VIKINGS || GYDA

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟑

By the days end I found myself alone in a tub, soaking myself amongst essence of oils within the warm water. It served a small comfort to me. My mother's betrayal to me consumed my mind, I had retreated to the room the servant had led me to and had kept myself shut in for the past four days.

I believe a lie was told to Ecbert that I was unwell, in order to explain my absence. I picked at any food that was brought and only allowed servants in—not that many from the party had tried to see me. I think they hopefully understood what ailed me and that I needed time away. Not even Nels had braved to enter; though why would he? We agreed to stay apart here. No one was to know what we were to each other—yet I still yearned to have his arms around me.

How could mother do this? Go behind my back and plan this? I thought I would have more time. More time to prepare myself. More time with Nels.

My hands retract to cover myself as a knock is sounded upon the door. I do not drop my guard as I see mother's blonde hair peek through. She makes her way to sit alongside the large tub.

Sitting forward, I allow her to scrub the wash cloth across my back as she stared me down expectantly—not asking but insisting.

"How are you?"

I struggle to give her an answer. How was I? How does drowning in misery sound? I cannot hide the scoff that lingered as a whisper upon my lips—she of coarse sees this.

She clears her throat awkwardly, "You do not have to speak if you do not wish. I know you are angry."

With my arms folded across the tops of my knees, my head turns to her. I debated if I should resort to shouting or to snatch the washcloth and throw its soaked fabric at her feet.

Instead, I'm rendered still as she looks down to me with eyes glassed over with tears. It was an image that always stayed my hand—mother never cries in front of us.

"Mother?—" I forget my anger for a moment as I instinctually reach my wet hand to grip hers. I can remember even as I child, how manic I became to make my mother's tears stop. It became a common occurrence when we left father.

She sniffles as she is quick to wipe away the tears that had yet to even spill from her eyes. She wraps her remaining hand around my own as she whispers on; "Gyda..." I knew that face. The words of "I'm sorry" lingered on her lips but she straightens her shoulders as she shakes off her sorrow and moves to rinse my hair.

No more words are spoken between us as I bathed. The tension only grew thicker and more riled. I had questions for her, I had anger. It seemed she too had questions. I know she saw Nels and I exchange a look—is that what pushed her to intervene in my betrothal? I did not wish to ask it now; She seemed almost as on edge as myself—Almost.

||

"There." Mother releases a breath as she brushes down the last section of hair, the brush stroking down my back and finishing just by my tail bone. My hair had grown long in the last few years, I had thought to cut it back in the kings guard but couldn't bring myself to sever off the strands that my father last caressed on the day I left him.

"What news of this King Edmund and his son?"  I inquire, balancing venom on each word to her. I was still so bitter inside and I would not hide it.

"King Ecbert believes that they should be arriving any time now. Preferably the morning he predicts."

She answers absentmindedly as she fiddles with my cascading locks.

"Mother, when do you go to fight for Queen Qwentrith?"