Lindorm Princess

Chapter 15 (M)

*warning- mentions of sexual assault and death in this chapter

Slange had been married. And Björk had spent endless amounts of time with his wife. He patiently taught her the old language, and how to control her magic, while Slange slunk in the shadows of the castle, keeping his distance. As I had suspected, the woman was a distant relative of mine. Anne. I had seen her name written in the family bible, with a strike drawn through it. I knew how her story ended. Every woman in our village did. I knew now, why my parents had been wary of the Lindorm.

"Why did you reach for the skins after breaking his curse?" asked Björk quietly, as he worked on reversing one of her spells. She had accidentally encased her entire arm in ice, while trying to summon snow, and tears silently poured down her face from the pain. Even as she sobbed, I silently begrudged how lovely she was. Tears did not redden her face, or fill her nose with snot, like it did when I cried.

Anne spoke.

"In this world, the only sanctuary for a woman is power. I would have been a fool to ignore seven skins." She winced as Björk managed to chip the ice away from her shoulder, and defrost the upper part of her arm. "Don't you wonder why my father would willingly send his only daughter off to certain death? A Lindorm's bride?" She yelped again, as Björk reached freed her elbow.

"I'm guessing it didn't just have to do with the gold we gave him," Björk murmured apologetically.

She scoffed. "As if I were a broodmare, sold to the highest bidder. He would have given me without compensation. I- I have been dishonored." Her eyes stared determinedly at a speck on the floor.

"I was defiled on the table before my family, by the lord and his companions," she said shortly. "I was unfortunate enough to catch his eye, and was lucky enough to be left alive. Only to be sold to a...cursed creature as a bride." Anne shuddered, and flexed her arm, as the flesh turned from a mottled purple to a healthy pink. "When the wise woman told me of the power to be had by freeing the Lindorm, of course I seized my chance. I will never again put my hands in the fate of a man."

I stood in the corner of the room, a stranger to the scene, brushing angry tears away from my eyes. Understanding flooded my chest and guilt rushed in, for even daring to feel jealousy. Anne had been a victim, and a woman desperate. I knew that feeling better than anyone.

"You have my sincerest apologies," Björk said, checking the joint of her wrist, which had now been released entirely of ice. "I understand now, why you do not wish to spend your company with the master. But I can only promise you, that he would never treat you with dishonor."

He sighed.

"The master has grown up lonely, and wanting. We have tried to fill the gap, but we are not enough. He needs company. Love."

She stiffened.

"If it is love he needs, I cannot give it to him."

For all her protestations however, Anne was not immune to Slange's charms. I watched them share meals, as Björk served them, and the walls between them began to crumble. 

The ball celebrating their wedding was lavish, filled with the light of a thousand levitating candles, as fae twirled to hauntingly beautiful music. I watched as Slange held Anne close, and felt my stomach flip.

His silver hair was looped handsomly in long braids around his face, and he was draped in midnight blue robes. My fingers itched to sink deeply into the material as he passed me in a whirl, to pull him away from her. The envy growing in my stomach made me twitch. I was to be his advisor, his friend, at his upcoming ball. Not his lovely dancing companion.