Chapter 19
Freydis
The days that followed were unlike anything I'd ever known. Ragnar and I had grown so close. He was generous with his affection, kind to me, and always wanted to be near. He never got along with Brok, and they always argue over the slightest thing.
I cherished the little moments we shared when everyone else was asleep. I loved the kisses we shared.
On the fourth day, I sat down on the mountain, waiting for Ragnar to come. This was where we always met and spent time together. I wanted more than this. I wanted to wake up every morning in his arms.
There have been something's raising concerns in me. Lately I have been hearing whispers when I'm alone. My faith felt weak and I was unable to even pray.
Just as the wind brushed my face, I closed my eyes and felt a soft kiss from behind. I smiled, welcoming Ragnar's touch. He kissed my neck, burying his face there and inhaling my scent.
"When are you returning to the North?" I asked as he kissed me.
He hesitated for a moment. "Do ye wish for me gone?"
"No, but I know you'll leave soon, and I'm going to miss you," I said.
He pulled away from my neck, his breath fanning across my skin. "What if I don't wish to return to the North?"
"What? Why would you say such a thing? You have a kingdom in the North. Have you forgotten you're the king there?"
He smiled. "Why would I leave when I have ye?"
"You've been here for almost two weeks. Even Harald is growing restless."
"There be naught to worry," he whispered, leaning in to kiss me, but I gave him a light push. "So long as I've got ye, and ye gift me every day with kisses, the North be damned for all I care."
"Aye, but my wedding to Brok will be coming up soon," I said.
Ragnar's face hardened like stone. His brows furrowed, lips set straight, and the muscles in his jaw ticked.
"I will not allow it. Not while I am still drawing breath."
"I don't think there's anything you can do about it. Everyone's already planning the wedding. Harald has invited the best drummers and musicians. Food and drinks are being prepared. Brok has invited some of his men. The hall Brok promised to me is under construction as we speak. I don't think you can stop it."
I wished it wasn't true. I wished the wedding wouldn't happen. I wished there was something I could do. I've begged Harald, pleaded with him to stop the wedding, but the man shows no concern. Brok and Tove are never away from each other's arms, and it infuriates me that I'll have to spend the rest of my life with them, that is, if I'm not killed by an Eastlander.
Ragnar kissed me, brushing strands of hair from my face. "Speak the words, and ye can change your fate. Come, let me take you away from here, to a place like the North."
I pondered his words. I had never sailed to the North before. I had never left my village since I was born. I always dreamed of going to the North and experiencing life there. I had always wanted to see the stone buildings. Ragnar was giving me the chance to leave, to start a new life with him. A tremor ran through me at what he was offering.
"You'd take me to the North?"
"Aye."
"But…" I swallowed hard. "But I can't. I can't just leave with you. The King and Queen—"
"I care not what Harald or Lagertha would do. It's ye I want, Freyja."
Ragnar leaned in, claiming me with his mouth. He held my hip with one hand, running his fingers through my hair with the other. I moaned as he parted my lips with his tongue. My body melted into his arms. I pressed against him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I trailed my fingers along the hard muscles of his shoulders and slid them into his silky-soft hair.
Shivers went down my spine, and I pressed my hips against him. "Claim me."
"What?" he breathed into my mouth.
"I want you to have me before my wedding to Brok. Claim me. Prove to me that you really want me."
"No," he growled, nipping my bottom lip. "Not here. Not like this."
"Why not?" I whimpered as he pressed me against a tree, deepening the kiss. "Why don't you want to claim me? Is it because of Brok?"
"Freyja—"
"Just because I'll marry him soon doesn't mean I belong to him. I don't want him to be my first."
I kissed Ragnar hard, our teeth clashing, our tongues dancing.
"Come with me, Freyja," he said. "When we reach the North, I swear by the gods, I'll give ye all ye desire. I'll never leave your side."
I wanted to say yes. Wanted to tell him that we should leave right now. But beneath those thoughts in my mind, there was a voice whispering to me: You can't.
"Harald would not let this go. He would find me in the North. Lagertha would make you pay for taking me away."
"Then maybe they should've treated ye better. Not send ye off to Eastland with a stranger to suffer."
He's right. Go with him, the old voice whispered in my head.
No. You can't leave with him.
"I... I can't leave," the words croaked out of my mouth. I shivered. A bitter taste filled my mouth.
"Then we can't do this," he said, pulling away as he took a step backward. "I'll not claim ye. Not like this. Not at this moment. Not when that bastard is set to have ye soon."
I don't know what happened, but fury took over me next.
"Then kill him," the words slipped from my mouth. They weren't mine. "So I can be free. Then you'll have me all to yourself."
No. That was not my voice. It sounded too foreign.
Ragnar's frown slipped, and he stared at me with concern.
"Your eyes burn like the gods, Freyja. And I can feel your rage."
I was repulsed by the words that had exited my lips. Oh Lord! I wanted Ragnar to get rid of Brok? What was wrong with me?
I took a step forward, but I started to feel dizzy and leaned against the tree. "I'm... I'm sorry."
Ragnar looked at me with concern. "Ye are not yourself."
I raised my head, and this time the fury took over.
"That's because you are not doing what I want."
"What do ye want?"
"I want you to kill—" I closed my eyes, fighting the voice and the rage in my head. "No, please. That's not what I want... No... No."
I could no longer hold myself up, and soon I fell to my knees.
"Freyja?"
Ragnar took a step forward. I felt a pounding headache. The voice filled my head, corrupting my mind.
"Something's wrong with me," I said, looking up at Ragnar. "This is not me. I feel as though there's something inside me."
How long had I been to church to pray to God to cleanse me? I could not remember. Was that the reason I was feeling this way? Was the demon inside me taking full control?
"'Tis the gods. They've touched ye," he muttered, lowering himself to me. His hand caressed my face. "I know the feeling. 'Tis like they control a part of ye. But ye can learn to control it."
"What do I have to do?"
"Accept them, and we shall offer sacrifices to them. Then they'll bless ye with powers."
"No," I shook my head. "I'm not going back to the old gods."