The snow bit deep into Haakon, who was without a cloak and only had his leather tunic and breeches to protect him. This is wrong. he thought. I'm not supposed to be here. The frozen expanse of ice desert lay in front of him, with nary a man, beast or tree in sight. Though he saw no point in going on, his feet moved on. As he did, the wasteland only grew longer and longer and longer. The Jarl walked for what seemed like hours, and soon the cold was too much for him.

He fell to his knees, his hands and feet burning with frostbite, and Haakon wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and die. Before he could will his limbs to move, something ahead of him struck the snow. He looked ahead of him and saw a tall man, wearing a long black coat and a wide brimmed hat. In his left hand, he carried a spear with it's haft buried in the snow. On each shoulder, the man had a pair of large ravens. Haakon could not see the man's eyes, but the eyes of the ravens peered into Haakon, almost looking through him.

"Odin..." was all that Haakon could muster. As the words left his mouth, the man brought out his right hand. In his fist was a gold chain, and dangling from it was what looked like a pendant. It seemed as though he wanted Haakon to take it. The Jarl reached for it, but it seemed so far away...
---
"Haakon! Wake up!" said the voice ringing in the Jarl's ear. Haakon opened his eyes and saw the familiar face of Snorri, his thane. Haakon grunted as he pulled the sea-soaked cloak off of him and got up. Snorri pointed towards the front of the ship. "Land sighted ahead, only a few miles out."

Sure enough, through the ocean fog, Haakon saw the rough shape of land. The Jarl nodded. "Prepare the men for landfall." Snorri, who was old even when Jarl Harald was young, nodded and began to bark orders. Haakon himself reached for his bundle of equipment. He pulled on his mail shirt and lashed his family's sword to his belt, praying to the gods as he did so. "Odin, far-wanderer, grant me wisdom, courage, and victory. Friend Thor, grant me your strength. And both be with me."

Clan MacConnich sat a top a great plunging coastline, steep cliffs on all sides. Their great hall, home to their laird chieftain was the first thing to the crest jutting sea-cliff, as if ready to pierce the sky. The homes of all other kin and workers embraced it on the other side, till the land suddenly swept out into vast fields, moors and rolling hills. One could ride for miles and still only see the vast sea of green, before getting to the dense forest. It was beautiful land for farming and flocking.

The great serpent ship had been spotted through the morning sea mist, and people were chattering with excitement and fear. Only tales of the great invaders at reached Clan MacConnich, luckily never invaders themselves. Till today that was. The rail-thin Christian father who usually invited clan kinsmen into the small chapel, now shut up his windows and doors. He fell to his knees before a wooden crucifix to mumble furiously prayers and other such nonsense as warriors demanded him to take up sword and follow them.

Even the widow baker was taking up arms to defend their clan, though all women, children and sickly were insisted to stay in their homes or gather in the Great Hall for fortification. Just in case things got too dicey and the wolves of the sea couldn't be persuaded to leave in peace. It could be hours before the ship's sailors touched land, but the chieftain had heard enough tales to not want to take chances. In fact he was to lead all armed men out to surround the cape, just in case the sea-wolves decided they could try to take on the entire clan of farming warriors. And inside the chieftain's home another self-proclaimed warrior wish to fall to her clan's aid. Just is case, of course, just in case.

Aibhilin was just leaving her exasperated father's study when she came across quite a sight wait for her in the corridor. It had taken her hours to convince her father to let her go with him and his warriors to greet rather unwelcome guests in a dragon-like ship that rested in the sea's arms at their coast. So really she should of been expecting this. But in truth the sight itself caught her by surprise.

Her three younger sister, all standing in a neat row in the hallway, all with crossed arms. All glaring at her. Brae, who was eight-and-ten years had her brown hair all pinned up and back, looked the fiercest. The eldest of the three younger girl, she was mature but had a sharp tongue and an even sharper temper. Just their mother. Dolina, six-and-ten years with her black hair in one thick braid, looked cold and calm however. She wasn't one for showing much strong emotion, but when she did it was like a tempest at sea. And the youngest at only three-and-ten years of age, Muira, with her wild fair hair stuck with rosemary, just looked like she was sulking. To Aibhilin, they were all sulking children usually, but today they looked mature. And scared.

"What's wrong wit' you lot then?" the eldest red-haired daughter put a hand on her hip and raised a brow. It wasn't like her sisters to leave their self-claimed posts around the household. This was certainly a special occasion. Even if the fear in each one of their eyes unnerved her.

"Yer goin' off wit' Father, aren't ye Aibhi?" Brae fumed with her round face flushed, "It's too dangerous to be goin' to see to sea-wolves and you know it!"

"Will no' see you gettin' yerself hurt," Dolina said cooly, her deep green eyes betraying her concern for their eldest sister, "It's no place fer a woman to be at a meetin' with warriors. Especially with those kinds of warriors."

"They're Vikings!" Muira squealed at her older sisters, before turning to Aibhilin, "They take food, livestock, women, make people their slaves-! They're worse than wolves! They're nigh bit closer to monsters!"

Aibhilin's face softened at the youngest and most dramatic sister of hers. Putting a hand on the fair head, she combed its feather-fine tresses with her fingers, which made the youngling relax a bit. Looking up at Brae and Dolina, she could see their features soften just a bit. Their mother had once combed their hair like that when they had been but wee things at the knee. Gathering together the three younger sisters hugged Aibhilin, who in turn petted each one on the head.

"Father and his warriors will be all tha' the sea-wolves shall see," her voice was soft as she tried to ease their concerns, "And if they are drunk-with-seawater mad enough to try anythin', our steel is all they shall feast on tonight." Her sisters didn't look as quite as convinced as she would of liked, but she gave them one last warm grin. "I'm bringin' my bow," she gave them a confident huff, "I'll be fine! Now go help get the Great Hall fortified. They'll need you three and all yer creative talents to keep that place warm, clean and well-fed." Her sisters were hesitant so she gave them a bit of a push. "Off wit' ye! Everythin' has ta be ready before the ship lands!"

Aibhilin watched her sisters dart off. At least that would keep them busy and their minds off of worse case scenario. Touching the pendant around her neck, she closed her eyes and took a long deep breath in. "Oh, Scathach, Goddess of women warriors, watch over me," she whispered from behind the pendant, "Camalus, Great Sword of the Sky, God Who Sees All, lets us all be safe..." Closing her eyes, she let the last of her trembling leave her. Looking up with fierce green eyes, she straightened her back and held her head high, marching off to fetch her bow and horse. Her father and her kinsmen were daft if they thought they were going to the cape without her.

Haakon tried his best to ignore the shakes, but it was near to hopeless. The best he could ask for is that none of his men saw him. He was supposed to be a leader and a strong warrior, but he had absolutely no combat experience. He was trained well, but nothing can prepare you for the thunder and fire of battle.

He kept these thoughts to himself as the boat crunched on the rocky beach and his men departed. Haakon took his thirty men secured their beachhead, making sure that there wasn't an ambush waiting for them. Satisfied, Haakon ordered his men to immediately start for the castle fort on the top of the nearby cliff.

Haakon marched with Snorri, who shouldered his two-handed axe. That axe, along with his brute strength and even more brute face earned Snorri the nickname of "Troll". The older man embraced it, and occasionally teased the small children of Runheim.

"You were wise to move us now, my lord. If we are lucky, whoever holds that tower won't mobilize before we are on top of him." said Snorri. The older man trained both Haakon and his brother in the warrior arts, and considered both of them to be his children.

Haakon only nodded. He could feel the hour of battle drawing nearer, and it unsettled him immensely. Snorri a conciliatory hand on Haakon's shoulder. "It is good that you are afraid. Fear makes you sharp, and I know of many "brave" men who sleep on the red snow." The jarl nodded. "I just don't want to make a fool of myself on my first outing."

Snorri laughed. "I think you will do fine, lad. You are your father's son, and you won't-" The pair were interrupted when one of Haakon's scouts ran up to the both of them. "Riders from the fort, with armed men behind! I count at least sixty, maybe more!" the raider told his Jarl.

"So much for luck holding out." said Haakon. "We can't fight that many. We can make them regret it if they try to attack us, but it would be inevitable." Snorri spit at the ground and spoke. "There are too many people at home depending on us for us to throw our lives away. Maybe we can negotiate."

Haakon halted his men in a field, while Snorri and himself walked a few dozen paces away. They were well within bow shot, and Haakon's men could charge in if there was trouble. For now, though, the pair waited for their host to show himself.

Aibhilin rode next to her father, a great honor indeed since she was getting plenty of mocking looks for it, but her father was convinced that as long as she was in arm's length she was the safest she could be. The Gods knew she would only follow them anyway if he forbade her to go. It was far better to keep his eldest daughter exactly where he could see her and keep her from getting into trouble.

Their warhorses thundered across the green of the land and finally came to stop at the fields just before the cape. These Vikings moved fast! They should still be on the beach shouldn't they? They really were a force to be reckoned with if they could move that fast over sea and land. Her stomach roiled with anxiety. The stories of the Vikings must hold some truth then. How odd that only a few days ago she had been on that beach, sitting on that sand, lamenting a woman's fate. And now there was a Viking dragon ship on that pale sand and smooth sea rocks. And the field she had picnicked in with her sisters, there stood foreign men, pale like ghosts but all broad shouldered and feral looking.

Aibhilin's flaming red hair whipped around her head like fire against the sky as she let her green eyes taken in their odd 'visitors'. Strange how these men could still make her father's spine stiffen. These outnumbered sea dogs who made her father swallow his fear and replace it with the bravery of a warrior. Her hand grasped for the pendant around her neck, pressing it to her mouth one last time, she shadowed her father in the slow descent towards the unearthly looking mass of warriors.

She could see her father glance behind him, giving her that exasperated look mixed with irritation and frustration. The same one she had blew off a mere hours ago, yet now a part of her wished she had listened to it. Her green eyes went down to the scan over each warrior wolf's face, the long braided hair, their strange clothes, their weapons...

Their weapons. So they had meant to try and pillage her home. Her green eye burned with molter anger. A small little thing like her, and yet her anger told her that she should shout at them all to go back to their ship. Go back to their frozen land with strange barbaric people who thought whatever they could take by force belonged to them. Seething atop her horse, she halted when her father raised a hand.

Her father was a brawny man, with dark brown-red hair and pale green eyes that could glare with all the Sky God's fury when he was deeply angry. Though he never showed his anger on his face, keeping it stoney and grim, his eyes were always honest. With his giant claymore sword strapped to his back, Aibhilin held her head up high. Her father was one of the best warriors in the clan. He had to be. It was how he had kept his claim throughout the years.

Her father dismounted and gave her a sharp look before she could argue that it was too dangerous for him to be on equal footing with the sea wolves. Closing her mouth, she frowned. Very well. Then she was going too. Dismounting she picked up her bow, her arrows all snug on her back, and marched right up with him and his righthand warrior. None of her clansmen had enough amusement in them to let out a good laugh at the sight. Instead she could feel the air get thicker, as if her actions just made them all more tense.

"Welcome travelers," her father's voice boomed, but while the words were of welcome, their tone was less than inviting, "What brings ye to our shore?" Her father gesture around, but Aibhilin could see he was more than plainly pointing out how out numbered the Vikings were. The fire haired lass clutched her bow even tighter, muscles tensing, ready to spring an arrow at any moment. As if she were expecting Muira's words to be the truth. That these men would turn into hissing monsters at any moment.

"Please tell me, travelers," her father's heavy voice sounded louder to her than any thundering their warhorses had ever made, "why are you so armed ta the tooth fer just a pleasant stroll across MacConnich land?"

The scottish host rode towards them, and Haakon squinted to see a flaming red banner carried amongst the warriors. Wait. Not a banner. That's a woman's red hair. The local warriors stopped a few dozen yards the woman with red hair came riding towards them, along with another armed man. As the two dismounted, Haakon turned to Snorri. "I might have an idea to get us out of this, but you need to follow my lead."

The man, Haakon guessed he was the chief, started speaking. The woman standing next to him was younger, about Haakon's own age. While Haakon heard the chief's words, he couldn't help but feel a little put off by the woman standing next to him giving Haakon a glare that could melt ice.

"We are here for tribute." Haakon said. "If you do not wish to fight, then give us gold and we will leave." This was a long shot, Haakon knew, but he was banking on reputation of the viking sea-raiders. That, and he wanted to make clear that even if Haakon and his men die here, the chief and his men will be in for a fight that they will never forget. Sometimes, the path of least resistance is preferred.

"Tribute?" Aibhilin scoffed, keeping her voice low and crossing her arms over her chest, "With what gold then?" Her father put up a hand and she grit her teeth. He glared at her from over his shoulder, and she tipped her head down in apology. It was just that something like that was so... ridiculously straight out of the children's tales she couldn't of stopped herself. She wanted to give the young Viking warrior a sarcastic and biting remark, but her foolish anger could lead to men dying. With a sigh, she lifted her stormy green eyes back up to the young leader of the would-be raiders. He had to be their leader. He spoke for them.

Chieftain MacConnich rubbed his graying beard, looking the Vikings over. His face, though still stoic and rather grim, turned a bit more thoughtful. Finally he spoke. "My daughter speaks the truth, though out o' turn," his gravelly voice held a bit of a lighter tone in it that before. As if looking the sea wolves over had given him a new thought as to how to deal with the situation. "We have very little gold, and what little we do have is spend on the up keep of our flocks and fields," Aibhilin's father stated slowly, "Hm... A difficult position ye have us in, indeed."

Something in her father's stance changed and Aibhilin looked at the old Scottsman with some amount of shock on her face. Whatever he was about to do, she seemed to realize it and at the same time, turned her head in disbelief. "Why not stay a while as our guests instead, Sea Lords?" her father's voice now had warmth in it, actual welcome compared to that of his previous greeting, "We may no' be able to give ye gold, but we can restock yer ship, lend hand in repairs and give ye a bed ta sleep in." The Chieftain grinned then and put out his hand. "What say ye? It'll be more comfortable ta rest fer a several days before ye set back out on yer conquests, aye?"

Aibhilin couldn't believe it. They had come here to threaten and plunder, and her father was welcoming them as in as if they were kin. Had the sun gone to his head? But when she looked back at their wall of highlanders, she realized why. Every single man that sat up on their horse was kin. Her father had promised to protect each one of them and their families. He had made an oath to make the wisest decisions to keep them all alive.

These were not nameless soldiers, but neighbors, brothers, fathers, sons... It was better that they welcome the band of sea wolves in, than shed blood while there were still other options to explore. Nothing was ever as simple as fight or die to her father. He was a smart man, he'd most likely keep the laird of the fair-haired foreign warriors close to him, just in case the warrior sailors got too antsy and thirsty for blood. Which meant the blonde warrior she had been glaring at would be sleeping in their guest corridors. She didn't like this one bit.

Haakon tried to hide the fact that he was gritting his teeth. It had been weeks since they had seen land, and they certainly need a resupply and a dry place to sleep. On the other hand, time was not on the side of the raiders. The choice was obvious, but Haakon knew the answer would come back to haunt him.

"I accept you're offer, and I thank you for your generosity." Haakon said with a bow. He turned to Snorri. "Tell the men we are moving out. Put five of them on guard duty at the ship, and the rest come with us. I'm sure you know what to tell them regarding hospitality." Snorri nodded, and walked back to his men. Snorri was a long time raider, and he would tell the men the ground rules.

After Snorri left, Haakon turned to his host. "I am called Haakon, son of Harald, Jarl of Runhiem. If you could honor me with your name, so that we may be friends."

Aibhilin relaxed some when it was certain that the young Viking laird would agree to her father's terms, but she was less than thrilled at the idea of a band of plundering pillaging dunderheads milling about the village. Much less the young dunderhead leader who could be kept within the walls of their own home. Any other lass would swoon at the sight of his broad shoulders and blue eyes, but he had still intended to invade her homeland. And now he'd be kept in her home where her three innocent and naive sisters were. No, she didn't like this one bit. Her father could bow and play host all he liked, but if this blue-eyed honey-tongued whelp laid a finger on her sisters, she'd stick him without another thought to it.

"I am Angus MacConnich, Chieftain of Clan MacConnich," her father grunted, pounding a fist proudly across his shoulder. Aibhilin had to smile at her father's show of pride. He could be rather animated when he wanted to. But then she noticed her father was looking right at her. Oh no. She wasn't going- Ugh. He was doing the 'I'm so disappointed that my daughter can be so rude to a guest' face. Her cheeks burned as though she were the little child who who used to put pranks on uppity guests all over again. Stepping forward slightly, and obviously hesitant, she dipped down in greeting before standing straight back up with her head held high.

"Aibhilin MacConnich," she said briskly. Her father bristled at her curt tone, but she just stood with her head held high. She wasn't usually so willful and stubborn, but this was a special occasion.

"I...apologize fer my daughter's lack of manners," he emphasized the three words and it made her face burn even more, "but she's her mother's child." He motioned towards the village. "If ye would kindly follow us, Jarl Haakon, we'll get yer men situated in the barracks," her father turned back to their horses and leapt on, "Ye and yer righthand man are welcome ta' stay in my home, should ye like to."

"Oh, aye, should ye like to, My Laird," she grumbled under her breath as she leapt onto her own horse with all the grace of a skilled horsemen, "Please come riiiight intah the chicken coop, Laird Wolf. Noooothin' will go array." But with all her grumbling done, she let out a huff and rode towards the village, wanting to get home to see to her sisters before the wolves came to dinner. It was a wise choice to invite them as guest as a leader, but it was also a choice she would not ever admit to liking as the keeper of her sisters.

Haakon bowed to Chieftain MacConnich. "I thank you again, sir. We will not cause trouble." We better not, at least. he thought to himself as the chieftain and his daughter rode away.

Snorri was there, shaking his head. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I don't think that girl likes you very much."

"There is not exactly alot to like." Haakon, hefting his shield and carrying his axe on his shoulder, replied. "She doesn't have much of a reason to trust us.

"That is true, and she will like you much less when she finds out how penniless you are." Snorri said with a laugh before returning to the men with orders to follow. Haakon could only roll his eyes and began to follow the host of clansman back to their village.

After only about an hour of marching, Haakon and his raiders reached the town. When Haakon pictured it in his mind, he had an image of a quaint, idyllic town with thatched roofs and people in the streets. And that's more or less what he got. He also counted on everyone in town giving him and his men the evil eye, which also happened. One old woman even spit at the ground as he walked past. By the time they had reached the barracks, the whole town knew who had arrived. Haakon turned to his thirty men.

"We won't be here long, and do not cause any trouble with the locals. Anyone caught with a local girl or robbing any villager will answer to me, personally." he emphasized the last word, making it clear that anyone who disobeyed this command could expect to swim home. "Other than that, try and get comfortable." He motioned for Snorri, and the two of them made their way to the chieftain's hall.

"Yer back Aibhi! What has happened?! Is Da with you?!" Brae was the first to rush towards her as she entered the Great Hall, "Are they marching here?! Should we run?"

"If ye'll let me speak, Brae, I'd tell you what has happened," Aibhilin huffed with Brae trailing right behind her.

"Aye, let her speak, Bee" Dolina said in her calm way, though her eye swam with unease, "Tell us, Aibhi, what has happened?"

"The Vikings half way to the village by the time we reached them," she grumbled, crossing her arms and letting her sisters gather around her like ducklings, "We met with their Laird, er, Jarl and father agreed to shelter and supply them so that they might leave as soon as possible."

"They're staying?" Muira squeaked making Aibhilin sigh and feign a smile.

"Aye, they are staying in the barracks, but their Jarl," the word felt strange on her tongue, "and his righthand man were welcomed to stay here. In the guest quarters." Her sisters all started to talk at once, Brae in outrage, Dolina in concern, and Muria in fear. Aibhilin closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose, letting them ramble on. The Great Hall doors opened once more.

"I see yer sister has told ye all the new," her father said all to calmly as he strode in, "I want all of you ta listen to me. Aye, that means you too Aibhilin Duinn MacConnich." She winced at hearing her full name. Ah, she was in trouble then. Looking up at her father almost a bit sheepishly, the young women all listened to what their father said. "These men are our guests," he put up a hand when the girls' voice started to rise once more, silencing them all, "But they will be watched. Yer not to be alone in the same room wit any of them, understood? They are warriors who've been at sea fer who knows how long. I'll no' see any of ye married off to a wolf, aye?" He paused giving them all a concerned smile. "I'm gettin on in years, so donna make me have ta fight some young pup, alrigh'?"

Even Aibhilin had to give a small laugh at that. For some reason the face of the young Jarl flashed a crossed her mind. The odd styling of his pale blonde hair and the way his ice blue eyes had pierced right back through her molten glare. He was so young to be leading a band of warriors and yet he had held steady as any seasoned warrior before their entire clan, and demanded respect. Her face turned a bit red. Why on earth was she thinking about that sly wolf? Fine. She'd only ever admit that she respected his bravery. But she didn't have to like him and she sure as the sky was blue did not trust him. Looking over her pretty sisters as their father explained that the men were to be treated and tended to as guests, Aibhilin came to a conclusion. She'd keep an eye on the young wolf herself. There was no way she was going to let there even be a chance of him getting near her sisters. Everyone had heard the stories of the Viking's and their silver tongues.

"Is that understood Aibhilin?"

"Wh-What?" she stammered caught off guard by her father addressing her. She turned red as her sister snickered. Her father just sighed and raised a brow.

"No quarreling wit' our guest, ye hear me lass?" he grunted, but gave her a grin, "Aye? Now off wit ye. Go help yer sisters." Aibhilin rubbed her cheeks as her sisters whispered teasing comments about just what she was thinking about. Tickling them to drive them off, Dolina stopped her. The reserved lass just smiled her ghostly smile and knitted her brows a bit. The elder sister gave her a questioning look.

"I know I usually show guests ta their rooms, but..." She didn't even need to finish her sentence. Straightening her back, Aibhilin smiled and put a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"Jus' get the rooms ready and I'll show them ta the quarters," she put up a finger, "But get it done fast, aye? I'll no' have those dark, long-lashed eyes around any wolf. He'd gobble ye up in a moment!" With a laugh she tickled her sister, who was sent running off to her duties. With a small laugh to the empty room, the red-haired girl's smile faded. Right then. Time to see to the Laird Wolf then.

Leaving the Great Hall, she started her way to the barracks. He'd probably be overseeing his men. Peering in the large building, she put both hands on her hips and tried to look as intimidating as possible. It probably didn't work, but she felt intimidating. Or at least mildly confident. Somehow on her trek here those blue eyes had tried to drift through her thoughts again and she had slowly and steadily lost a good bit of her calm. What was it with those eyes? She had seen blue eyes before, plenty of them, but his were somehow more impressionable than the rest.

Aibhilin didn't like it. She didn't like feeling all vulnerable and shaken. So she scanned over each man milling about in the barracks with her head high and face impassable, if still a bit red. Finally she spotted him and marched right up, tapping him on the shoulder. The odd tingling feeling from touching just a shoulder was too warm and made the shaken part inside her feel even more unsteady. Placing her hand back on her hip, she tried not to frown so hard.

"Yer rooms are ready, Jarl Hakkon," she said briskly, "If ye'll ever so kindly follow me." The polite words sounded a bit to false on her tongue, but she managed a small smile at least, though it probably didn't look quite right. Ah well. She had tried.

Haakon and Snorri didn't get very far when they ran into the chieftains daughter. She spoke politely, but it was clear that she wasn't terribly pleased. She even sported a smile that looked like someone stepped on her toes. Haakon bit back the comment he was going to make and just motioned for Snorri to follow.

The Greathall was already well fortified, probably right before the Vikings arrival. They didn't look like they were ready to bring the defenses down any time soon, and many of the men on watch gave Haakon a look that he was now starting to get used to. Still, the presence of the chieftain's daughter meant they were allowed into the hall.

They dropped off Snorri off first, putting him in a room that seemed comfortable, but barely big enough to fit his massive bulk. As the daughter of MacConnich led Haakon to his own room, Haakon saw Snorri do something out of the corner of his eye. It almost looked like a wink, but the Jarl couldn't tell.

As they were walking, Haakon felt the need to speak. "I apologize for this inconvenience. I assure you that we will not over stay our welcome."

Aibhilin did her best to hide a scowl behind her smile. That was till she ended up alone with the blue-eyed ghostly brute. Hearing him speak made that false smile melt right back down into a scowl that could curdle milk. Whipping around on him she poked a finger at him, red faced and eyes blazing.

"Ye bet yer fancy fur covered tush yer not going to!" she whispered harshly,
"Ye think we all donna know that ye lot came here to do? You, Lord Wolf, mind yerself. You stay far from the maids around here and ye'll see yourself right as rain and on your kindly way in no time." Her bright green eyes burned and her jabbing finger turned itself into a fist.
"You..." she was practically shaking in anger,
"You, a-and yer blue eyes, stay faaaar away, alright? I know these halls like the back of me own hand. You step one wee toe outta line and I'll make yer pleasant lordly little stay a nightmare ta rival the Christian Hell! Ye hear?!"

She wanted to rail at him for things he might of done had they not stopped him and his men at the fields. It was a weakling's fear in her that had turned into an angry outburst. Ach, and even her voice had wavered when she had so harsh whispered what she really just wanted to wail. And what's more, she was angry at herself too. For letting this wolf sink into her head like a foolish girl who fancied fantasy over reality. No. She was not a girl. And she did not fancy any man, much less this one. He would prove himself to be ever bit as boorish and brutish and arrogant when he would run to her father to tattle on her for having a sharp tongue. Like the boy he was.

Sky God see her, she wanted to bury him in the ground as much as she wanted to sink into herself right now. A fine situation she had hissed her way into. Now he had her by the very tongue that she had so willingly lashed at him. Accursed temper! Why did that sound of the low and seemingly gentle voice make her flare up from her toes like keg of powder? She knew why. She had snapped at him because the hushed voice he had used on her had fit itself to those sky blue eyes; a fitting voice for a girlish daydream figure. And her reaction to it had tipped her temper over the edge. How could she let herself be so shamelessly effect by this-this-this barbarian?! Pretty eyes and honeyed voice be damned, he was still a wolf! And she would not, no, could not stand the thought of him using such foreign sorcery on her. Much less any other more innocent and girlish daydreaming lass in the village. If he could get to her so easily, he'd have the entire village's population of women folk on their knees begging to be stolen away by him in his dragon ship.

So help her she not let it happen. And she wouldn't let his Viking magic get to her either. Swooning girl, ha! She was a McConnich daughter of chieftain and warrior blood! Aibhilin refused to let some barbarian turn her into something she was not. Clicking her tongue at him, she lifted her head high and pointed to the metal basin before the hearth.

"That there is where they set the washing tub," she raised a brow, "Ye should wash yerself before supper, my Laird, and a set of clean clothes are on the bed." She waved a hand side to side. "I'll be outside yer door to see ye find yer way to the Great Hall." Keep you're enemies close they always said. Well she wasn't going to let him out of her sight.

Haakon wasn't sure if he should feel offended or just laugh. Aibhilin seemed so genuine during her tongue-lashing, but it had an element of comedy to it. It was as if she wasn't exactly sure what to focus on, so she tried to say it all at once. It all seemed so... ridiculous. He decided that laughing at her wasn't going to make this situation any better, so once she brought him to the room with a washing tub, he decided to lay it all out.

"You hate me. I get it. But do not think for one minute that I want to be here. I didn't spend nine days in a boat the size of a doghouse with thirty other men just because of greed." Haakon wanted to try and show some more restraint, but he was so tired, and the rest just came out and he couldn't stop himself.

"In the last six weeks, my father, my brother, my brother's wife and two in every five others in my village are dead from plague. It's gotten so bad that there is no one left to farm the fields. If my king doesn't get yearly taxes, then I can count on the other three fifths of my village getting put to the axe!"

He took a step forward and looked right into her green eyes. He didn't care anymore if he didn't seem tough or intimidating. Right now, he only felt exhausted and at his wits end. "I am out of options and out of time. King Horik will be asking for his money by the end of this season. I need to make a years worth of money before then. So ask yourself, what would you do if you were me?!"

With that, he went inside the room. "Oh, and don't worry about your maids. I try to set a good example for my three year old niece." He closed the door. When he saw the bed, he fought every urge to dive on top of it and sleep for the next three days, but Haakon knew he was expected at dinner, so instead, he took a bath and got dressed. It was good to have nine days of sea salt off of his skin, but he wish he could have stayed longer.

Aibhilin crossed her arms over her chest and tried to keep a blank face, but she could feel guilty heat crawling up her neck and settling in her cheeks. So Lord Wolf had more than valid reasons. He just wanted to protect his village and family. Sounded familiar. But that didn't make it right. Surely... Surely there could be a better way for him to pay the debt and feed his people! Ransacking and violence could not be the only solution. There had to be another answer.

Tilting her head down, as she had done before to show her apology, she stayed like that for a moment. Her fingers gripped into her sleeves. When she raised her head, she met the very blue eyes she had resigned herself to try to avoid. Close. Very close. There was an instinct in her that she should either push him away or pull him in closer. Neither option seemed very logical. So she just tightened her grip on her arms.

What would she do if she were him? What would she of done? He looked tired and exasperated, a familiar look on any man she sent her tongue to. He turned on his heel to bathe and just before he closed the door, mentioned that he had a wee little sister of only three years in age. Ach, well... Aibhilin felt as though it had been she who were caught trying to pillage some small village and not the blue-eyed Viking. Right. His name was Haakon.

She waited outside, arms still crossed over her chest and head tilted down. With a sigh, she leaned against the door. If there was one thing she hated, it was knowing when she looked foolish. And she had looked more than foolish, it was one step away from being mortified. With a sigh, she let the man bathe in peace, practically standing guard at his door. Aibhilin felt bad, aye, but she still would not let him out of her sight. Who knew what sort of rake was still hiding under all that weariness? Boys and men would always say one thing and end up doing something else entirely. That much she knew wasn't just for McConnich men, but men from every land. And she wasn't one to take chances where her sisters' virtues were involved.

The clothes that his hosts had provided Haakon were well made, but seemed a little too fancy. Clothes from home were made with comfort and practicality in mind, and the idea of making complicated cloth seemed a little silly. Still, Haakon decided to make due with what he had, and anything was better than being naked. He fitted his seax to his belt, but left the rest of his belongings in the room.

When he walked out, he saw Aibhilin standing there, arms crossed and looking a bit uncomfortable. He had no reason to apologize to this woman, but he felt obligated to do it anyway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bawl you out like that. It's jus-" Haakon's attention was stolen by the pendant she wore around her neck. Somehow he had missed it until now.

"Odin..." was all that Haakon could muster. As the words left his mouth, the man brought out his right hand. In his fist was a gold chain, and dangling from it was what looked like a pendant. It seemed as though he wanted Haakon to take it. The Jarl reached for it, but it seemed so far away...

It was the same pendant, it had to be. Suddenly finding himself on the wrong foot, he looked away. "Sorry. We should get going."

Aibhilin looked rather surprised when she saw the young Lord of Wolves exit his chambers dressed up in a fine shirt and kilt, with a plain colored plaid borrowed from a widow cook who lost her husband three years ago. She wondered if he was uncomfortable in what she supposed he might think as odd clothing. To her, their norsemen plain colored clothing was odd. And they wore 'pants', odd things like stockings that were loser yet not feminine at all. It showed off too much, if you asked her. They already had their barbarian charms and eye magics. They didn't need tight clothing too.

But oddly enough she felt even more at a loss with this particular man in her native home's clothing. It was ordinary lairdly wear, something she should be used to with her position by her father's side all the time. A Scotsman in Scotsman clothing was one thing. A Norseman in Scotsman clothing, apparently, was something else entirely.

The red haired young woman looked agape at him even further when he apologized to her. Just what in the great sea and sky was this man?! She was far used to men who hardly ever apologized in words, especially to a woman. Aibhilin no longer wondered why Norsewomen enjoyed their husbands any more. Seemed their men were far more than met the eye. Barbarians with manners and respect towards women. Hm... Maybe they weren't going to be so bad as guests after all. Interesting how they had such double sides to them. Especially this one.

"You don't have to apologize, ye ken?" she sighed, "I...suppose I am at fault as well..." She was choosing her words very carefully, looking away from him but keeping her head held high, even though she knew she had made a complete and utter disgrace of herself. With a huff and rubbed her brow. "My father has no sons," she didn't see his odd staring at her pendant, "I try to help him th' best I can, but I... Even I get scared, alrigh'? Ye say you have a little sister? I have three and if anythin' were to happen... Well, I am the eldest. I have to protect them, ye ken?"

Looking up finally, almost sheepishly, she caught his odd wide-eyed staring. But before she could ask what was wrong, he insisted that they go. Peculiar. But a relief, really. Leaving meant no more apologizing and she was just fine with that. All of that was too uncomfortable foreign territory for her. Leading the way to the Great Hall, she was relieved to see her sisters all huddled around one another, speaking and whispering among themselves. They always seemed to do that, so Aibhilin felt herself relax. Glancing back at Haakon, she motioned for him to follow her.

The Hall was already filling up, more people than usual, what with all their new guests being so interesting. It seemed as though there were already a few friendly drinking competitions and jokes being exchanged between some of the more easy going Scottsmen and Norsemen. Well, that was good, she supposed. At least that meant fewer fights to break up. Perhaps they would all be able to dine in peace for once. The curious people would realize the Norsemen were just men after all and drift back down to their cozy little homes. And in a few days the sea warriors would leave. Off to scare another coastal village clan nigh out of their socks and merely request tribute.

"Since you are the Jarl," she wondered if she had said that right, since her very Scottish tongue rolled it a bit too much, "You'll be set next to my father. Fair warning, ale is strong and he gets competitive when he gets drunk." She looked him up and down then gave him a small tilted smile. "Though it would be an interestin' test. Scott against Norseman, aye?" she gave him a small push on the shoulder and pointed to the chair next to her father, "Donna lose too badly, Jarl Haakon. We wouldna like fer ye to get too roughed up, now would we?"

When the pair of the entered the great hall, Haakon had noticed Snorri sitting next to where Haakon was supposed to be. The jarl shot his thane the best "we need to talk later" look and sat down into seat next to the chieftain. When Aibhilin took her own seat and mentioned that her father got competitive when drunk, Haakon nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, although now I feel like I should have brought my sword."

The feast went fairly well, and Haakon found the chieftain's company very enjoyable. The older man reminded him a lot of his father, in that he always had a good story or two for any occasion. And they were all entertaining once the mead started to flow. Haakon drank well, but did his level-headed best not to drink too much. He noticed that Snorri was trying to not get too tipsy. When they had a quiet moment, Haakon turned to Snorri.

"I had a dream this morning. It may have been a vision from Odin." At this Snorri put his tankard down. They were both reverent men, and Snorri had been around for long enough to know that visions from the gods were best not ignored. Haakon then explained everything. Over the din of the party, he hoped that no one could hear him.

Aibhilin laughed softly, a bit in surprise, at the banter the wolf lord was able to return to her. Just a few hours ago, she would of rather tried crossing blades with him, than words. Though, looking at him up close, she probably would not fair very well if she fought with him at close range. Men were well known to be stronger than women. But she considered women to be a bit more clever. It was a good thing they were not enemies now. Having them as guests was a much wiser move than she had first seen it to be.

The eldest daughter of the MacConnich felt a bit less tense as the evening wore on. After being washed and fed, the Norsemen appeared a little less intimidating. Any amount would be good for them. It was a tepid day and the underlying tension would stay, at least until everyone was absolutely sure they were safe. And really that would only be known when the invaders left and things returned to normal. But for now, feasting helped ease troubled minds. If there was a thing both kinds of men had in common, it was storytelling.

Goods stories and good ale made for an even better humor among the men. Aibhilin and her sisters sat on the one side of her father, while the leaders of their guests sat on the other side. The red haired lass remained at the table as her father went down to talk among his people and kin, as well as their guests. He did this sometimes but she found that even with ale in him after the pastries and desserts, the chieftain mingled with all the remaining peoples.

There were more Norsemen left than she might of thought. After all, were they not suppose to be great and heavy feasters? There were many tales of not only their drunken escapades, but their drunken gods as well. Perhaps they were more tense and suspicious than they let on. They were, after all, enemies just this morning. Even the Wolf Lord had been able to keep some of his Norse cool about his demenor. He had been speaking with his right hand man as well as her father for most of the evening.

Aibhilin, however, had drunk a bit more than she had meant to. It wasn't that she was so normally effected by the drink, but being distracted and cautious all day had taken its toll. Her sisters didn't stay very long after they had finished their supper. It was typical, considering they all usually helped with other evening activities and cleaning. But at her urging they did not stay in the Great Hall. It gave her some peace of mind, to at least keep her younger sisters out of the sights of the visiting men. Standing, she felt the world tip a bit, but just gave a small laugh and steadied herself with support of the table.

"Pleasant evenin' to you, Jarl, and yer man," she smiled lightly at the two, her tone just as light as the floating feeling within her, "I must be off to bed." Formal words, though not so stern as she meant them to be. Instead she sounded just as intoxicatedly fair as her new mood, given to her by the heavy drink. Pushing red hair back over her shoulder, she moved her hand and almost tipped over the empty cup. Murmuring a carefree apology as she righted the cup, she found her unsteady way past the two men and to the door.