knew of his children — the only daughter of Ragnar's that did not mind to be around other Dane's. "You are hurting her."

"She is a slave, young Tova." The man tells her, his voice to her not quite the same as his hold on the girl. "She has no importance."

Tova's eyes narrowed, bright blue not happy with such words, "She does to me!" She reached out to put her hands around the crying slave's body, almost protecting her with her own. "Leave before I — I —"

The man was amused, cheeks painted with war signals and blood of the fallen Saxon men that he had battled against, at the young girl whose cheeks grew red as she tried to think of something to say. She was only trained with a bow and arrow, her brother not yet teaching her the ways of a blade — a sword was too heavy for her, her Father would say.

"You will what, daughter?"

The sound of her Father's voice made her turn her head, eyes widening at the sight of him standing there, a boy by his side with his hands bound by rope. Her parent continues, "You are much too like your brother. Always doing before thinking." But the sparkle in his eye told her he wasn't disappointed. "Now, go, go upstairs."

Tova frowns, her hands linked with the girl's now who was leaning against her chest for protection and comfort, glancing at the girl who was the same age as her. "May I bring her to sit with us?"

"You may not," Earl Ragnar doesn't miss a beat.

"Father — Father, please?"

The man sighed, his hand going to the back of her to push Tova toward the stairs, taking the signal as she pulled the unnamed girl with her. Once they reached the top, Tova squeezed the hand she held before taking a seat, pulling them both down to sit, the unnamed boy on the other side of her.

As her Father spoke to her Grandfather, Tova took the time to grab her unfinished flower crown, smiling as she placing it upon the girl's knee, the girl's other hand immediately coming to trace the petals as Tova turned to the boy, who at the same time glanced to her.

His hair was dark, covering his forehead and Tova had never seen such hair that way, her nose wrinkling before her eyes locked with his blue — though his were darker, not like hers. Blood stained his cheek as if splashed, and Tova looked to her Father at the calling.

A smile came to her face, "You came back as you swore, Father," She lightly praises, as he chuckles. "Why did you bring back children?"

He leans in closer to her, grabbing her free hand for a moment before letting go, standing back up. That was his affection for the time being. "I will send your brother to fetch you in a minute to retreat to bed. Such should not be for your eyes." He meant the hall's events.

Earl Ragnar disappeared, Tova glancing to the girl first, as her Grandfather asked the boy — Uhtred, his name became known — to cut him some chicken. The girl was quiet, tears down her cheeks as she traced the petals still. She had long brown hair, but her eyes weren't seen yet.

"My name is Tova, what is your name?"

The girl glanced upward, rightfully terrified at everything that was happening. Brown eyes, large dark brown eyes like Tova's Mother. "My name is Brida," She whispers back, a frown at her lips as more cheers were heard. "Thank you for helping me."

"You may keep the flower crown, the petals are so pretty," Tova places her hand on top of Brida's, squeezing with friendly kindness, before spotting her brother's head as he came up the steps. Young Ragnar stopped, a cup of ale in one hand as his other beckoned her to him, a grin on his face.

She bounced upwards, her brother being the only one able to get her to settle under her furs without complaining she was not tired, "Goodbye, Uhtred," She bid the boy she had barely spoken to, seeing Brida was hiding her face again, before kissing Ravn's cheek and running to Ragnar, who shoved his cup into the air as he caught her, holding her body up against him.

Her brother didn't even bother with the children left behind, walking down the steps immediately as he pretended to let her have some sips of his drink.

"That does not smell nice." Tova whispers to him, head against his as she relaxed. "Why does everybody drink it?"

"Because it tastes nice after a while!" Ragnar laughs, his bread tickling the young girl as she giggled, being brought the opposite way to everybody else, through the hallway. Her room was not upstairs like Thyra's and their parent's, instead her room was at the back, next to Ragnar's.

Her eyelids began to flutter, humming. Her brother's voice faded out as she allowed sleep to overcome her small self, grip becoming loose on his clothing.

And then she was gone, placed in her bed with a kiss to her forehead.

The dress she wore matched the grass she ran across, her fingers pulling her clothing up to make sure she did not trip. A giggle left her mouth, turning her head to glance over her shoulder and towards the boy beside her, who was simply pretending he was not faster to allow her to win, as he always did whenever they raced.

Sihtric did not like to upset her, his only friend, so he never did. Sometimes, Tova did not like that he always allowed her to cheer in celebration at becoming first, but he was just as happy as her during those times, so she supposed it did not matter either way.

Once again, she won, spinning around with a bright grin that matched his. Her hand clutched her stomach as he bent, hands to his knees, both breathing heavily at their playfulness behaviour throughout the woods.

"One day, you must win," She tells him once she calms, the giddiness fading after a few minutes. Neither of their smiles drop, as she turns around and begins to normally walk, Sihtric quick to move beside her, glancing down when she bends to pick up some of the flowers from the ground, his head shaking a little.

"My crown is no longer." He told her, her eyes shooting to meet his, his grin falling to become sheepish at the bright blue focusing upon him entirely.

Tova understood his unsaid question, nodding her head as she stood back up, flowers cradled in her grasp. "I will make you another, Sihtric," She promises, not noticing the small blush to his pale cheeks as he nods, both entering their usual place that they'd sit if they took a rest from their playing. "Here, I will now."

Taking a seat on top of one of her logs, spreading the flowers across her lap, legs glued against one another underneath her dress. Sihtric sat to the right of her, leaving a little distance, but close enough he could hold her hand if he wished. As she started, he took to continuing the carving he had started nights ago.

"Do you wish to raid and battle?" Her question comes from nowhere, making him look up in surprise.

They were about the same age, he a little older, and though he was a bastard son, born to a slave, and she the youngest child of an Earl and his wife, they had became friends, her hand having reached his.

Sihtric nods, unsure on whether his answer was the one she was hoping for or not. Answers that were not appreciated resulted in harsh punishments usually for Sihtric, his Father was a cruel man toward him, and his Mother, though she loved him and was a good Mother, had cut herself short from fully embracing her son, the fear of losing him held close to her heart for all the right but morally wrong reasons.

That his own Father would rid the world of his bastard born from a slave.

Tova frowns, an answer she knew to come but one she wished wouldn't.   "I would worry for you," She tells him, pushing her hair over her shoulder, "But perhaps I may even be by your side."

A smile tugged on his lips, "You cannot bring your flowers upon the battlefield, Va. I think you'd be the one to strike arrows upon them first." He gave the thought into it, and she huffs, giving him the same look her Mother would whenever her Father said something wrong. "Why the anger?"

"I am not angry, Sihtric." Tova is quick to grin his way, clearing any worries he bore that she wouldn't wish to speak to him. He was always quick to assume such, that she was angry or irritated, but that came from the way his Father would be with him, a man that was his Father by blood but not by anything else.  "I would just miss you if you were gone for so long."

She's working on the crown, her eyes watching what she is doing as she pokes her tongue out in concentration.  

Sihtric pulled his leg up, throwing his arm around it as he relaxed, the time of the day he could.  "You would be the only person I truly missed." He confesses, watching her look back up at those words.  "But we are not to part just yet for any battle." He promises.

The reassurance makes Tova feel better, because they were just children and only those grown went out to fight battles and participate in raids.  Her Father had told her so one day when she had hurried to grab a shield and attempted to follow Young Ragnar, her brother who had laughed proudly and told her one day, sister.

One day indeed.

"You would miss your Mother."

Sihtric glances away, his eyes — one brown, one blue, as beautiful as petals she had told him once — taking note to the sky.  Grey, the sun wasn't shining today. "She would forget me," He quietly responds, almost ashamed of the fact he knew of.  "She loves me, but she. . . she did not want me."

Tova didn't know what such was like.  She was loved by her family, and though it was not common or uncommon, Dane families came differently — and it depended on which child you were for some.  Legitimate or illegitimate made the difference for some Father's.

"I would never forget you," She informed him firmly, taking a peek around the woods that surrounds them. 

Before either of them could say anything more, a scream rings in the air, echoing as it bounces past the trees, almost taunting the girl who stiffs at the sound and the boy who immediately takes a stance, pulling out the blade he kept in his belt.

Following her friend, Tova stood up too, her hand being grabbed by Sihtric — a surprise, for its always Tova who grabs his hand first — as he continuously glances around, beginning to pull them toward a direction that had cover.

"TOVA!"

The sound of her name being called for in such urgency made her spin around, recognising the voice to be that of her brother's.   Her eyebrows came together in confusion, Sihtric still pulling her along before they're both ducking behind some sort of a wooden cover that acted as a shield.

Her friend's other hand flipped the blade he held so the safe side was in her direction as he pulled her closer, not knowing who was shouting.  Nobody ever called for her.

"It is my big brother." She whispers to him, the flower crown she hadn't finished being held to her front as she swallows any fear she had back.  "But Ragnar never comes to find me."

"Do you think something has happened?" Sihtric looks at her worriedly, squeezing her hand.

That fear comes back, staring at her friend before placing the unfinished flower crown into his hands, as he glances down at their hands quickly, accepting the gift she had been making him. 

"I must go to him —"

"TOVA!" That wasn't her brother, but a voice that shouted just as panicked as the first. 

She stands, bringing him up with her.  The tug she felt makes Tova's eyes go back to him, only to see a necklace being handed to her, on top of the flower crown she had given him first.

"I got this for you." Sihtric confesses, hoping she would take it.  He couldn't go with her down the path to where her brother stood, because he was a bastard child from a slave, his Father would be furious with him and they'd be punished — he and his Mother — for him befriending an Earl's daughter. "It is just like mine."

It was Thor's Hammer. 

Her blue eyes filled with tears as she carefully took the necklace into her hand, her thumb rubbing over it before looking to the one around his neck, cracking a smile as she then meets his eyes.   He wore an expression of pride at her reaction, knowing she liked it, for he knew her.  He knew the difference between her happiness and her sadness.

"Thank you." She throws her arms around his shoulders, burying her head into his shoulder.   His arms wrap around her too, attached to the warmth and care she always held for him.  As she leans away, her lips quickly press to his cheek, her own flaming up at her own act. 

His eyes widen, as she grins, gripping the necklace tight before spinning around, setting off to run towards her brother.

"I shall see you the day after the morrow'!" She calls over her shoulder, looking back one last time.  He stood there with a lopsided grin, one hand that held his blade at his side and the one that held the flowers held in front of his chest.

Running through the woods, Tova had no idea she would not see Sihtric the day after tomorrow.

Her hair whipped with the light breeze, gripping the necklace still tight but also pulling the front of her dress up.

"TOVA!" The voice was right in front of her, worry and fear and anger in Young Ragnar's tone, and as she ran quicker, pushing around a tree, she finds the standing body of her sibling who is rushing as well.

Breathing in sharply at the pace of her run, Tova quickly puts on her necklace, gripping Thor's Hammer in her palm for a second longer before letting it drop to her chest.

"Ragnar!" She calls back, her brother turning to the direction of her voice as she hurries to him, not understanding why he seemed so worried.  "What has happened?"

Her brother ran toward her, bending down to grip her arms, eyes scanning her over before shaking the girl slightly, "Where have you been?" Despite the worried words, he gave no explanation. "Who have you been with? Why did you not —"

"I was making flower crowns," Tova frowns, not liking the way he was holding her.  He noticed, loosening his grip. "I ran at your first call I heard, Ragnar.  What has happened?"

Instead of answering, Young Ragnar looked around, as if expecting somebody to show up behind her, as if somebody was around to hurt her and then he pulled her towards his chest, one arm around the back of her head, pressing his nose into the side of her head. 

She wrapped her own around her shoulders, feeling her brother beginning to stand, keeping his grip on her tightly.

"Something happened to Thyra, she is fine, but we worried for you," Ragnar told her, and her fingers gripped the shoulder blades of his armour, her other hand holding her necklace.  "Uhtred saved her.  I will be going with Father to solve this, but no longer will you travel in these woods alone."

Her head rested against Ragnar's.  She was too big to be carried like this now, but her brother insisted, her Mother would joke that he did not wish for the baby to grow up.  He wishes she stayed small, so he may always be able to protect her.

He didn't let go all the way back home, and it's only when the hands of her Father pull her from Young Ragnar as Earl Ragnar came to light, angered at someone on his land having caused harm to one of his daughters. 

Her Mother is there then, arms wrapping around Tova as she fusses.

"She is fine, Mother," Young Ragnar nods, glancing down to his sister who glances up at him.   One last smile is shared before she's guided by Sigrid inside the hall, her hand being comfortingly ran through as if somebody had actually happened to her.

"You are not to venture the woodland by yourself," Her Mother repeats what her Mother had already told her.   Her voice was a lot stricter, more authority that told the girl no arguing would get her out of it. Her chin is lifted, her Mother checking her over before kissing her forehead. "Sit with Uhtred and Brida whilst I tend to your sister, do not leave the hall."

Tova sighs but nods, moving towards the two other children who relax at the sight of her.   Taking a seat opposite them, she meets Uhtred's gaze first. "Is she okay?"

Uhtred nods. "She is."

"Thank you for saving her, Uhtred, I am gladdened to know you both are fine." Tova still had no idea what had actually happened, her innocence still protected, but her words make both Saxon children smile, finding her sweet. 

"I am glad Sven did not near you."

Sven? That was the name of Sihtric's brother.  Tova kept quiet however, just casting her eyes to the floor, no flowers on her lap or within her hands.

Instead her fingers gripped the necklace around her neck, unaware her Father was going to banish the very boy and his family from being on their land.

It would be years until she saw her friend again.

——

sorry- if this isn't great. i don't think i'm great at writing around a child's third person pov.  first chapter is up though!

( second will follow shortly. )