“By the Gods… you love her!” Thrain’s voice echoed through the larder, breaking the silence with laughter.
“Shut up,” Ragda muttered, though the flush on his face betrayed him. He cocked an eyebrow, trying to sound nonchalant. “She’s… different. Unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t kill her. I like her,” Thrain said, rummaging through a shelf for something to eat. His casual tone only deepened Ragda’s frustration.
“Why would I kill her?” Ragda asked, sitting heavily on a wooden stool.
Thrain straightened, holding a loaf of bread. “She said you once threatened her. If any harm came to your brother, she’d pay the price.”
Ragda sighed and pulled at his braid, letting it fall over his shoulder. “That was different. I said it out of anger—I wouldn’t have hurt her. Not then, not now.”
He stared at his hands for a long moment, lost in thought.
“What is it?” Thrain prompted.
“I told her I loved her,” Ragda admitted, his voice quiet. “But when she asked if it was true… I told her I didn’t recall.”
Thrain blinked. “You’re a fool.”
Ragda glared at him, offended. “That’s what you have to say?”
Thrain leaned against the wall, biting into the bread. “Yes. And here’s my advice: tell her you made a mistake.”
Ragda shook his head, leaning back against the wall in frustration. “If she’s truly the daughter of Einar the Red, destined to claim the throne of Denmark… what am I to her? Just the son of a Jarl. She’ll want someone more important, more—”
“You’re a bigger fool than I thought,” Thrain cut him off. “You don’t see it, do you? She doesn’t care about titles or thrones. She cares about people, about loyalty. Go to her before you lose her.”
Ragda said nothing, sliding down the wall until he sat on the floor in resignation. Thrain, shaking his head, left him to his thoughts.
---
Later That Night
Thrain walked through the village, the first snowflakes of winter dusting his fur cloak. The air was sharp and cold, and as he passed the huts, a faint sound reached his ears—soft sobs carried by the wind.
He followed the sound to Aiya’s small home. The door was slightly ajar, and a warm glow spilled out onto the snow-covered ground. Pushing it open, he found Aiya lying on the floor by the fire, her shoulders bare, her hair cascading around her like a veil. She didn’t stir, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames, tears silently streaming down her face.
“Aiya?” he said softly, pulling a chair closer to her.
She turned her head slightly, her eyes red and distant. “Go away,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be seen.”
Thrain sat down anyway, resting an ankle on his knee. “The world hasn’t been kind to you,” he said, his voice low.
“Don’t pity me,” she snapped, turning her face back to the fire. “I’m not the only one who suffers.”
Silence stretched between them until she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “Noah would know what to do.”
“Noah… the boy you loved?” Thrain asked, leaning forward.
“He was more than that,” she said, her voice trembling. “He was my heart. From the moment I was taken, when I thought my life was over, he gave me hope. He took my hand, gave me strength. I should have died with him.”
“Why didn’t you?” Thrain’s voice was steady, his expression serious.
“Because he told me to live,” she said simply, her tears falling freely now.
Moved in a way he didn’t fully understand, Thrain slid from his chair and lay down beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close as she cried into his chest. She didn’t resist, her body trembling against him. They lay like that for a long time, the crackling fire the only sound between them.
Eventually, they drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
---
The Morning After
Aiya stirred to the soft glow of the dying fire, warmth radiating from the body beside her. She felt an odd sense of peace, something she hadn’t experienced in years.
“Are you awake?” Thrain murmured, his voice low.
She nodded, rolling over to face him. He propped himself on his elbow, brushing a stray curl from her face.
“Well, that was a nice nap,” he said with a small smile.
“You should go,” she replied, her tone half-hearted.
Before Thrain could respond, the door burst open, slamming against the wall. They both jumped to their feet as Ragda stormed in, his expression a mix of shock and fury.
“Hva faen?!” Ragda roared, his eyes darting between them.
Thrain ran a hand through his disheveled hair, looking guilty. “Rag, it’s not what you think—”
“Did you?” Ragda interrupted, his voice sharp. “Did you touch her?”
Both Aiya and Thrain shook their heads vehemently. “No!” they exclaimed in unison.
Esma appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening at the scene. “By the Gods,” she gasped. “What have you done?”
“Nothing happened!” Aiya insisted, panic in her voice. “We only talked.”
Esma turned and fled, tears brimming in her eyes. “Esma, wait!” Thrain called, rushing after her.
Ragda stepped closer to Aiya, his face a mask of pain. “I came here to tell you… I love you,” he said, his voice raw. “I was foolish before. I should have—” He stopped, placing a hand over his heart as if to steady himself.
Aiya stared at him, unable to speak. His words pierced her, but the scene unfolding had left her too shaken to respond.
“Thank you,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ragda’s face twisted with hurt. He turned sharply on his heel, pausing at the doorway. “My uncle is coming to meet you tomorrow. Be ready,” he said coldly before leaving without another word.
Aiya stood frozen, the weight of his departure sinking in. “Your uncle?” she whispered to the empty room, but there was no one left to answer.
YOU ARE READING
A Viking's Rage
أدب تاريخي[2018 Watty's Shortlist] In a brutal world ruled by cruelty and power, Aiya is nothing more than a slave-her life defined by servitude and pain. But when her ruthless Lord betrays her and Northumbria falls under siege by Norse invaders, Aiya's life...
