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As the boats roared against the waves Yvette was felt by a cold longing guilt in her stomach. She felt nasty and unforgiving, these heathens were about to break her soul crushing it's depths as she bear witnessed to the horrors. Horrors she knew she would never heal from. She cradled her throw over against her chest feeling the fabric her own mind lost in thought as Hvitserk sat across the boat his eyes locking on the pale girl. He wondered what was crossing her mind, He wanted to see her soul shatter and he truly wanted to hurt her and what other way than to bring her with him on a raid. As the boat jerked and weaved against the ocean Yvette felt like this was a never ending bad dream. From the moment Yvette stepped onto the dock she felt this dark cloud loom over her head and sickness fill her belly, from the way these heathens would talk to her to the way they all looked at her like she was a piece of meat she hated it all.
"Land, there's land." A man with a full beard yelled and Yvette for the first time stood to her feet to catch a glimpse of what was her life before the heathens. Yvette wonder closer to Hvitserk and carefully she grasped his arm.
"Please don't do this." She begged and when her turned to face her she saw nothing but the devl in his eyes.
"Get off the boat." He order her.
The sound of boots hitting water and metal swords clinging against shields was heard and as the boat came to a halt Yvette wanted to cry out. Why was he doing this to her, why must he hate her this much. What little progress she thought they had made was slowly fading and the simple laughs they shared in the great hall that one night were nothing but ghosts in her mind. Yvette let her feet sink into the sand and for a moment and a moment alone she let herself feel the pain of what was a bout to happen before her eyes. They were going to war against a King she knew was almost as brutal as the heathens even she feared what he was going to do. Hvitserk came beside the pale girl his arm reaching out to her.
"Come."
She sucked in a breath as the large group stalked toward a village., A small farming village she had once been to with her father as they at one time needed the grain and her family being one of the most wealthiest families in the area had offered to help. She felt sick she knew there was children here and with the knowledge she knew of the heathens she knew those kids weren't making it out of this. Suddenly like waves against the sand the attack started, screams filling the air and blood coating the grounds.
She ran, her heart pounding, as the soldiers approached the village. In that fleeting moment, she thought she could escape their clutches, but fate had other plans.
A soldier emerged, his sword dripping with blood and his eyes filled with malice. He stopped her in her tracks, and she desperately wanted to tell him she was not one of the heathens, that she was their hostage. But his eyes betrayed his intentions; he was out for blood.
"Stop. Stop right there," she cried, "I am the wife of Prince Hvitserk Ragnarson."
But her words fell on deaf ears. The soldier only sneered, "Good, then I get to kill the wife of a Ragnarson."
"No!" she screamed, darting toward any open door. The man was in hot pursuit, his footsteps echoing in her ears. She stumbled through a small door, desperately trying to keep him out, but to no avail. The sword swung at her head, but she was quick, ducking and dodging the attack as she cried out for help.
"Hvitserk!" she called, but the man only laughed.
"He can't hear you," he said, his voice cold and mocking.
Yvette, cornered and trembling, felt her heart pounding like a drum against her ribcage. Her back pressed against the rough stone wall, the man's menacing figure loomed over her, blocking any hope of escape. This was it, she thought. This was the moment she'd meet her end at the hands of her own people.
The man stepped closer, his sword raised high, casting a menacing shadow across her pale face. She closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable blow. But instead of the sound of her own demise, she heard a guttural cry of pain.
Opening her eyes, she saw the man frozen in place, his sword still raised, as blood trickled from his lips. He collapsed to his knees, the life draining from his eyes as he fell to the ground, lifeless.
Yvette's gaze met Hvitserk's, his face now a canvas of blood and sweat. He stood before her, his eyes searching her own. She felt an inexplicable warmth spreading through her body as she found herself drawn to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and breathing in his scent. It was a heady mixture of sweat, blood, and something she couldn't quite place.
She didn't know why she felt this way, but in this moment, she felt safe in his embrace. When she pulled back, she noticed his eyes had changed. They were no longer filled with the cold, calculated gaze of a warrior. Instead, they were filled with something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
author
Thank you for reading a little late chapter but I hope you guys like it. pls let me know if you catch any mistakes I wrote this chapter kinda fast.
