Like Me

The Admission

Sigrunn was many things. A fool was not one of them. Maybe she thinks that you might be, however. You stand in front of Hvitserk with your hand making knots on your crutch.

"No," you say. "We've never been formally introduced."

It seems odd to her that someone like you had never encountered the king's brother. There is nothing particularly wrong with Hvitserk. He is tall and handsome. That much she is certain and so her mind swirls ideals as to why you had not met the king's brother in the past.

"Well, Hvitserk would only be so glad to introduce you to his favourite merchants. Then tonight we will feast together. Isn't that so, love?"

Sigrunn's forehead lifts into a bundle of wrinkles as she looks at you. Your hand has come up to your lips, so briefly throwing her a look as if to tell her to hush. What she was seeing, and what you were seeing, were one and the same.

"Of course." He rumbles, sidestepping Freydis to offer out his arm to you. You move your spiked crutch closer, taking a step.

"M'lady! M'lady wait!" Sigrunn says, catching the attention of the peasants stepping out of their daily lives to see what both Queen Freydis and Prince Hvitserk had in store for you. Your hand rests upon Hvitserk's comforting touch.

"Yes, Sigrunn?"

Don't trust her, she wants to say. Freydis's leering eyes settle Sigrunn into a heavy, deliberate quiet. She can't tell you here. Whatever Freydis had in store for you, Sigrunn was not invited. Her eyes turn away from the softness of your voice. Whitehair would be fine with this. That can't be an excuse. She runs to the next best thing, scanning Hvitserk's boyish profile. He looks almost like a bear cub with the facial hair settling around his jaw.

"Be safe." She nods, inching closer and closer to the best, 'I'm worried,' that she can muster. Only then do you turn your head, outlined by the warm light of the sun.

"Of course I'll be safe." You turn your hand in his arm. With a shrug, then a laugh, you set on your way past the typical booths toward ones with more expensive wares. It leaves her alone with the queen, whose smile is marked by a delightful– and fake– raise in the apples of her cheeks. Sigrunn returns it, dipping down to grasp her basket of the goods that she chose with you.

"Good day, my Queen," she says with even tone despite the tremulous thump, thump, thump burning in his chest. She skitters away, dipping behind the closest longhouse. The queen shirks away from the marketplace. Not toward the Great Hall, but away from it. Her chest is beating in deep, healthy thumps. You're not safe, her thought burns so brightly in her mind that she can feel it.

The queen was up to something. She should tell Prince Rorik. It assails her mind, because oh, how naive you are. Had you really not known that the queen meant to sequester you? To keep you with the strange prince? Sigrunn rushes after the queen.

Beyond the fjord and bountiful mountains, there are sprawling green fields. It's outside of the protective walls of Ivar's land, though, it's still his territory. Sigrunn stays back behind many trees, looking side to side to clear her way while chasing the queen. She watches the queen come with a basket to the side of a tree, plucking strange fungus of brilliant array. It almost seems unnatural the way they glow. Each make it into her basket combined with the root or a plant she must dig deep for.

Sigrunn dips low between the trees, watching with every turn she takes to her basket of wild ingredients. Then, she stops. Sigrunn gasps the trunk of the closest tree to stabilize herself. However, behind her swoops a man, grabbing her wrist and yanking it behind her back so forcefully she feels a wet crack. A loud cry spills through the room as Sigrunn shouts in her pain, gasping when the queen steps up, slow in her knowing smile.