The Bride of a Viking

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Aila was but a child the first time she had ever seen a Viking. He wore the furs of his past kills proudly over one shoulder. His long dark hair was pulled back in multiple braids, all of which intertwined at the back of his neck. His brutish build was accentuated by his tight wool tunic, clinging to the sweat across his body. It seeped through his clothing; a noticeable splotch of perspiration on the bulk of his chest, under his arms, and across his back.

     The Viking had put up one hell of a fight against her people. He had stumbled into their little village across the sea, bloodied and exhausted. On sight, the townsfolk had immediately taken action, grabbing their weapons and charging toward the lone man. He had lasted a good while before he died of blood loss.

     Aila had been there during the whole ordeal, hiding behind a bush. Her father was one of the men who had went after the brute. She was so worried, she found herself following him. Her goal had been to stop him but she didn't make it to the clearing in time.

     Now she was almost nineteen summers, would be as soon as winter ended. Aila sat with her brothers and sister in the mess hall, all around a circular wooden table, embroidered with a gossamer fabric that fell to the floor on either side.

     Erling, the eldest of her siblings, sat with his elbows on the table and his chin pressed to his palms. He wore an irritated look as he stared down at the meat on his platter. He did not look satisfied. Dark strands parted from his pulled back hair, blocking his hazel eyes from view. He was very similar in features to Aila; both had hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her eyes were doe shaped where his were almonds like their father. Aila received the bright golden hair from her grandmother, where none of her other siblings had.

     Brenna and Brandt, twins, both had dark hair and hazel eyes as well. They were all considerably attractive and had plenty of marriage offers. Brenna was now betrothed to a kind man of twenty-six summers. He had promised to never lay an unwanted hand upon her and to cherish her for the rest of his days. Aila thought that it all sounded too rehearsed when he had said it.

     Brandt was already married, had been for a two summers now. His daughter, a youngling with the name of Eira, was a beauty. She would grow to be the most entrancing, with round onyx eyes from her mother.

     "Why are you not eating?" Aila asked, studying her eldest brother with a worried expression. She was afraid that he had gone back into his stupor. Erling was known for his brooding and loneliness. He always seemed to be off in a daze, not bothering with conversation. He did, however, interact with her. Erling loved his sister more than most people. Loved her fiery spirit and ill temper. He had said just as much so many times.

     Erling shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. He didn't even bother to look up or feign a smile like he normally did. Something must be bothering him.

     Aila set a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I am worried about you," she whispered quietly so no one else would hear. He tilted his head to the side, turning his glazed eyes to hers. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought him ill.

     The corner of his lip tilted slightly as he gave her the slightest smile. Then he reached for his spoon only to ease her worry. He had always attempted to satisfy his little sister, had always tried to put up some sort of front to hide the obvious pain he was in.

     "It is time you left the manor," Aila said. "We shall go for a walk today." He rolled his eyes, turning his head back toward his platter of food, still brooding. "Please," she mustered up the sweetest voice she could and set her lips in a pout.

     "Alright," he mumbled reluctantly. She smiled at her victory which made him chuckle quietly. "Down to the river, and then I expect you to leave me be for the remainder of the day." She nodded quickly and reached for her own silverware.