VIKINGS || GYDA

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏 *

The thrall stands anxiously in the corner of my room. He makes great effort even in his state to be as far away from me as he can.

"Do not be afraid. I will not harm you."

His eyes are trained to the door, indicating that he wished for nothing more than to leave.

"My lady, I am not to be in your quarters."

"You may call me Gyda."

He looked taken back as I walk to close the space between us. I would try to be kind, like how Athelstan would wish me to be.

"I cannot. You are a lady of the house—the house I serve." He turns his head away from me and looks to the window. Avoiding my eyes at every chance.

"What is your name?" I attempt to change the subject.

For the first time since we've been talking he finally looks up. His gaze meets mine and I feel struck. His eyes were the colour of a stormy sea. They were captivating and they were fierce—they had a look of a fighter, a warrior—not a thrall.

"Izoc." He mutters.

"Izoc, were you truly being punished for not fulfilling tasks?"

His head nods, "My mistress was not satisfied with my work. She says I am the poorest set of hands she has had." There is a whiff of humour in his words.

His answer was telling. He is not a man born into servitude—he couldn't be. His body was lean and strong, he wasn't meek, he didn't tremble to authority. He had a look in his eyes, like he had a fight in him that sat just beneath the surface.

"Forgive my questions. You must be in pain. I can show you to the tub and there I can help clean your wounds."

He shake his head immediately.

"No—I shouldn't be here." He shrugs the cape off his body and lays its fabric on the bed.

As he struggles to bend back upright to leave, I move to stand right in front of him. Blocking him from leaving.

"My lady, please—."

"Do as I say." As soft as my words were sprayed, there was an evident demanding tone that even he couldn't ignore.

The look in his eyes are full of an unknown emotion. But alas, he doesn't argue but nods his head. Deep down I was cursing myself for ordering him. I didn't want to do so. But it was the only way to help him.

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His veined hands clung on tightly to the edges of the wooden tub. No matter how light I dabbed his wounds, his exposed pink flesh would burn him at the lightest of touches.

Kneeling behind him, I washed out his wounds and applied herbal patches to cover them.

"There." I sigh, pulling strings of hair that had fallen out of my braid away from my face.

"Thank you...Gyda." He turned his head slightly to the side, almost as if he was seeing if I would be outraged that he had spoken my name.

"You're welcome."

Blood rushes to his hollow cheeks. I awkwardly look to the wall as I realise.

"I'll go get something for you to change into."

He nods bashfully, huddling his body closer together in the tub. I stand and make my way to a drying rag hanging by the door. I turn back tossing it onto the small table aside the tub.

"Take your time in getting out. I'll be back"

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I knock on the door but get no reply. There was still time till the sun set, they must be out in the town still.

Walking into father and Aslaug's room, I really couldn't help but admire. It was a large room, larger than I remember. The bed was coated in nothing but the finest furs.

I recall when I was a girl living here. How I often would come in her to sleep beside mother. In those days, father was away most of the time—Bjorn too.

Walking to the corner I pull out a basket that laid under a small table. In it contained mens garments.

I grabbed a long brown shirt and black pants. Gathering the articles under my arm I push the basket back under the table and stand and turn to leave.

Aslaug stands in my way, holding baby Sigurd over her very swollen stomach with a look of amusement, her head slightly turned.

"Aslaug." I give a nod, feeling a bit caught.

"You know that if you need clothes you are very welcomed to borrow mine. Surely your fathers clothes are too big for you."

"That's kind of you but these clothes are not for me."

"Oh, who are they for?" I watch her face contort into confusion. I knew not to lie, she would see it.

"They are for a thrall who serves you. He was badly beaten and I tended to his wounds. His clothes are ruined." Her brows are turned up in curiosity.

"I apologise if I have caused any offence, what you do with your thralls is your right. He just reminds me of Athelstan."

"You do not need to explain. I understand what you mean, I recall how special Athelstan was to you." She holds a look of understanding. She breaks into a small smile. "You have always been a sweet girl Gyda."

"I have no problem with this. It would seem that you are not my only step-child that has taken a liking to one of my thralls."

I look at her quizzically. Does she speak of Bjorn and the girl from the feast? I watch as she meets my gaze, her eyes baring deeply into mine. She leans in gently, Sigurd wriggling in her arms.

"I do not wish for you to think me cruel Gyda. It's just that thralls must be punished if they cannot do their duties—this one in particular has proven to be a waste. He will not get better...I think it best if he were to find another place for his skills or lack there of..."

"I want you to tell him that I release him from service to my household."

I look to her in disbelief. She would free him?

"Aslaug if you are doing this to be in my favour, know that you do not need to. I bear love for you already." I know she tries hard to win Bjorn and I's approval.

She smiles in gratitude, she takes her free hand to stroke my shoulder, "It makes me happy to hear you say this. I know our relationship did not have the best start but I truly want us to have a strong bond. You are sister to my boys and my sweet step-daughter."

I smile warmly to her. It was genuine.

She hugs Sigurd closer to her chest as she nods her head to the clothes in my arms.

"You may take these to him. My instructions still stand though. I do not need a set of incapable hands in my household. Tell this thrall that he has been granted freedom from my household."