"MAY I ask you a question?" Bemia asked, once again seated atop her horse but this time Katja was with Stiorra back in Mercia.
Espen hummed, glancing at his mother once before focusing on the path back to Coccham.
Last night at Aethelflaed's estate, Bemia had learned a lot about her son like how many battles he had been in, how many different tribes he had joined for a time, how far he had traveled, and of many enemies he made along the way.
But what she didn't know about was his earlier days.
"How did you grow up?" she carefully asked, staring ahead to avoid his eyes. "When you were taken from me, I was told you were...dead. Did you—did you grow up well?"
Espen fell quiet for a short while there, the only sounds passing them were the trees howling in the winds.
"I grew up with a family of Danes in Irland," he finally said, watching the way his mother's eyes drifted back to him with a hint of surprise. "That is how I know so much about my religion and how I've heard of your tales. Even over there you are well known and believe me, I was absolutely surprised when Father told me you were my mother—the Red Wolf."
Bemia blinked hard, ignoring the distant chatter of Coccham getting closer. She had an idea that her son grew up with Danes, but she never would have thought he was in Iceland or that he knew of her before he knew she was his mother. More so, she was absolutely baffled that her tales had gone that far over the seas.
Espen waved a hand in front of her face with a small laugh. "Mother? Are you okay?"
Bemia quickly nodded her head, waving away the baffle in her head. "Yes, sorry." She sheepishly smiled, facing back forward to where she could see Finan and Osferth clear as day, the pair halting in place near the docks at the sight of her and Espen. "I'm just a little surprised is all," she admitted and then sent him a warm smile. "I never stopped thinking about you, boy. Every day, you were in my heart, even while I believed you had passed. The Gods have blessed us."
"The Gods have." Espen returned the smile, his eyes so much like his father's that it reminded Bemia of a time long in the past.
"And here I thought you two would never make it back in time," Finan drawled, raising a brow as the horses came to a stop. "Uhtred was truly debatin' with himself about leavin' without you or not."
Bemia playfully rolled her eyes. "Well, we're here and ready to start this venture."
Osferth snorted, taking Bemia's reins while making sure she didn't trip while she dismounted.
"You were right about Stiorra," Espen murmured to Osferth, dismounting his own horse. "She ran at Mother with a dagger."
"She what?" Finan chuckled before calling over a stable boy to handle the horses. "That girl is startin' to remind me of a certain someone." He sent a pointed look to Bemia who flipped him off.
"One time Stiorra slammed my hand in a door because I joked about cutting her hair in her sleep," Osferth muttered to Espen, the two boys walking toward the docks where other men were, readying the boats.
Bemia watched them walk away as Finan stepped around to her side, slinging her pack across his back.
"Did he get along with Stiorra?" Finan questioned, also watching the boys climb into the boat as Uhtred spoke to them, no doubt giving orders.
"Well, she didn't hit him so that's a good sign," she quietly laughed, nudging his ribs as she looked up at his amused smile. "I truly believe he's going to do well here with everyone."
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Painted Blade || sihtric
Fanfictionorenda (n.) a mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world, or to effect change in their own lives. ------ The night Ragnar the Fearless and his family died was not only watched from afar by Uhtred Ragnarson, but also...