A drink

Halvhandt was proud of his victory at Vells. He had beaten the Draimenan back into their stronghold. When they came to treat he gave them the opportunity to surrender. They had refused and launched an attack from the walls.

 

They had sealed their own fate. After years of war, he had chosen to send a message. Written in fire. The war had been brought to a close soon after. His victory at Vells had brought ten years of peace.

 

He sent his brother away with thanks for bringing his bludtmet. And watched Zoldendochter perch on a cushion. She looked pensive and perfect. He had never chosen to court a woman, but to find one who didn’t shrink from his touch, who found him strong and beautiful… he could learn to control his temper for a soldier’s daughter. She tilted her head and looked at him questioningly as he moved toward her.

 

Halvhandt sank onto the cushion next to her and grinned as she tried to keep from sliding closer. “Sit close, Zoldendochter. Drink witt me.” He offered the bottle and she took it looking baffled. “Trinkst.”

 

She shook her head and smiled wryly. “No cups?”

 

“We finish the bottle.” He said with a grin.

 

He watched her cheeks redden, and she carefully took a drink, pulling a deep breath after her drink, her eyes watering. She handed it back to him and he sipped from the bottle watching her face.

 

“Bitter?” He asked as he offered it again.

 

“Bittersweet. And strong.” Halvhandt grinned as she made a face before taking a second drink.

 

“Beautiful strong?” He teased her.

 

She laughed and took another drink before handing it back again. Her face was flushing. “Beautifully strong. You said you mixed it after a victory?”

 

“When we have finished, I will tell je.” He drank and handed it back, thinking how he might maneuver her into acceptance. He would tell her, and he would accept her answer, but he could set the field.