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

As the storm raged Arnarr had reflected upon what occurred before he had walked away. She had looked at him, gazed at him as if she could actually see him, into his being, who and what he truly was. It had been a little, unnerving, at first, but it had also made him want to protect her even more. Somehow she had gotten him to look at her as something other then just a save. She was... special. When he approached her after the storm he could tell by her complexion alone that she had seasickness. He had seen many young warriors have it, be hanging over the gunwales vomiting up everything in their gut. Arnarr himself had never been struck by the malady, he was not sure why exactly, but an old warrior of his Jarl's guard had told him that boded well, that a warrior born with good sea legs would invariably be twice as staunch a man on land. But, for the moment, that did not matter, what did matter was getting her better. The crew had, as was usual, had put the prisoners in the middle of the ship. That was supposed to cut down on seasickness, but it had not seemed to do too much good. As he looked around to the rest of the prisoners he could see, and now that he thought about it smell, that the ploy had not worked, especially in that storm. As she spoke, answering his inquiry about her, he shook his head slowly. No, you have the sickness of the sea. But, before he could say anything else, she reached up and placed her soft fingers upon his cheek. For some reason he found his own hand reaching up, holding her hand to his cheek. She was... confusing him. He had had feelings for women before, sure, plenty of farm girls and whores. But she was somehow... different. His mind drifted away from those thoughts as she spoke again. He listened intently, his mind going over what she was saying, translating it. She said that some food would be good and, and thanked him. That was so curious, that she was thanking him. In all of his years doing this, he had never, ever been thanked by one of the people that he had assisted in taking. Not that he was expecting thanks. He was pulling people away from their homes, their loved ones, everything they knew. Just as he had been... You are my charge, he said again softly. Then, seemingly out of the blue, she rested her head against his chest. Arnarr's arms did not move, not initially, but, after a few seconds, he gently wrapped an arm around her. She spoke again, saying that she was grateful for everything he was giving her. You are mine and I will provide, he reiterated softly. But, for some reason, it was starting to become less about profit for Arnarr. She was different. She pulled back from him and smiled. Another first. When she spoke once more, saying that he did not belong with these men his eyes widened a bit. Had she really just said that? It seemed that she was not only a beauty, but was also quite perceptive. As she gasped and blushed he could tell that she seemed to think that she had misspoken. She looked up at him and spoke, apologizing. Arnarr shook his head as she began to cry, reaching up with his free hand to wipe the tears from under her eyes with his thumb. No, no apologizing. They are crude and ignorant. She spoke again several moments later, telling him her name. Arnarr smiled then and caressed her cheek with his thumb, I am Arnarr. He fell silent for a moment, thinking of the meaning of his name in her language, It means warrior of the eagle. He explained. His name was not a common one, at least amongst the common folk to which he was born, but Arnarr's mother said she had high hopes for her child. He wondered what she would say if she could see him now, wondered what she might say of him to others in the Underworld. Arnarr hear food being passed around amongst the crew, but he had something else in mind for her at the moment rather then food. He reached for his belt, finding a small ring of keys. He looked to her and spoke softly as he started testing keys on her restraints. We must have you lay down, he began to explain, he said softly, Somewhere flat. It will help the sickness. Arnarr's hands moved deftly once he found the correct key to her restraints. It did not take him long at all to have her unbound. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and then slid the other under her legs. With surprisingly little effort he hoisted her up, held in his arms as if she weighed no more then a small babe. He strode towards the back of the ship, receiving several curious looks. It did not take him long at all to reach the stern. At the rear of the vessel was a small, room, but even that was doing it to much justice. It was under a platform meant to elevate the helmsman so that he could see over the bow of the ship better. The space beneath the platform was about two feet tall, just enough space for someone to fit under comfortably. It was where he stored his gear and slept. He set her down outside it and then flipped up the sealskin cover, revealing the rather cozy little nook. He had several blankets and sealskin cloaks about the space, to keep it warm, dry and a little bit more quiet. He motioned to the space and spoke, Lay down, flat, and close your eyes. It will help. I will have food brought once you feel better. It was then that he heard footsteps. Arnarr let out a sigh and reached within the small space, retrieving his swords and belt which he had taken off before the storm. He rose, slowly, and buckled them on. He turned then to see several members of the crew, all Danes, with rather disgruntled looks on their faces. One of them, a close friend to the ringleader of the band he had disciplined for touching Tiernan, was scowling and spoke up, So you punished them for trying to enjoy our spoils?! You killed them for having what is theirs by right!? Arnarr's eyes were cold as he looked at the other man, They squandered their spoils by killing the children, other women. They do not deserve anything from the raid. Actually, know that I recall, I remember you flaying a man alive with reins for a horse... The threat was not very subtle, which was what was needed for the man. His eyes widened and he shut up, not wanting to dig himself into a deeper hole. But the other Danes were not so easily quieted. You killed our friends! You are going against the ways of the viking! Arnarr felt to people stepping off of the platform behind him and felt the imposing figures of the two Swedes taking up position beside him. He looked down at the Danes, his hand resting on his sword. Look out there! he said, practically bellowing. The storm had, inevitably, blown them off course, and now they were in the open water, away from any landmarks. How many of you ignorant sods know how to navigate in open water? How many of you know the lands around here?! None spoke. I am the commander of this vessel. If you do not like that fact... feel free to leave at your discretion.