The Skabelse

Bitter Sweet

The men that hammered away on a large sized cabin, who were bundled up in thick coats and fur lined hats, were the first to notice the two who entered the camp. Ever since their beloved prince and his mate, Rowan, were taking from their beds all those months ago, they were always on their toes and ready to take up defense at a moment's notice. "Oi!" Cori shouted, sticking out his chin to the two mounted intruders. The Roriks jerked their heads, quickly drawing their swords from their sheaths.

Rowan immediately froze while Bjorn only continued his slow pace and smiled. "Don't you nitwits know that it is a crime to threaten your prince? I should have your heads for that," he teased, dismounting his horse. Rowan chuckled to herself and followed suit, her boots crunching into the snow as she landed.

The Roriks on the roof sucked in a breath as they squinted their eyes at the two people who were making their way towards them, but as they neared, the men were able to slowly recognize them.

"It can't be..." Bjorn heard one of them say under his breath. Then, in a flash, the men scrambled down makeshift ladders-some even jumping straight of the roof onto the ground-before rushing over to greet their prince.

They slammed into him, knocking Bjorn to the ground. Rowan raised her eyes brows and laughed softly at the sight as it made her happy to see just how loved and cherished he was by his Brothers. Seeing them reminded her slightly of Bjorn's reunion with his father which slightly saddened her, and she quickly pushed the memory from her mind.

Bjorn laughed as the nine engulfed him jubilantly, some with tears in their eyes. As they helped him up, each one hugging him tightly. "It is so good to see you," Zolan who was Rowan's dear friend Arabella's mate said, patting him firmly on the arm. The tip of his nose was bright red as well as the either eight men's, indicating that they had been outside for a while.

Bjorn smiled and gave a slight nod of his head. The men then turned to Rowan, "And it's good to see you too, Lady Rowan. The other Gladeswomen haven't been the same since you've been gone, I can't wait to see their faces when you walk inside."

Rowan's smile faltered slightly but she nodded. "Inside?"

Zolan nodded his head, "Aye. After we finished with the stables we decided to build a large building for when we eat and such," he said before turning around and pointing at a short but wide wooden cabin. It had a few stone chimneys which billowed with smoke.

One of the men laughed whom Rowan recognized as a maned name Olaf, "That's a nice way to out it Zolan," he said, laughing again, "its original purpose was for eating, yes, but after a few days of completing it it quickly became a tavern. We've even taken it upon ourselves to name it the Venetian Lodge!" he said, throwing his head back and bellowing out one last laugh.

Rowan and Bjorn chuckled to themselves, shaking their heads. Typical.

"Come," Olaf said as he draped his arms around the two's shoulders, leading them to the wooden structure. A stale smell from his armpit filled Rowan's nose and she tried her best to control her nausea. She understood that the men had probably been working hard for many hours but her nose was rather sensitive considering her pregnancy and she tried to subtly lean away from him. "I believe dinner is just about to be served," he said as they neared the door. From only a few feet away she could both hear the loud conversations others were having as well as tell that it was considerably warmer and she began to imagine how it must be like inside.

For a moment the urge to knock on the door overcame her before she remembered that it wasn't necessary. With one last look at Bjorn, she waited for Olaf to place his hand on the door, pushing it open.

The first thing the two noticed was how packed it was inside. The Gladeswoman sat on their mates laps at tables, perched as if they were birds. Some were in deep conversations with their table mates while others giggled as their men whispered sweet nothings in their ear. Rowan skimmed the sea of heads, searching for her white haired cousin, finally spotting her a few tables away. There were two large fire places on each side of the room, both roaring as heavy logs burned in the hearths.