Bridal Price

Who Am I?

Other pussy was fine and great but the need for his familiar home... irked him. He heard from other warriors the same of their wives. As if he could have a steady wife, constantly eager for a pretty thing that crossed his path. Lately though, the allure began to waver. It made him feel weak. So of course, he found himself ambling down Kattegat's dusty alleys in search of your longhouse painted with a natural blue sky hue. He braces himself with the right words to soothe you.

Every time he came back to you, it had to be full of the sweetest words. It wasn't as if you'd throw him out. No, Hvitserk never had to worry of that. There was something worse that you had. A bargaining chip with him. Not your elaborate clothes or sweet pussy. It was something even more heart damaging for him.

"Baby, don't cry." He came behind your waist as you dealt with the furs hanging to dry outside. "Revna's only good for her tits, you know that."

"Then what am I good for?" You say with dry words. Despite the tears streaming down your cheeks, you were fighting the hold on your waist. "If its not my tits, is it my ass?"

He opens his lips to speak when you cut him off. "No it isn't." Your hands come to the hold on your waist. "If I had a good body for something, I would be so proud!"

He doesn't understand where this comes from. You had never been a woman of poor self esteem. Only poor judgement. He twists you around to subject himself to an onslaught of punches against his chest.

"I'm just filler pussy! Your plaything until they become free!"

All colour had might as well drained out of his face at that very moment. You finally found out. He could get out of this. He got out of most things with you. It was easy to lure you back onto his lap. Hvitserk's grips your wrists in his hands.

"What are you talking about?" He asks, restricting his breathing from the panic rising in his chest.

"I heard you talking to your brothers in the forest."

She's clingy as hel.

She's mine.

I thought you thought her annoying and clingy.

She belongs to me, she's going to be my wife or no ones!

There was a handful of things that he had said– and if you waited, you would have heard the brothers laughing about just how you caught his eye that night. Sigurd had taken Margrethe, Signe lured Ubbe into bed with him and that left him alone with Revna nowhere to be found. You were... happenstance. Fine enough curves covered by the finest of dresses in Kattegat. You certainly looked expensive and, well, Hvitserk liked a pricey looking bitch. Nothing more, nothing less.

"That was not what it sounded like." He impresses upon you.

"It sounded like you were marking me out like a piece of livestock to a man that clearly saw me as being wife material." Your hands come over the amber necklaces around your neck, rolling the beads in your fingers. "I've always known I wasn't your only, Hvitserk. But I always hoped that..." You trail off.

"Hoped what?" He asks, rocking back on his heels. You toss the stick in your hand to the ground, rising hand to upper arm.

"I hoped that I was the one for you every time I waited out by the pier." You curl your lips inwards, gently moistening the cracked area. "But now, I wouldn't even be surprised if you didn't know my name."

When you look back up to Hvitserk, he knows this is the part where he is supposed to grasp you by the waist and say (Y/N), baby, I know your name. Except his mind feels as if its drowning in the ocean, small in a large pool of knowledge. Your eyebrows shift when no words come from his mouth.

"Hvitserk?" You ask. "What is my name?"

Dis? Gyra? Damn it, your father told him. Sigurd told him your name and now a million different names were coursing through his mind. Some of whom spent days intertwined between Hvitserk and Ubbe. All he shared gladly if they were willing. It must have shown on his face... because the ground has suddenly become mighty interesting. His ears felt as if they were heating up under bubbling boiling water.

He didn't know.

The realization cracks over your face. He hasn't felt such a feeling of dread since Ubbe and he fell into a hunk of icy floe of Kattegat's mighty sea. He braces himself for such an impact when his lips crack apart.

"I don't know who you are."

Indeed his words crack something– but it isn't the sea. It's the evenness of your voice as you let loose a choked gasp, dipping down to pick up your staff. You can't even stomach looking at him, pulling the head of your inky purple hood over your head as you rush off, bumping into his shoulder as well. His head shifts to the side to watch as your figure slams the front door of your longhouse shut. Even though it is a small door he could likely kick down, it feels like a fissure separating the both of you.

"How did it go?"

The boys had gotten away from Kattegat. Ivar was on the bed, hands tucked under his cheek to support him. He mocks Hvitserk in a low drawl of his voice. All the brothers knew... something had happened. They had their theories, their little words about how it could have gone if Hvitserk was in such a piss poor mood.

"Shut up, Ivar." Ubbe barks out. He skins a rabbit on a wooden stool with a small blade.

"I only wanted to know how Hvitserk fared." Ivar pushes off of his side onto his back, stretching out his arms toward the wooden ceiling. "Don't tell me you don't want to know, Ubbe."

Hvitserk examines his wild apple, bringing it to his lips. "She slammed the door in my face."

"That went well." Ivar flings an amused smile to his brother.

"I will give it some time. Stay away a month or two and she will see how much she misses me." Hvitserk beams a healthy, pearly smile. Ubbe's fingers come to a halt on the skin.

"What if she doesn't? What then?"

Hvitserk ignores Ubbe. Such a thing would never happen. Or at least... he thought it wouldn't. Right?