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Weeks turned into months, and before Yrsa could blink, winter had overcome them, drifts of snow settling around the town. The cold was biting and whilst Yrsa was used to the harsh winters, she had lived in a hall that was constantly warm. This biting cold and drafty home was new to her.
Throwing another log on the fire, Sihtric watched in amusement as Yrsa shivered underneath the furs, only her face visible, pale against the light grey. She huffed, blowing an auburn curl out of her eyes.
"What a fearsome Shield Maiden you are," Sihtric teased gently, pulling his own furs closer around him. "The mighty archer, defeated by the cold."
"I can not help it," Yrsa's teeth chattered, before she pulled her head free of the furs to turn to the other Dane. "When I ran from my home, I did not have time to grab such things as winter clothes."
They fell into silence, before Yrsa felt another weight on her shoulders, as Sihtric smoothed his thick cloak out over her body. Something fluttered in her stomach, a familiar feeling that Yrsa often got around the Dane.
"Thank you, but will you not be cold?"
"I am used to it," He sent her a small smile, before sitting next to her by the fire, the pair warming themselves up.
"I still feel bad," Yrsa mumbled after a minute, before unlatching the furs from around her and holding half of it out to Sihtric. "Please. It shall make me feel better."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, otherwise I would not have asked," Yrsa murmured, as Sihtric shuffled closer and huddled under the furs with her. His body pressed against hers, strong muscles hard against her form as the pair warmed up under the furs. There was quiet for a moment, before Yrsa turned to look up at the Dane teen. He was watching her with those mismatched eyes, a look in them that she had not seen before. "Sihtric..."
He cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand, rough from years of sword fighting and wielding axes. She leant into his touch, the cold metal of his rings a stark contrast against her cheek, that was growing warm.
"Can I...May I kiss you?" He murmured, as Yrsa nodded. It took a moment, before Sihtric leant down slowly, cautiously pressing his lips against her. He was waiting for rejection, waiting for her to push him away and discard him like everyone he cared about in his life did.
But Yrsa did not. Instead she deepened the kiss, her hand coming up to rest on his cheek, her thumb tracing a scar.
In the summer, when Yrsa had first come into Uhtred's service, she had scoffed at the unknown of love and how to tell if someone loved one another. But now, in the depths of winter, with Sihtric in her arms, she found herself suddenly understanding Hild and the other Saxon adults words.
