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Snowflakes danced in the air, twirling and pirouetting in a symphony of white as they descended upon the world below. They kissed the delicate skin of Yvette's face as she walked, lost in thought, towards her home. Her mind was a labyrinth of memories, her heart a tempest of emotions.
Just a few nights ago, she had allowed Hvitserk to touch her in a way she had never imagined. She was surprised at how gentle he was, his hands like whispers on her skin. For a fleeting moment, she wondered why he was so tender, so attentive to her needs.
But as the thoughts grew stronger, they became like thorns in her mind, pricking and tearing at her conscience. She felt sick with herself, disgusted by the fact that she had allowed a heathen to touch her in such an intimate way. The shame burned within her like an inferno, threatening to consume her very soul.
Yet, even as she grappled with her guilt, she could not deny the warmth that still lingered in her heart. It was a warmth that seemed to defy the icy chill of the winter's night, a warmth that spoke of something more than mere lust or desire. It was a warmth that whispered of love.
As Yvette stepped into the warm embrace of her home, she was greeted by the sight of her handmaiden, diligently tending to the fire as she prepared their evening meal. The aroma of the simmering soup filled the air, a comforting contrast to the chill that clung to her skin.
"Where did you wander off to?" the handmaiden inquired, her voice as gentle as the snowflakes that had kissed Yvette's cheeks.
"I needed some air," she replied, the weight of her thoughts heavy on her heart. The thought of carrying Hvitserk's child was a terrifying prospect, one that threatened to consume her with a sense of disgust and shame. She knew that if she were to be deemed barren, her worth to Asluag and the future of her father's kingdom would be in jeopardy.
As the handmaiden finished her tasks and joined her by the fire, she shared the news that Hvitserk had stopped by. "He said not to wait up for him; he's with Ubbe," she informed her mistress.
Yvette's hand ran light circles over her arm as she was lost in thought, her mind a tempest of emotions. The guilt and shame she felt were at odds with the warmth that still lingered in her heart. It was a warmth that spoke of something more than just lust or desire, something that she couldn't quite put into words.
"Thank you, you may go now," Yvette said to the girl, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. As the door closed behind the handmaiden, the tears that had been threatening to spill from her eyes finally escaped, cascading down her cheeks like raindrops.
"Yvette?" A voice spoke from behind her, and without turning, she knew it was Hvitserk. The air between them was thick with unspoken emotions, the weight of their shared past and the uncertainty of their future.
Yvette stood to her feet, meeting Hvitserk's gaze as he approached. It was a habit now to assume that she would have to tend to his wounds after a day of training, but as she scanned his hands and face, she found no cuts or bruises.
"No training today?" she asked, her voice a whisper.
Hvitserk shook his head, walking over to grab himself a bowl of soup. The silence between them was deafening, a stark contrast to the usual bickering and arguing that had become a part of their daily routine. It was as if they were both dancing around the memory of that night, afraid to confront the feelings that had been stirred within them.
Hvitserk felt that something was off. Usually, they would have already had a disagreement, with the fragile girl throwing something at his head and telling him to leave. But now, it was different. Why? With his pride still front and center, Hvitserk decided to set it aside and try to talk to his wife.
He approached her carefully still very wary in case she did throw a bowl at his head again. As his body neared Yvette felt the tingly feeling between her thighs and she felt herself grow guilty and disgusted by her own body. Something she hadn't admitted before was that she truly enjoyed being with him, the way he had touched her made her body feel like fire and with this she hated herself. The whole day Yvette prayed to her god begging him to help.
Yvette felt his body getting closer and closer and before she could stop her own actions she was throwing herself at him her lips crashing against his.
Hvitserk wasted no time his mouth molding with hers, his hands sliding down her legs picking her up and carrying her to their shared bed.
"I hate you." Yvette murmured between the kisses
"I know."
Three days after the wedding
Yvette saw the sun come up and slowly she got out of bed. Looking over her shoulder she can see that Hvitserk is still asleep. The young girl did her best to get out of the bed without waking her now husband. As the minutes ticked by Yvette had scrambled around and did her morning duties. This wasn't the life she had planned for herself this wasn't how she pictured she'd be wed and with every bone in her body she hated this man. But her soul knew that even if she didn't love this man she was still a wife to him and with that came duties and so with much dismay she did them.
When Hvitserk awoke he smelled a sweet smell a smell he's never smelt before and so he got out of bed and made his way to the fire where Yvette was brewing something he's never tried before but but Odin himself he really wanted to.
"What is this?" He asked looking at her
"It's a sweet stew my mother always made us kids for when we wake. You'll love it." Yvette tried to be okay nice. She tried to hold her tongue but after she gave Hvitserk his food she could no longer.
"Who is she?" She asked
Hvitserk rose his eyes to meet Yvette's dark ones. He slowly ate the stew off the spoon as he felt dagger from her evil stare
"Who is who?"
"The woman you had in my bed last night."
"There was no woman."
Yvette felt heat raise in her cheeks and before she knew it she was up up on her feet. "DO NOT LIE TO ME! I know you had another and I'm sure there will be plenty of others Hvitserk but DO NOT HAVE THEM IN MY BED."
Hvitserk sat back in his chair watching as anger boiled off her and for a moment he laughed at her. Her tiny body held so much rage and he truly did not think she could. "Okay what ever you say."
His answer wasn't enough, and the way he said it with a smirk on his lips enraged Yvette more and before she knew it, before she knew her own actions she was picking up a bowl and slinging it at his head. "You filthy heathen, YOU NASTY DOG YOU —"
Hiviserk's never rose to his feet any faster, he's never raced to a person like this before he's never felt such hatred until he met this filthy Christian girl. In the blink of an eye Yvette saw her life pass Hvitserk had his hand around her throat and he whole body was pressed against the wooden beam supporting the house.
"I will fuck who ever I want, where ever I want to do you understand? Just because you are my wife doesn't mean I have to listen to you."
