Which may be quite freeing…
I debate for a moment which option would be better, when a knock at the door draws my attention from my reflection. The large wood creaks open as my father steps inside, closing it behind him with a soft click. As always, his eyes soften when he sees me, and love pours off him in waves.
He leans against the wall, arms crossed, and a small, yet, proud smile on his face. “You look lovely, Thyra. You remind me of your mother right now. The prettiest woman in all the land.”
My hands grab the material of my dress. I avert my eyes down, and I spin from side to side, watching the gown fan outward. “Thank you, father.”
I can always count on him to make me feel better. When he mentions my mother, which isn’t often, my heart stresses a little, but not to the point of sadness. I just miss what I never got to know.
I let out a large exhale, trying to learn to breathe in this too-tight contraption, but my ribs ache. My body wants to be free of the imprisonment. The dress is perfect, but this damn corset is horrid.
Turning back around, I catch my eyes in the mirror again. My father’s reflection is in it as well, and he is behind me, still grinning. My hands run down the front again, out of habit, as I twist and turn. It must be perfect.
But something is not adding up. Something feels like it needs to change. Something about me being in this dress for a party surrounded by men feels wrong. I am not happy with it anymore. Any of it. The men. The party. The corset. The gown. I’m tired of all these expectations. The dress is gorgeous. I cannot ask for a better or prettier gown.
But it is myself that I have a problem with.
And the fact that Father is allowing so many men to come and ask for my hand? A snort rips through my mind. A man asking for my hand. How ridiculous does it sound?
Maybe my father is losing hope for me. He has never been interested in a man asking for my hand, and it makes sense if he thinks no one wants me, so he is trying his hardest to make sure I feel wanted.
His hands land on my shoulders, and our eyes meet in the mirror. “Alright, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” My cheeks heat from the lie. The damn pale skin gets me every time.
“Right. You always blush when you lie, sweetheart. I’ve had nearly twenty-four years of getting to know you, so you can’t hide anything from me.”
I know. Nothing I feel is private, because it always shows all over my face. “Nothing is wrong.”
I do not want to worry him. He is my best friend, besides Sassa. It has been the two of us since I was born. Soon after I was born, my mother either left in the middle of the night, or she was taken. Either way she left behind a newborn baby with a man that had to work and raise a child. A man who would soon be promoted to Lord and fight bravely alongside the King.
Not only is my father my idol, but he is the strongest, smartest, bravest man I know. He has sacrificed everything for me.
His sacrifice is the reason why we are inseparable, but it’s come with a price. He has not known love, as far as I know. He has not had a personal life since the day I was born, and I want to change that. I do not want to be the daughter living with her father at twenty-four years old, ruining his life because I can’t get a man to love me.
“You are lying,” his voice lowers to slight growl.
I know that tone. It is the sound of him about to send me to my room, if I wasn’t already in it.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I lift my chin with a bit of defiance.
“You must think I was born yesterday if you don’t think I know when you are lying to me. I don’t like it when I’m lied to, young lady.” He points his bottom lip, and it reminds me that I have mine between my teeth.
I release it.
“Do not,” I argue in a slight whisper, fidgeting the tulle of my dress between my fingers.
He lets out an annoyed sigh and sits on the bed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “Thyra. You shall be the death of me. Just tell me.”
I still don’t say a word.
“Is it some boy?” He stands tall on his feet as he pushes himself off the bed. “Did he touch you? What is he called? What did he do? I’ll kill him.” His hand flies to the handle of his sword, and I know if I tell him he will go decapitate the man in question.
There isn’t a man in question, but if there were, he would be dead.
His protectiveness only makes guilt eat away at me further. “Nothing, Father. Really, it’s nothing.”
“I won’t ask again.”
There’s that tone again, and I am useless against it. It takes me back to when I was a child. I better say something, or I’ll be in trouble. He grabs me by the arms and makes me look at him in the eyes.
“I don’t know. I do not wish to have the party anymore. Who cares about my age, anyway? It’s too late for me. And all I want is for you to have a life again. And you can’t have that if I’m always around.” I slump my shoulders and stare at the floor. I can’t see my feet since they are covered by the dress.
“What? Why! No. There is so much wrong with that sentence. If you weren’t a grown woman, I would put you over my knee and spank you for saying something like that.”
He kneels to look me directly in the eye, but I keep staring at the ground.
“How could you even think that? How could you even feel like that? You’re the best part of my life, Thyra. The absolute best part. You are never a burden. You have never been a burden. Do you understand me?”
Tears prick my eyes, but I do not dare lift my gaze to meet his. I know I shall cry if I do.
“Thyra, do you understand me?”
“Father,” I say, with emotion choking my throat.
His fingers lift my chin, and the first tear breaks from my lashes. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Talk to me.”
I sniffle and shake my head. “I just don’t like how I look.”
“Nonsense. You’re the prettiest woman in all the land, remember? If not the world, just like your mother.”
“You have to say that because you’re my father.”
“Bull-shite. I do not have to say that. You’re gorgeous, and we are having this party next week. All of the most eligible men of the country will be there, plus some from out of the country—”
“I don’t want to leave the country!” I shout, astonished that he would send me so far away. “You’d let me go that far? I don’t want to be away from you.”
“I will never be away from you, my love. You think I wish to see my little girl with a man that clearly doesn’t deserve you? No man in the world will ever be good enough for my little girl.” He runs his knuckles down my cheek. “It shall be so hard for me to let you go. No one will ever be good enough, and I’ll know that. And it will kill me every day, like a knife to the chest, that I won’t be able to drag you away because it is what I think is best.”
I put my head on his shoulder, and we stay like that for a few minutes. “I don’t wish to ever leave you, Father. Life without you, I can’t imagine it.”
He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arm around me. “You’ll never have to worry about that. I’ll always be here.”
I lift my head and smile, wiping the last of my tears away. “Can you untie it in the back? I can’t breathe in this thing right now.”
“I don’t know how women wear those. I know I couldn’t. It’s just another reason why I will always think women are stronger than men.” He unlaces the ties of my corset, and almost immediately, I gasp, taking a deep breath in.
He takes a step back toward the door. “I don’t know how I feel about you wearing that thing. It shows a lot, and you can’t breathe.”
“Father,” I warn.
“I’m just saying. Maybe I can find you something more conservative.”
“Father!”
“Fine. I’m leaving. I love you, Thyra.”
My eyes soften in the mirror. “I love you too.”
The door clicks shut, and I wait, k
nowing what is coming next.
“Lock the door, Thyra! I’m not leaving until I hear it click,” he shouts through the thick wood.
I hurry to the door giggling, sliding the extra metal lock he installed on the inside of my door in place. I put my ear against the door, laughing when I hear him grunt, and the plodding of his heavy footsteps carry down the corridor. Will I ever find a man that will love me as much as my father does?
One man comes to mind. A man I know that I will never have a chance with. A man I want more than my next breath in this dress. I know it will never happen because of my father. For some reason, he hates Einarr, which is a shame, because he is the only man I’ve ever loved looking at.
Every time we are near each other, my father finds a way to interrupt. I’ve overheard him threatening Einarr, which means Einarr won’t be coming to the party. I wonder if it is because he is Viking? But that cannot be because Lord Grimkael is Viking, and my father does not have a problem with him.
I roll my eyes at my reflection. None of it matters. It isn’t as though Einarr shall ever want me. He is the kind of man that can have any woman he wants.
I shrug out of my dress and stare at my bare body. My breasts are heavy, my nipples taut and tight, my curves hold the shadows of the room, and my hips flare out. Why in the world should he want me? I’m nothing like the women he is used to.
My mind will not wander, though. It remains on Einarr, day and night. And there is nothing that can be done about it. Not until the forbidden veil is lifted.
Chapter Two
Einarr
Days, it’s been raining.
I can’t wait any longer to start building my home. I’ve been sleeping in the stables with Jasmine, and the hay is really starting to scratch my arse. I cannot sleep in the castle because I know Thyra is there, and my body, my mind cannot be so close and continue to fight the need to be in her space. To share her breath.
I no longer care about the rain if it means getting my mind off her beautiful body.
Jasmine neighs as I push off her robust stomach and stand. “I know, girl. I can’t be living here with you forever, though. Tell you what, I shall build you your own stable, and you can get out of here. What do you think?” I pat her muscular neck as she blows air from her nostrils.
“So much sass for a lass your size, you know.” I grab my sword off the barrel of hay and wrap it around my waist.
She hits her hoof on the ground, disrupting the dirt. Again with the attitude.
The stable door creaks as I open it, and the loud pounding of rain echoes through the stable. Large droplets fall at a fast rate. It disrupts the ground, creating a crevice of water to flow down the hill. I step under the plundering pellets, and the refreshing water cools me. I tilt my head back, as Wulf does, and let the rain wash over me. I scrub my hands over my face and clean the smell of horse and hay off my skin.
I spit water out of my mouth and close the door behind me. Each step I take up the mud-ridden hill, my boots sink into the ground. I climb. My legs burn. My hair is soaked. The long tendrils stick to my neck, flattening against the armor covering my shoulders. I suppose I no longer need to wear the heavy gear. I have a habit of falling asleep with it on when I pull late-night rotations.
Once I get to the top of the hill, I rip the armor off. The rain stings my skin from how heavy it is coming down, but at the same time, it feels nice. I can only feel it on the tops of my shoulders and my chest. Everything else is numb from all the scars.
People are running by me to get out of the storm, but I see them staring as they pass, staring at the monster before them. I take my time making my way through the rain. I’m in no hurry. I know what I look like to them. There is no need to rush like they are because I know what I am capable of, and I will never hurt anyone unless I absolutely must. I’m not a danger to the realm like they think I am.
I’m just a man trying to live. I’m just a man with scars, battle wounds, and an empty heart. I want love as anyone else does. I’ve tried to say hello to the villagers, but they turn their heads and walk away, whispering things that I know I have heard before, so I keep my mouth closed. I talk when I need to. I have Grim, Wulf, and Trident. And while I wish their acceptance is enough, part of me wishes for acceptance from everyone.
Rubbing my hands over my face to push the fallen strands away, my feet finally hit the grass. I make my way over to the woods, a few yards away from the castle, and place my hands on my hips.
It took a few conversations and late-night drinking to convince Grim to let me move out of the castle, but finally he caved. The agreement is that I need to stay close. I did not argue. But I need the wilderness, and Grim knows that. It’s all I really know, and it feels like home, so why change it?
The metal of my armor clinks as it falls on the grass. I yank my axe from the strap on my left side and get to work. It feels good working in the rain. I grunt, lifting the weapon above my shoulder, and smack it against the tree. After many rough cuts, it rumbles to the ground with a heavy crash. I take a deep breath and turn to the next tree.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I have felled eight trees, and steam is rising from my skin from the exertion. My stomach rumbles. I must have worked up an appetite. I need to make a fire and hunt for food.
I can go back into the castle for a feast, but I know who is there, and I cannot be around a woman that I know I can never have or want me.
I wipe the water out of my eyes, but then, Grim’s voice grabs my attention.
“I’ve been looking for you all day.”
“Here I am,” I call.
He walks under the canopy of the trees, where the leaves catch the rain, and leans against one of the large trees. He crosses his arms, disregarding the water droplets falling every so often on his shoulders. “You’ve been out here all day, Einarr. Come inside and eat. You can work later. You shall get sick out here working in the rain like this.”
“I’m used to living outside, remember? And so are you,” I grunt, tossing the tree down on the ground. I’m not sure where I’m going to find dry wood, but there must be some out here somewhere. I need to build a fire and get a rabbit to cook. Sounds delicious.
His hand lands on my shoulder, gripping hard to the point that he spins me around to look at him. “You aren’t some animal, brother. Stop living like one. I’ve permitted you to live out here. It’s what you truly want. But I won’t have you go hungry, get sick, or worse, die, because you refuse to care for yourself. Drop the fucking axe, get inside, and eat something. That’s an order coming from your Lord.” He snatches the axe out of my grip and throws it on the forest floor. It lands with a hard thud.
He never uses his authority on me. I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“And while you’re inside, take a hot bath.” He pushes me out of the forest, and I slip on the wet grass, but right myself before I fall.
“You are really trying to use your authority on me? Come on, Grim. Since when?”
“Since my friend decided to isolate himself even further than he usually does. I’m worried about you.” He pushes my back again, and it has me stumbling forward.
A heavy boom rends the skies, twice as loud as the falling of the trees. The rain decides at that exact moment to pour. It beats against my skin, plummeting me like stones.
“Let’s hurry before we get struck by lightning.” Grim runs out in front of me, disappearing into the heavy sheet of water falling from the darkened sky.
He’s right. Perhaps today isn’t the best day to build my dwelling. Flashes of light vein across the sky. Big booms of thunder rumble the ground. I can feel it beneath my feet. I follow behind him after grabbing my armor, grumbling under my breath about how he thinks he is always right.
The ground plops from our feet. And the rain doesn’t let up. She still pours like an angry lover.
Grim opens the door, and Sassa is there with her hand up, stopping us in our tracks. “Don’t even think about coming in a
ny further and dripping all that water on my clean floors.”
“My Queen.” I give a bow of respect, but all she does is roll her eyes and toss a rag at me.
“You know I don’t like it when you call me that, Einarr. We have spoken about this. We are friends.” She puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head.
Grim lets out a snort of laughter, and I shove him. “Shut up.”
“You shut up!” He pushes back, and since the floor is wet, I stumble back, dripping water along the floor.
I throw my arm around his neck and put him in a headlock, just like when we were young lads. He stomps on my foot, and it is enough to make me loosen my grip. He takes advantage of my weakness and pushes me on the ground. My back slides against the floor, squeaking as we wrestle around.
We are shouting and laughing, but when we roll and hit the stone step of the fireplace, we pause. When we look to our right, we see our wet trail, with dirty water and mud smeared all around the floor. Sassa is tapping her foot on the ground but has a large grin on her face.
“While this is adorable, and I’m glad you are having fun, clean up your mess, or you shall have an upset wife in bed tonight.”
“He started it!” Grim tries to defend himself. Horrified at the idea that his wife can possibly be mad at him.
She shakes her finger at him and scowls. “And I’ll finish it if you don’t clean this up. I’ve worked hard all day.”
Yes, that is another thing. Lady Sassa likes to take care of the castle herself. She has help but only on the days that she decides to clean. It is unusual, but no one argues with the Queen of the kingdom.
“Yes, Lady Sassa.” I nod, to help curve her frustration.
She lifts her chin, puts her shoulders back, and nods. “Good, then. You boys better go get washed up for supper. It’s in an hour. Beef stew and bread.”
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