Mist & Moonlight

Chapter 10 | A Lover's Fury

Princess Sigrid's voice rang out across the longhouse, carrying a tone of urgency. "Father," she said, stepping up beside Jarl Arlick as he sat in his high seat. "There's something I need to discuss with you about the winter preparations. We may need to increase the grain stores if the weather stays as harsh as it's been."

Arlick frowned, glancing toward his daughter with a look of impatience. "Can't this wait, Sigrid?" he grumbled. "I'm in the middle of—"

"It cannot," Sigrid insisted, a touch of steel in her voice as she cast a quick, knowing glance toward Freydis. "Please, come with me. I need to show you."

Jarl Arlick hesitated but then let out an irritated sigh and stood, following Sigrid toward the far end of the hall, where the other nobles gathered to discuss preparations.

Freydis caught Sigrid's eye as she slipped away from Arlick's side. Sigrid's gaze met hers for a moment, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. Freydis gave a quick nod of thanks, her heart racing as she made her way toward the side door. She moved swiftly, her footsteps light on the wooden floor, and within moments she had slipped out into the cold air beyond. Erik was already waiting in the shadows near the storage sheds.

"This way," she whispered, nodding toward a narrow alley where they could speak privately. She led him away from the noise and prying eyes of the longhouse, relief washing over her as they stepped out of sight.

Once they reached the alley, Erik rounded on her, his gaze intense. "Freydis," he said, his voice a mixture of relief and frustration. "You shouldn't have had to sneak out like this."

Freydis shook her head, glancing back toward the longhouse where she could still faintly hear the hum of voices. "It was the only way," she replied, her tone low. "If he knew why I needed to speak with you..."

Erik's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as he reached inside his cloak and produced a bundle of notes, sealed with King Rorik's mark. "These are for you," he said, his voice low and steady. "From your family."

Freydis took the notes, her hands trembling slightly as she held them to her chest. "You shouldn't have come, Erik," she whispered, her voice heavy with worry. "It's dangerous for you to be here."

"I had to," he replied, the simmering anger in his tone barely contained. "I needed to see you. To know how you are. And to know how our child is." His gaze dropped to her stomach, a wave of possessiveness surging through him.

Freydis's hand came to rest on her growing belly. "The babe is well," she said quietly. "Jarl Arlick believes it is his."

Erik's expression darkened, fury flaring hot within him. The idea of Arlick believing his child was the Jarl's cut at his pride like a blade. It was a challenge to his very right to claim what was his. "And you let him think that?" he snapped, the words coming out harsher than he intended. The pain and frustration that had built up throughout the months ripping through the surface. "You let him believe that my child belongs to him?"

Her eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and desperation. "Do you think I had a choice?" she retorted, her voice trembling. "If he knew the truth, Erik, he would not have married me. I would have shamed my family and brought war to Kattegat. Your pride isn't the only thing at stake here."

Erik opened his mouth to speak, but then he caught sight of a faint bruise peeking out from beneath her hair. It was barely visible, but unmistakable—a dark shadow against her pale skin. He stepped closer, his expression shifting from anger to concern. "And that," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "how did you get it?"

Freydis's hand flew up to her cheek, shielding the bruise as if she could hide it again. "It's nothing," she said quickly, turning her face away.

"Freydis," he demanded, his voice hardening. "Did he do this to you?"

Her silence spoke louder than any words could, and Erik felt a fiery anger blaze within him. His pulse pounded in his ears, the thought of Arlick laying hands on her driving him mad. "If he's been hurting you—"

"No!" she cried, gripping his arm as panic flashed in her eyes. "Please, Erik, you don't understand. If he finds out why you're really here—if he even suspects the truth—it won't just be me who suffers." Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "Promise me you won't do anything."

"So you'd rather let him treat you this way?" Erik's voice was thick with barely suppressed rage. "Let him take what isn't his?"

"If you do anything reckless, all of Kattegat could be drawn into conflict. My people, your people... they would all pay the price." She took a deep breath, her eyes filling with determination. "Please, Erik. We have to be careful. If we are to protect this child, we must be smart, not just bold."

Erik felt his anger cool slightly, though the fire still smoldered within him. Her words forced him to see the larger picture—the delicate balance that lay between them, the fragile peace that held their world together. He let out a slow breath, the weight of his frustration still heavy on his shoulders. "I'll stay at the inn for a night or two," he said, though his voice remained rough with emotion. "Write letters to your family," he added. "I'll come back tomorrow to collect them."

Freydis exhaled, relief and worry mingling in her gaze. "Very well," she whispered. "I'll have them ready."

He reached out, his fingers lightly grazing the bruise on her cheek. "This isn't over, Freydis," he said softly, a promise laced in his tone. "Not for us."

Without another word, he turned and stalked away, the weight of his promise and the uncertainty of their situation pressing down on him.