Geirlaug was jubilant behind her brother's room door. She clapped her hands joyfully while making little jumps. She put her ear on the door to have a better hear of what the two Guillaumes were saying. She still had trouble to believe the count finally decided to marry her. It took him weeks to decide.

On the other side of the room, duke Guillaume was sitting on his chair and count Guillaume stood in front of him. Duke Guillaume was smiling while count Guillaume was nervous.

- Your grace, I made my choice.

- Regarding, Guillaume asked with faked innocence.

- Oh please, don't pretend you didn't understand! I have enough of your sister to torture me!

- Forgive me count, Guillaume laughed. Well, tell me now, what brings you here?

- I came to ask your sister's hand in marriage. I love her deeply and want to spend the rest of my life with her.

- I admit that your marriage would bring a powerful ally to Normannia. This would be an excellent marriage of course. But you can understand I cannot give my sister to the first man who comes to her. I am going to ask you a simple question: Why do you love her?

Guillaume's face fell. Just when he thought everything went according to his wish, an obstacle had to come on his way. The question itself raised anger in him. How dared this man question his love for the fairest lady of Frankia? She who was everything for him. She, who could brighten his days for all his life if her brother consented to let him marry her? He clentched his fists.

- Do I ask you why the sun keeps shining everyday? Do I ask you why the sea is the sea? Why things are how they are? I love her because I do. She is the one who makes me live and breath. She brightens my days better than the sun. I love her, that is as simple as this.

- Well said, Guillaume smiled. That was the good answer to give.

- Then, you grant me her hand in marriage?

- I do. I know my sister wants nothing but to be happy and perhaps you are the best option. You see, she needs to be challenged and I never saw her as joyful and happy as when she is with you. You seems to stimulate her brain which is good regarding her intelligence.

- I want to be worthy of her. I want her to love me.

- Who told you that this isn't the case?

Guillaume smiled mischieviously. If only the count knew his sister's feelings toward him, he would have less restraints. He saw how she looked at him. How her eyes were shining with mischief and love when she looked at the count. How she behaved in his presence. She seemed to have come to realize she was beautiful. She was aware of that before, but now, it was as if she had a full knowledge of that. Never had he seen his sister that blooming. And he knew the count was the reason behind it. He suceeded in his mission to find a spouse for Geirlaug. His mother would be so happy when he'll tell her. Of course, they had to plan the wedding. Geirlaug shall marry here soon-to-be husband in Rouen according to tradition and the groom had to meet their parents so that Rollo could give his consent. He wasn't the kind to be keen on giving his daughter away to strangers.

Count Guillaume was deliriously happy. His heart was beating fast in his chest and all his thoughts focused on his bethrothed. He was going to marry her. He was going to wed the woman of his life. He sighed with joy. He closed his eyes and pictured her long hair, her thick frowned eyebrows when she looked at him, her lips he was eager to claim, her eyes who said so much and yet so few. He pictured her, fighting, flirting, singing and riding. He couldn't wait to take her with him in Aquitaine and ride on the long beaches. They would be so happy together. They would have a lot of children and she would revolutionnize the way he ruled his fiefdom. He already planned how their own castle would look like. He wanted to bring a norman style to the architecture. He wanted her to be painted on every wall of this nest of love. He wanted to sing her songs about her fierceness and beauty by the fireplace and to hear the stories she knew about the northmen. He wanted to marry her already.

Both were drawn out of their thoughts by a loud scream in the hallway. They looked at each other, worried sick and stood up to rush to the door. It was Geirlaug's voice.

So far Geirlaug was excited and happy. She was listening, ear on the door, trying to figure out what the two men said. She heard one word out of three but it didn't prevent her from understanding their conversation. All was right in her world. She was an inch away from falling into the pit. One word away of falling in love with the handsome count. She was closer to possess him than ever. And truthfully, she loved it. She desired him and it took her weeks to realize it. He might not be her type, but he was by far the best man – outside her brother and father – she knew. At this point, she could almost forgive Robert, his friend for his behaviour toward herself. She heard count Guillaume asking for her hand in marriage, her brother asking him why he loved her and then, someone grabbed her arm brutally and pushed her violently against a wall, far from her brother's room's door.

The impact of her back against the stones hurt her so bad she grunted. She felt dizzy, a high sound resounded in her ears, her back ached and she was sure the back of her head bled. It took her a good minute to be able to see clearly again. She raised her head to her agressor and to her surprise – really? - they fell on count Robert.

- Count Robert? But why, she said in a weak voice.

- Shut up you whore!

Now that she could see again, Geirlaug had a clear sight of what Robert looked like. His eyes were burning with hatred and – How was it possible? - lust. Geirlaug was scared. More scared than she had ever been in her life. She was a prey, and him, was the predator. Now she knew to who the nasty stares belonged to. She could have killed the man this instant, but somehow she was unable to grab her knives and fight back. Robert was holding Geirlaug's wrists with all his strenght cutting her blood circulation and making her hands turn white and then, purple. He pushed her once again on the wall. Her head hurt. She was almost losing conscience. The count kept barking at her, insulting her. He used all the most insulting terms she knew of. Whore. Bitch. Heathen. Animal. Cow. Bastard. And some others a lady should never hear from a man.

He ripped off her dress, revealing her breasts. He removed her dress violently. She tried to object but he shut her up with a forced and brutal kiss. Geirlaug felt she was going to vomit. Never had she been so humiliated. She cried. Her face was wet with tears of anger, pain and shame. He kept kissing her on every part of her neck. Each kisses hurt her like a thousand of a berserker's punches. She was about to crumble on her knees but Robert's grip prevented her from doing so. He roammed her breasts with his hands. Geirlaug cried. She begged him to stop. He slapped her to make her shut up. She cried again. He unlaced the part that kept his dick in his pants and turned her down the wall. He was about to rape her. This thought rushed into Geirlaug's brain and she began to panick. She tried to shout for help, but he slapped her again. That was enough. Geirlaug had enough. She concealed for so many years, trying to be nice and ladylike. She had kept all her anger inside herself since the day she arrived in Paris. All of it rushed in her mind like big waves destroying a dam.

Filled with adrenaline, she grabbed one of her knives, turned to face the filthy count, hit him with her head and shouted. The count made a step back and then slapped her with all his strength. On the corner of her eyes, she saw the two Guillaume coming out of the room. She waved her knife as she learned to do during training. She cut his face and the next second, her brother was pinned the vile count to the ground. He began to punch the man with all his strength. Geirlaug stood beside him, half naked, a bloody knife in her hand. Her eyes were red from crying.

- Stop! Guillaume, you'll get in trouble, she shouted.

Guillaume gave her sister an eye and then stopped, frustrated. He rushed to his sister.

- Did he... Did he...

- No. he didn't take my virginity. But my virtue, he took it, she cried.

She covered herself, in shame. She wiped her tears with her sleeve and dirtied her face with blood. She shivered. Just feeling his blood on her face was enough to make her want to vomit. Yet, she concealed once again her feelings.

- I am going to take a bath. But I doubt that it'd clean my body. If you'll excuse me.

She turned away and walked past Guillaume. Her eyes showed nothing but sadness, anger and disappointment. How dared he let his friend do that to her? How dared he trust him now? She felt betrayed by the man she started to love. Now, she had nothing. She was tired. She was tired to fight for nothing. She felt weak. As if nothing she did was ever important. How could she even protect her brother now?

When she was out of sight, count Guillaume walked angrily to his former friend. He took him by his shirt and raised him to his sight.

- HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO MY FUTURE WIFE? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BETRAY ME?

- Future wife? Pfff. She is a whore. She shows her legs like a whore. She is of little virtue. She just had to not show her leg back in the forest!

- Do you think she had a choice? She was hurt! She needed to patch her wounds and she did it all by herself!

- Then, she had to show less skin. Do you see what she is wearing everyday? Doesn't it tempt you?

- It does. But never, NEVER would I have forced me on her. She is to be my wife, and I intend to respect her as such.

- Unfortunately, count Guillaume, I am afraid we must cancel our agreement. I doubt Geirlaug wishes to marry you. And at this point, I cannot really blame her.

Guillaume's face went from pure rage to suffering. It was over, then? He wouldn't get to marry his beloved? He shed a tear. Why did this man he used to call his friend had to be so selfish? Why did he had to ruin everything? His suffering turned into anger. He threw Robert on the floor, shedding more tears than he had ever done in his whole life. His homonym left the corridor, still angry at both men. Count Guillaume left in the opposite direction. He was torn. He hated Robert with all his guts for what he did to Geirlaug and indirectly, to him. But how could he ban Robert from his life, him whom he knew from childhood? He understood why Geirlaug didn't want him anymore. Yet, it made him so sad he felt he wouldn't be able to smile for the rest of his life.

The next day, the king, who heard about the affair, summoned all the nobles of Paris. This was an important matter. His niece had been violated by one of the most important nobles in Frankia. Something that couldn't be ignored.

Guillaume stood in front of his uncle, showing nothing but an angry face. He tied his long and heavy sword on his belt and was holding the pommel with all his strength. He felt like he was going to slay every noble in the room that dared to insult or stare badly at her sister.

Geirlaug was standing among the other lady. Her eyes were still red from crying and she looked in every direction like a fearful deer. She was a wolf, Guillaume thought, she should never look like that. Her outfit was all the more simple. She was wearing a large dress that hid her body shape. Her sleeves were long and the fabric made of black velvet. She arranged her hair in two simple braids. There was no fantasy. She was sallow and it seemed like she had lost everyting that made her charming. She didn't held her head high anymore. It was like she was dead inside.

Guillaume sighed. It pained him to witness his sister in such a state. If their father was there, surely, he would have blood eagled count Robert this instant. But he wasn't there and they were at he court of the king. They had to play by his rules.

Count Guillaume stood on the other side of the room. He kept glancing at Geirlaug and each stare was, for him, painful. His eyes were red, he clentched his fists and looked down with anger. He cried the whole night, thinking of what he had lost in a few minutes: his friend, duke Guillaume's affection and most importantly, the woman of his life. Count Robert could die, he didn't care. All he cared was Geirlaug. He wanted to know how she felt. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew she would never be the same again. He knew she was scarred. She was a warrior that had been defeated, and that feeling, he understood it. He suspected she did not want to be in the company of any man whoever might he be. The only person she looked at in the room was her brother. Guillaume envied their relationship.

The king finally entered and sat on his throne.

- Count Robert, he said sternly. Come and stand before me.

The count complied while Guillaume shot him a death stare.

- My nephew told me that you took his sister's virtue. Is it true?

The count angrily stared at Guillaume.

- I didn't, he stated.

Geirlaug shivered from anger. How dared he lie? She wanted to kill him in front of the court. She did not care about her reputation anymore. It already had been ruined.

- Yet, my nephew says that you tried to take her virginity and slapped her multiple times. Is it true?

- No.

- How dare you lie in the presence of the king, duke Guillaume shouted angrily.

The king raised his hand to stop the two men.

- Lady Geirlaug, come here and tell us what happened, he spoke with a soft voice.

The young lady stepped forward, shivering. She looked at her brother and he answered to a mute question by nodding.

- My brother tells the truth, your highness. If he had not stop him, surely, he... he would have had his way with me. He ripped my dress of and then... and then...

She stopped herself to tell more. She fell in tears. She did not want to live that again. It would destroy her.

- She cut my face, the count pointed at his scar.

- You hurt my sister far more than a simple cut, count, Guillaume shouted.

- Well, well, well. Is there anyone else that can testify of what happened, the king asked.

All remained silent.

- I can, count Guillaume suddenly said.

He stepped forward to the king.

- What lady Geirlaug says is true. I saw count Robert trying to have his way with her.

- Why, count Guillaume. What a fine betrayer you make, Robert spat. Yes. It is true that I tried to have my way with this little whore. But how am I guilty when she shows her legs and lay with the first man to come to her? I saw how she behaves. Like those pagans. Those savages! She is nothing but a tease and a bad christian woman.

Geirlaug clentched her fists. She wanted to cut his head and give it to the pigs. She shot him a stare full of pure anger and hatred.

- This is a delicate matter to judge. I am only a king. My decisions might not be fair. Therfore, we will let God decide of that. Count Robert, duke Guillaume, I decided to settle this by a trial by combat.

Geirlaug raised her head and grinned. She alredy knew the outcome of such a fight. She stared at Robert and all she saw was a dead man.

- You may all leave. The trial will be tomorrow.

All nobles dismissed. Robert looked at duke Guillaume disdainfully. Glance to which he answered by his eyes burning with hatred and bloodthirst. He couldn't wait for his sword to taste his blood. He would have so much pleasure killing the man. He wanted to fight already.

When Geirlaug walked outside the room, she crossed count Guillaume's eyes. He tried to open his mouth, but closed it a second after. He diverted his sight in shame and sadness. His eyes were red, to Geirlaug's surprise. He looked like he cried for the whole night. Yet, she didn't forgive him. He should have known his friend was up to no good. He should have realized his nasty sight on her. He should have let his friend down. But he didn't. His faith in his friend was absolute and it took the lost of her virtue for him to finally realize how bad this man was. She felt betrayed and hurt in her pride. How stupid had she been to trust and love him? She walked past him, torn between the hatred she had toward this man, and the love she felt for him.

She stopped her path behind a pillar when she heard count Arnoul, and count Herbert talking with low voices. She hid and kept listening.

- What a perfect occasion the king have brought us.

- The bastard will be slain all thanks to his sister. We just have to wait.

- Let us just hope that Robert won't be a disappointment. Otherwise, we will have to do the job ourselves.

- Maybe we should give fate a little push?

- What do you suggest?

- Poison. The boy will be unable to fight as good as usual. Then, Robert will kill him.

- What of his sister?

- She won't be a problem. With her brother and father dead, we shall marry her to one of our sons and she'd be kept as a hostage. Do you follow me, on this?

- Always. For the sake of Frankia.

- For the sake of Frankia.

Both men left. Geirlaug was angry. Those men wanted to prevent her brother to avenge her. They wanted to kill her family. She suffered enough. She might be weak, but she was clever. All she had to do is make Guillaume his food herself, and taste everything he ate. There was a chance she could die, but she didn't care anymore. Death could come, she would welcome it with open arms. She wanted revenge, first. And she would do anything in her power to get it. Robert had to die. She wanted to see his blood cover the walls of Paris. She wanted to put his head on a stick. To cut his dick and feed it to the dogs. She wanted him to never reach heaven. She wanted him to rot in hell for all eternity. Tomorrow, if everything went well, Robert would be dead. Tomorrow she would feel the sweet taste of revenge.

You all knew where Robert's attitude was going right? Basically he felt lust for Geirlaug and as a xenophobic cunt, he felt like her consent was not hers to give but his. Basically he doesn't consider normans as human beings. Plus, he is mysoginistic af and considers women as whores. As for trial by combats, I do not know if they were common in the high middle-ages. So if any of you has some informations about that, he is welcome to correct me ^^.
I hope you liked this chapter (or hated it because it has been hard)! Leave a review if you feel like it ;)