As Svea tended to her responsibilities around the village, a stubborn feeling remained at her back and shoulders, as if eyes were resting on her. At first, she tried to ignore it. Convincing herself that it could have been unsupervised hounds roaming about, or perhaps a frightened bambi that had wandered into the village but lacked the confidence to approach anyone - still too young to find its way back.
The feeling was persistent, however.
And Svea knew without doubt that they were eyes.
Even then, she told herself they must be harmless.
If anyone truly meant to attack her, why would they wait hours to do so? Surely someone else in
the village would have noticed by now. . . wouldn't they?
If only. . .
She turned around when she could no longer deny the presence which was now creeping closer, bringing a small darkness with it. She had felt it before. It was the same as when a forest went silent right before lightning strikes. An instinct buried too deep to name. But she knew what often followed it: rage.
Her fingers went to the knife at her side. She shifted her head left, then right, trying to pinpoint the source, listening to the sounds around her and allowing a beat for anything that might tip her off in one direction or the other. Anything that could explain why she felt closed in, outside.
"There you are," Dragmall's soft, comforting voice announced as his hand settled on her back. His eyebrow rose when he saw the knife drawn, dangerously close to becoming a mistake. "I haven't done anything, wife. Why do you plan to cut me?" he frowned.
She rolled her eyes at his assumption, though she continued to visually sweep the area. "Not you. . ." she muttered before leaning in to peck his lips in apology. "I feel as though I'm being wat-" "By Ymir's bones - it is true!" exclaimed a light, theatrical voice. Its own - with hair even lighter than her tone - stepped out from behind the barrels where she had apparently been hiding, pointing an accusatory finger at the couple. "You married without me present!?" she demanded, aghast. She couldn't fathom that her dearest friend had done such a thing.
Not without her.
"I knew it!" Svea responded, matching both the urgency and the volume as pointed right back at the woman before them - one of the only people near her own stature. "Firstly, you could not be found for far too long. Secondly. . . I ask you plainly: were you stalking me like prey?"
A small smile tugged at the corner of Dragmall's lips. He was surprised more than anything to see this side of his wife. Although she had her own humor, he was more often exposed to her dry wit or quiet remarks. She was rarely loud, rarely anything other than composed. For a moment, he could imagine what she must have been like as a child.
"Yes." The familiar friend answered simply, dismissing the accusation as common knowledge. If Svea had sensed her already, there was no point in pretending otherwise.
Her slender brown eyes stayed wide as she darted them back and forth between the newlywed pair, over and over again, unable to end the cycle. She smiled at last and stepped forward, placing a hand on Svea's shoulder before leaning in, pressing her forehead to hers.
The warmth of her skin made Svea worry she had caught an illness on her journey home. "It is nice to see you, Sve Sve."
"I will kill you." Svea warned.
Not caring for the threat or finding any real weight behind it, Ulfinna giggled. It meant no more to her than a butterfly's gentle flutter of its wings.
She stepped back, extending her hand toward Dragmall. Allowing him, at last, to see her features clearly. He noticed her clean face and the sharp, neat hairline that disappeared into intricate braids still carrying the faint scent of burnt cedarwood, even after her many days at sea. Her eyebrows rounded softly. A small beauty mark rested beneath one eye; her face already more inviting than Svea's had been when he first met her. Seeing this, he better understood the side of Svea that surfaced in her presence.
"Ulfinna," she introduced, lifting her chin. "And you are. . . the man who married my dear Svea without my presence or blessing." She clicked her tongue in chastisement.
His jaw dropped slightly.
Dragmall turned to Svea with a silent plea for rescue. She only shrugged. She had done her part.
This, he realized, was where his story with Ulfinna began.
"Go on then, Dragmall," Svea encouraged playfully. "Tell her why."
Although he wanted to place the blame back onto his wife, to make it clear he hadn't been pleased that she was forcing his hand, he couldn't deny her at this moment. Not when she was wearing the largest smile he had seen from her since meeting her.
Dragmall licked his lips. "I am. . . I am sorry." he said at last. "I couldn't wait to marry her, and no one knew where you had gone, when you might return. . ." He swallowed, his brows pressing so tightly together that a small crease formed between them before he lowered his head.
Ulfinna listened. "Well," she decided, "I have much to learn of you, Dragmall. If Svea has taken you as her husband, the laws of our bond make you mine as well, my brother, whether you wish it or not. I was not consulted, and for that she will answer. But you will find that I am patient, and she will pay."
She looped her arm through Svea's, pulling her close as naturally as breathing. "The village is busier than I remember. You didn't give away my house, did you?"
Svea shook her head in reassurance and led them in from the growing cold.