Greenland, 15th century

The nights are turning darker as fall approaches. The village rests easier with a few hours of respite from the sun before morning dawns. But with the darkness, comes the cold as well. Frost lays on the grass some mornings. The spiky straws crinkle below my feet as I leave my father's house in the early hours. A quick glance toward his marital bed has told me Gudrun is already awake and afoot, ready to meet me in the faint morning light. Seeing her is always a risky proposition, but today I need to take that risk.

Soon, the sea will freeze into a path toward freedom or death, if the surface shatters below you. That's when my brother and his beloved will make their move.

I've turned every stone since the conversation with my brother, hoping that another exit would emerge. But every stone on these shores is covered with slick ice, allowing me no traction or agency. This leaves me with only one choice: I have to join Ivar and Aakku on their treacherous journey. But this means I need to say goodbye to the only girl I've ever loved.

As I make my way across the low woodlands, I see her before she sees me. Curls that glow like the morning frame her face. This is where we meet, in the borderlands of night and day when the sun hovers low and the ocean is calm. Before the village starts to stir and my father awakes from his slumber, we steal a few moments of alone time between blackberry bushes and moss.

If we lived in a normal world--whatever that is, as I've only heard about other places in sagas--I would have escaped his tethers long ago. I would have denounced my name and become someone else. But in Greenland, there is no opportunity for such moves. I can't exactly escape to a glacier and tell my new name to the polar bears who call the snow sheets their home.

Without a word, I sit down beside Gudrun, giving her a knowing look and a conspiratory smile. My hand lands on her thigh, where it draws secret circles on the thick wool fabric. This is the time that matters to me anymore: the time spent with her. The rest of my days are just a journey to get to the next golden hour in Gudrun's company.

With a quick glance to make sure no one is watching us, she leans her head on my shoulder and exhales. Perhaps these moments are as precious to her. A respite from having to play the role of loyal wife to the chief of the village.

Her hand finds mine. Her curls spill over my shoulder. Her lips touch my cheeks. Right there and then, it's only us. Never-ending hardship, frigid cold, and all-seeing eyes disappear into the brush around us. Right there and then, we're happy.

As the golden glow of the sun rises higher, I gather my thoughts into words. There are things I need to tell her before our time is up.

"Ivar is leaving," I start, my voice low like the whispering wind. "As soon as the ice lays thick enough to walk on, he'll make his move. It may not be long now, only a few weeks."

"He's leaving together with Aakku?" she asks because Gudrun never misses a thing. What she doesn't see in visions she sees in our eyes.

I nod, pressing my nose into her soft hair. "He is," I confirm. "They're joining her people before winter comes. It's the only way to escape. The skrälings know how to survive on these shores."

"You think they'll accept him? Our people have killed many of theirs."

"I don't know. But Ivar believes Aakku when she says they will. She says that they will trust him if she does. And I don't believe she would fool him. They've killed many of ours too but in the end, we're all just trying to survive."

"They're not like us. They're wild and careless."

I shrug. "Aren't we careless too? Maybe we should be more like them. I certainly rather be one of them than freeze to death while I watch my father take you to bed every night."

Gudrun looks up from my shoulder. She knows what I'm thinking. She always knows.

"You're going with them," she says, the words stabbing my heart like a dagger. Because even though I thought it myself, it's different to hear the message spoken in her voice. "You're planning to leave as well."

"I can't stay," I reply, forcing my voice past the lump in my throat. "You know there is nothing for me here."

"They may kill you. They'll club you to death on the spot."

"They may. But I rather die quickly from violence than perish slowly from watching you with him every day."

Her soft lips land on my cheek, pressing a token of love against cold skin. "I don't want you to die, Björn. I don't want you to leave at all."

I don't return her affectionate gesture, as my whole body is focused on not giving a promise I can't keep. I can't stay. But maybe... maybe there is still a way for us to be together.

I look pleadingly toward her, knowing my suggestion will probably fall flat. "You could come with me, Gudrun," I whisper, kissing her wind-tousled hair. "We'll all walk across the ice together. And if we die there, we'll die together. But we may live. We may live as skrälings together."

Her head shakes below my hold. "I can't," she mumbles. "I can't come with you, Björn."

"It's the only way," I try again. "Please, Gudrun."

Her face is streaked with tears as she turns to me. "You know I can't, Björn. I can't leave everyone else behind."

"You still think you can save us all? This whole doomed settlement?"

Gudrun nods lightly, looking down into the moss. "I know I can. I've seen it." She holds up the golden ring found in the sea, which is usually hidden in a seam of her dress. "The ring told me a wonderous saga. One day, we will board those longships and sail away. The night was dark and we were running from something. You were there too."

"And my father?"

"He was gone. I don't know how, but I could sense it. We weren't afraid of him anymore."

I shake my head in disbelief. "That can't be true, Gudrun. It's just a saga. If the night was dark it would be almost winter. We wouldn't be able to leave then, as the waters would freeze over before we could reach safe shores."

"It's not a saga," she says with conviction. "It's true. It will happen. But we must stay here for it to be true. You must stay."

"Ivar will leave. I can't stop him."

"Ivar wasn't there. I couldn't see him. I could only see you."

I shake my head, unable to believe in dreams of ships to other shores. Perhaps Gudrun is as desperate as me, and her mind is playing tricks on her. "I need to go, Gudrun," I insist. "My brother is so young. I can't let him leave alone. And there is nothing for me here. I know you believe in your visions but I can't just wait for them to come true. I can't go to bed every night knowing you lay beside my father. I can't... keep imagining what he does to you in that bed."

Her fingers graze my chin, begging me to look toward her. "Your father does nothing to me, Björn," she says with emphasis "I have made sure of that."

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused about what she means.

"Every night, I give him a brew of herbs. My mother taught me to make it. He falls asleep soon thereafter. I don't know what he does to me in his dreams--although I do hear him mumble sometimes--but I sleep soundly beside him. I've done it every night since we married."

"Even on your wedding night?"

"Even on my wedding night."

"Why didn't you tell me? Surely you must have known what I thought happened at night, and how much it hurt me."

"Because everyone else--including your father--knows that too, and you wear your emotions so clearly. If you suddenly acted less burdened, perhaps your father would find out that we meet here in the mornings. He would figure out my scheme. And then it would be all over. I wouldn't be able to save anyone."

Words escape me, but I know she's right. Acting coy and unbothered has never been my forte. Perhaps I would have smiled at her in a moment of weakness. Perhaps he would have seen it. Perhaps he would have punished us both.

"You care about everyone else more than you care about me," I note, unable to keep petty emotions at bay.

"If I can save everyone else, I can save you too, Björn. It's everyone or no one. I can't just walk away."

I let her words settle for a moment while letting my fingers slide through her curls, gently untangling knots. "But I can," I mumble, still seeing no other way out of this. The ice is the only path toward freedom, even if that freedom will be spent without Gudrun. I can find a sweet skräling girl, proud and fierce like Aakku, and we'll raise our children in a kingdom made of ice. It's not the life I would have chosen, but right now, it seems like the best choice I can make.

"I know," she says, not questioning my decision. "That's why I told you the truth."

"To keep me here?"

"No." She turns to me with a wicked smile on violet lips, stung by cold into the color of the sky at dawn. "To ask you to take what I haven't given to your father. I always wanted it to be you, Björn. So before you go, I want to be all yours."

Her lips taste like blackberries and morning dew. The hunger with which she devours mine is unlike anything I've experienced. Of course, I've had offers. The son of the chief is a coveted man. My father has thrown Aakku into my bed more times than I can count, saying she's a gift for his oldest son to play with. I never engaged in such games. We simply fell asleep next to each other, still clothed. Sometimes, she told me stories of her people as we drifted away, making me dream of lodgings made of snow, kayak expeditions through seas of jagged ice, and feasts on whale blubber.

Perhaps those dreams will become my life. There are worse lives to live.

But I'm not there yet. I'm still here. And at this moment, I'm fully here, no longer disconnected or jaded. I'm with her. My heart always belonged to her and now so does my body. Every limb, every inch of skin, and every drop of blood belongs to Gudrun.

Together we tumble down into the soft moss, where wilted bluebells still sprout. Gudrun's skirt flairs around me as her hands frantically look for a way to free me from my leg coverings.

This is madness, foolishness, and destruction. This is everything I ever longed for. If this kills me, it was worth dying for.

Cold turns to warmth. Fear turns to lust. Our bodies blend into one. As I thrust into her, I scream out from pleasure, without a care in the world about who hears me. Truthfully, I want my father to hear.

I want him to know that I've taken what he could not. I want him to know Gudrun isn't his. I want him to know that he cannot break me. 

Author's Note: So, I think this is a fade-to-black kinda story. It just didn't feel right to stop the story for a long intimate scene at this moment, as there's a lot of plot to unravel and I don't want to stop the flow of the story.