Part Two

The second time Eiríkr was brought before the princess in as many weeks, he was thrown onto the ground at her feet. He growled and braced his hands on the floor as he pushed himself upright. He stood straight up, staring at both of the guards who had pushed him down.

"What have you done to him?" the princess screamed. Eiríkr was filthy and battered, a cut above his eye pouring blood down his face.

"He would not listen. He is a slave. This is what happens when you do not listen!" said the guard called Andre who had used the hilt and pommel of his sword on Eiríkr. He looked with disgust on the creature now standing before his princess.

Eiríkr looked back at the guard with an unflinching gaze until the guard looked away.

"Leave us!" shouted Sookie. She was ready to jump on Andre and tear the sword from his scabbard, burying it in his side.

"My lady, he was in a rage outside, surely you don't mean to use him now. Besides, he is filthy. Let me fetch you another."

"He will be taken care of. Jessica! Accompany me to the bath with him. She will clean him. He is not in a rage. Look at him, he is civil."

"But he deserves more punishment! He struck me and kicked Bertram—he will not walk for months at the least! You must let me take him to be beaten! The king does not look kindly on mercy shown to the slaves."

Princess Brigant stepped forward and with a light touch to Andre's forearm, leaned in. "You will go now. The slave has been punished enough. Nothing more is warranted," she whispered in a voice like honey.

Andre sighed. "Yes, my lady. Nothing more is warranted. Thank you, my lady." He smiled and turned around, walking out without another thought for the slave.

The princess and her maid, Jessica, brought Eiríkr to the bath and helped him sit as he waited for the hot water to be brought in to fill the tub.

Once done, he stood up to let the princess untie his meager clothing. Before she let the material fall away from him, she turned to Jessica.

"You may leave him to me, Jessica. Please stand watch outside."

Jessica gave a dutiful nod, a small smile on her lips. "I will keep William away."

Once she was gone, Sookie looked up into the gentle eyes of her Eiríkr. She let him hold the cloth covering him and stepped away. "Go ahead and take it off and then get in. Would you like me to turn around?"

"I am not modest," he said, "but thank you for asking." Such courtesy was a foreign concept to him. He lived among men who knew nothing of modesty or etiquette.

Sookie tried to keep her eyes averted as he climbed into the massive tub but she could not help the glimpse she caught of his backside before he lowered himself into the water. He hissed in pain and pleasure as the hot water bathed his wounds and his bruised skin.

Sookie looked on with worried eyes, guilt and grief in her heart for this man. "What happened, Eiríkr? Why did they do this to you?"

"I would not listen," he said with a tired smile on his lips, settling back against the tub.

"Why? Why not listen and avoid all this pain?" she asked, wetting a cloth to dab his eye. "Hold this here," she instructed as she pressed his hand over a wad of cloth on his eyebrow.

He winced as he held it firmly and she gently wiped the blood from his face.

"This is nothing," he said. "This does not compare to the things I have experienced."

"This is not nothing! Blood is gushing from your wound. Your face is bruised, your body is cut and battered!"

"They would have killed him!" he spat with disgust.

"What? Who would they have killed? Eiríkr?" she asked, when he remained silent.

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Godric. He had need of a small rest and some drink. I took him back to the tents when they told me to keep working. He would have died! They will move him now," he sighed. "They always separate any who form a friendship. He has been moved so many times because he always makes friends." The small smile on his face warmed Sookie's heart. She could see his love for Godric clearly and was happy that something could make him smile. "This is the third time he has been in my camp and I was happy to see him, though he should not have to be there. He is an old man now, much too weak to be working the quarry but still they make him labor in the sun!"

Eiríkr was on the verge of raging once again. He had forgotten about his wound and blood flowed freely again until Sookie gently pressed his hand back in place.

"I am so sorry, Eiríkr. I understand why you did not listen and I find no fault in your actions. We must find a way to help your friend. Has he any talents?"

"You mean to help him?" His despairing eyes turned to her and the small amount of hope in them broke her heart. She ached to help him in some way and assisting his friend seemed a good way to bring some happiness to him.

"I could have him sent to work in the palace but I must find something for him to do…"

"He was a baker before he was captured by your king." More hope rushed to his eyes. Would she really do something like this for him?

"A baker? That's it! I will have him sent to the kitchens!"

Eiríkr's smile lit his face and his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered. "Godric is… he's my only friend. Thank you, Princess."

"You are most welcome. Please call me Sookie."

"No one has ever done something like this for me. You barely know me and you know nothing of Godric, and yet, you would help him?"

"Of course. You are my friend. That is what friends do, is it not?"

"Sometimes I forget that there are good people who would help someone with no gain for themselves."

"Eiríkr, you are that person. You helped your friend and this was the result," she said gesturing to the gash on his head.

He looked down at his lap, refusing to accept any praise for his actions. "I am in his debt," he said softly. "He looked after me when I was young and weak. He tended to my wounds and consoled me when I was frightened at night after…after…" He trailed off, unable to find words to explain the ghosts of his past. "He is like a father to me and I could not let them hurt him!"

"You love him. He is your friend and you helped him. You are a good person."

He looked up at her, his eyes intense. "Princess, you have no idea what kind of a person I am, what kinds of terrible things I have done."

"I can tell you are a good person. You have had to do horrible things, I do not doubt that. But your heart…your heart, Eiríkr, is pure."

"You can't know my heart, my lady. There is evil and hatred in my heart."

"You only hate the people who have hurt you. I see your heart every time I look into your eyes. You are a good and gentle person among depraved and disgusting men."

"The entire world is full of disgusting men. I am no better."

"You are better. I think the world outside this kingdom must be full of good people," she sighed.

Eiríkr gazed at her, at the hope in her eyes which he envied. "I am glad you think that," he said. His life was far too full of ghastly experiences to carry so much hope.

Sookie took a new cloth and a cake of soap, lathering it for him. He held out his hand for it but she brought it to his shoulder instead.

"Princess?" He spoke softly, moving his eyes from her hand on him to her face.

"Let me bathe you," she whispered. She looked into his eyes, letting him see her need to care for him.

"You wish to bathe me?" His eyes burned as they watched hers. He enjoyed the gentle touches the princess bestowed upon him but he was naked and he knew what would happen if she continued to touch him now.

"I wish to bathe you," she affirmed with a shy smile.

"But, Princess," he breathed. He never would have dreamed to be served in such a way by a member of the palace. He longed for her to touch him, to whisper sweet things to him and hold him close, but he could not afford the disappointment of such yearning.

"Call me Sookie…please," she said, pleading for his companionship as equals as well as his permission for her tender care. She waited until he nodded his head slightly, though his eyes were in his lap.

She slowly moved the cloth to his broad back and began to rub it in soft circles around his shoulder blades. She moved around behind him as she let her hands drift slowly down his back, following the cloth with her gentle fingers.

He sighed and let his head drop forward as her cloth traveled back up his spine and then to his neck. She pressed her fingers into his tired muscles, massaging the tension from his frame. Eric reveled in this touch; this touch was so different. This touch was wanted. Being cared for like this felt so distant from his experiences of late, but if he concentrated, he could just catch the fleeting memory of a far-off time when someone had loved him in this way.

Sookie placed her hand under his chin and tipped his head back, pouring hot water over his hair and down his neck and back. When she lathered his hair and slid her fingers into it to massage his scalp, Eiríkr moaned softly. Sookie breathed out a small laugh but was immediately sorry when his cheeks flamed red in shame.

"I am sorry, Eiríkr. It feels good, I know. It is good that you enjoy it." She traced her thumb over his flushed cheek, her hand cupping his face and bringing his eyes up to meet hers. "Enjoy it…please." This was all she could do for him, this was her only way to better his life for now and she wanted him to take pleasure in her offering.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Sookie continued to wash his hair and Eiríkr remained mostly silent, an occasional deep breath or quiet moan escaping his parted lips.

After she rinsed his hair, she brought out her brush and gently brushed it, liking the way he sighed when she ran the brush through his thick blonde mane. She brushed until his hair was soft and shiny and then she braided it into a single plait down his back.

He reached up to touch the braid, smiling in delight like a little boy. "It is like my father's," he said. "Thank you. I do not deserve such kindness from someone such as yourself."

"Nonsense. You deserve this and much more. There is so much I wish I could do for you."

"Why have you sent for me again? Is our plan not set? Are there changes?"

Sookie put her finger to her lips and looked toward the door. "We will talk of that later," she whispered. "I just…missed you."

"You missed me?" he asked. "Surely your life is full of more pleasant things than spending time with a slave—"

"No!" she said fervently. "Do not call yourself that!"

Eiríkr smiled at her— a small, tired smile. "It is what I am. Denying it will not alter that fact."

"Maybe Eiríkr, but you are not only that!" Sookie's words were impassioned but he was not moved by her sentiment. He had learned long ago that so much hope was a dangerous thing.

"Maybe," he conceded. "But that is what I am right now."

"No, right now you are my friend."

Eiríkr smiled at Sookie, genuinely this time and it made his eyes crinkle with happiness. Then as suddenly as the feeling overtook his face, it was gone, replaced by the melancholic expression he always seemed to wear. "I had many friends once," he murmured.

Sookie remembered a time when she had friends as well. "When I was young, Mother and Father let other children into the palace to play with me."

Eiríkr looked at her with kindness in his eyes. "I have heard about them—their goodness. It was a terrible accident that befell them. I am sorry, my lady."

Sookie hung her head, lost for a moment in her grief. "Yes, well it was long ago," she said with fake cheer. She looked up and into his eyes when she felt his hand on hers. His eyes were so gentle and compassionate. She smiled and tried to clear her head of this sadness. She meant to make Eiríkr feel better now, not need consoling herself.

"And your days have not been happy since then?" he asked.

"My grandfather turned my care and keeping over to his trusted courtesan, Lorena. Lorena is many things but a caring nurturer, she is not. William is her son, so you can imagine what type of person she is. Their relationship is not entirely chaste, as it should be. They are depraved and I believe my grandfather wished me to become like her, unflinching in her deliverance of suffering for her own gains. But I could not forget the lessons of my gentle father. Lorena made my life, that was once full of fun and love, a dreary and lonely existence. I was no longer allowed to have friends, I was taught only what my grandfather sanctioned. I crave knowledge of the world, something my father nurtured in me. He used to tell me that…" She looked at Eiríkr, suddenly ashamed, realizing that her troubles were trivial compared to his.

"He used to tell you what, Sookie?" he softly asked. His eyes were sincere. He was enjoying listening to her speak, hearing her heart brought out through her words.

"No, it is nothing. Here I am blathering on, thinking you would wish to hear me complain of such unimportant things while you bleed from a head wound. I am a silly girl is all."

Eiríkr squeezed her hand that still lay under his own. "I wish to hear you speak of whatever is in your heart. Our lives are not the same but we both know hardship. Please, continue if you so wish."

"Thank you," she whispered. "You need not be so kind."

"I am not kind. I do not often have the time and energy for conversation, nor do I usually have the companion to share stories with. I want to hear your voice, Princess, if you would like to speak."

Did he really believe he was not kind? Or good or friendly? "Eiríkr, why do you not think yourself a kind and good person? You do the things a kind and good person does."

He was quiet for a moment. Weighing her words and his response. "There is darkness in my heart. If I were able to do everything in my heart, fulfill every dark wish of my soul, you would see me for the monster that I am."

"And you think there is no evil in my heart? That I do not despise my grandfather and wish death upon the sycophants who serve him with no mind of their own? We are the same."

He looked hard at her, his eyes piercing hers. "We are not the same!"

"No, no of course not," she murmured, dropping her hands away from him and standing up.

Eiríkr was, at once, ashamed of his harsh words. He reached a hand to her but she turned from him. He stood, the water had gone cold long ago but he liked her company too much to say so.

"Princess," he said. "Sookie…forgive me. I did not intend for that to sound so harsh." She turned around and looked at him and he felt his heart lurch in his chest as he noticed the tears in her eyes. He forgot his nakedness and was in front of her instantly. This feeling in his chest, this gnawing sickness in his belly was an unwelcome new sentiment. That he was the cause of her grief, he could not stand it. "Sookie…please," he whispered, placing a hand lightly under her chin. "Forgive me. I only meant that you are good and I am not. You have wished death upon men but I have carried out my wicked thoughts. I have killed, Princess. More than once." He stepped back from her then, fully expecting to see fear and disgust in her eyes as she looked upon him. What he saw instead was compassion.

When his brow furrowed and his eyes questioned hers, she knew he did not understand her loving and gentle look. A tear escaped down her face and he watched it fall, his face falling as well. He did not understand, he was not used to being treated with the gracious affection which Sookie felt for him. "I forgive you. Do not think yourself a monster for killing vile men such as the ones who guard you. Should I question you, I have no doubt that each killing would be fully justified." Sookie let her eyes fall down his wet and naked body and she felt her face heat at the sight.

Eiríkr looked down as well, the fever in her gaze casting fire upon his body. He swallowed as she stepped up to him with a long strip of linen. She held it up, winding it around his waist and every time her hands brushed his skin even the slightest amount, his body burned even brighter.

Sookie looked up at him when he was covered, at the glow of desire in his deep blue eyes, and slid her hands slowly up his glistening stomach, over his heaving chest and right up to his long corded neck. She took his head in her hands and pulled him down slightly.

His body responded, firming and tightening as her hands slipped over his skin. Eiríkr inhaled the sweet scent of her, felt her breath fan over his face but she was only inspecting the wound above his eyebrow. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from touching her. It was not his place, it was not proper to have such desires for the princess. She only meant to care for his wounds, not incite his passion. He held his body still, prayed to gods long forgotten for strength and chaste thoughts. Finally, finally she let him go and backed away from his trembling body.

"You are cold," she said, walking to fetch him some pants and a tunic. "Please, dry yourself well and take these clothes to wear."

He smiled and accepted the clothing, though his body shook for different reasons. "Thank you, my lady. You are too kind."

Sookie sighed as the formality returned to his countenance. Would he ever see them as equals? Would he ever accept her affections as merited by him?

She led him back to her bedchamber and over to the fire so he could warm himself. They sat together in silence, each trying desperately to think of a topic of conversation.

"Your head looks better. The bleeding has stopped. Would you allow me to put some salve on it? And on your ribs and back?" He had small cuts all over and a large bruise on his ribs.

"I will be fine, Princess. You need not bother—"

"I want to…please, Eiríkr."

He looked into her eyes and saw the truth in her words. He did not wish to disappoint her when she wanted to be of help to him. He would let her help him even thought her touch was sure to drive him mad. "Yes, very well, thank you."

Sookie went to fetch the salve and came to stand in front of Eiríkr where he sat in a low chair by the fire. She removed her dress while he watched, her breath quickening from the raw hunger on his face. She still wore her under tunic, she was still decent, she was just more comfortable. She bent and placed her hands on the edge of his tunic, lifting it and skimming her fingers along his torso as she took it off. His stomach tightened as he fought the moan in his throat.

Tilting his head back, she dipped a finger into the small cup of ointment and gently patted it on the cut above his brow. She was close enough to his face to feel the light touch of his breath on her cheek and even that slight sensation sent tingling pleasure flooding down her body. She smelled the clean scent of soap, the spice of herbs, and the musk of man and was nearly breathless with need for him.

She knelt on the hearth rug and dabbed the cuts on his torso with the salve. "How did all these small cuts happen?" she asked.

"The ground in the quarry is covered in sharp shards of rock," he said quietly. He did not like to talk of his pain and suffering. He knew that talking about it did nothing to help it so he would rather remain quiet and just endure.

"I am sorry," she whispered, walking around to the back of him. She put her hand on his shoulder, silently asking him to bend his back so she could better reach his battered skin. "And this bruise that wraps around your ribs?" She drew just her fingertips over the ugly bruise now forming along his side.

"My guard's boot." He shuddered from her light touch, goosebumps rising to the surface of his skin.

"I can make you feel better, let you think of something else for a little while," she whispered, her hand slipping down his chest and abdomen from behind.

He looked back at her and when her hand came to rest just under his belly button, he understood. "No, my lady," he said, putting his hand over hers and moving both of them off of his body. "I will not take advantage of your pity." This was wrong, this was not how it was supposed to be—a princess in the service of a slave.

"No," she said softly. She came around to the front of him, looking into his beautiful eyes and cupping his cheek in her hand. "You misunderstand. I do not pity you. I desire you, my gentle warrior. I wish to make you feel good. Has no one ever done something just for you?"

"Long ago, in a different life." He looked at the woman on her knees in front of him, at the warmth in her smile and the passion in her eyes. He could not resist her.

"Let me, please Eiríkr," she whispered, placing her hand on his stomach. When he did not stop her, she reached down and untied his linen pants. She lowered them slightly and moved her hand down until she grasped him firmly. She watched his face, saw his mouth fall open, his eyes roll back. She saw the flush of his cheeks, heard the slow hiss of his breath as she squeezed and stroked him. His head dropped slowly back as if the heaviness of feeling in his eyes was too much to bear.

He let his body relax as his head fell against the chair back. He had never felt something as good as this. He wanted to close his eyes and let the sensations take him from this place but he needed to look into her eyes more.

Sookie watched as he struggled to keep his eyes open, watched the muscles of his stomach rise and fall with his deep breaths. She felt a stirring in her own stomach at the reaction of his body to her attentions. When she heard his soft whimpering, his whining moans, she knew he was close. She brought her eyes back to his face, his furrowing brow, his parted deep red lips, flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

Suddenly his body convulsed. His tightening stomach brought his head forward as his body curled inward and a sobbing moan tore from his throat. His hands gripped the edge of the chair tightly as his body fell against it, his back arched, his hips rocking. His stomach rippled with his movements as love for him sent a matching pulse of heat rippling through her body.

It was the best thing Eiríkr had ever felt. It was more than he could have imagined. More pleasure than he knew was even possible. It had never been like that before- not even close. Instead of the desperation to hold himself back, he had felt only the surrender to pure bliss. The sensation tore throughout his body, dissolving his control. He had never never expected it could feel so good. What a difference when the touch conferred was also chosen.

He felt soft material being wiped against his belly, heard the pop and hiss of a log on the fire as warm light danced before his closed eyes. Deep satisfaction curled throughout his insides. An unfamiliar feeling bloomed in his chest and it sent a surge of joy through him that was unparalleled in his memory. It was quite possibly the best moment of his life so far.

Eiríkr opened his eyes as his breathing slowed and looked deeply into Sookie's blue eyes. Her smile was shy, her cheeks pink. He brought his hand up to her face, his fingers tracing the blush he found so endearing. "Thank you, Princess. That was…it was as I had never imagined. I am beyond words to tell you—"

She cut off his words with a kiss. Bold lips caressed his tender mouth, then parted, inviting his tongue to find hers. She moaned at his taste, his scent overwhelming her restraint. She clasped her hands around his neck and leaned in, desperate for more of him. Their heads tilted, their mouths locked together, both of them moaning, both clutching at the other with desperation and wild yearning. Knowing that there was not enough time, never enough time to do the things that made their hearts soar. She pulled back. "Eiríkr," she panted, "you must call me Sookie."

A smile broke across his face, so beautiful and carefree, so boyish and rakish at the same time. "Thank you, Sookie," he breathed, bending back down to her lips.

She stood, though, and took his hand in hers, walking them to her bed. While she moved onto it, he hesitated. "Come lie down with me," she invited.

He crawled to her and lay down on top of her, his hands coming to rest on her face as he dipped his head to kiss her again.

"Oof," she breathed when she felt the weight of him. She smiled at his eagerness but pushed lightly against his chest. "Let us wait," she said gently.

Eiríkr immediately moved from her, rolling to his back and scooting away from her on the bed. His face flamed with shame as he sat himself up and began to stand. "I am sorry, Princess," he said. "I did not mean to…I would never—"

She was dismayed that he was back to calling her Princess. How easily comfort slipped from his demeanor. "I know, Eiríkr. I know. Come lie beside me. I only wished to talk for a little while. I wish to know your heart before I know your body."

He turned to her. "But you wish to know my body as I wish to know yours?"

"Yes."

His smile was back. The one that made him appear innocent and shameless all at once.

"But first, can we talk? Will you tell me of yourself?"

"Of course, Sookie. Ask me anything you wish to know."

She smiled as he came back to lie next to her. She took his hand and kissed his scarred knuckles. He had seen many fights in his time spent with rough men. "How many women have had the pleasure of you between their thighs?"

He was silent. Shocked at the question. He had thought she would ask of his homeland, his youth, or his daily life—not this.

"That many?" Sookie thought he would laugh. She only meant to put him at ease with a silly and easy question. She figured there were many who had been given the pleasure of his body. There must have been many before he was brought to this place. He was too beautiful to have been ignored.

"No," came his quiet reply. "There have been none."

"None? So you have never…?"

"I have never had a woman."

Her brow furrowed and then understanding dawned on her. "Men, then." It did not bother her. She knew some men preferred the company of other men. Since he desired her, perhaps he liked both.

"Men," he agreed. "But it was not my will," he said, his eyes cast down.

His words cut like a sword through her belly. She had often thought on the hardships her grandfather's slaves had to endure, thought of the cruel punishments they were given, but she had never fathomed that something like this could be happening in the camps.

"Oh, Eiríkr, I am sorry." Sookie moved her hands to soothe him, her heart aching in her chest, but he pulled away.

"I do not need pity," he said softly. "I am still a man. I was taken as a boy from the shore of my homeland and thrown aboard a stinking ship full of men. I was too weak to defend myself and I did not understand the language spoken by the crew. I came to understand one word before any other—beautiful." The word was spit with venom as if its very feel in his mouth made Eiríkr sick. "It was spoken as I was tossed into cabin after cabin, as I was presented to one vile man after another. Once I became big enough, no one dared touch me. The last of your king's men who tried to force himself on me, ended up with a broken nose and his bowels decorating my tent floor." He was rubbing unconsciously over the deep scars crisscrossing his upper arms.

Sookie ached for his suffering at the hands of such brutal and repugnant men. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at him.

"Do not cry for me, Sookie. It has been many years," he said softly, wiping her tears with his fingers.

"They did this to you?" she asked, reaching out to run a fingertip down from his shoulder to his elbow where a particularly large scar was visible.

"Yes."

"I will kill him!" Sookie sobbed, seething in anger toward her grandfather. "How could he let this happen? It is one thing to keep slaves to work for you, even that is inexcusable, but to let children be abused at the hands of his men…how could he?"

"It is not always the king's men. Your grandfather has organized the camps so that men from the same area are not together in large numbers. This means that no one is loyal to anyone else and many problems are created. Of course, it is designed to make a unified attack unlikely. It also leaves many children vulnerable to their own camps. It does not happen any longer in my camp, however. I have put an end to it. I awoke to the whimpers of a boy one night and killed the man who held him down. I left him as a warning. I was beaten severely but none dares to perpetrate such heinous acts in my camp now." He smiled. "I have a reputation."

Sookie smiled back at him, at the pride and strength on his face. She wiped her eyes—she could be brave like him. "You do. I was told not to choose you because of it. You cannot be broken, they say."

He jutted his chin out. "I cannot. Through anything, I remain still and silent. To let them hear me cry out would mean that they truly owned me. I belong to no one but myself!"

"I am glad to hear it." She smiled at his bravery and resolve. She felt he was a kindred spirit, perhaps the mate of her soul as her mother had thought of her beloved father. Sookie missed her dear parents. They were long gone but always near to her heart. Her grandfather and Lorena were poor substitutes in comparison.

He smiled back at her, at the fire in her eyes, and felt himself stirring in her gaze.

"And so before that," she gestured toward the fireplace, "you had not been brought to completion by another's hand?"

He dropped his eyes and again she heard his words, "Not of my will."

Sookie was silent as she looked into his shame-filled face. He took a deep breath and continued.

"Sometimes, there would be a man who wanted to fool himself into believing the act he committed was not foul…so he would seek to bring me pleasure as he was taking his own. My body…is sometimes beyond my control—my reactions. I have spilled seed with other men but never willingly. Any peak I was given was not sought by me. If I could have stopped my body…"

"But you couldn't. That's not your fault."

He looked at her and gave her a small grateful smile. "It was long ago, when I had the soft body of the young. But I have grown strong toiling in your grandfather's camp and I will use that strength to attack and free his slaves to go home."

Silence hung between them and in that quiet moment Sookie felt her heart explode with love for this man who had endured so much and yet still remained so honorable.

"How old are you?" Sookie asked. He looked young except for his eyes—his eyes had seen far too much wickedness and tragedy.

"I think I am 23 years old. I was taken from my village when I had completed 13 winters and though the seasons are vastly different down here, I believe I have counted correctly."

"Twenty-three. You have been here nearly half your life. That is why you speak my language so well. I know you will be so happy to go home."

"I will wade into the ocean in all my clothes and kiss the sand when I see my home." He turned to focus on Sookie. "And you, Sookie? How old are you?"

"I am 20 next month. Grandfather wants me to be married. He says I am already too old to be unwed. But the men he picks would never suit me. He picks them for political reasons and they are the worst kind of men. They call you a savage but they are the monsters. They throw their strength around, showing off their brutality with disgusting ease. They think they can buy my love with trinkets! I will never marry such a man!"

Eiríkr clasped her hand, the sudden urge to beg her to come with him overwhelming his sense of propriety. He opened his mouth to ask anyway when the door to her chamber was thrown open.

Sookie immediately jumped up as she saw Jessica rush in.

"My lady! The king is coming. He is on his way in here right now! He must leave!" she pointed to Eiríkr, who hastily stood, tying up his pants. "The king is very unhappy!"

"Take him out the other doorway, Jessica," she said, swiftly donning her dress and lacing the bodice. "I am sorry, Eiríkr. I will send for you again. You must go quickly." She kissed him briefly on the lips and pushed him toward the door she wanted him to use.

"Will you be alright? Will he hurt you? I will not leave you to be hurt!"

"No, my love, no. He will not hurt me. Go now, please." Sookie had known he would find out what happened with Andre but she did not expect his ire would be brought upon her so fast. With one more brief kiss, Eiríkr departed, leaving the princess to pace to her desk and sit with a book just before the king burst in.

It wasn't until Eiríkr was halfway back to his camp and Sookie was bowing before her much hated grandfather, that either of them realized what she had called him. Secret smiles lit both of their faces, quickening their hearts and easing the thought of so much time until they could be together again.