Kára walked to the table at the far end of her chambers. She stood staring at it for a few moments. Tears pooled in her eyes. This dark oak table had been her father’s. It was one of the few pieces of furniture that Klaufi had allowed her to bring to Orkney.  He had argued with her for the better part of the day when she had expressed her desire to bring it with her. He wanted her to carry something smaller. After all, their home was still their home and it would contain everything that had remained of their parents, if ever they chose to return. Until then, their housekeeper – a bubbly chubby matron who had taken care of the three children after the death of their parents – would watch over the house and everything in it. 

But Kára refused to be parted from the table. Reverently she ran her fingers across the disfigured surface. The fire had claimed a lot of their belongings. But the table had stood. Scarred, but it stood nonetheless. For that, she was grateful. Watching her father work at this table had been one of the only memories she had of him and she clung to it with everything she had. She smiled when she remembered how he would spend a little time with her every day. Just before bedtime, he would sit her on his knee and read to her. She had been too little to understand, but she had enjoyed how soothing his gruff voice had been. How it would lull her into pleasant sleep. How he made her feel safe. He was always out with the boys. Teaching them to ride or to spar with a sword or hunt and care for horses. But this, this was the one activity he did with her. 

She closed her eyes as her tears fell at the memory. Her fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, found their way to a familiar bump on the scarred surface. Her eyes opened when she heard the all-too-welcome ‘click’. A panel popped up and she pushed it further to reveal its contents. An old discolored parchment, rolled up and tied with a silken ribbon. The edges had been frayed from constant use. That bothered her, but she knew not how to fix it. Over time, she looked at the parchment less and less, hoping to preserve it longer.

Today however, she craved the relief the parchment offered her. Slowly, she lifted the roll and tugged at the ribbon. 

A soft knock drew her from her thoughts. Kára hurried to her door, the parchment tucked neatly into the folds of her dress. She opened it to discover a rather nervous looking maid.  

“Lord Kieran sent these for ye My Lady” she said handing her a bouquet of wild flowers and a note. With that she curtsied and scuttled away. 

Kára walked back to the table and set the flowers on it. With a curious frown, she broke the seal on the note and proceeded to read. 

“Lady Kára, 

Our brief encounter at the feast the night before, left much to be desired for. I must admit, I was so taken in by yer beauty that I was at a momentary loss for words. Although I am ashamed of my common behavior, I must dare, at the cost of all propriety, share that the dance of fire as reflected in the perfect sapphire blue of yer eyes haunts me even now, as I write to ye. But I digress, thus I shall say no more of the subject… for now. 

The strained introductions of the night before, might have left ye considering me to be an ungracious host. I therefore take this opportunity to apologize for being unable to formally welcome ye to my castle and my islands. 

With hopes of being afforded an opportunity to amend the image ye must have of me, I humbly request that ye would consider my invitation to dine at the main table tonight, as my guest of honor. It is my sincerest hope that ye will lay aside all misgivings from that unfortunate incident. 

To make yer stay memorable, I hope that ye are afforded every comfort that my modest castle can provide. However, if ever there is something that ye desire, it would be my pleasure to ensure that ye have all that ye need. 

I now await your response, which I hope will be a kind one, 

If I am not being too bold, and with your permission, I would like to sign off as 

Yours affectionately,

 Kieran” 

Kára smiled at the note. A second later, her smile disappeared. There’s no way she could encourage Kieran. No she couldn’t. She had responsibilities, too many to indulge herself in frivolous and selfish activities. Everything was new here, the land, culture, weather, challenges, even the language and she needed to be prepared for the problems that would invariably arise. Jarl Asmund and Lady Ádísa wouldn’t stay in Orkney forever and they had communicated to her that she would bear part of the responsibility to ensure the survival of their people.  No, not just survival. They had to flourish. 

Sure Olaf and Kieran would care for their people equally. Klaufi, Aggi, Bjorn, Sverting, everybody would pitch in. But the men were warriors, with their own set of challenges. Their own duties to perform. Their own ideas of how to further their influence. And while they were off sailing the seas and doing their bit, she had to be here to do hers. 

No she really couldn’t afford to be distracted from her duties. Before she could challenge her way of thinking and counter her arguments, and give in to weakness, she made her way to Kieran’s study. 

Although he seemed happy to see her, Kieran quickly understood that Kára’s response would not be as pleasant as he had hoped for. He didn’t argue with her. He stood quietly, listening, as she mumbled an apology and an explanation for being unable to accept his invitation. Then she left. 

Kiera scratched his head and narrowed his eyes while he replayed her explanation in his head. The way she spoke, the way her fingers fidgeted, the way she stared at the wall behind him… none of her actions screamed of the confidence he had seen in her the night before. He knew she hadn’t meant it. Something was bothering her. She may have denied him this time, but her heart hadn’t been in it. That thought gave him hope. A slow smile crept on his face, he wasn’t one to give up on a challenge. 

As he sat, his eyes fell on an unfamiliar object lying on the floor. Curious he made his way towards it and bent to retrieve it. As he unrolled the parchment, his smile grew bigger. She had dropped this and she would be thrilled to have it returned to her. It was old and frayed and it probably wouldn’t survive very long if it remained in its present condition. Perhaps he could do more than just return it.