''Some women fear the fire, some women simply become it.''
Evellíne embarks on a journey with her parents to England, as a request of Queen Judith and her son, King Alfred. They barely met and the connection between them is so strong that in a blin...
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Blood.
The metallic taste of blood was dancing in Evellíne's mouth, and when she opened her eyes, she felt a throbbing pain in her head. Previously, one of Ivar's soldiers hit her, in an unsuccessful attempt to escape from both of them.
It took a few seconds for the poor girl to mentally process everything that had happened in the last few hours; the meeting, the ambush, the look of panic and pain of Alfred, the cold metal of the dagger almost stabbing in her neck, all those dead people... And Ivar. Boneless's face of satisfaction was something she would never forget even if she lived for a thousand years. How could anyone have predicted that everything was a lie? How could they trust so blindly in such a cruel and unscrupulous being?
The sight of a promising future with Alfred seemed like a distant dream at that moment. There in that dark, tiny room, the iron cuffs tightening her wrists, the strong smell of her own urine, the disturbing sound of rats going from one side to the other, all the shaking because of the biting cold, the panic was overpowering her. Evellíne's heart was full of sadness, uncertainty, and a fear that seemed to eat her own soul alive.
She wasn't afraid of dying, she was afraid of what's coming for her. After all, there are things far worse than death. And if there was one thing she certainly did not doubt, it was that Ivar would not be merciful.
She couldn't even tell how much time she had been unconscious, and because of the lack of windows in the room, she couldn't define whether it was day or night.
After hours of agony and prayers, a noise outside the door caught her attention.
"Hello?" She whispered. ''Please... Please... Help me''. She asked vainly.
After a brief moment of silence, the door opened.
With blurred vision, it took a brief time for Evellíne to identify who it was. How much relief she felt to see that it was not Ivar, but his brother.
''Princess.'' He said seriously.
Hvitserk carried in his hands a mug of water and a generous slice of bread, which looked so old that she could see tiny fungus forming around the thick slice. He extended the meal to the girl, who at first instance refused. Hvitserk rolled his eyes, irritated by her stubbornness.
''You need to eat. You will end up dying if you starve yourself on purpose!''
"It's so good to know how much you care about me!" She shouted at him. "How dare you? If you really cared about my well-being, you certainly wouldn't have planned the attack along your lunatic brother, either captured me as a hostage!''
''I didn't know Ivar would do what he did!'' He shouted back. "I'm as surprised as you are, believe me...''
"You're a coward just like him!"
In a sudden movement, Hvitserk crouched down and gripped the girl's neck, and with the same ferocity, she kept staring at him.
"Leave me... Alone." Her voice was weak, not because of the pressure of his hand on her throat or from being frightened, but from exhaustion. She wasn't supposed to be there, dammit she didn't even deserve to be there. The only place that the princess belonged was at Wessex with Alfred and her family, nothing less.
