A Viking's Rage

Chapter 15

Aiya clung to Dagr's horse as it thundered through the forest, his grip around her waist unyielding. Once again, she was at his mercy, and once again, her life felt as though it were crumbling to pieces. Roel was dead, and Hafrafell was no longer a sanctuary.

They rode through the night without speaking. The steady rhythm of hoofbeats echoed through the woods as Dagr’s breath warmed the back of her neck. Her back and legs ached from the long ride, but she refused to show weakness. She wouldn’t sleep—not with Dagr so close.

As the first rays of dawn broke the horizon, he slowed the horse’s pace, his grip tightening around her waist as though he feared she might vanish.

"You hold me too tight," Aiya said, her voice strained. "I cannot breathe."

"I don't want you running," he murmured, his voice close to her ear.

Silence lingered between them until he finally spoke, his tone distant. "Do you think me a monster?"

"You want to be a monster, Dagr. You relish it. You feed on fear." She tried to tug free from his hold, but his arm didn’t budge. "Loosen your grip. I cannot breathe!"

Instead of complying, Dagr pulled a dagger from his boot and pressed its blade to her throat. "Quit your struggling," he growled, burying his face in her hair.

They rode in tense silence for a short while before Dagr brought the horse to a clearing. Tall trees surrounded the open space, and the morning light barely filtered through the thick canopy. He pulled hard on the reins, halting the horse, and dismounted in a fluid motion. Without a word, he grabbed Aiya and yanked her to the ground, binding her wrists with coarse rope.

"Move, and I’ll wring your neck," he warned, shoving her to the ground.

Aiya sat up, her hands bound before her, glaring at him as he crouched in front of her.

"You’re brave, I’ll give you that," Dagr said, his gaze wandering past her into the trees. "When so many others fear me, you remain unbroken."

He chuckled, his eyes dark and unfocused as if caught in a memory. "Esma was like you once, when she first came to Hafrafell. She fought me, bit and scratched like a wild animal. But eventually, she gave in. They all do."

A chill ran through Aiya as his fiendish smile deepened.

"Did she tell you how she got her scar?" Dagr pulled the dagger from his boot again, holding it before her face. She flinched, but his voice remained calm, almost casual. "I took this blade, and as she screamed beneath me, I ran it down her beautiful face." He grinned cruelly. "And other places."

"You’ll pay for it," Aiya spat, her voice trembling with fury.

Dagr’s laughter echoed through the clearing before his hand struck her face, sending her sprawling into the dirt. Pain flared across her cheek, but she didn’t cry out. She forced herself to sit back up, glaring at him.

"What is your plan, Dagr?" she demanded, her voice sharp despite the ache in her throat.

He grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to meet his gaze as his mouth crashed against hers. His kiss was violent, bruising, and repulsive. Aiya struggled, but his grip was unrelenting. When he finally pulled away, she gasped for air, her stomach churning in disgust.

"You have no plan, do you?" she said, her voice cutting. "You’re just a coward."

Dagr’s expression twisted with rage.

"You kill old men and terrorize women," she continued, her voice rising. "Yet you flee from your brother instead of standing and fighting. You disgust me, Dagr. You’re nothing but a weak, pathetic coward."

With a roar, Dagr slammed her to the ground, his hands wrapping around her throat. She clawed at his arms, gasping for air as tears streamed down her face. His grip tightened, but his rage faltered, and tears began to spill down his cheeks.

In his moment of hesitation, Aiya acted. With her bound hands, she pulled the dagger from beneath her skirts—the blade she’d stolen during his earlier assault—and plunged it into his side.

Dagr gasped, his body jerking as blood soaked his tunic. He staggered back, clutching the wound.

"You always wanted to break me, Dagr," Aiya said, her voice shaking as she stood over him. "But you’re the broken one."

She drove the blade into his side again.

"For Esma."

Dagr collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged. Aiya pulled the blade free and plunged it into him once more.

"For Roel."

Dagr’s dark eyes locked onto hers, his expression one of pain and defiance.

"For me."

With those words, she stepped behind him, grabbed his hair, and drew the blade across his throat. Blood spilled down his chest as his body fell lifeless to the ground.

Aiya knelt beside him, staring at his sinfully handsome features, now slack in death. She closed his eyes with a trembling hand.

"Dagr, son of Moor, will be forgotten," she whispered, standing and wiping the blood from her hands. She mounted his horse and rode west, leaving his lifeless body behind.

---

Ragda found her on the road, her figure barely visible in the mist. He pulled his horse to a stop, his expression tense.

"My brother?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Dead," Aiya replied, unable to meet his gaze.

Ragda spurred his horse forward, racing past her toward the clearing. Aiya followed slowly, her heart heavy.

When Ragda reached the site, he dismounted and knelt beside Dagr’s body, cradling his fallen brother in his arms.

"It didn’t have to be like this, bróðir," Ragda murmured, his voice thick with grief. He bent down, pressing a kiss to Dagr’s forehead. "I forgive you," he whispered.

Standing, Ragda turned to find Aiya watching him. Her face was pale, her expression anguished.

Ragda strode toward her, his grief giving way to anger. But as he reached her, he pulled her into his arms, clutching her tightly. His breath was hot against her neck, and she felt his chest rise and fall with emotion.

"I’m so sorry, Ragda," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Ragda pulled away, mounting his horse without a word.

"Do you hate me now?" Aiya asked, her voice barely audible.

"Come. We must go home," he said coldly, his tone betraying none of the turmoil within. He rode off, leaving her standing in the clearing.

---

Back at Hafrafell, Aiya knew she had to face Ragda, but fear gnawed at her. Would he keep his promise to avenge his brother? Or had his grief changed him?

When she stepped into the Great Hall, Annie rushed to her, tears of relief streaming down her face.

"Aiya! We thought you were lost!" Annie cried, throwing her arms around her.

Aiya gently pulled back. "I need to speak to Thrain. Where is he?"

"He’s with Esma at his home by the fjord," Annie replied, her concern deepening.

"Take me there."

Annie nodded, leading Aiya through the misty streets.

This time, Aiya wouldn’t face her fate alone.