Midnight Eclipse (Paranormal Viking Romance, Completed)

Chapter 2: Bluebells

Greenland, early 15th Century

Bluebells are braided into her hair. The flowers waver between purple and blue, just like the treacherous sea that has us all captured. Beneath the sea of flowers, her curls shine like the amber rocks we pick out of those waves. Her green wool dress, colored from seaweed picked on the jagged rocks where the water breaks, is simple--because on these shores there's no use for frivolous fashion--but somehow makes her radiate even more.

Gudrun's the most beautiful bride. She's everything I ever imagined her to be on her wedding day.

I always thought her wedding day would be mine as well. Because it was always us. Björn and Gudrun. I don't even remember a day when I didn't love her. My first friend, my first love, my first everything.

But this isn't my wedding day. It isn't me who will be her husband on this day.

I didn't cry when I, a mere boy of twelve, looked into the eyes of a ferocious bear trying to end my life. I didn't cry a year later when we received news that my mother had perished, lost at sea in a fruitless attempt to sail to greener shores. I didn't even cry when my little sister wasted away soon thereafter, in what would be known as the winter that went on forever. For seven months there was nothing but snow, death, and despair. Every winter since has been the same.

Today I cry. I cry as my father Trond marries the wondrous woman who was supposed to be my bride.

During the summer solstice celebration--when we for a brief moment enjoy the basking sunrays and forget about what is to come on the other side of this brief respite--he takes her delicate hand into his giant paw. He's taking her not because he wants her golden curls, her challenging smile, and her witty demeanor. He's taking her because he wants to show everyone that he can. The chief of the island can take anyone he wants, even the woman who was promised to his son.

He's taking Gudrun because he believes her mysterious powers of premonition might save us all.

I don't believe anything can save us anymore.

As her apologetical gaze meets mine, I can't take it anymore. I leave the circle of witnesses to the ceremony, gathered outside the chapel where we used to pray. No one goes there anymore. When the children started to die in the winter, we abandoned the new god on his cross. But all we know of the old gods are what our forefathers, the ones who sailed to this damn island at the end of the world, told us. I know that Thor rules the sky above us and that Odin governs us all, but that's all I know.

We're all godless heathens here in Greenland. We Northmen are hardly better than the seal skin-clad skrälings in their silent canoes. At least their children don't seem to die like ours.

What I believe in is the nature around us. The rugged cliffs, the billowing, and the skittering animals. The constant winds, the never-melting snow, and the deep waters. I believe all those things are out to kill us, and honestly, I don't blame them. We came here as intruders and we'd leached on this land's shores until there is no blood left. Either we or the lands themselves will die.

Watching the sea, I wonder if there may still be a way to save ourselves. Maybe we could leave. Maybe I could take Gudrun's hand and sail into the sunset toward unknown shores. Although despite the temperate summer weather, the icebergs are still mounting in the distance. We can't go back to where our ancestors came from. The route to Iceland is closed.

But maybe there are other lands. Around the flames at night, stories are told of Leif the Red. I've heard my family descends from him. The sagas tell us that he sailed west to warmer and lusher lands before heading back again.

From the chapel, I can still hear the celebrations. Hopefully, no one has noticed my absence. My father might send someone to pull me back by force. Control over one's children is a sign of power in our world.