Sacha's Sorrow #ONC2021

3: A night to remember.

"Ready, Da?" Sacha tugged and plucked at his coat until it sat right on his thin frame.

"I dunno, sweet child. Mayhap a night by the fire—"

She tutted him, and he sighed. "I bathed for this, I have this beautiful dress, and Bjorn is announcing to the village that he has asked to handfast." She laughed, wrapping her arms around her father's waist for a squeeze. "To think we may never go hungry again, Da."

"A worthy dream." He smiled and pulled her threadbare cloak around her. "We shall feast this eve, and let tomorrow bring what it must."

She kissed his cheek and skipped to the door, too excited to stand still or to wait any longer. As she swung the door open, she gasped and stumbled back. Bjorn stood there with his fist raised. In soft leather breeches molded to his thighs, and a dark blue woolen tunic clinging to his broad shoulders, his pale hair glowed in the moonlight, but none of that mattered more than his smile. He lunged forward and scooped her into his arms.

"Sacha, ye're as beautiful as when I last saw ye, lass." He smacked a loud kiss on her lips.

Warmth flooded her to her toes in her worn slippers at his sweet compliment. "Yer saw me but hours ago, Bjorn."

His blue eyes darkened with the same intensity they had carried when he had sprawled his body across hers. He spun her out of his embrace to clasp Da's forearm. "Tis a wonderful eve, good sirrah."

After he ushered them out the hut and along the path to the village hall, he kept a steady conversation of nonsense among stolen kisses. The sky had never been so rich a deep blue, the stars as twinkling and cheerful. She found the crisp breeze refreshing against her flushed cheeks and snuggled into Bjorn whenever he threw his arm across her shoulder.

After their 'swim', she had wanted to hurry to Greta to share the news, but she had daydreamed the time away when Bjorn had finally left her to ready for the Yuletide. Imagining Greta or Katla's expression when Bjorn announced the handfasting, was sweet and kept Sacha's spirits high.

A large bonfire burned in the center of the village, its warmth tempting folks to linger and chat for a while. Through the open doors of the hall, music and laughter spilled down the stone steps, calling all to join them. This night, there was no sadness or suffering, just good food, ale, and kinship.

Da abandoned them for his friends inside, sharing an ale and a laugh with a carefreeness she hadn't seen in a while. Drawing her gaze from him, she smiled at Bjorn who stole a quick kiss.

"Here ye are." Greta bounced across the cobbled stones to loop her arm through Sacha's. "Good eve, Bjorn." Using her hefty weight, she ushered a struggling Sacha through the doors and into the hall.

Sacha moaned, "I was busy."

"Och, aye, I have eyes, Sacha, along with everyone else." Shoving her onto a bench, Greta kissed her mother's cheek before slumping beside her. "The way he looks at ye, twas but a matter of time afore he gathered his balls to ask." Greta gripped Sacha's upper arms and forced her to twist on the bench. "Well, did the lad?"

Sacha grinned, bubbly joy tripping out of her, but all she could manage was a laughing, "Aye."

Greta squealed and silenced those around them. Not paying attention to their good-humored or judgmental expressions, she poured honeyed ale into the cups on the table. "Is he announcing it this eve?"

Sacha nodded again, then sipped her ale, savoring the warm, sweet flavor. She wanted to remember this eve forever; Bjorn claiming her in front of the villages, and Katla's expression when he did so.

Many stared at Sacha, their gazes trailing the too-tight dress hugging her curves. Women whispered behind their cupped hands when she danced past them or served her father a platter of food. Through it all, she scanned the hall, seeking Bjorn's handsome face, his warm smile, and his rich laughter. His father, Chief Orn, thumped his shoulder, and impatience twitched her fingers, threatening to spill her second cup of ale she had nursed for the last hour.