Chapter Text
London...
St Brice's Day...
The night was deep and dark, a blanket of purple covering the sky.
Every region of the Danelaw was noisy and lively, celebrating the holy day. Music reverberated through the halls and thundering laughter. There were also drinking games, flirting a lot of flirting, and other festivities that would last into the wee hours of the morning.
Sten Sigurdsson, the mighty leader of the King's personal guard was seated at the main table, consuming ale and meat among his kin. He was in a boisterous mood and with good reason; his little brother, Harald would soon set off to Norway to seek his destiny as the future King of Norway. Sten was filled with pride and always found an excuse to make a grandiose speech and a toast in honor of the Viking Prince.
But Unlike him, Sten had carved his own journey and led his life in London. He held a respectable position by King Aethelred's side doing what he was good at; fighting, protecting and on occasion, playing with politics. Despite being the oldest son to succeed to the throne of Norway, he had no such ambitions, apart from perhaps a wife and a future where he could grow old without worries.
"Are you sure you don't want to return home?" Harald asked, consuming the rest of his ale.
"I'm exactly where I need to be. This is your moment of glory, brother."
"It won't feel as glorious without you there."
"You have to follow your path and ascend to your rightful place as the King of Norway."
"And you should stop serving the Kind of England and join me."
Sten chuckled. "Join you? God help me then! Nay, I'm right where I should be. I trust our brother Olaf to be beside you; he seems more than capable of handling you."
"I yield," Harald said. "My attempts to persuade you are for naught."
"Don't spend too much time in Norway. Visit often," Sten told his younger brother, patting his shoulder.
"That will depend on my royal duties," Harald said and punched him gently on the ribs.
Sten dismissed his teasing and asked, "When are you sailing?"
"In the morning," Harald said as he sipped from his cup, lips on the rim as his eyes darted around until something caught his attention—a captivating presence, so striking, so enchanting.
His gaze lingered on her, and the world around him faded. She had a face that seemed sculpted by angels, and eyes that held an undeniable warmth and sparkle. The dim light played provocatively with the ocean color of her eyes that were far too bright not to draw the attention. Her dress twirled down into waves of dark blue, with silver threads adorning the modest neckline. The intricate embroidery added a touch of elegance, a subtle shimmer that caught the light as she moved. Long dark hair cascaded her back, decorated with a flower crown and blooms intertwined with her locks. He wondered just how she'd look wearing just that, her skin laid bare to his gaze.
"You're feasting on her like a starved man," Sten commented. "Might as well speak to her."
"Who is she? I haven't seen her before," Harald said, his groin tightening when their gazes met and held. He nodded ever so slightly towards her.
"I'm too drunk to recall her name," Sten shook his head, scratching his chin absentmindedly. He mumbled something under his breath which went completely unnoticed by his besotted brother and poured himself some more ale.
"I'm going to her."
Harald rose from his seat but stopped in his tracks when he noticed the men that entered the hall. They walked proudly across the room and headed straight to their direction. They were the King's guards, he could tell from their attire and they rushed toward his brother and spoke to him in secrecy. The news shouldn't have been good because Sten sheathed his sword and called for his men to follow him.
"What's going on?"
Sten consumed the rest of his drink in one gulp and said, "I fear I have to bid you good night, brother. The King has summoned us."
Harald frowned. "At this hour? I thought you were seeing me to the boat."
"I thought so too but I am needed in London." Sten smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "Though, I'm sure you'll find a better send off than me."
"Take care," Harald smiled but his face was lined in worry. "May we meet again soon."
"We will!" Sten said cheerfully, their foreheads bumping. "May you have fair winds and a safe journey, brother."
Harald nodded and watched him as he departed, making a small distressed sound when the grand hall doors banged close with a clang. Worrying thoughts flickered through his mind but the captivating sight of the woman he craved swiftly dispelled any lingering concerns. The old hag guarding her was nowhere to be seen, opening a path for him to approach her. With purposeful steps, he closed the distance, his big frame hovering over her her smaller one.
"Prince Harald," she cast a look up at him, a spark of attraction in her eyes.
Harald smiled. She had the finest fine voice to listen to; soft, clear and with a slight throatiness. And her eyes... they were so clear, like twin jewels of sparkling blue. A wave of emotions surged through him, a potent mixture of desire, awe, and an unprecedented attraction.
"You know my name but I do not know yours."
"My name is Gida, my Prince."
"Gida," he repeated as if committing it to memory.
"You have been staring at me."
"You've been stealing glances at me, too," he said and lowered his head, only a thin strip of air separating them.
"Mere coincidence," she said, and despite appearing a little surprised at the intimacy, she did not deny him.
"Coincidence?"
"Well... I can't give away myself to the first man who flirts with me, can I?" she said, a hint of mirth in her voice.
"I doubt I'm the first man."
"You are the first one to speak to me tonight."
"That's because you have been guarded. Strictly. Where's that bloody hag?"
She suppressed a smile. "She will be back soon."
"Not too soon, I pray," he said as he curled a hand, bringing her bust to his chest.
"What do you want, Prince Harald?" she asked, palms settling flat on his vest.
"To steal you away."
Before she could reply, his strong hands had already enveloped her, whisking her to the darkest corner of the hall where they could go unnoticed. Brown eyes met blue, they lingered for a few moments before he canted his head and claimed her lips. She froze for a few moments but answered his kiss, slowly brushing her lips against his own, exploring the feel of him.
His beard tickled her soft skin and sweet sighs got lost as their mouths fused harder, deeper. He cupped the back of her head to gain more depth and coaxed her mouth apart, tongue slipping in to feed from her. A small gasp escaped her— she wasn't too experienced in this, he could tell— but it faded instantly, ending with her pretty little tongue dancing lazily with his.
Their noses bumped lightly and when she began to breath hard against him, he drew back and peppered some kisses along her jaw then down her bared neck. Her lips tasted like paradise and her skin... that blessed smoothness and maddening scent, a mixture of rose and lavender to his nose. Her eyes were half-open and her cheeks were positively burning. She was a sight to behold and that only strengthened his resolve to have her.
"You are a wicked little witch," he said and heard her laugh.
"I believe you're the one with the wicked intentions, Prince. You whisked me away and claimed my lips."
"And I believe you enjoyed it, my sweet."
"You are just as the rumors say."
"What do they say about me? I'm intrigued," he said as his hands found solace in the curve of her waist, fitting perfectly.
She hesitated, a jolt of warmth coursing through her veins. "That what you want to take, you take. That you are not to be denied."
"And what do you think?"
"I think you are but an unrestrained man."
He smiled broadly. "You wound me."
"I believe it's only fair; I hardly know you."
"Likewise. I've never seen you around here before."
"Perhaps you were busy... attracting the attention of your admirers."
"I'm a free man. And you...? Betrothed? Married?"
"I am neither," she said as he breathed out. "However, would it have stopped you if I was promised to someone else?"
Never, he thought but chose to keep the truth to himself.
"I've brought myself into this trap. I lost," he said only to meet her victorious face.
"You certainly have."
After a small pause, a sharp inhale and he said, "Does this mean you're not going to let me kiss you anymore?"
She bit her lip to contain a chuckle. "You're impossibly brazen, Prince Harald."
"Only honest. Who would dare deny these delectable lips?" he said, thumb tracing her mouth whilst his eyes fixated on them. He'd be damned if he pulled away from her.
She swallowed as stared right into the rich brown of his globes. "We... we —"
Her words faded into silence when his lips descended on hers, this time bold and domineering. Their tongues met passionately, their breaths mingled, as if merging into one. He weaved his hands into her hair, uncoiling her braids and messing up the flower crown on top of her head. Colorful blooms and petals fell apart, scattering on her cheeks and nose. She laughed and broke apart, shaking her head to free herself of them.
"I was careless—" he muttered, fingers securing a few stray flowers that were about to tumble down her strands.
"Keep picking at it and there will be nothing left in the end," she said, her voice a mixture of amused and irritated.
"Kiss me and I'll stop," he said and leaned in, his focus intense and unnerving.
"What purpose does that serve? You've completely ruined my flower crown," she said, a grin forming on her kissed-red lips.
"Kiss me and I'll make you a new one."
"Is that your mighty offer Prince of Norway?"
"Kiss me and I'll give you anything you desire."
With a boldness that left her breathless, his lips pressed firmly against hers. The kiss was deep and wet. His hand cupped her nape, gently pulling her closer, deepening the connection as he explored the sweetness of her mouth anew. What had she done to him? She pulled him in a way no other woman ever had, igniting a primal need that raged without control. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her, to feel her warmth and fill her with his essence—
"Prince Harald! Prince Harald!" One of his men called out from afar, the voice urgent.
"Go away. I am busy." Harald pressed closer to Gida, concealing her from sight as he glared at the guard. He was not in the mood to go along with the lusty foolery and teasing of his drunk men.
"The clouds are moving fast. We must sail before the weather worsens."
"And as I've told you—"
"We need to set sail now, my Prince. The weather is turning treacherous, and we cannot afford to stay here any longer."
Curse him, it wasn't a drunken teasing, Harald thought, all trace of his glare gone. "Very well. I shall join you in a minute."
"Must you go?" Gida asked.
"Believe me, I cannot bear the thought of leaving you, but I must set sail."
"I understand... you have a duty to secure Norway."
A soft sigh left her before he bent down to leave a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. The touch was gentle yet filled her with his scent and a burning passion that left her heart racing in response. But it was over just as soon as it had begun. He released her and drew back, a bittersweet taste of longing hanging in the air.
"Take care, sweet Gida."
Until our paths intertwine...