A month had passed since their wedding, and the daily skirmishes between Yvette and Hvitserk had become a familiar dance, a routine of sorts, where each knew the steps to their arguments but never the resolution. This particular evening, the air was charged with more than just the usual tension; it crackled with an unspoken, electric energy.
It all started over a trivial matter—the placement of a shield on the wall. Yvette, in her frustration, had knocked it down, declaring the hall too cluttered with Hvitserk's paraphernalia.
"Why must everything be about your warrior life?" she shouted, her voice echoing in the hall. "Can't we have something that isn't a reminder of your battles?"
Hvitserk's response was immediate, his tone sharp. "And what would you fill this place with, Yvette? Your Christian crosses and prayers? To cover the walls with symbols of your god?"
Their voices rose, each word a spark igniting the other's anger. But as Yvette stepped closer, her finger pointed accusingly at Hvitserk, something shifted. The space between them, usually a battleground, suddenly felt intimate, charged with an intensity neither anticipated.
"You know nothing of my faith!" Yvette's voice trembled, not just with anger but with something else, something she refused to name.
"And you of mine!" Hvitserk countered, his breath hot and close, his eyes locking with hers in a way that wasn't just challenging but... inviting.
The air between them thickened, the argument fading into the background as they stood, inches apart. Hvitserk's hand, usually so quick to grasp a weapon, now hovered near Yvette's face, his touch tentative, as if asking permission.
Yvette's breath hitched, her heart racing not just from the argument but from a sudden, overwhelming awareness of Hvitserk's presence. His gaze softened, the anger giving way to a raw, palpable desire. His fingers brushed her cheek, and for a heartbeat, they both leaned in, the world narrowing to the space between their lips.
But then, reality crashed in. Yvette's eyes widened with realization, and she recoiled, her hand flying to her mouth as if to erase the almost-kiss. "No," she whispered, her voice a mix of horror and longing. "I can't."
She turned and fled, her footsteps heavy with regret and confusion, each step a silent plea for forgiveness, not just to her god, but to herself for the betrayal of her principles.
Hvitserk stood frozen, the warmth of the moment replaced by a cold emptiness. He watched her go, his own feelings a tumultuous sea of frustration, desire, and an unexpected tenderness he hadn't prepared for.
In the quiet that followed, Yvette found herself in the solitude of their garden, kneeling in prayer. "Forgive me, Lord," she murmured, her voice trembling, "for my heart is weak, and my resolve falters. Guide me from temptation."
Hvitserk, back in the hall, stared at the shield on the floor, a symbol of the barriers between them yet also a reminder of the moment when those barriers nearly crumbled. Their lives, entangled by fate and forced by circumstance, were now further complicated by the undeniable pull of something more primal, more human, lurking beneath their constant conflicts.
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Selcouth
Fanfiction"I hope you know how hard I am trying to love you." ~•~ "Maybe I deserve someone else but I always loved you, Hvitserk."
