No Safe Place

THREE

Hi! If you're liking this story, drop a comment to let me know! What do you think of Agnessa?

THREE
Lothbrok

    When they dragged her down the aisle, I knew she had not agreed to the marriage. My eyes shot to Rollo who stared back at me and gave a slight shake of his head. As if he were telling me to stay. As if he could read my mind.
    I hadn't expected the women to be happy about the arrangement. But I never expected it to be forced upon her. I looked over my shoulder to find the King watching his daughter. His expression was placid, but not cold. He was a father, but he was also a King. He had a duty.
    As she moved further down the aisle, I could see that my brother had been right. She was quite beautiful. Her beauty was different from Lagertha's. My first love was all strength and power, with a beautiful face. This woman walking towards me was small and childlike. It was her beauty that made her beautiful, much like Aslaug. Long brown hair pulled back at the sides and curling past her shoulders. Fair skin that looked like it had never been over exposed to the sun or hardened by the weather. Deep dark eyes that were currently rimmed with red from tears. Her features were delicate, petite, breakable.
            I would have to be careful.
            But when I heard the ferocity in her voice as he scolded me for touching her hand, I realized she was not as fragile as she looked. There was a fire inside her tiny body.
            My lips curled into a slight smile. Perhaps there was more of Lagertha in her than we thought.
   

***
Ealhunding

    When the priest approached our table, I instinctively wrapped my arms around my middle. As if making myself smaller would magically make him forget about the consummation ceremony.
    "It is time for the bedding." He announced in his nasally voice. My father stood up at once and my fool heart thought he was going to save me. He would surely tell them that it is not necessary, that this marriage is not valid. But of course, he merely nodded to the priest in agreement.
    "Perhaps it can wait for another night." Ragnar surprised everyone by speaking. "We are enjoying our celebration." I felt my jaw fall slack at the words and heard my father struggle to speak behind us.
    "A marriage must be consummated the first night." the priest explained. Ragnar rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at a man of the cloth. But to my great disappointment, he did not argue further. He simply stood up and made a gesture to my father that seemed to say lead the way.
    I wanted to scream at them. To latch myself to the chair and refuse to be taken to my chambers. They'd have to carry the chair with them. But a small voice in my head told me to go. I'd have better luck fighting against four or five of them than I would an entire crowd of men. But one look at Ragnar Lothbrok reminded me that I could never fight him. I would never win with sheer force. But I could with strategy.
    I began to lose my strength as we neared the door that led to my chambers. A strange numbness began to overtake my limbs, leaving an icy sensation in my veins. Once we passed through the door, I felt the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes. No, not again. I willed them to stop before they started.
    "It is not necessary for you all to stay." Ragnar spoke as my father closed the door.
    "We must." the priest shook his head in disbelief. "It's tradition."
    "I have given you your Christian wedding. We have our own traditions."
    "But," my father began and faltered a few times before adding "We must know the marriage is consummated. That it is whole."
    "Believe me," Ragnar's gaze slid to me, eyes filled with lust and longing. I pressed my hand against the blade that was still tucked into the band of my pantyhose. It gave me courage. "It will be whole."
    My Heart was in my throat. The look of hunger in his eyes was both terrifying and mesmerizing. For a moment, I wondered if he had magical powers as some of the rumors suggested. They said only someone with great power could cause the destruction he had. Maybe that power was real. Maybe it's what made his eyes so impossibly bright.
           I saw the fear and panic in my father's eyes, but after a short hesitation, he and the priest left the room, beckoning the servants to follow.
            And we were alone.
             Ragnar turned his back to me and faced the hearth. The fire wasn't necessary during the day, but the nights in Wessex were still bitter. He stared into the flames and I took advantage of his lack of attention. Thankfully, my dress was long but light, not layered and heavy like a traditional wedding gown. We hadn't had the time to have one made.
            I hiked the skirt up and removed the dagger from my waist band, sliding it into my sleeve. If I couldn't kill him, I'd have to choose between enduring the rape of both my body and soul, or taking my own life. My hands began to shake.
            "You are frightened." He spoke into the fire before turning around. I made sure to coat my voice with steel and hate.
              "I am disgusted." I growled. "And angry." I felt my voice quiver slightly. Hopefully he didn't notice.
               "And, frightened." He cocked his head and smiled as he took a long step towards me. I should have waited for a better opportunity, one when he was much closer, but fear drove my actions. I let the dagger fall from my sleeve into my hand.
              "Don't." I grunted, holding the blade towards his chest. His eyes widened, but there was no trace of fear or even surprise in his expression. Then he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and let his head fall back in exasperation.
               "Put that away." He chided me like a child.
               "No." I countered, proud of the force behind my voice. His eyes landed on mine again. His mouth pressed into a straight line. With one swift movement, he took my wrist and bent it downward, easily slipping the blade from my hand.
              "You would not even know how to use this." He tossed the dagger from one hand to the other, his long fingers dwarfing it in his palms.
               "The concept is rather simple." I said through gritted teeth. "Stick them with the pointy end." Again I felt angry at my father for not allowing me to practice with Athelwulf. I would have known exactly how to kill a man. But no, my place was at the table with a sewing needles as my only weapon.
                He laughed then, dropping his head forward and giving it a little shake. When he looked up again, he scratched at his chin with the tip of the knife as he stared at me... no, stared through me.
               "Go to bed princess." He tossed the dagger onto the small table near the hearth, letting it clang against the wood. Before I could protest or argue, he plopped himself face down on the bed. Long, strong arms curled up under his head to act as a pillow.
               I snatched the blade from the table and stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. Did he truly plan on sleeping?
               I thought back through the day. He had never seemed abnormally cruel. In fact, I could count the times he's tried to, what? Comfort me? His hand on mine during the ceremony. Inching his full cup towards me at the feast. Suggesting the bedding ceremony be postponed. The only time I glimpsed any malice in the Savage was when he spoke to my father before telling them to leave. The lust in his eyes, had that been real? Or had it been to satisfy my father and the priest?
              Legs suddenly weak with exhaustion, I collapsed back into one of the wooden chairs. I was determined not to sleep. I needed to keep my eyes on him throughout the night.
              But soon enough, I was dragged into blackness by sleep.

             I woke up to find the room dim, but pleasantly warm. The fire was still crackling, which meant someone must have added logs while I slept. My eyes wandered over to the bed.
             Ragnar lay there, hulking body stretched out across the entirety of the mattress. A breath hitches in my throat when I noticed I was staring at his bare back. He must have rid himself of the tunic during the night. In the soft flicker of the flame light, I could make out the deep and healing bruises and scars, both new and old. All a testament to his violent personality.
             I had never seen a man's naked body before, not even their back or chest. It wasn't appropriate for a princess to be exposed to a man in that way unless he was her husband. Even asleep and relaxed, I could see the strength hidden beneath his skin.
              Through the only window of the room I could make out the pink skies of early morning. Soon, they could come to collect us. They'd present us to the village and then tomorrow, we'd be on our way to... wherever it was he called home.
                As if waiting for their que, a hard hand knocked at the door. I jumped to my feet, the forgotten dagger falling from my lap onto the stone floor. Ragnar also started from his slumber, body shooting to a sitting position. To my horror, he had his own knife in his hand, ready to fend off any threat.
                When he realized it was a knock at the door and not an intruder, he dropped himself back onto the bed and buried his face in the crook of his elbow.
               "Okay, okay." He growled when the knocking persisted. The man stumbled to his feet and started towards the door. My eyes were glued to him, to his body. I couldn't help but stare at the brute strength I saw. Muscles rippled and relaxed with every movement. It was unfair that in such a state of vulnerability, such nakedness, he still exudes power.
                "Wait!" I called in a hushed voice, fear creeping its way into my veins at a sudden revelation. They would know. They would know the marriage hasn't been consummated! My mind raced. "They'll know."
                "No." He somehow was able to understand my fragmented thoughts. "How would they know?"
                "They'll check." I peeked at the bed. "There's no blood." It took him a moment, but I saw the understanding seep in slowly.
                "So we tell them you did not bleed. Not all virgins do." He shrugged and the causal way he discussed such an intimate topic left me stunned. He took another step towards the door.
                "But," my hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him. The instant I made the contact, I pulled back. There was something too intimate about our skin touching, even in such an innocent manner. "then they'll check..." I hesitated, "me." I kept my eyes on the floor, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. But as the persistent someone continued to pound at the door, my heart began to race, panic gripping every cell of my being. An idea suddenly formed.
                 I turned and hurried to the dagger that still lay on the floor by the fire. After a quick inspection of the sharp edge, I made my way towards the bed. If they needed blood soaked blankets, they would have them.
                Halfway to my destination, blade ready against my palm, Ragnar stopped me mid stride. His massive hand shot out to the side and pressed into my chest, thumb and pointer finger on either side of my throat. The touch forced my body to act on instinct. I clumsily stumbled back and raised the blade, ready to defend myself. But his free hand easily yanked it from my grip.
               His eyes darted from mine to the blade as he pieced together my plan. Slowly, he pulled his hand from my neck and moved to the end of the bed. I let out a small gasp of surprise when he slid the blade against his own forearm. Thick red blood oozed from the wound, and he let it drip near the middle of the mattress. When he deemed it enough, he rubbed the two sides of the sheets together, smearing the bold into a larger stain.
               After inspecting his work, he cleaned the sides of the knife against the sheets and to my utmost surprise, handed it back to me. I watched, mouth agape, as he pulled his tunic back over his body, easily hiding his wound with the dark sleeves. Even if it bled through the fabric, no one would know.
             No one but me.
             Ragnar finally went to the door, but looked back at me with his hand on the knob. Those clear blue eyes seeing right through me.
              "We're leaving Wessex today." He announced in a rather cool voice.
               "Today?" I blinked "I thought we..."
                "I've changed my mind." He interrupted. "We leave today princess."
                 I watched as he opened the door and began a discussion with whoever was outside. I was too stunned to listen, my mind racing with the new information. When I raised my head to answer, he was already gone and I was alone.