Under the stars

The sea stretched endlessly in every direction, its dark expanse shimmering under the cold light of the moon. The longship cut through the waves, its dragon-headed prow unyielding against the swells. The air was sharp and biting, but the Vikings aboard didn't seem to notice, their voices loud with laughter and conversation as they passed around skins of mead.

Elyswith sat apart, her back pressed against the wooden hull, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She could hear Floki's strange, high-pitched laugh from the front of the ship, where he was regaling the others with some wild tale. Rollo leaned against the mast, his axe resting at his feet, his brooding presence a stark contrast to the light-hearted mood.

The ship's oars creaked and groaned, the rhythm of their movement blending with the murmur of the waves. The Vikings moved like a pack even here.

Elyswith felt utterly alone.

She slipped toward the edge of the ship, her movements unnoticed in the chaos of the crew. The stars above were breathtaking, scattered across the sky like shards of glass. She sat down, drawing her knees to her chest, and let her eyes drift upward. For the first time in what felt like weeks, she let out a long, shuddering breath.

If she focused hard enough at the sky above, she could almost pretend she was back home. She could hear the sounds off her childhood, the familiar sound of the church bells, the quiet hum of her mother's voice as she sang.

Before she realized it, the melody escaped her lips.

It was a soft, mournful tune, her voice trembling as it carried across the water. The sound was like a tether to a life she had lost, a fragile strand of hope that refused to break.

''Your voice is beautiful,'' a low voice murmured from behind her.

She turned sharply, startled, to see Ragnar standing there. His face was shadowed in the moonlight, but his piercing blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark. He moved closer, his steps quiet, his gaze fixed on her.

''I didn't mean to interrupt,'' he said, crouching beside her. ''But I couldn't help myself.''

''You seem to have a habit of that,'' she replied, her voice soft

His lips curved into a small smile, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. ''You wound me, Elyswith.''

''What do you want, Ragnar Lothbrok?'' she asked, her tone wary.

''To sit,'' he said simply, lowering himself until he was shoulder to shoulder with her. ''And to hear more of your song.''

The intensity of his gaze unsettled her, and for a moment, she considered refusing. But something about the way he looked at her - something unguarded and vulnerable - made her relent. Closing her eyes, she let the melody spill out once more.

When she finished, silence fell between them.

''Do you miss it?'' he asked, his voice unusually gentle.

She nodded, her throat tight. ''Every day.''

He reached out then, his fingers brushing against hers where they rested in her lap. The touch was light but deliberate, and it sent a jolt through her.

''You think of it so much,'' he said quietly. ''But you never speak of it.''

''What good would it do?'' she whispered, her voice trembling. ''It doesn't change anything.''

''It might,'' he said, his hand shifting until it covered hers entirely.

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The warmth of his palm was a stark contrast to the cold air, and she couldn't ignore the way it made her breath hitch.

''Ragnar,'' she began, her voice unsteady.

His other hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The tenderness of the gesture made her stomach twist, a strange mix of fear and longing flooding her senses.

''You're stronger than you think, Elyswith,'' he said, his voice soft but firm. ''You've survived so much already. And you'll survive this too.''

She swallowed hard, her eyes darting away. 

The vulnerability in his gaze was almost unbearable, and she felt tears prick her eyes. ''Why do you care?'' she asked, her voice cracking.

''Because you're not like anyone else,'' he said simply. 

The tension between them was electric, the space between them shrinking with every passing second. His hand moved from her chin to the side of her face, his thumb tracing her cheek with a gentleness that made her chest ache.

''Ragnar,'' she warned once again, her voice trembling.

He leaned in then, his breath warm against her skin. ''Tell me to stop,'' he murmured, it sounded almost like a question.

But she didn't.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. The sea, the stars, the distant hum of the crew - it all faded away, leaving only the two of them.

When his lips brushed hers, it was soft at first, almost hesitant. But the hesitation didn't last. The kiss deepened, a slow, consuming heat that made her forget where she was, and who she was.

She pulled back suddenly, her heart racing. His eyes searched hers, looking almost amused.

She didn't speak anymore that night, the conflict raging inside her being too overwhelming to put into words.