A Viking's Rage

Chapter 6

When Aiya stepped off the ship, her legs nearly buckled beneath her. It had been weeks since she had felt solid ground underfoot, and the unfamiliar stability made her feel weak. Her dress, already in tatters before the journey, hung off her frame, stained and frayed beyond repair. The fabric clung to her, damp from the sea spray, its once-dull color now streaked with dirt and Noah’s blood—a cruel reminder of everything she had lost.

She barely had time to gather her thoughts before Ragda’s commanding voice cut through the cacophony.

"Come! The Jarl is waiting!" he called to the men, his tone sharp as he gestured toward the shore.

Aiya caught his glance as he turned to organize the captives, but before she could react, Dagr was at her side. His rough grip on her arm was possessive and unyielding, pulling her along with him as he moved.

The captives were herded toward a massive wooden building at the heart of the settlement. The longhouse loomed over them, its towering columns carved with intricate designs—ghostly figures and fearsome beasts etched deeply into the wood. The structure was as imposing as the men who had brought her here, its strange beauty a sharp contrast to the dread building in her chest.

Inside, the air buzzed with energy. The returning raiders were greeted with cheers from the gathered crowd, their voices rising to the rafters. Thrain and the other men corralled the captives to one side of the enormous hall, but Dagr held Aiya back, keeping her close.

At the far end of the hall, the Jarl sat on an ornately carved chair, a woman at his side. She was neither young nor old, her fair hair braided elegantly over one shoulder. Her sharp features and poised demeanor made her striking, though her expression was cold.

The Jarl himself radiated quiet authority. He did not need to shout to command the room. When he spoke, the cheering crowd silenced instantly.

"My son, you have returned. I trust you bring me more wealth for my hoard," he said, his voice measured yet firm.

"It is as you expect, Min Herre," Ragda replied, kneeling before his father.

Lowzow’s eyes gleamed with approval as he motioned for the treasures to be brought forward. His men carried in three chests overflowing with gold coins, religious relics, and jewels, plundered from monasteries and the English lord’s estate.

The Jarl stood, inspecting the riches with a practiced eye. He ran his fingers through the glittering coins, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

"Well done, Ragda. Leave me two chests and take the third for yourself and your men."

Ragda bowed his head in acknowledgment as the Jarl turned his attention to the captives. His sharp gaze passed over them, lingering when he reached Dagr and Aiya. His eyes fixed on her, his curiosity evident.

"Hva er ditt navn, barn?" he asked, his tone unreadable.

Aiya glanced at Dagr, unsure of what was being asked.

"He asks your name," Dagr said, nudging her arm impatiently.

"Aiya," she replied, her voice steady despite her unease.

The Jarl’s piercing gaze remained on her for what felt like an eternity before he nodded, turning to the woman beside him. "Come, Ingrid," he said, leading her away.

As the crowd dispersed, Dagr’s grip tightened on Aiya’s arm. He dragged her through the hall and into a private chamber, slamming the door behind them. The room was far grander than anything she had ever seen, with soft fur rugs covering the wooden floors and a large fireplace casting flickering light over the space. A bed draped in fine linens sat in the center, but Aiya had no time to take it in before pain exploded across her cheek.

The slap sent her sprawling to the floor. Dagr loomed over her, his face twisted with fury.

"How dare you draw the Earl’s attention?" he hissed, his voice low but venomous.

Aiya clutched her cheek, the sting and swelling radiating through her face. "I did nothing," she said, her voice trembling as she scrambled backward.

Dagr grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet. His fingers twisted into her hair, forcing her to look up at him. She winced at the sharp pain but refused to cry out.

"You will learn your place," he snarled, his face inches from hers.

He pushed her back, forcing her to sit on the edge of the bed. His anger burned in his eyes as he paced in front of her. The tension in the air was suffocating.

Dagr leaned in close again, his voice quieter but no less dangerous. "You think you can behave as you please? You are mine now."

Aiya’s heart pounded as she glared at him. "You do not own me," she spat, though her voice lacked the strength she hoped for.

His hand moved to her shoulder, but before he could act further, the sound of heavy footsteps and a loud knock on the door made him pause.

"Bróðir, open the door!" Ragda’s voice called from the other side.

Dagr growled under his breath, releasing Aiya with a shove. He stormed to the door, yanking it open.

"Must you always intrude, Ragda?" Dagr snapped, his frustration evident.

"Yes," Ragda said dryly, clapping him on the shoulder. "The Jarl requires us. Whatever this is, can wait."

Dagr gritted his teeth but nodded. He turned back to Aiya, his eyes flashing with unspoken warning. "Do not leave this room," he ordered before following his brother out.

As the door closed behind them, Aiya sat frozen on the bed. Her body trembled with adrenaline and fear, but as the moments passed, her shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion. The fire crackled softly, its warmth doing little to ease the chill in her bones.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wrapped her arms around herself, her mind drifting to memories of Noah. He had always been her source of strength, her shield against the cruelty of the world. Now, she felt more alone than ever.

Curling into herself on the bed, Aiya stared into the flames until her eyes grew heavy. When sleep finally claimed her, her dreams were filled with shadows and the faint sound of the sea.