Accords Pt. II

Thanks to everyone for all the encouragement! I will be continuing this story. It is cross posted on reddit Writing Prompts. I was not expecting the reaction that I got. Writing the second part, I took people's suggestions into consideration. I hope you enjoy part 2!



They pressed their bleeding forearms together to seal the pact. As Bjarke bound their wounds, he kept glancing at the small bit of land that had been Iona’s home until several minutes ago. He had expected the whole chaining a Siren to himself to be… well, more dramatic.

“What’s with the disappointed face?” Iona asked, exploring the ship as best as she could without stepping on the men lashed to it. She wasn’t having much luck, treading on several of his crews’ fingers.

“I guess I thought binding you to me would be spectacular or disturb the cosmos or something.”

The Siren turned around and glared at him.

“You are practically dragging a fearsome creature home as a magnificent war bride,” she said, offended.

Byarke’s mouth dropped open. By Odin, she was a vain creature.

“First of all, you’re not being dragged anywhere,” the Viking said, beginning to untie the ropes that held down his crew. “Second, you are far from a war bride and third, it is not as if anyone can know you’re a Siren.”

Iona fluffed her drying hair as she rummaged through the loot from a sacked village.

“Ugh, you’re taking the fun out of me being a dangerous creature,” she groused.

Bjarke ground his teeth in frustration and raised his eyes to the sky in supplication. He was already regretting his decision.

“Don’t you have anything in this pile of junk that doesn’t smell of peasant?”

Yep. He definitely regretted his decision, title of the most feared Viking in the world be damned.
When his sleeping spell eventually wore off a half hour later, he gave the crew a vague explanation as to what happened. Bjarke wove a barely believable story of a Siren knocking them unconscious and saving them and Iona in the process.

“How did you not fall under the beast’s spell?” Fiske asked, still a bit disoriented from the spell.

Bjarke glanced at Iona briefly and noted her gleeful smile. Of course she would watch him squirm rather than help him. She was definitely going to be more trouble than she was worth. Shaking his head, he pulled a small wad of wax from a pouch at his waist and held it up. The crew murmured, some of them nodding in understanding. Placing the wax in his ears would have made Bjarke immune to the Siren’s voice. His second-in-command, Rangvald, gave him a suspicious look, as if to tell him his story smelled like bullshit.

“I saved this woman from the clutches of the evil temptress who I slew,” the Viking said loudly and awkwardly, thrusting his sword into the air. “And then I claimed this woman as my prize!”

A half-hearted cheer went up from the crew, who were still slightly unconvinced and several of them threw furtive glances at Iona, who was still stark naked. She bared her teeth at them and hissed. Bjarke let out a groan at her antics. She certainly wasn’t acting like a damsel in distress. His fellow Vikings did not believe a word he said nor did they care about the strange, silver-haired, nude woman who had mysteriously appeared on the longship. Bjarke hastily disbanded the group and sent the crew to their duties.

Rangvald strode up to his friend and said under his breath, “Now why do I feel like you don’t even believe the crap that just came out of your mouth?”
The blonde Viking shrugged and scratched his beard, itchy thanks to the sea water Iona dumped on him.

“It’s true,” he said unconvincingly.

“If that’s true, then I’m a sheep’s ass,” Rangvald said, clapping Bjarke’s muscular shoulder.

“You’re already a sheep’s ass so drop it,” he said to Rangvald, who just laughed heartily at his friend’s discomfort.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, not for the lack of Iona trying. The Siren refused to were a stitch of clothing. Instead, she was perfectly content to languidly display herself on deck, stretching her limbs and drawing the crews’ eyes to her milky skin and perfectly proportioned body. Bjarke did everything he could to get her to cover herself.

“I am a sight to behold,” she argued. “They should be staring at me.”

“You’re distracting them,” he said, brandishing his kyrtill at her. “You won’t need to sing to kill us. The sight of you will run us into the rocks.”

Iona won the argument by sticking her tongue at him and ignoring him.

She also complained endlessly.

“I’m bored,” she whined to Bjarke for the umpteenth time one day.

“Was escaping your rock not good enough?” he asked through gritted teeth as Rangvald snickered in amusement at their arguing despite not knowing what they were saying. “Go enjoy the view.”

Iona leveled her pale blue eyes at him.

“Staring at water is tedious,” she said, stomping her foot like a child. “It all looks the same.”

At his wits end, Bjarke threatened to tie enough weight to her and drop her into the sea. The Siren shot him a wicked grin as the crews’ voices raised in protest. The little beast had charmed the men with her antics. Fiske patted Iona’s silver head as if she were a pet. Iona shot Bjarke an infuriating wink.

“You can’t throw her overboard!” Fiske exclaimed. “Then you won’t have a bride.”

Gods above, the man was as dumb as he looked Bjarke thought.

Hel, take him now. He would jump off the ship himself if they didn’t reach the village soon. Iona sauntered up to him, a mischievous smile on her plump, pink lips. Damn Siren was pleased with herself. Bjarke glanced down at her.

“I hope you know I already regret this,” he told her.

She laughed.

“Yeah, I figured you would,” she said with a nod. “But I have to keep entertained somehow.”

“How about I tie you to the prow and leave you there?”

“Oh, that could be fun.”

“Thor preserve me. You are going to be the biggest pain in the ass.”

Iona shrugged.

“And you’ll be the most feared Viking in the world,” she said. “Sounds like you’re getting a good deal.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”