Painted Blade || sihtric

20.

   DANES and women filled the streets of Dunholm when Uhtred and his party arrived, following behind Brida. Many eyes turned their way, many of them staring at Bemia and knowing exactly who she was just from her silver hair.

"Ragnar will be pleased to see you, Bemia," Brida hummed, looking over her shoulder at the smiling woman. And then she looked at Sihtric beside her. "And your husband."

"He knows?" Bemia's eyebrows shot to the top of her head. "I didn't think he had heard."

"Everyone has heard of your marriage," Brida laughed, slowing her horse down to a stop out the front of a grand hall. "Ragnar had Dane Lords begging for your hand. Imagine their faces when they heard you married a..." She looked Sihtric up and down with a small smirk as they dismounted their horses. "A warrior. Bastard son of Kjartan, the man who used to be Lord here."

Bemia's eyes slightly widened as she looked over at a blank-faced Sihtric. "You never told me that!" she quietly exclaimed.

"I didn't think it mattered," he countered, shrugging his shoulders. "Your brother killed my father, and I didn't want you to get mad at him for it."

"Oh, you have truly made a mistake there," Finan lowly whistled, walking past with Danes pulling Uhtred's cart toward the hall.

Bemia thinned her lips, narrowing her eyes on a fidgeting Sihtric. "We have been married for six years and not once have you mentioned this to me. Not. Once."

A deep, rough chuckle sounded from behind Bemia, causing Sihtric to slightly pale as he looked over her shoulder. "I see you still have that fiery anger in you, sister," Ragnar laughed.

A wide smile broke out on Bemia's lips as she whirled around, spotting her brother walking toward her, his face now aging, his blonde hair longer but his smile still the same.

Gods, it had been years since she last saw his familiar face and heard his warming laugh. And she truly missed him more than she knew now that she was standing in front of him.

"Ragnar," she breathed with a soft laugh, jogging toward him.

The second she was in his reach, he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her feet off the ground with that deep laugh as she squeezed him as hard as she could, missing the comfort of her oldest brother.

"You're home, Bemia," he said, rubbing her back as her feet touched solid ground. "You're finally home."

Bemia pulled away from him with a smile still on her face. "I am." She nodded and then stepped back, waving a hand at Sihtric silently watching from behind her. "And I've brought my husband."

Ragnar raised a brow, looking over at Sihtric who walked toward her with a nod. "So you're the one who tamed the Red Wolf, eh?"

Sihtric chuckled at that, stopping beside Bemia. "No one can tame the Red Wolf, Lord." He smirked, placing a hand on Bemia's back. "I am Sihtric."

Ragnar looked him up and down, face stoic and Bemia knew Sihtric was growing nervous, and she couldn't blame him. Ragnar was a tall, powerful Dane and anyone would be insane to not fear him.

"Good to meet you, Sihtric," Ragnar finally said, holding his hand out with a grin. Bemia slightly relaxed at his acceptance, watching them shake hands before pulling away. "Now," he looked around, "any nieces or nephews?"

At that, Bemia's smile faltered, and she cleared her throat, shamefully shaking her head. "I, uh...I cannot bear children, Ragnar. Remember?"

A deep exhale left the older man as he grabbed her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bemmi. I just hoped that by now the Gods may have decided to bless you."