Though Leif had broken his word by remaining in Valkvann, Svea had come to believe this, too, was fate. Odin himself must have intervened, binding the dreamer to their path until he had helped to secure the village's survival, or at least placed Svea beside the allies she would need.
For she knew now, with bitter certainty, that Valkvann had changed. It was no longer the place she had once admired. Under Agathe - or rather, Agathe's failure to guide - the village had grown hesitant, timid. The women Svea had lived and bled beside in her younger years would once have come running at the first sign of need. But the ones who had come after, filling the vacancies left behind, lingered instead. They doubted. They were not the warriors, nor the true believers, she had once known.
Valkvann had been named in honor of the Valkyries, Valkyrie Lake. No one knew how old the village truly was, only that its purpose had always been to embody the fiercest women upon Midgard. But the lionesses had become little more than mouthy, quarreling kittens. Their greed now drove them to squabble over which cow yielded the richest milk, or what its worth might be. They had forgotten the land itself, forgotten why it deserved protection. Perhaps the land had outgrown them and in their unworthiness, it had begun to wither. Svea could not help but wonder: what would Herja, the chieftain under whom she had grown, have done?
She could not be certain. Herja had not embodied Valkvann's laws in their purest form; it was true she had faltered once. But she had loved the village. She had been its fiercest hand in keeping it alive. Dedicated beyond any other.
Svea knew in her bones that Herja would have kept Valkvann alive. She simply did not know how.
This still guided her choice.
She sat beside the unconscious man in her home, gently wiping soot from him, tracing the burn line of his ear absentmindedly. She didn't understand how he had gotten out with minimal scarring to his body. She was impressed, even.
"You almost burned because of me today, Leif," She murmured, glancing at the boy nearby. Her voice was low. She felt ashamed. She had brought him with her for aid, but in doing so had tossed his life in danger when she dove into the house to save the lone survivor. "So I ask again that you accept the house offered."
Two men now stood within Valkvann: one resting under her care, the other standing uncertain and out of place. A village that, until this day, had known only women in all its history.
Leif had been the first man to ever step past the entrance, though the raiders had tried. The man from the fire was the second. When Svea had been younger, men couldn't even find Valkvann.
Leif cleared his throat, furrowing his dark brows. "I'm grateful," he said sincerely. "Still. . . he should stay with me. We don't know him."
Svea's lips curved faintly. "I barely know you," she reminded, her tone sharp yet not unkind. She could believe Leif had crossed her path by some design greater than her understanding but belief was not trust. "I will not permit two strange men, one knowing where to find the other, to pool their strength unchecked. I am more than capable of defending myself be it against him, or any other. Don't worry for me, Leif. Enjoy your new home. Welcome to the village."
Though reluctant to do so, he obeyed, concealing his quiet thrill at having a place of his own.
Svea remained at the stranger's side, inspecting him better now that he had been cleaned of the damage from his village. She decided he had been truthful when he called himself a farmer, that he was a man who had worked long summers under the hot sun tending to fields. His hair, dark and heavy, spilled loose over the furs of her bed, though Svea noticed the braids at the temple which were half-undone from the struggle. This made her question if he had seen battle. Sometimes, they would use braids to call for protection. She often did the same.
His beard was short, neatly kept, a framing shadow that gave him the face of a man.
Beneath the grime, his features were sharp: a straight nose, a strong jaw, eyes closed but with thick dark lashes. She couldn't decide what she thought of him, not yet. Her finger traced lightly down his nose before she stood, leaving his side to fetch more water outside.
As she bent to grab the bucket, she could see Agathe striding furiously toward her home with Eydis following steps behind. Svea pressed her tongue to her cheek. There was no escaping this, perhaps feigned ignorance might cool Agathe's temper enough.
"Is it true!?" Agathe demanded.
While there was no point in playing ignorant now, the land's owner still felt bitter from the day's events. She wanted answers of her own.
Svea kept her back turned, lifting the bucket as if the question puzzled her. "Yes," she said smoothly. "I did put out the fire." Satisfaction flickered within her. She longed to speak aloud the words Agathe would not. . . She wanted to force her to face how she had failed. How she had left Svea to the fires of another village, betraying the trust and oaths they had made to each-other once upon a time.
Agathe growled, her face scrunching. "No! Did you bring a man into this village?"
Svea turned to her. She could not be drawn into Agathe's anger. She had to remain steady, to hold the upper hand. "Two," she answered. "One who fought beside me in the flames you would not face. The other lies inside, half-dead. Perhaps he would not be so if you had come. If he awakens, we gain knowledge in protecting Valkvann."
Agathe's eyes narrowed, dark and cold. "This is my village." Her voice rang deeper than Svea had ever heard it. The line was crossed now, the trust between them torn as surely as a fraying rope. Neither could give in. Destiny itself stood between them.
"This is a new day for us," Svea retorted. She tilted her chin, framing her defiance as inclusion. "We must change to survive." If she made it sound as though Agathe had been part of the choice, perhaps it might soothe her pride.
Agathe would not bite.
"That is not for you to decide!" Agathe's shout boomed across the field, scattering the birds from the tall grass in which they had been hiding.
Pushing back her braid, Svea set her jaw. "There is much for me to decide." A small knot of contempt formed where she had run her tongue over her bottom teeth between her cheek. "I trust Leif. If you cast him out, I will go with him."
She refused to abandon the young man who had risked his life at her side - not for Agathe's pride. She couldn't trust Agathe any longer, a woman who shirked all of her responsibilities, only to appear when she could harass or try to remove one of the women who commanded more respect than her. Svea kept her head high, her chin forward.
Agathe shrugged, dismissive, and flicked her hand as though sweeping Svea away in the process. "Then go. You are no one! Daughter of no one, owner of nothing—"
Before she could finish, Eydis stepped forward, voice firm. "Then I'll go too."
Vilhelmiina, the firecracker that she was, asked no questions. Nothing would part her from those she believed in. She saw very clearly that there were two sides, and though she didn't yet know all their stances, she knew she would stand with Svea.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Agathe's unruly hair, daring her.
Agathe seized on the chance, her voice almost triumphant. "Vilhelmiina, you live beside the man now. Surely you object to his presence. Tell them." She was sure this would be the winning argument, for Vilhelmiina had once joined Valkvann solely to be in a village of all women.
Disappointing the expectation which had been set for her, Vilhelmiina only shrugged. "If Svea trusts him, then that is enough for me. Besides, I hate mending fences, and his work is sound enough." She grinned.
While she would have preferred to be consulted, she knew her friend would not endanger them or bring unsettling neighbors without a greater purpose. She had faith in many things, and Svea was one of them. Vilhelmiina had known cruelty once, at the hands of her husband's kin. She had fled that life and remade herself in the safety of their village. She was no longer afraid of men, or of anyone. She welcomed the battle they brought. She was a warrior now; she had always carried the heart of one, only now she could defend others as well as herself. She would answer the call of every axe, soothing the bloodlust that always matched her eyes. She no longer knew fear.
Gratitude filled Svea's chest as her friends closed ranks around her. She lifted her bucket, and Vilhelmiina took the other side, carrying it with her into the house while Agathe's temper had nowhere to go.
"You know she will claim the credit, don't you?" Vilhelmiina mused as they walked.
Svea shrugged. She did not care for credit, only results.
"Let her. If the village survives because we embraced change, then I will let her claim she fought a dragon and survived." She chuckled, leading her friend into the kitchen.