Mist & Moonlight

Chapter 13 | Defying the Jarl

Freydis sat in her chamber, turning the small bundle of letters over in her hands. Each one bore the familiar seal of her father's kingdom, except for one—marked with her brother Leif's personal sigil. She tore it open first, eager for news from home. As she unfolded the letter, Leif's bold handwriting leapt from the page, his words carrying a warmth and familiarity that eased the ache in her chest.

Freydis,
I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. There's news from home—news that I think will brighten even the darkest days for you. Ingrid and I are expecting. We are overjoyed at the idea of becoming parents. It seems the gods have blessed us with this gift, and we are doing our best to prepare. I miss you, Freydis. Hopefully, you'll return to Kattegat to meet them soon.

Leif continued with updates about the family, sharing tidbits about their father's politics as king, their mother's doting care over Ingrid, and even a humorous tale of their younger siblings' antics. His tone was light, yet there was an undercurrent of longing in his words—an unspoken wish that Freydis could be there, sharing in their joys and burdens.

Freydis's heart swelled with a bittersweet joy as she read her brother's words. She could picture Leif's beaming smile as he shared the news, and for a moment, she could almost hear the laughter of their family echoing through the walls of their home. She hadn't realized just how much she missed them until now. It made her loneliness within Jarl Arlick's longhouse feel even heavier. Next she read through her mother's letter. It was filled with concern for her and her unborn child. Her mother lamented at their distance and how much she missed Freydis. It brought tears to Freydis's eyes.

When she was done reading all the letters she took up her quill and began to pen a response, congratulating Leif and Ingrid on their wonderful news. Her letter brimmed with excitement, telling Leif how proud she was and offering well-wishes for Ingrid's health. Freydis wrote to her mother with warmth and sincerity, though she avoided any mention of her own troubles. She knew her mother was concerned about Freydis carrying Erik's child, but her mother had supported her decision- trusting Freydis to choose the best path for herself. She would always love her mother for that.

As she finished her last letter, sealing them with wax, a knock came at her door. She looked up to see Erik standing there, his face creased with concern.

"Are those for me?" he asked, glancing at the letters in her hand.

Freydis nodded, extending them toward him, but as she did, her sleeve slipped back, revealing the dark purple bruises encircling her wrist. Erik's eyes fell to the marks, his expression hardening as fury sparked in his gaze.

"Who did this?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Freydis flinched slightly at the intensity in his tone and quickly pulled her sleeve down to cover the bruises. "It's nothing," she said, trying to force a smile. "Please, Erik, don't—"

But he was already turning on his heel, storming out of her chamber before she could finish. Freydis's heart raced as she hurried after him, knowing exactly where he was headed.

In the great hall, Jarl Arlick was seated at the head of the table, drinking with a few of his men. Erik strode in with purpose, his voice booming as he interrupted the quiet hum of conversation.

"Why do you think you can lay your hands on the king's daughter?" Erik's accusation hung in the air, and all eyes turned to him.

Jarl Arlick's brows drew together, irritation flashing across his face. "What is this about?" he said, his voice laced with scorn. "Freydis is my wife. If I see fit to—"

He didn't get the chance to finish. Erik's fist connected with his jaw in a solid strike that sent the jarl reeling back, knocking a cup from the table. "Fight someone your own size, coward," Erik spat, his eyes ablaze.

The hall erupted in chaos. Jarl Arlick staggered to his feet, his face darkening with rage. His men moved to intervene, but he held out a hand to stop them, his gaze locked on Erik. "You dare strike me in front of my own men?" he snarled. "You'll pay for this with your life."

The guards quickly seized Erik, forcing him to his knees. Freydis rushed forward, her voice breaking with desperation. "Please, Husband! Don't arrest him—he's my father's royal messenger. He is under the King's protection."

Arlick turned his cold gaze on her, his lip curling with disdain. "He should have thought of that before raising a hand against me," he said. "Royal messenger or not, he will face justice."

The guards began dragging Erik away, but he wrenched free, glaring up at the jarl. "If you want justice, then face me in the battle ring," he challenged. "Let the gods decide who is right."

Jarl Arlick hesitated, a sneer forming on his lips. "Very well," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "You wish to throw your life away so easily? Then let the gods have their say."

As Erik was led toward the dungeon, Freydis's gaze followed him, a knot of dread tightening in her chest. He glanced back at her, his expression firm and unyielding, he was not sorry for what he did, even as the guards closed the heavy door behind him.

Freydis's pulse raced, a new fear gripping her—this time, not for herself, but for Erik. He had risked his life for her, and now she could only hope the gods would be kind.