ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 一 ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀɪᴠɪᴀ

𝕀𝕀. 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕥

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴀᴛᴛᴇɢᴀᴛ

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       10 minutes into their ride and Eleanora was just itching to ask the stranger a few questions. Kattegat rarely had visitors anymore, especially in the last couple of years. It most definitely was not a kingdom of riches and jewels; mostly just copper coins and very hungry citizens. Anyone new to Kattegat would be the talk of the town, and for Eleanora, she was just as curious as everyone else would be. She wondered about his eyes, his golden eyes. They didn't scare her, just intrigued her.

And those swords. Swords are meant for those trying to protect themselves.

       She thought, her mind searching for a reason. Clearing her throat, the young woman contemplated what to ask him. "What is your name?" She dared not look at him, keeping her eyes focused on the dirt path in front of them. She waited, yet the man gave no response. Afraid he did not hear her question, she pivoted her body slightly to the right to glance at him, but the stranger was already looking at her, signaling to her that he heard her.

       "It's best I don't say." came his brief response. His deep voice startled the girl, not really expecting him to say anything at all.

Man of few words, I see.

       Eleanora got the hint that he was not going to answer her question for whatever reason. Tightening her long ponytail from its loose formation, Eleanora continued the conversation. "Right. My name is Eleanora. Eleanora of Kattegat." She introduced, purposely leaving out her last name. The woman bit her lip anxiously, wanting the man to say something, anything.

       "No last name?"

       "It's best I don't say." The stranger hyumned, sending her a nod, understanding. Who was he to force an answer? "What is the name of your horse?" Eleanora suddenly asked before comprehending her question. Harold seemed to take quite a liking to the man's horse. Eleanora's cream horse neighed, wanting her to introduce him to the visitors as well. She let out a strong laugh at his antics. "How can one forget about this one? This is my horse, Harold."

       "Roach." The woman tried not to react, thinking it was the stranger's name.

       "That is um-quite a lovely name. It suits your um..." Before Eleanora could find the right words to be as polite as possible, the man let out a soft chuckle.

       "My horse. Not me." Eleanora's face morphed into confusion and slight disgust, peeking at his well-built figure.

       "You named your beautiful horse after a fish?"