Bridal Price

Everything Changes

His heart felt as empty as it ever had. Yes, he drowned his sorrows in a pitcher of booze. Women... they just didn't appeal to him like they used to. Before he would have gladly fallen into any woman's arms, fat or thin, regardless of the circumstance after a break up. It had officially been months and months of begging and asking you to take him back.

Day in and out he nursed this tiresome headache pulsing like an axe to the front of his head. In fact just like the time that Ivar ran his ass down with his wagon. At least he grew into that painful little scar in the middle of his forehead where he took a sharp rock. Here it was as if his heart was in a constant split.

"I can't do this anymore." Revna grinds against his arm, those luscious tits he bragged so much about against his muscles. God, she was beautiful with those big tits he could usually fuck his worries into. But after the fuck she would go on her way to the next man like clockwork. She pours him another cup.

"You're just drunk." She rolls her doe like eyes at him.

"It's not because I'm drunk." He slurs, but confidently so as he throws back another cup of ale. Then yanking his arm from her, he sneers to her. "I fucking love her and I lost her in a sea of fucking pussy."

Revna bats her eyelashes at him as unmoved as they come. She calmly takes his cup from him, filling herself his drink. "You lost her because you're a dumbass." Revna takes the ale in one long drink, narrowing her eyes at him. "It's no wonder you're the least special out of Ragnar's sons."

As she slams the cup onto the heavy oak table, Hvitserk's lip is tight between his teeth. She had a point– he was a dumbass. Who would turn down a beautiful woman like her? Hvitserk, obviously. As he shoves the plate off of his table, he could have seen the look on his mother's face. How she would rush out, stop and then drop her arms in disappointment. Figures shift before him and he's so sure that it is his mother standing in front of him. But when he looks up, its nothing of the sort.

"You should have kept her." The man's voice, buttery. "She could have made a good wife with the two of you cheating upon one another anyway."

In place of his mother, Vaði stood there with his broad shoulders covered by a dirty brown fur. A drawn out sigh creeps out from Hvitserk's lips.

"She's not the right one." He says.

"Now we care about the right one?" Vaði straightens out the fur on his shoulders. In his wrong mind, he questions how bad it would really be to crack his axe into the earl's gut. After a brief, silent stint he decides to press on.

"Talk short, why are you here?" He reasons that enough men and women alike have come to take pity on his wounded heart. Vaði might also, dropping his hand to the pommel of his sheathed blade.

"To tell you (Y/N) is looking at her suitors. Geir and I too."

His heart pangs with longing. God he longed for the days that he did not have to worry about such things. Why? Because you only had eyes for him and no one more. He lacks a response yet again. Vaði takes his silence as a sign of defeat.

"I thought you would want to fight for her." He adds.

Hvitserk looks up to Vaði with a deadpan stare, squeezing and loosening his hand. It was his fault that he had lost his woman. Him and that stupid fur on his shoulders that had the women fawning and curiously gossiping about how his pants fit his cock.

"I have been fighting for months." Hvitserk arrogantly nods his head in distaste. It wasn't enough that he had been fighting you to not slam that door into his face but now, Vaði thought that he was not trying at all? Which was the greater insult? "She wants nothing to do with me. I would better try to awaken Gunnhild from her slumber."