“Oh, I forget,” He sneers, “you two are so close now, and I think perhaps you have always been.”
He gives her a slight glimpse of the beast in him, “While I was locked in that tower waiting for you to come to see me, you were …”
Her narrowing eyes, the furrow of her delicate brows stops him from talking.
“You are jealous.”
He shrugs. “You are mine,” he says simply.
I belong to nobody.” She bites back and pulls her arm free from his.
Turning to her, the prince’s voice still gentle, but the words not so much, “He wanted to kill me, take you away from me. And you are letting him.”
Shaking his head, “He locked me up in a tower Ashlan, ten years old, frightened and grieving my mother. His own son. And you’d side with him?”
Her head tilts to the side, that loose hanging curl gliding over her cheek again.
“Well, he had reason,” she smirks and gives a seductive pout with while stepping closer to him. Her lips grazing his ears, “He is threatened by you. And who wouldn’t be?”
He is frozen to the spot, his veins searing, his heart a mushy lump in his throat as her breath tickles his ears. The heat of her breath feather’s his neck, “Not only are you the most fetching of all the prince’s in all the lands, you are...”
“Not human,” he growls. Then purses his lips. “Vikings are not meant to be fetching,” he touches the back of his neck in awkwardness of the compliments. What is she trying to do to him? Kill him, drive him mad. Does she not know the beast inside him will kill for her?
Her next words shake him from his thoughts. “It is something to be grateful for.”
She let’s go of his arm but tilts her head back to look up at him with a smile. And with that smile, all his doubts float away. “No enemy will ever come for us if not for you inhuma…”
He interrupts, “I don’t ever want to be that thing again. Teach me.” His hands taking both of hers in his.
Startled at his sudden vigor, her shoulders shake, dropping her furs from her shoulders. He stares down at her beautiful neck, her skin …. The beat of her pulse in the small delicate dip between her collar bones.
She looks up at him, stands closer still, clasping his hands tighter. Her hips against his. He lets go of her one hand, his fingers trembling as they reach for her, wanting to glide them over her throat and down her chest. Instead, he draws back completely.
“Such a beautiful neck deserves a beautiful chain.” He says through a croak in his voice.
He takes another step back, his eyes ablaze, “I’m sorry I cannot be around you, or ever touch you,” He swallows, “and never will I know the bliss of your lips against mine. You belong to him now.”
About to turn away from her, she stops him with her words, “He will have my sisters killed.”
He spins around to face her, her beautiful eyes brimming with tears, her lips trembling.
“You have no siblings.”
Then her face hardens, hands to her hips. “Don’t flash your eyes at me!”
“I am not.”
“Look…” she points to the wall beside her.
The statues caught in the beam of his supernatural stare.
He ignores it. “Four years we spent in that tower, sneaking around the castle. You never once told me about your family. Your purpose was to be my bride, so our kingdom could grow, bring your tribe…”
She snaps out a confession. “It was all a lie,” she falters, her hand reaching to the wall to hold her up. “I’ve kept that secret for so long.”
She does not get to finish, because Khan is there holding her up in the beat of a breath, leaving her gasping. She sinks into the circle of his arms, shedding tears. Her face buried in his neck. He can hardly concentrate on a word she says. She’s too close. His mind reels; she’s holding him so tightly, her scent intoxicating. He can’t take the proximity, it’s driving him mad.
But somehow he manages restraint, and listens as she explains, “They pillaged and fought their way into the house of Halsar,” she chokes on her words before continuing.” Erik and Audun, they took my sisters and my father…” Ashlan lets out a hurtful whimper, “He exchanged me for them.” She looks up, her green eyes alight with fury and fight.
He strokes her hair feeling the hot mess of her tears had soaked through his shirt. He feels her heart break.
Ashlan swallows back her tears, and to him, it sounds painful as she speaks, “If I do not do as the king wants, they will kill my family.” she whimpers.
“Erik and Audun are dead. There is no more danger.” He lifts her head so that their eyes meet.
His fingers gingering, holding her chin up as he wipes at her tears, his gaze lingering on her rose-colored lips. The scent of Jasmin... is it even jasmine, strangely he feels something falters in him.
She leans in closer, her breath feeding his lungs.
Pinning his gaze to hers so she can hear him clearly as he says, “My father will use you, hurt you, and throw you away, then call upon you again when his appetite...” he nearly chokes on the words.
Her chest hitches as she forces her tears to stop. “There are people positioned in our village under your father’s instructions. To strike when he sends …” her chest hitches again, “What am I to do?”
Letting her go, he spins to the podium. Khan takes the crown and places it on his head. “I will find a way to make this right.”
Her eyes twinkle as he glides the back of his hand over the soft of her cheek. The only thing protecting her from his kiss right now is his determination to turn his father’s kingdom upside down. Sift out the corrupt, and fix the broken laws until he can find someone trustworthy to deliver his promise to Ashlan. Her family will be safe, and she will be in his arms as his bride no matter what it costs him. And it will not be out of any alliance, it will be for love.
Part II
Resurgence
For five years The Kingdom thrived under Prince Khan’s reign. The Bezerker legend had been picked up by the wind, spread far and wide, across all the lands and traveled over oceans. It had also brought about a new sector to the kingdom – tourism. Their economy flourished, bringing about a boost in the creative industry where trinkets, jewelry, pottery, and paintings were sold in Prince Khan’s image of him wearing his bearskin to symbolize his strength and serve as warning. His prominence brought in royals from other societies; offering their daughters to the handsome Prince Khan. But of course, his heart belonged to Ashlan. And no one dared question why he rejected every beautiful maiden that every royal and not so royal brought before him.
New immigrants arrived as the kingdom bloomed; skilled in agriculture, brewing, building, and much more. All was good in all the lands.
In one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, Khan had not seen his father, and he had the pleasure of keeping company with Ashlan by his side on the thrown as his adviser. By her beauty, and that of his thriving kingdom, he put aside the thing he once was; the murders he had committed. Forgiven himself and accepted that everything that had ever happened to him was for this – for the moment where their world prospered in peace. There were days when his guilty shame had brought about bouts of deep depression. Ashlan served as a reminder, a shining beacon in the dark the healed his brokenness. Just as she had healed him from his grief after his mother’s death when he was locked up in that tower. She was sent by the gods to save this kingdom, to save him. And shamelessly, he was grateful his father had taken her from her tribe. Thankful she was her father’s sacrifice.
By this time, every Chevalier and new recruit he trained in honor of Erik, and all Erik had taught prince Khan he gave unto his new warriors. The Prince also learned that forgiveness and treatment in kind rewarded loyalty.
Chapter 11
Endure the Silence
Prince Khan’s eyes take in Ashlan who once more is by his side. Standing on the balcony of The Throne Room; the moon a full blooming disk of golden greatness against a summe
r’s star-speckled sky. He leans in, his hand gliding over the small of her back, where her body responds to him excitedly so.
“It’s been over one thousand days.”” He announces. “I have not seen my father.””
With a side glance, she gives a wry smile. “How does that make you feel?””
Staring out into the landscape, the city dotted with the glowing of lamps and fires, he groans before confessing. ““A part of me feels guilty. He is my father, and I am a useless son to comfort him. But a huge part of me is hopeful he never recovers.”
Now, Ashlan’s smile grows into a full grin as she turns to slide her hand over his well-defined chest. Her hand slips into the gap of his buttoned tunic. “And why is that, Prince Khan?”
His heart a wild flurry as her fingers slide over the naked skin of his chest. His voice taking on a deeper tone, he says through bated breath. “It gives me the bliss of your company.”
He wants so badly to tell her he loves her - all of her. To confess that not being with her intimately is making his love for her breed a deeper meaning than any other love that ever existed in the world before them. But he stops his mouth as he feels his body react to her touch, gripping her wrist gingerly, and withdrawing it out of his shirt. “We cannot. Not until my father …”
Ashlan’s face saddens as her frustration shows in the glaze of her green eyes.
“Are you going to cry?”
Straightening her chin, she looks past him, not meeting his gaze, inhaling deeply before she admits, “It would be so easy to kill him. In his condition, we could get away with it too. Then we can be together.”
This startles him, he doesn’t know her like this.
“No.” he barks, his body rigid.
Taking a step back, he watches as a tear slips down her cheek.
“I am a woman, and I have needs.” her voice cracks under the painful confession.
Trying to be strong, he doesn’t admit the same. Instead, he says. “What can I do to bring excitement to your life?”
“Touch me.”
Oh, dear Freya, how he wants to touch her.
Ashlan’s face goes sour, her lips pouting, her cheeks turning red at his dejection. “You don’t love me,” she says with a furious glare in her eyes, “You don’t care what I want. You have the kingdom, you have every maiden coming to you…”
“I have never…”
“How would I know that Khan? How would I know what you do in your chamber late at night? While I am alone, afraid I will be without ...” she exhales. “I should leave.”
Khan draws her near in fear of losing her. His hand grabbing her behind her neck. In response, she gasps at the sudden and delightful attention. His thumb slides over her throat, down into the collar of her dress. Leaning forward about to kiss her when he feels something in the nape of her neck.
Drawing back, he pulls her collar back.
“What is that?”
She looks down at the blue sapphire and silver necklace around her neck. Feelings of guilt and shame overcome here, her voice soft as she says, “It’s a necklace.”
The Prince recalls the day he’d taken up the crown; when he restrained himself from just a moment like this and told her such a gorgeous neck deserved a necklace.
“I wanted...” Khan shakes his head, throws his hands up in the air. “This is too much, I hate these feelings.” He spits. “Perhaps we should part until my father passes.” He swallows and pins her gaze. “Of natural causes.”
His fury and frustration of the cruelty in this forbidden love burn through his veins. It has been a long time since he’d felt the transformation threaten. He vowed five years ago he would never become that thing ever again.
As he leaves the room, one of the handmaidens came in looking or her mistress.
“She’s on the balcony.” His voice gruff, his gait heavy.
Crossing beneath the glass-domed ceiling, the moonlight lights up the Berserker symbol on the floor almost too deep in his broody thoughts to hear it. But he does, the scream rebounding inside his skull.
“No, mistress! Please come down from there, that fall will kill you!”
Then a shrill, and in mere moments the sound of both Ashlan and the maiden’s horrifying cries rip through him and breaks through his human body in a sprout of black barbed wings. Bursting out of his shirt, he flies across the room and swoops down the face of the building to catch a falling Ashlan in his arms.
Her hair coming undone at the jerk, tendrils of her red flowery scented curls falling over his arms. At the sight of her clutching arms around his neck and her terrified big green eyes looking up at him - he comes undone. Every last ounce of restraint evaporates.
Instead of placing her back on the balcony of The Throne Room, he gathers her warm body in the circle of his arms even tighter; soaring up toward the gleam of the moon. Using his tail to swing them around the castle spiral. Flinging them around the castle and swoops down. The wind robbing them of breath at the speed and force with which he lands them in his chambers.
Placing her down in the middle of his room, her frame lit up by the healthy fire. She stands before him, her curves, her long flowing hair beckoning him.
His wings and tail melt back into his skin, hardly feeling it withdrawing.
“What were you thinking?”
Shaking her head, tears stream down her cheeks, she tries to cover her shame with her hands.
He snatches her hands in his to see her face, pulling her forward and shoves his body tightly against hers, “Don’t ever…,” He swallows, his voice cracking with a thick lump in his throat. “I can’t lose you.” He sheds a tear.
Gently he bows his head toward hers, their foreheads touching.
“Your crown,” she whispers.
“I don’t care, it fell…” his words touch her lips, and he claims her mouth with his.
Her delicate hands, soft cold fingers trembled as it slides over his bare chest. Pulling her hair back, she moans as his kisses trail down her neck.
Breathlessly she asks. “What about your father?”
Taking a breath, he pulls open the front of her dress; she gasps in pleasurable unexpectedness. “I will fight him for you.”
“Will you kill him?” She asks as her hand slips down his torso. A lustful shiver slithering down his spine, igniting every single bone in his body.
“Yes,” he exhales and takes her into his arms, laying her down on the royal blue satin sheets of his bed.
She looks up into his eyes, and the universe of sexual tension he had banked all these years unfurled as he seeks out to kiss and touch every single curve of her body. Reaching above the frame of the bed, he draws out a dagger, and slowly cuts one button at a time from her dress, until her glorious glowing body is revealed and ready to be ravished by his love.
Chapter 12
When Darkness rises
The crackle of the giant fireplace echoes into the shadows of Prince Khan’s lavish chambers, and within them the revelation of Ashlan’s deadly betrayal. His very breath ripped from his chest at the thought. Frozen to the bed, his body feels as if it has turned to stone; as if it weighing a ton beneath her silky, smooth, naked body.
He asks her. “How could you possibly know about my mother’s suicide?”
The only other person still alive and knowing the Kingdom’s former Queen had hung herself, is his father. His mother’s death was falsely claimed as a horrible end to a swift illness that took her life, and by hiring a convicted witch to cast a spell that would hide ligature marks from around his mother’s throat - no one ever suspected the deceit.
Khan had only been ten when he discovered his mother’s body hanging from the balcony doorway. He clearly remembers the smell of sweaty alcohol permeating the air inside his parent’s chambers as his father lay passed out on the lavish sheets, and heavily furred blankets - giving Khan new-found hope to more time he could spend with his mother knowing his father would be out of the way for a while.
Prince Khan remembers every single detail of the events that morning. Of him crossing the room, his little feet soundless as he stepped on the plush green and golden vined carpet. With elation he noticed his mother’s side of the bed had already been made up, this made his heart soar with the idea that his mother was eager to spend time with him too, even if it meant they’d have to go behind The King’s back.
In the soft glow of the early morning light he crossed the bathing room toward her dressing quarters, imagining what his mamma might be wearing for their secret trip to the stables. He also imagined her long dark hair matching his own in colour and thickness, loosely tied in a low braid that hung to her hips like black silk rope. It was something his father hated, that no queen should be seen ‘undone’, but it’s what he loved most about her most.
His mother always looked more beautiful when she wasn’t crammed into her outfits, or her crown pinned down by her own hair -making her look hard and angular, her hair so tight it pulled her eyes into tiny slits causing her to seem like she was scrutinizing everything around her. As opposed to the soft, playful woman, with the big blue welcoming eyes.
Young prince Khan took great pride in the fact that they shared a secret bond that no one could take from him. He could even remember what the fragrant, dewy roses smelt like as the early morning breeze blew in from the gardens beyond the balcony. That morning seemed almost perfect without the threat of rain, and Khan had been so very content in that moment that nothing could break him. Clouds had parted, sun shining in thick bands into the room. Then it all went so horribly wrong….
Expecting his mother to be in her dressing chambers, he softly called out to her, careful not to wake his comatose father. But on finding her dressing room empty - he feared the worst.
The ache immediately returns to his chest as Khan’s mind places him back in the miserable memory - beyond the sweet perfume of the roses that morning, there was a faint, foul smell like nothing he had smelt before. And the closer he got to the balcony the worse the pungent odour seemed to get. The balcony doors had been wide open, soft white curtains bellowing in the wind. A sudden gust lift the curtain and he discovered grimly why it had been so silent in the room that morning.
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