Selcouth

Chapter 10

3 weeks after the wedding

After the wedding, Yvette felt isolated, having distanced herself from others. The thought of being near Hvitserk made her feel sick. However, upon opening the door to her cabin, she was met with laughter and moans, making her immediately regret her decision.

Yvette slammed the door shut, causing the two half-naked individuals to stop their actions and stand up. The woman, who had heard about Yvette, spoke first, "You must be Yvette." Meanwhile, Hvitserk wrapped his arms around the woman's waist, enjoying the sight of Yvette's struggle with her emotions.

Taking a deep breath, Yvette glared at the woman and demanded, "Please leave. I need a moment with my husband."

Hvitserk approached Yvette from behind as steam seemed to boil from her ears. They had discussed this before, but Hvitserk disregarded her request to keep his women of the night out of their bed. He knew the alliance was a sham, only necessary for the help of Bjorn, and he had no intention of keeping her around once he got what he wanted.

Yvette confronted him, "How dare you, Hvitserk Ragnarsson! I've asked you time and time again not to have your whores in my bed chambers. Why can't you have her in the great hall or a barn? Actually, a barn might be better, she looks like a pig."

Hvitserk couldn't help but laugh at her words, and the look on Yvette's face made him laugh even harder. She realized what she had said and was mortified.

"By the gods, Yvette, what did you say?"

"Stop! Just shut up, this isn't okay. I can't believe I just said that."

"No no keep going."

Yvette swatted at Hvitserk hitting him in the shoulder which only fueled his laughter. "Say it again."

"I hate you, Is everything a joke to you Hvitserk. You make me so angry that my thoughts scare me and I question my love for my god."

Hvitserk rolls his eyes and turns to walk away from Yvette. Hearing her scream about another woman he could stand but hearing her talk about her god ticked his own buttons. Hvitserk mumbles something under his native tongue causing Yvette to look at him.

"What did you just say."

"Nothing my darling wife."

Yvette comes around the table that was separating them and her hand grabs Hvitserks shoulder. "Why do you insult in words I can't understand. Why must you be so spiteful."

"Why am I cursed to be tied to you?" Yvette's voice was a mix of desperation and fury, her eyes welling with tears she refused to let fall. "Why must I endure this torment, sharing not just a bed but my life with you?"

"If that's your wish, let me go to my mother. Demand she dissolve this union!" Hvitserk's response was sharp, his own emotions roiling beneath the surface.

But something within him snapped, a fuse lit not just by anger but by a maelstrom of feelings he couldn't name. In an instant, he was before her, his presence overpowering, his grip on her arms tightening, perhaps too much, marking her skin.

"Or perhaps I should end you, Yvette," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "and tell your father you're well until Bjorn secures his desires. Then, I could take your father's kingdom. Would that not be simpler for us both?"

Yvette's eyes widened, not just with fear, but with the shock of seeing a glimpse of what Hvitserk truly felt—a tumult of rage, despair, and something else, something like a plea for understanding. Her breath hitched, and in that moment, their eyes locked, the world shrinking to just the space between their faces.

"Would you?" she whispered, her voice trembling, not just from fear but from a burgeoning realization of the depth of their connection. "Could you kill me, Hvitserk? Look at me and tell me you'd end my life so simply."

Hvitserk's grip loosened, his expression shifting, the anger giving way to conflict. He searched her eyes, seeing not just the woman he was bound to, but the possibility of what they could be—a partnership forged in fire, not just of passion but of shared strength.

"I..." he started, his voice faltering, the words caught in a throat tight with emotion.

A single tear finally escaping Yvette, trailing down her cheek. Hvitserk's hands fell away from her arms, his touch gentle now as he brushed away her tear. Her heart pounding, the tension morphing into something hopeful. In that charged silence, they both saw it—a potential future where their union was not just a chain but a choice. A bond not of obligation, but of mutual discovery, where their strengths could complement, their wars could be fought side by side, and their peace, if ever found, could be shared.