The Berserker

20

I listen eagerly to Helga's as she relays her faith to me. According to Helga, her people chose Odin to be their choice of worship. He is a king in their eyes. Fathering many sons, but the only equal to him is Thor. A chill hits me, despite sitting near the fire. Helga's voice morphs into a familiar one. A voice I thought I would never hear again.

"If you give yourself to Odin, he will reward you immensely." I watch as my mother cuts her palm with a jagged rock. Blood drips down her tight fist and splatters on the rock. Her head lolls back. A foreign language seeps out of her mouth. My small body jumps at the sound of thunder crashing around us.

My mother's head straightens. She tears a piece of fabric from her dress and binds the wound on her hand.

"Did you see what I did, Kari?" She asks and kneels to me. "The crop is drying out. I had no choice but to ask my God for help." A loud squawk from a nearby raven startles me, making my mother laugh.

She cups my face. I embrace her soft touch. She leans down and kisses my forehead.

"Hej," The warmth of my mother's lips is no longer on my forehead.

"Where did you go?" Helga looks deep in my eyes. "Did I speak too long that you fall asleep?"

"I remember my mother talking to me as a young girl," I tell her. "She spoke of this Odin, and how she would offer him things."

Helga's cleared her throat and adjusted her posture. "Some people do these practices, but it's frowned upon."

I think back to the many times my mother would cut her palm and pray. Her wishes would come forth. All of them, except for... I try to fight the memories, but they are stronger than my will.

"Mother?" I call out to her, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Her soft whimpers had woken me. I watch as my mother cuts her hand-- offering herself up to her God. My father raised his voice, demanding her to stop, and when she didn't heed his plead, father marched over to mother, and pulled her to her feet. 

"He has gone, Hilda," he snaps at her and tosses the jagged rock across the room.

"He can't be." I felt the ache in my mother's voice. My eyes veered from my parents and landed on the small lump in the bed. Cautiously, I step closer. There, looking peaceful, was my brother Tomas. You would think he was sleeping, but the tinge of blue around his mouth told the truth.

Tomas had died, and my mother could save him. Odin, her chosen God, couldn't save him. Eventually, my mother broke down and succumbed to her broken heart.

"Why is frowned upon?" The need to know more overcomes me.

"Because it starts with your blood, then moves on to sacrifices." Her words turned dark. "Tormad's father is a believer in the dark prayer."

Tormad mentions little of his father. They don't seem to see a middle ground. He wouldn't elaborate much on what his father was. I guess this is the reason. "And Tormad isn't?"

"None of us are," Helga declares. Her words were spoken with true honour. "The God they worship is Loki. The trickster."

She stands and dusts her clothes. "It is getting late. I must go."

I didn't want her to leave, but I couldn't keep her prisoner. Helga could overthrow me if I tried. "If I see Tormad, should I send him your way?" she asks. I know she meant well, and I do owe him an apology. "If I see him," she repeats with assurance.

The day was long, and my body is still fatigued from the night and day. I long for a good night's rest.

I woke with a heavy arm draped over my body. Tormad stirs in his slumber and tightens his hold on me. "Are you still mad at me?" he asks, burying his face in my neck.

"No!" I curtly respond. I wasn't mad. Instead, I feel foolish for even thinking the thoughts I had, and my actions that followed. I must apologise to Igor, too. Though he can wait a while longer.

"Will you tell me what I did?" Tormad's fingers graze against my belly. His rough skin touches all my nerves, awakening my body.

"Helga informed me of my assumption." Tormad's hand halts. I shuffle around to face him. His once sedated face was now fully alert. "She taught me about your God." I bite my lower lip, thinking of the words to say. "I am no Freya that you claim me to be." I lean in close. The warmth of our breath fills the space between us. I pondered this until I slept. Even my dreams were filled with Gods and their chosen concubine. Only one Goddess stood out from the rest. A wide smile forms across my face.

"I am more like Frigg."

The moment I uttered the name, Tormad's eyes filled with mirth. "You deem yourself a Queen?" he asks. I sheepishly shrug my shoulders.

"I sure am no prisoner," I sneer. I small smirk rises on his face. He pulls me over, so I'm straddled across his body. The hardness of him digging between my legs. My body heats at the thought of what he wields.

"No, you are not a prisoner." His hands cup my rear and motions for me to rock against his hardness.

"You do look regal from where I lay." I roll my eyes at his mocking. My finger brushes over his bare chest.

"Did your visions tell you to come into my cabin, or did you speak with Helga?"

He purses his lips. "I knew to come,' he settles on.

"What else did your visions tell you?"

Tormad takes this as his invite and flips us. "How about I show you?" He presses his lips to mine. Tormad's kiss speaks with hunger and desire. He also feeds the fire within. I moan into his mouth, causing Tormad to grind himself into me. His hand travels down my body, brushing against my sensitive skin. I'm hot; too hot. Tormad pulls back, giving just enough space for me to sit up and remove my tunic. I watch his eyes darken as they stare at my bare chest.

He reaches out and brushes his fingers over my flesh. "Fagr," he murmurs.

Over the months of being here, I picked up a little of their mother tongue. My cheeks flushed, and my heart flickered at hearing Tormad call me beautiful. He leans in and seals our fate with another kiss. 

WHOOPS, I thought I had uploaded this chapter. It was upload on Inkitt. My bad, I am super sorry I didn't check in earlier.