He was the conqueror. She was the sacrifice.
He was powerful. She was unexpected.
He was certain. She was uncertainty.
He formed a nation. She formed his world.
Together they would make history.
▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎
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xxiv. Apology
"I was a fool and I am sorry."
Harald mumbled a few apologies under his breath, practicing them as he walked around Tamdrup. He was sure by now that he had earned more than a few looks and stares as he whispered about.
No one dared to bother or approach him though. They had all seen what would happen when some women approached him with suggestive smiles and teasing voices only to be greeted by a growl of anger.
Needless to say, King Harald was angry but he was also upset. They had seen him when he had returned to the feast and the look on his face had been terrible. It was as if his downtrodden expression emphasized, even more, the previous wounds on his face.
"King Harald!" One of the vendors called out gleefully, waving a hand from his stall.
Suppressing a sigh, Harald approached the man, clasping his shoulder. "How are you doing, Frode?"
Frode had been a traveling merchant for years until he fell for a woman in Tamdrup, leading him to settle down in Harald's kingdom. He became a vendor, specializing in different goods from all the places he has traveled to.
Harald had done business with him when purchasing some special metals for his and Halfdan's weapons. It led to them being unlikely friends.
"What has gotten you so upset, my king?" Frode asked, looking curiously at the usually gleeful man.
Knowing that Frode would understand more than most, Harald sighed out. "A girl."
The old vendor only laughed, as if he knew exactly what his king was speaking of. After all, he was known as the one to ask when it concerns matters of the heart.
He wouldn't call himself an expert but considering his long-lasting relationship and devotion to his wife, he was the best person to ask.
"A girl? Does this happen to be about the beautiful Kari Ragnardottir I've been hearing much about?" Frode mused, fixing the small statues on his shelves.
"Precisely the one. What do you think I should do?" Harald consulted, looking around at the little trinkets.
"Apologize." Frode snorted as if it was the most obvious answer.
Harald crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "What makes you think it was my fault?"
"Is it not?" Frode raised an eyebrow.
Harald relented, blowing out an annoyed breath. "Alright, it was mine but-"
Frode tutted, gently patting the younger man's chest. "Word of advice, women do not usually like to hear an excuse next to an apology. If it is your fault, own up to it, admit to your mistake. Apologize and make up for it. Don't excuse it."
"Gods, is it always this difficult?" Harald expressed his frustration, looking about ready to crush the small statuette in his grip.
"You care for her, do you not?" Frode asked, taking the small statuette from him to return it to his stall.
