Thread: The Warrior's Claim (Rivine & darkangel76)

Arnarr's mind was a maelstrom of thoughts. The young woman, Tiernan, was causing a conflict within him. She was distracting him from his duty. His primary concern should have been the safety of the ship, the men under his command, and yet he found himself worrying more about her, wanting to keep safe and healthy. Even now, as he was facing down part of his crew, he could not help but think of her small form, how she had been shaking, trembling in his arms. She had seemed so frail, and more then anything he had wanted to hold her close, warm her, tell her he would not let any further harm come to her. What was happening? The threat he had voiced to the dissenters on the boat had seemed to have some affect, after several of the more ignorant members of the group had been informed of the veiled implication in his words. Arnarr knew all to well that he was walking the edge of a sword with these men and probably most of the crew. Undoubtedly they would want to tell Bjorn of his actions, see that the viking lord dealt out swift punishment to his underling. As the group of dissenters broke up Arnarr was already contemplating what he must do. There were several paths before him submit himself to Bjorn's will which was likely to end in his death, try to flee next time they made port which would leave him destitute or the most radical of all the options, do not go to the port that Bjorn was expecting to meet him at under a pretense so as not to worry those in the crew he mistrusted, then, once at the village, slay those who we disloyal and take the ship for himself. Never had he contemplated betraying an oath, but when he thought of the woman curled up in his sleeping area, it seemed worthwhile. Arnarr turned his attention to figuring out where they were. There were still many clouds in the sky, which blocked out the stars, making navigation all the more perilous. But he could still see the moon, which would serve as a decent enough navigational aid. It was common knowledge that the moon rose in the east and set in the west, much like the sun. There was no land masses to the west that would give succor to he and the crew, Odin, the only land mass to the west he knew existed was the one they had just attacked. But to the east lay the lands from whence many of the Viking came, along with other isles they raided often. But the storm had pushed them fairly far north, which meant, he hoped, that they would likely come to Shetland, a number of islands that served as a way point for many Vikings, but not Bjorn. Several years ago he had actually raided the islands, earning the ire of the local jarls. That was where Arnarr would take the boat. It was soon after he came to that conclusion that he heard a scream. He looked to Aelfric, his friend, who had been staying close to the stern throughout everything. Arnarr was tired, having steered the ship through the entire storm, having spent hours at the rudder. Arnarr knew that his friend would except that excuse if he said he wanted sleep, but also knew his friend would see right through the guise. The Jute glanced first to the sleeping space, then to his friend, a knowing smile on his face. I will tell them you had to rest, after all, you were at the oar all through the storm, Aelfric said, more or less reading his friend's mind. Arnarr nodded and then spoke quickly, The moon is to the west. Keep it to your back and a man with sharp eyes at the bow. Get the sail open and let the men rest. Aelfric nodded and then stepped by his friend and began to shout orders out to the men of the ship. Arnarr moved to the small sleeping quarters then. He pulled the heavy skin covering back and moved inside. It took a second for his eyes to adjust, but then he saw her, curled into a ball, her small body being wracked by sobs. I am here, he said softly, reaching out to touch her cheek gently. He quickly took off his cloak, boots, tunics and pants, hanging them up from pegs by the curtain to dry. He reached out to her again, his hand touching her arm, feeling how cold she was. He then touched her clothes, finding that they were still damp. Well that certainly would not do. He leaned over, speaking in her ear softly, I must take your clothing. It is still wet from the storm and you be sick if you leave it on, he said, his grammar still rough and broken in her language, but he thought he had conveyed his point. Slowly his hands moved to the bottom of her dress. He began to pull it up with one hand, lifting her with the other. He did not ask her help, instead he undressed her himself, his rough hands grazing the soft skin of her legs, sides and shoulders as he removed the dress. Once it was gone his hands then moved to her undergarments, deftly removing them. Soon she was nude, but Arnarr did not want her chilled. So, as much as he wanted to look over her form, he instead pulled several heavy blankets over her. Then he moved under the blankets with her, pulling her up against his body. being this close to her bare form did excite him, but now was not the time. He needed, first and foremost, to see to her welfare. She was his, his charge. As his arms wrapped around her he found himself nuzzling her neck. He spoke to her, his words soft, warming, Let me warm you my Tiernan. Sleep, I will be here. It was then he did something he had never expected himself to do he pressed his lips to hers softly. Sleep, you are safe with me, he whispered softly, pulling the blankets tight around them.