Stealing the Valkyrie

Little Victories

When Rollo returned home the fire had dwindled down to soft embers. But it was still bright enough for him to see the outline of Edithe, lying curled up on the bench with her arm resting under her head. At first, he thought she was sleeping but as he knelt down her unsteady breaths gave away that she was only pretending. He smiled, two could play at that game.

Carefully easing her from the bench, he carried her bridal style into his bedchamber where he laid her across the bed. On their journey from Briton, he'd imagined having her here many times but in his fantasy's she'd always been naked and free and beckoning him to join her. Now she lay still, her body rigid and her eyes squeezed shut.

He began to unlace her shoes, singing an old shanty song Floki had taught him, his voice deep and smooth. Still, she would not be disturbed. Next, he removed his own boots and then his tunic. When his trousers hit the floor he longed for her to look at him and see the way he stood before her.

Rollo was proud of his naked form. He was strong and well proportioned and many women delighted in seeing him this way. He wanted Edithe to see his body and how it craved her. He wanted her to know that he was choosing to restrain himself. Choosing to honor her. But she ignored him and he grunted in disappointment.

With his manhood straining for relief he blew out the candle and crawled into bed beside her, his fingers entwining in her hair before bringing a lock to his lips. Part of him wanted her to jump up and fight him, the other part enjoyed the peacefulness of lying beside a woman's warm body. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed such simple pleasure.

Carefully, he wedged his arms around her, pulling her close, his face buried into her hair. It tickled him but he did not mind it much and he fell into a heavy sleep with ease, not noticing how she slowly pried herself away from him, inch by inch until his arm stretched across an empty bed. She had some stealth he could give her that but Rollo was accustomed to bedmates sneaking away in the night.

First and foremost he was a warrior. He'd spent his entire life learning how to sleep with his ears open to unwelcomed sounds. No matter how gently she tried to do it, he registered the lid scraping from his wooden chest and his eyes sprang open.

Immediately he knew what she was looking for. His hammer. It was a token of his boyhood and he'd spent many hours play fighting with Ragnar when they were still young enough to have no winners or losers in their games.

Until now he'd forgotten it was hidden in his chest and might not have left a weapon so easily in her reach if he'd known. But now he was glad of it, his blood was pumping, excited to see what she would do next.

Feigning sleep he watched her shadowy figure tiptoe around the bed before standing over him, his hammer raised over her head. Again she was a Valkyrie, a beautiful harbinger of death and he could not get enough.

If she brought the hammer down he would resist her easily and he would have fun doing it but she was hesitating. Why, he could not say but eventually the hammer slowly fell to hang limp in her hand rather than crashing against his skull.

His ego was pleased to imagine she'd looked down upon him and decided she liked what she saw. But perhaps it was something else which stopped her, something he could not understand. Rollo had never been one to consider violence. If his life was in danger he lashed out until it was not. But he was Viking and she was a fragile little Saxon.

Regardless of why she did it, she returned the hammer back into his chest and began to tiptoe from the room.

Now Rollo was done pretending to sleep. If she was not going to fight him he still wanted her in his bed one way or another.