The Last Supper, Part 2

Ragnar did not reply but calmly sat at the table. His movements were unhurried, almost provocatively nonchalant, as if Bjørn's threat were of no consequence. Relaxed in his chair, a self-assured smile played on his lips.

Kristin, seated across from him, let her sharp gaze drift over them. She leaned forward as she broke the silence. "Why not? Do you wish to marry her as well?"

Ragnar chuckled, a light, almost mocking laugh, as though the question was absurd. "No, of course not."

He reached for his food and began cutting it, his movements slow and deliberate. His tone remained composed as he continued. "Sigrid comes from a respectable family with influence. But tell me, Sigrid, have you shared that little detail with them?"

Kristin leaned closer. "What detail?"

Sigrid said nothing. She met Ragnar's gaze; his words silenced the room.

Bjørn finally answered for her: "Sigrid fled from an arranged marriage. She's been living in exile with Erik ever since."

A collective gasp filled the room. Everyone at the table, except for Thora, turned wide-eyed toward Sigrid.

"If she's to marry," Ragnar raised his fork, "she needs approval from a family member."

He took a bite, his eyes locked on Sigrid. "Or a guardian. Otherwise, she might face persecution. Or worse-she might be forced to marry Knut."

Bjørn, who was still standing, hesitated before sitting down. He rested his elbows on the table, staring at Sigrid. After a long pause, he gave a curt nod. "He's right."

Kristin declared his correctness triumphantly. "How could you keep this from us, Sigrid?"

Bjørn shot an irritated glance at Kristin. "I knew. But it meant nothing to me. We have the support of the king and Erik."

"Well, neither the king nor Erik can give you anything if they lie dead beneath the earth," Ragnar said, savoring the weight of their attention.

"What are you getting at?" Bjørn's gaze was fixed on Ragnar.

Ragnar leaned forward, a wide grin spreading from ear to ear. He intently focused his gaze on Sigrid, his words seemingly directed solely at her, audible to the whole room.

"The king escaped an ambush by the rebels. They are likely gathering south, near Songdalsfjorden. If we don't strike, they will put a new king on the throne."

"Where is he now?" Bjørn looked as if the air had been knocked out of him.

"Concealed in Denmark. But he needs our support. My father has prepared a ship that will sail from Frosta in a few days."

He paused, eying Bjørn.

"Of course," we could always claim you're unfit to join. That is your choice. After all, the king still believes you're bedridden."

Sigrid glared at Ragnar, her displeasure clear in her piercing stare.

Bjorn stood, taking a deep breath before exhaling. "Clearly I'm no longer bedridden. Of course I have to go. I owe him that. I swore an oath."

Ivar rose almost immediately after him. "I'm coming with you."

Erling rose as well. He placed a firm hand on Ivars's shoulder.

"No, I'll go with Bjørn. If anything happens, you must take over here."

His words made Sigrid scream out in pain. The weight of the situation, which she had struggled to grasp, hit her like a wave, washing away everything familiar and safe.

All heads turned to her, startled by her outburst.

"Ragnar, you're lying." The words escaped before she could stop them.

Ragnar raised an eyebrow, looking unfazed. With deliberate calm, he reached into his coat, pulling out a letter. Placing it on the table with a flourish, he leaned back, his smile smug.

"Here's the proof."

Sigrid stared at the letter but refused to touch it. Instead, her gaze shifted to Bjørn, and she rose.

"Please. Don't go. You promised. You said we'd never be apart again."

Bjørn looked at her, his eyes shadowed with pain. He hesitated, her words shaking him, as if they might be enough to change his mind. But he shook his head heavily.

"I know, but I've sworn an oath, Sigrid. This is a duty I cannot turn away from."

She stared at him, grasping for some shred of hope, but his expression told her everything. Disappointment and despair washed over her like a crashing wave, and in a burst of frustration, she turned on Ragnar.

"You!" She pointed a trembling finger at him. "You knew all along! Why didn't you say anything?"

Ragnar met her gaze without flinching, his posture relaxed, as though he had been expecting this outburst, tilting his head. "I wanted to give you time. Time to enjoy your romance before the bad news."

He lifted his chin, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Sigrid clenched her teeth, her emotions boiling beneath the surface like a fire she was unable to contain.

Bjørn leaned forward and picked up the letter Ragnar had placed on the table. He studied the seal, read the first few lines, and a dark shadow passed over his face.

"The letter undeniably originates from the king."

He returned the letter to the table, handling it with extreme care. Then, lifting his gaze, his eyes met Sigrid's. "We have to leave as soon as possible."

Those words struck her like a dagger to the heart. The pain was sharp and unbearable, as if her chest was being torn apart. She said nothing-she couldn't find the words.

Erling calmly assured them, "I'll prepare everything within days," yet the room's tension remained.

Ragnar remained reclined in his chair, his gaze fixed on Sigrid like a king orchestrating a well-played game. He had known all along, and now he was reveling in it. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his eyes-it burned like a fire, as if her pain was his personal triumph.

Sigrid felt her blood boil under her skin. She couldn't hide her emotions anymore, but she refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her break. Without a word, she stood and left the room with swift, determined steps.

She stormed through the corridors, barely aware of where she was going, until she reached the chamber. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing through the space like a reflection of the chaos raging inside her.

She threw herself onto the bed, burying her face in the soft fabric, but it did nothing to numb the pain. Tears forced their way out, and this time, she let them come. They flowed down her cheeks, a flood of emotions she could no longer contain.

She buried her face deeper into the pillow. Thoughts screamed at her.

"I promise you, we will be together again." Bjørn sat beside her on the bed.

"Don't make a promise you can't keep!" Her words were muffled against the pillow.

Bjørn took hold of her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"I promise you," he began, but the sound of the door opening interrupted him.

Ragnar stood there, leaning against the doorframe, wearing that same arrogant smile. "If you want the priest's blessing, I suggest you keep the door open, if you know what I mean."

"It's none of your business!" Sigrid glared at him.

Ragnar leaned further into the doorframe, grinning. "It is to vouch for the priest."

"Do not let him get to you, Sigrid."

"But this may be our last time together for a very long time... maybe forever."

Bjørn met her gaze without hesitation but said nothing. Instead, he rose, as if weighing each step, and walked over to Ragnar.

"You know me, Ragnar. Do you really believe I could do something like what my brother did to Kari?"

Ragnar held his gaze for a long moment before responding with a barely perceptible nod.

"I trust you, Bjørn; it's her I don't trust." He turned on his heel, and his laughter echoed through the hall while he called back to them. "You need to have at least one person in the room with you, or the door open."

"Come," Bjørn said, extending his hand toward her. "Let's make the most of the time we have left."

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