Beneath the surface

Sigrid cast her gaze downward, her hands trembling as she struggled to find the words. "I... I do not know if I am worthy of you, Bjørn."

Bjørn raised an eyebrow, surprised. "What do you mean?"

She dared a fleeting glance at him. "I lack kitchen, homemaking, and sewing skills."

Bjørn chuckled, a deep, warm sound. "Sigrid, you're all I require."

She turned to him with wide eyes, as if she didn't quite believe what he was saying. "Are you sure about that?"

"You're hardworking and have a wonderful way with animals. And you'll get to live the life you want here, doing what makes you happy."

Tears welled in Sigrid's eyes, but this time, they were born of joy.

"Then... it is a yes?"

She nodded, and her voice was clear: "Yes."

●●●

Later, a tense atmosphere filled the house. Bjørn had announced their betrothal, but the reactions were far from united.

Kristin, Bjørn's mom, convinced him to postpone the wedding, prioritizing his recovery. However, Kari's irritation was visible.

The tension weighed on Sigrid. She kept her struggles with Kristin to herself, but Kari grew difficult to ignore.

The woman's gaze hardened whenever it landed upon Sigrid, as though she viewed her as an intruder in something that was hers.

The tension came to a boiling point one evening during supper. Bjørn's tenderness toward Sigrid was apparent-small touches, lingering glances.

It was enough to make Kari rise. She slammed her hand on the table, her voice trembling with fury. "I cannot bear another moment with that witch!"

Everyone seemed surprised, and the room fell into a heavy silence.

Kari scoffed. "And the mangy dog and the ugly red-haired servant, too!"

"Enough, Kari! Call me what you will, but to insult Balder and Thora? That I shall not endure!"

Bjørn rose to his feet as well. "Kari, I think it best you leave."

Kari glared at them before storming out. But as the sound of her footsteps faded, a strange calm settled over the house. They could breathe once more.

The snow outside melted. Bjørn had made great strides in his recovery. He would soon return to his former self.

One evening, when the house had fallen quiet and the others were asleep, Bjørn said, "Now we marry!"

They had been walking along the shore, watching the sunset paint the horizon in hues of pink and crimson. His sudden outburst caught Sigrid by surprise.

"Let us do it as soon as possible. I'm myself again!"

Sigrid stopped, turning towards him, overwhelmed by his exuberance.

She sat, gazing at the vibrant sky, on the smooth shore stones.

"I don't think I've ever seen sunsets so beautiful as here," she said, letting her thoughts drift with the waves.

"Well," Bjørn said, his eyes twinkling as he looked out over the horizon, "the sunset I saw on Erik Gustavson's lands last summer-now that was something to behold."

He smirked, and she laughed in response.

Turning to him, she studied his expression. "So Bjørn Erlingson, you claim you admired a naked woman, then lied?"

Bjørn furrowed his brow, pausing for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face.

"I confess, I lack self-control. I was at the water's edge, letting my horse drink, when I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen."

He leaned back, resting his hands behind his head, gazing at the stars that dotted the darkening sky.

"I thought it was a dream. And then you disrobed. Can you imagine?" He laughed and sent her a glare. "I am, after all, a man!"

She nudged him playfully in the ribs.

"Forgive me, but it was the best day of my life."

Sigrid shook her head but couldn't suppress her smile. "Fine, on one condition."

"And what is that?" He looked at her with his intense, dark gaze.

"That you do the same," she reclined onto her back, mirroring his posture as they both gazed up at the vast, star-speckled sky.

Bjørn looked at her, first confused, then uncertain. "Here?" He glanced around the deserted beach.

"Yes, we are completely alone."

He stood, eyes sweeping the shore, considering. He grinned, then moved back. "If it wins your forgiveness, I shall do it, but you must help me."

Sigrid laughed, understanding his meaning at once. Rising to her feet, she began undressing him slowly.

As each garment dropped, it was like breaking down another barrier.

They laughed together, like obedient children, but as more clothes fell away, a shy and silent awkwardness settled between them.

When Bjørn was undressed, he stood tall, and Sigrid couldn't help but admire him.

Without hesitation, he turned and ran toward the sea, plunging into the icy waves with a shout of exhilaration. "Come!" He called, his voice echoing over the shore, daring her.

She needed no further urging and cast off her own garments, her movements swift as if to escape the chill of the night air. Then she followed him into the dark, restless water.

The sea's coldness was sharp, like needles against her skin, yet it awakened something within her.

She swam toward Bjørn, who moved with ease, his laughter filling the night.

He turned to face her, his grin the same one that always made her heart race. She laughed-a bright, simple sound that cut through the stillness of the night.

She swam freely around him underwater.

Then he caught her. His hand was steady as he pulled her to him. She could hear his breathing-deep, steady, and close.

Their gaze locked; time stopped. They forgot the cold.

"Sigrid, I love you."

The words struck her heart like a hammer.

She wanted to respond, but the words tangled in her throat. Instead, she moved closer until she perceived the warmth of his breath on her skin.

And then they kissed. Every action seemed like building trust. But then he pulled her closer, his arms strong around her.

She sensed the raw power of him, his breath on her cheek, and the undeniable reality of his presence.

She immersed herself in the moment, ignoring everything else.

He lowered his head, letting his kisses trail downward toward her chest. Each touch of his lips was warm, teasing her with a gentle tickle.

Her body responded before her mind could catch up.

Each kiss, gentle and unhurried, sent her heart beating louder and faster. She felt his breath on her skin quickening, growing heavier.

A sound escaped her lips-soft, almost imperceptible. It was not one of conscious thought, but of her body speaking a language older than words, opening itself to something deep and unrestrained.

They escaped the crashing surf, finding their own private space. It was as if a fragile, unbreakable thread, a connection that defied logic and time, tethered them.

The waves surged around them, like an unrelenting force slamming against their bodies.

She looked at him, her breath caught in her chest, and saw a faint smile curve his lips.

"The water suits you."

Sigrid smiled faintly. "Does it now?"

"The first time I saw you. I thought to myself, She belongs to it."

She longed to return to the moment and kissed his lips with tender, trembling passion. Only now did she realize how numb her body had become from the cold water.

"Let's go inside and continue this. You're cold and shivering-I want to warm you."

His words were like a rope pulling her back to reality, and she nodded.

"Go on ahead," he said, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I'll follow shortly."

"Don't keep me waiting," she said before turning and swimming to shore.

She dressed, her clothes clinging to her damp skin, and ran back toward the farm.

It had almost happened. She was certain-the look in his eyes told her he had every intention of fulfilling it.

She recognized that look-she had felt it herself. Nothing could stop them now; they would have each other, no matter what.

That night, joy filled her steps as she skipped home, feeling refreshed and light.

She opened the door. Despite the quiet darkness, she sensed she wasn't alone.

It was as if the moment she crossed the threshold, the house swallowed her. Darkness closed in, pressing against her skin.

The air, tainted with something ancient and cold. Her breath caught. Her pulse thudded in her ears. She didn't need to see him-she felt him coiled in the shadows, watching.

Then he emerged.

A flicker. A shape that congealed into a man. His presence was unmistakable.

She froze mid-step, her entire body locking up as if the sound had seized her spine.

Should she scream? Flee? Fall to her knees?

Her lips parted.

"What do you want?" She asked, but her voice betrayed her.

●●●