Work Text:
Randvi stretches her legs out onto the wooden bench, head resting against her arm. Her head pounds slightly from the mead. Yet, for once, her mind isn’t in a jumble like it usually is after a night of drinking.
Eivor has already gone into her chamber for the night, exhausted, but elated. Though it was a mutual understanding of the clan, her new position wasn’t formally recognized yet. Surely another feast was in order (despite Eivor’s hesitancy, of course.) Tonight was more so a celebration of new beginnings and togetherness after a long period of darkness and uncertainty. It was unplanned, but it fit perfectly despite using the previous feast's leftovers. Luckily, Tekla had made extra honey mead.
The festivities had begun to die down well after midnight, leaving only a few faces yet to find themselves back to their homes. Among them is Octavian, jug of mead still in hand, drunkenly heading toward the alliance room.
Randvi doesn’t lift up her head as she sloppily points in the direction of the proper exit. “Other door, Octavian.”
“Hm? O, mihi veniae , it appears you are right! Right as usual, Randvi--” he hiccups. “Rightasusual.”
Randvi is about to comment that he must leave his jug at the longhouse, but sleepily decides against it, instead chuckling to herself and shaking her head.
Alvis and Holger are last to leave, shouting slurred insults at each other (something about who knew first that Eivor would end up taking a leadership position) before they too stumble back to their home.
Randvi is left alone in the hall, the ringing of celebration still cascading through the air not unlike the sensations of waves long after leaving the ocean. The last sparks of the hearth dissolve into the open air, becoming one with the stars above, visible from the central opening. Dishes and empty cups are left scattered across the wooden tables, which are slightly displaced from the festivities. Tomorrow’s task , Randvi thinks to herself, smiling. She, too, is exhausted, but couldn’t be happier. As of this night, Eivor is jarlskona of Ravensthorpe.
Would this change things?...
She banishes the thought to the back of her mind as quickly as it had entered, as she knows she must rest beside her husband soon. Sigurd had already gone to bed as well, earlier than everyone else. It was unlike him, but nothing unusual in recent months, ever since he returned from Suthexe. Though, when Sigurd returned with Eivor tonight, he did not return with the same heaviness he brought to the air— he seemed lighter, more free. Hel, even he had a drink from his spot in the corner.
***
What is this? she had asked the two siblings. She recalls the nod Sigurd gave to her as Eivor sat on the throne despite her uncomfortable squirming— a nod that seemed to bring a sense of relief, of peace, marking a new beginning for the clan. Randvi nodded back.
Eivor’s returned! Inside, at the hearth, come! Tove had already awoken most of the clan, torches dotting the crowd that illuminated curious and eager faces.
Your secret is no longer safe, Randvi whispered to Eivor as she moved to stand at her side, hands crossed behind her, as she had once done for Styrbjorn, for Sigurd...and now for her. She was able to exchange a quick affectionate glance with her before the crowd had fully settled in.
Gundmund was first to comment. Eivor? Randvi? Is everything all right?
She took a deliberate step forward. Our jarlskona has returned to lead us into an uncertain future. She turned back to face the new leader. Will you speak to your people?
Stunned, Eivor’s eyes widened before clearing her throat, taking a moment to think. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. The longhouse was completely silent.
For love and joy, words can jade. Our souls must sound in a heartful song. And when…
She shook her head. No, no…
Eivor stood then, leaving the throne empty behind her. You are less mine than I am yours. And I ask you only this...keep me honest in the times to come.
If things were different, Randvi would have kissed her right then; she would have let her pride explode right there in front of everyone. In another life...perhaps Randvi would have been the wife of the jarlskona.
If Eivor’s speech said anything, it was that nothing had changed, really. Rather, it was a reality made official; she had already been the leader they needed in Sigurd’s absence. Wise, humble, and the welfare of the clan always in her best interest. Yet Eivor was still the same woman, spirit intact, only now with a title linked to it-- merely a word.
Though Randvi’s heart sang with pride, it also broke a little as she swallowed down the desire to reach out and embrace her, instead resorting to pounding her fist against her chest in response to the song that broke out. She would have to wait for the next moment they were alone to congratulate her properly, as her love.
***
Randvi makes her way to her quarters, stumbling around a bit as she goes, until she walks past Eivor’s chamber and freezes in her tracks. Craning her neck to peak into the crack of the door, her heart flutters at the sight of Eivor spread out across the bed, Mouse curled up in a ball on the carpet beside her. The indentations of her inked stomach are faintly visible in the candlelight, golden hair piling around her head like a crown.
Her forbidden love.
Randvi’s heart aches for Eivor...her warmth, her touch, her smell...she misses waking up to her, in her arms, a luxury they could afford to indulge in most mornings so many months ago. Maybe she could just...for a second...
No. Not with Sigurd there…
She continues down the length of the longhouse, blowing out candles as she goes. When she sleepily turns to enter the doorframe to her chamber, she finds Sigurd sleeping in their bed, back turned and facing the wall. She’s somewhat relieved. It had only occurred to her then that she hadn’t spoken with her husband in private all night. Even if she had, she wasn’t sure what she would even say about the situation.
She tiptoes around the room, her movements barely audible, and changes into her sleep clothes. When she carefully climbs into bed beside Sigurd, he shifts slightly in the bed.
Randvi hesitates.
After she slides under the blanket, she hovers over Sigurd and plants an experimental, gentle kiss on the back of his neck. “Goodnight, Sigurd,” she whispers, unsure if he is awake. She turns her back to him, facing the opposite wall.
She tries to relax her muscles and drift off to sleep, knowing there was much to be done in the morning. But her mind races, eyes wide open— thinking, wondering.
“You don’t need to.” Sigurd’s gruff whisper breaks the silence, startling her.
Randvi’s stomach drops. “What was that, darling?”
He sighs. “You don’t need to lie with me, Randvi.”
She feels her whole body turn cold, any influence of mead abandoning her system. Slowly, she turns to face his back. “Sigurd—”
“I know who your heart belongs to,” he murmurs, still facing the wall.
Randvi’s heart stops. He knows. There is a long moment of silence between them, Randvi unsure whether or not she wants to break it.
“I...” she manages to croak out.
“Hush. Leave. It’s alright.”
Randvi feels a single tear trickle down her cheek. She swiftly wipes it away.
“Sigurd, I...I wanted to—”
“We will talk about it in time. Tonight, rest.”
She hesitates before getting out of bed, turning back to look at Sigurd one last time when she reaches the doorframe. His shoulders rise up and down gently as he breathes.
Randvi walks out of the room and enters the hall, making her way to Eivor’s chamber almost hurriedly. She catches a glimpse of her in the crack of the door once again, still in the same position as before-- on her back, arm arched underneath her head, and the other by her side. Randvi’s heart flutters.
She opens the door just enough so she can squeeze herself in and winces at every creak of the door as she carefully shuts it behind her. Mouse sleepily lifts her head up to look at Randvi, tail wagging faintly before nestling her snout back into her fluffy white fur.
Randvi hadn’t considered what she would do once she had laid down beside her. It seemed like an eternity since she had been in Eivor’s room alone with her, able to observe the way her chest rises and falls, the way a stray strand of hair framing her face gently wavers with each exhale. She spends a few minutes simply admiring the way she sleeps, still registering the fact that she’s watching it in real time.
She slowly lays her head back down on the pillow, afraid to disrupt her. Tentatively as she could manage, eager to see her, she inches her hand toward Eivor’s, eyes glued up at the ceiling, biting her lip. She intertwines her fingers with hers.
A soft hum leaves the blonde’s mouth. Her eyes flutter open to see Randvi at her side, watching her every move. She blinks, scanning the length of her lover beside her, seeming out of place after so long. “Randvi?”
She opens her mouth to respond, but no words escape.
Instead, Eivor’s confused expression gradually dissolves into a look of warm understanding, and she gently squeezes Randvi’s hand.
She shifts so that she is now fully facing the warrior, face moving to nestle into her neck, as Eivor takes Randvi’s other arm and places it around her waist. Eivor drapes the green sheets over Randvi, and slides one leg between hers until they are fully intertwined.
A single, weary tear wets the nape of Eivor’s neck. The tear falls for many reasons, but in this moment, it is a tear of relief. Eivor murmurs soothing reassurances into Randvi’s ear, and it isn’t long before she finds her own tears silently falling atop red hair.
Randvi closes her eyes, the feeling of being coddled by Eivor allowing her to fully give into her fatigue. The soft heartbeat and the sweet scent of Eivor combined with the gentle kiss she receives on her forehead is enough to lull Randvi to sleep in her arms. But a distant part of her needs reassurance that this isn’t another one of her dreams.
“Eivor?”
“Randvi.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while, succumbing to her drowsiness and the soft, languid strokes of Eivor’s thumb against her brow. Eivor assumes she had fallen asleep until Randvi whispers faintly, “my heart belongs to you.”
Eivor chuckles ever so slightly. A beautiful, sleepy sound that warms her entire body. “As mine does to yours.”
They soon fall asleep in each other's arms, soon to be reunited in their dreams, and eventually awake together in the morning, and every morning after that.
New beginnings foster what was always destined to be.
And everything falls into place.