Delays

"Very well." Erik said. "Bjørn is barely alive, and you must set sail before sunrise tomorrow."

"I understand." Her hands tightened around the edge of her cloak.

"My brother is completing the preparations." He hesitated for a moment, his eyes drifting toward Thora and Leif. "And Thora-will she accompany you?"

Sigrid turned to meet Thora's gaze. Without a moment's hesitation, Thora stepped forward, chin held high. "I will."

"Balder!" The hound sprang into her arms like a bolt of lightning, while his tail whipped wildly.

"He has not been himself without you," Erik said with a weary sigh. "He has searched for you every moment since you departed."

Tears pricked at Sigrid's eyes. "Do you think I may take him with me?"

"I have no objections." Erik stroked the fur of Balder before they returned to their chambers.

Sigrid sat cross-legged on the wooden floor and drew a deep breath as she stroked Balder gently. "Must I tell Ragnar?"

"Yes, you have to."

"I could leave without a word," Sigrid mused, a sly smile curling on her lips. "Let Erik explain. Ragnar will understand, eventually."

"Delays solve nothing, Sigrid. If Ragnar values you, he will wait and understand. But you must speak to him."

"You're right, as always." Sigrid leaned back against the rough-hewn wall. Yet doubt churned in her mind.

When the sun dipped low, bathing the settlement in hues of gold and crimson, Sigrid sought Ragnar.

She found him by the docks, laughing with the crew as they inspected the longship. He looked happy, and she felt her courage falter.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she moved toward him.

"The supper is ready." Her voice was almost shaking as she turned toward the house.

Ragnar looked at her then, his piercing blue eyes softening as they met hers. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, though the simple motion was like a weight pressing against her chest, and her throat tightened.

She waited. She wanted to see his joyful, untroubled face for a little longer.

Sigrid sat across from Ragnar, avoiding his gaze, her head buried in her bowl of soup. She sensed his questioning, probing eyes, yet he remained silent.

As the meal came to a close, Erik's brother-in-law, Erling, entered the hall. A man of considerable stature, his silvered beard flowed around his unlined face.

A sense of unease bubbled within her, tightening her chest. Could she escape the uncomfortable situation that was about to unfold?

Erik approached with Erling in tow, guiding him toward Sigrid. "This is Sigrid. She has agreed to join you."

Sigrid managed a polite nod, though her heart sank. Across the room, Ragnar's gaze turned sharp, like a hawk spotting its prey. She braced herself for the storm.

She tried to avoid eye contact, but his gaze scrutinized her, and for a moment, she met Ragnar's eyes. Now, his piercing gaze was on them.

Ragnar did not conceal his displeasure well. His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. Had Erik turned then, he would have met his son's coal-black eyes.

Sigrid regretted she hadn't spoken to him herself when they were alone.

Ragnar left, slapping the door hard behind him. She wanted to call after him but held her tongue.

Sigrid's mind raced as she packed her things for the journey. As soon as she was done, she slipped out to find Ragnar.

"Do not stay away too long," a knowing smile playing on Thora's lips. "We must rise early tomorrow."

"I promise, I must speak with him before we depart."

The cold air bit at her cheeks, and the night was quiet.

She heard something near the winter-abandoned cottages, the ones the workers used in summer and autumn. The snow crunched under her boots.

She made her way down the slope, her breath visible in the chill night air.

"Ragnar? Is that you?" She said, her voice trembling in the frosty stillness.

No answer came. But then-a sound. Her pulse quickened as unease crept over her, but she pressed on, her footsteps careful on the ice-slick path.

Swift and sharp as a cutting wind, she felt something seize her from behind. Darkness claimed her as the grip tightened, silencing her cry.

Someone dragged her into the cottage. The cottage felt cramped and dark. Faint moonlight filtered through cracks in the walls, casting only the faintest glow.

"Ragnar?"

He didn't answer-instead, he met her lips in a fierce, lingering kiss. His touch was urgent as he pressed her against the cold wall.

After a moment, she pulled away, her breath quick and shallow. Her heart raced as she stepped back, the cold air of the room rushing to meet her flushed skin.

He looked up. "You cannot leave."

"I must," she said, stepping closer. "Bjørn lies near death. I owe him this."

"And what of me? After all we've been through?"

"It is not for you to decide. I have given my word, and I will not break it."

"Then I'll go with you." He laid his arms around her.

"This journey's mine, and mine alone."

"You would leave me behind?" His eyes darkened.

"When I return, we shall continue where we left off, but I will regret it if I stay."

For a moment, his gaze softened, and she dared to hope he would accept her decision.

But then, without warning, he stepped forward and kissed her again. She surrendered to the moment as they tumbled onto the unmade bed. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her hands down onto the hard mattress.

Though she sensed something was happening, the heat of the moment clouded her mind.
She moaned as she felt the weight of his body over hers-the way he pressed himself against her.

Then she felt it.
Her hands didn't move-they were stuck above her head.

"Ragnar!" She said, her voice strained as she tugged at her bound hands.

"You are going nowhere."

"You cannot keep me here!"

He lay down beside her. "Rest now. The knots will hold."

"I will never forgive you if you do not let me go."

"You will forgive me. I would rather take that chance than let you go to him."

She understood then that he had decided, and that made anger boil inside her.

"Please," she pleaded.

He lay down on his side and gave her a sly look.

"Can't we just continue from where we stopped?"

"Are you mad? Not like this, at any rate."

"Come on," he laughed with a sly grin, "it would've been fun, wouldn't it?" He ran a teasing hand along her thigh.

She hissed in reply.

"What if I untied it, then?" He asked as gently as he could.

"Well, that's another matter," she said, her voice a touch softer.

It seemed he was weighing the moment. "I'm tired anyway. And I don't trust you."

"Ragnar," she said, kicking her feet up in the air.

"Good night, Sigrid."

"You'll regret this," she said as she heard his breath grow fainter.

Sigrid glared at him in his sleep, her fury burning bright. But as time passed, her mind worked.

She began working her hand free from the tight, constricting knots. She wriggled and wriggled; it was painful and a dreadful test of patience.

It was a skill she had mastered through countless times when Sigurd had bound her in dark woods, behind fences, and in eerie cellars-she knew how to untie knots, even in the dark.

She broke free at daybreak and turned to glance at Ragnar for a moment, lying there, his breath deep and carefree as he slept. A part of her hated herself for wanting to leave him, and the other part was full of anger for him trying to hold her against her will.

She briefly considered throwing him out of bed, then changed her mind and got up. Without a sound, she slipped out the door.

°°°

"Where have you been?" Thora asked, sitting on the bed.

"There's no time to explain," Sigrid said as she changed her clothes.

Balder whined, pushing his way between her feet.

"Calm down," she said, reaching down to stroke him. "Of course you're coming with me."

He wagged his tail, as if he understood.

Together, they boarded the waiting ship, just in time, its sails unfurling to catch the morning breeze. As the vessel sliced through the dark blue waters, Sigrid's heart ached with uncertainty.

She stroked Balder's soft fur; the motion calmed her. She had envisioned a future with Ragnar; however, uncertainty now filled her thoughts.

And the thought crossed her mind as they sat, rocking back and forth with the swelling waves. Was Ragnar better than her brother and father? Or was he yet another man who sought to control her?

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