Chapter 4:
"Has she come down yet?" Rowen asked as he cut into a thick slice of meat.
It's been a day and a half now since their daughter Erica had learned of her upcoming betrothal to one of the Prince's of Asgard. Ever since she had been given the knowledge, Erica had retreated into the confinements of her bed chamber .
Astrid set her water goblet down harder then what was deemed proper on the dining table. "Of course she hasn't...she takes her meals in her room, she won't even speak to me...I mean damn it, Rowen, I knew this would happen."
The bulky man swallowed a bite of food, "She can't stay up in her room forever, love." Rowen pointed out as he continued eating his lunch.
"She very well could try...and you know that!" Astrid returned as she got up from the table and hurried down to her husband's side as he took a large swig of his mead.
" She feels rather betrayed by us, dear." said his wife as she placed a hand upon his broad shoulder.
Rowen almost inhaled his beverage at that piece of information, "Betrayed?" he repeated as he coughed into his fist, "Why would she feel that? This arrangement has been in the making since she was knee high."
"Exactly...and we didn't tell her about it till days before."
Rowen scooted his chair back from the table to allow room for his wife to come and have a comforting seat in his lap, "It's an arranged marriage to a Prince of Asgard...most girls her age would be thrilled to have such a match." he pointed out as his arms came about her waist.
Astrid sighed before she leaned a weary head down upon Rowen's shoulder, "She's not like most girls...and neither is she one herself anymore, Rowen...she's a woman. Wise at that, kindhearted and independent too if not just a little bit headstrong."
Snorting softly, Rowen hugged his wife, " She gets that from you.." he grumbled teasingly as he placed a fond kiss upon her brow.
"Oh, you're just as bad when you want to be." Astrid returned as her arms wound themselves around her husband's neck.
"Rowen..." she sighed, after a moment of silence, "...she's our daughter...our only one." Astrid reminded him gently as she turned her head up to look him in the eye, "...we can't send her off like this...hating us."
Rowen's features fell as if the truth behind her words stung him, "No..." he agreed, "...we can't let that happen."
Astrid pressed on, "You need to talk to her."
"What?!" That's not something a father likes to hear.
Using her elbow, she lightly nudged him in the stomach, "The arrangement was your idea."
"But you're her mother." he returned quickly.
"She needs to hear this from you..." Astrid enforced, "...her father."
Beaten down, Rowen's head dropped back as he let out a groan, "Argh...fine..." he grumbled as he brought a hand up to rub his eyes, "...I'll go up and speak with her."
If only he knew just what to say...
When heavy rapping outside her chamber door reached her ears, Erica pretended not to hear it by sticking her nose farther into her book.
The handle turned, and the door opened a moment later as a large head, covered with faded blonde hair, peaked in.
"Erica..."
It was her father.
Keeping her eyes glued on the pages before her, Erica remained unmoving and silent as she sat in her favorite chair before the fire place.
"I uh..." Her father mumbled as he opened the door wider and finally stepped inside, "...brought you a little something."
Watching her side profile, Rowen noted his daughter's reddish eyebrow that rose into a high arch at his words even though she kept her attention on the book in front of her eyes.
Bringing out the gift he had concealed behind him, Rowen held the silver plate in front of him with one hand while his other plucked something right off of it, "See?" he went on, "...Strawberries."
Erica raised her eyes to look over the top of the book she held with both hands, casting what she meant to be a look of complete resentment.
Rowen's eyes narrowed good naturedly at his daughter's reaction as he popped one of the delicious berries into his mouth and chewed it slowly, "Don't you give me that look..." he spoke in an all too familiar fatherly voice that reminded his daughter so much of her childhood; Erica's copper head quickly ducked behind her book once again, "...You know these are your favorite."
Rowen approached Erica in just a few long strides.
Taking a knee next to her, he offered her the plate even though she still refused to look at him.
Making his next move, Rowen leaned over to her ear and whispered, "Would it make you feel any better if I told you I went out and picked these myself?"
The idea that her father, being the very proud, tall and muscular man that he is, went out to pick berries on his own accord, was laughable. But unfortunately for Erica, she wasn't in a merry mood.
Shaking her head, Erica fiercely flipped a page of her book, "I know what you're trying to do... and it's not working." she murmured. "Bribes aren't going to take the place of what has been done."
Rowen sighed as he reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head, "I'm not here to bribe you, sweetheart." her father promised, "I'm here to talk, Erica... I'm here to make amends."
Drawing in a deep breath to steady her, Erica lowered the book away from her face and snapped it shut. "Oh?" The young woman rose from her seat, "... I was under the impression that everything has already been 'talked' out ...and it's been that way for a long time."
"Yes..." Rowen agreed with a solemn nod of his fading blonde head, "Yes it has and I realize now, that it was in no way fair to you, to have kept this from you for so long..." he went on, "...but your mother wanted to wait till you were older before telling you. She didn't want you as a child to be burdened with the idea of an arranged marriage."
Erica shifted on her feet and clutched her book to her chest, "Whether I was a child or not, father..." she returned fixing the man with a pained look, "How can you just...give me away like this?" Erica demanded,
"Oh, Erica..." Rowen quickly crossed the floor to his daughter where he then reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace. "As your father...it is my duty and responsibility to look after your well-being ..and as a Vanir, it is my obligation to ensure the safekeeping of our people. " he explained, "...Do you not see how this arrangement will be good for both Realms?"
Stiffly, almost hesitantly she returned the hug, "I understand it from the perception of politics..." she confessed with a sigh, "...But what if it's not good for me?" Her voice has softened.
"Odin is an honorable man; He won't allow you to be mistreated while in his hall. You have nothing to fear."
"Except that I'm going to one of his sons..."
" Prince Thor or Prince Loki; the Gods of Thunder and Mischief, yes...but you've met them both before."
Erica gave a soft snort as she stepped away from her father and left the security of his embrace, "I met them once, Father...when I was ten!"
"And didn't you like them?" he asked.
"I don't know." she declared while bringing a single hand up to run it back through her long, copper colored curls that were hanging down her back, "...one made me spill a bottle of ink down my dress, and then they both got the idea in their heads to endlessly chase me around as if I was an animal they were trying to hunt."
Rowen chuckled at the memory before shrugging, "Boys will be boys." he stated, speaking on their behalf.
The young woman's eyes narrowed gently before her arms crossed themselves defensively on her chest, "Yes well...I wasn't exactly impressed, Father." Erica insisted.
"Things will be different though..."
Erica fixed her father with concentrated look as both hands lowered to come to rest upon her hips, "How do you know?" she inquired, "They may not want to have anything to do with me."
Rowen rolled his grey eyes, "And I don't believe that for a second." he replied as he shook his faded blonde head, "Erica...you've grown into a wise and spirited Goddess, who I understand has developed the gift of foresight." Rowen smiled warmly, "...just like your mother...sometimes I forget just how much you mirror her."
Erica's eyes swept low at the compliment, traces of a tiny smile could be seen pulling on her mouth, "I suppose I do share some of her favorable qualities..."
"Of course you do." Rowen reached a hand out and laid it upon his daughter's shoulder, "...that's why I know you can do this. Vanaheimr and Asgard are looking to you now to help enhance the alliance of peace we have between us."
The smile left her face as a sporadic fluttering of new-found nerves took off in the pit of her stomach, leaving Erica's throat feeling very dry.
"There's a lot that falls on my head then..." she stated; swallowing quietly while meeting his grey eyes, she reached up to her shoulder and covered her father's warm hand with her own.
"I know..." Rowen answered, "...which is why I must ask you, Erica...will you accept the arrangement, my daughter?"
Her downcast eyes swept low in deep thought, a frown pulling excessively at her lips while she mulled the question over in her head for a few moments. " I'm not fond of the idea..." she finally answered with complete honesty, "I don't think I ever will be."
Who would? A betrothal to some stranger Prince? No matter how she looked at it, it held very little to almost no appeal.
Sighing, she carried on, "...but...who am I to argue with you, father?" the young woman concluded as her head bowed with obedience. "...I'll start packing, shall I?"
When the first day of summer finally dawned the next day, Erica found herself lying in bed, completely wide awake.
Her gowns, her slippers and small collection of jewelry wrapped in soft cloths had all been packed away into two small trunks the night before; her entire life had quickly been condensed into a couple of bulky boxes that now stood propped up over by her chamber door.
It was a haunting site for her stare at and it caused a heavy pain to settle around her heart.
In but the span of a few days, her life had seemed to change completely. Though she could come to terms with her father's wisdom as to why she must play her part in this arrangement, a part of her still felt as though she had become a pawn to be manipulated at the whim of others.
The freedom and control she thought she once had over herself were now just lovely illusions, it seemed.
Throwing the warm blankets off her body, Erica slowly sat up in bed; turning to the left, she let her legs hang off the side for a moment before she willed herself to rise to her feet.
"The ensuring hours until mid-morning will fly by, without a doubt." she thought numbly to herself as her hands came up and began undoing her tight braid of fiery red-gold hair.
When they do, Erica would have to leave her beloved home, her parents - her realm all behind.
With the braid unwound, the young woman shook her head freely as she ran her fingers through the silken mass of copper curls that were uniquely her own. They tumbled down the curve of her back, bouncing softly before they came to a rest right above a rounded bottom.
Moving away from bed, Erica crossed the floor of her chamber and headed over to where a small round table stood erect next to the fireplace. On the table was a ceramic pitcher filled with water along with an empty glass basin and hand linen lying right next to it.
After she had poured the pitcher's contents into the bowl, the young woman scooped a couple handfuls up in her palms and splashed the water on her face.
The icy chill instantly awakened the senses and left her feeling somewhat refreshed. As the water droplets ran down her fair cheeks and off her chin, Erica, now slightly bent over the basin, reached out for the small hand towel that sat in the corner of the table.
Grabbing the soft cotton material with both hands, Erica buried her face in it; drying herself off before setting the towel back down on the table.
"Let's see..." Erica ran through a quick mental list. Her belongings were packed, her face washed...her hair still needed some work but excluding that, "That leaves me with really only one thing remaining..."
Looking towards her favorite reading chair just a few feet away, the young woman eyed the simple gown of sapphire velvet that was draped across the arms, awaiting for her to don.
"Might as well not waste any time." she murmured out loud to herself. With the morning growing brighter by the minute, she didn't have much time to spare.
Reaching up, Erica tugged one arm free from her sleeveless nightdress, and then the other. The flimsy material slid down past her breasts, down over her hips till it pooled about her feet in a quiet whisper of silk.
The woman took care as she stepped out of her nightwear, her naked skin instantly responding to the cool air of the chamber to which caused a shiver to run down her spine.
Clenching her teeth to prevent them from chattering, Erica reached for the rich blue gown and picked it up at the shoulders to admire it for a moment. It was a plain gown by design and fabric; had a fitted square-cut bodice, long sleeves that flowed out at the elbows and a sweeping floor length skirt.
It was simple yet elegant.
"Not to mention comfortable..."Erica turned the gown around in her hands; the laces at the back were already undone. After taking a minute or so to get her arms up through the bottom of the skirt, she slid the velvet material over her head; her arms found their way into the long sleeves first before she let the rest of the gown fall into its proper place on her body.
Once she had checked that the square cut neckline had been modestly centered on her person and her long hair was out of the way, Erica proceeded to reach behind her where she started on the laces.
She was never one for doing her gowns up too tight; it didn't seem necessary to have to cinch her waist in so much that breathing was either hard or uncomfortable. So she always did it just tight enough that the bodice fitted in the places that it should.
As she finished, Erica made her way back over to the other side of the room where she located a silver comb and a handful of pins on the nightstand beside her bed.
Moving around till she could take a seat at the foot, the young woman started pondering her final task: fixing her hair.
"It must be something stylish..."
Or at least it should be. Personally, she preferred leaving her hair down, but having her flaming copper curls bouncing about freely wouldn't be a very suitable look for the grand hall of Odin the All-Father, she imagined.
When an idea finally came to her, Erica picked up her comb and got work.
"I have something I need you four to do for me..." Odin addressed as his eye went down the line of the loyal Asgardians kneeling before his throne.
"Whatever it is, it will be done, my King." Spoke a dark haired woman clad in female armor; her three companions nodded their heads in a silent agreement.
"We are expecting an important guest today...from Vanaheimr." Odin explained, "She should be crossing into our Realm by sundown. She's never journeyed here before...so I'd like the four of you to ride out escort her from the Bifrost back to my hall."
The Lady and the Three Warriors shared a quick glance with one another; their eyes already agreeing to the task as a whole.
"Leave it to us, sire." voiced a large bewared man.
"On our lives, she will make it to your hall before the sky goes dark." assured another man with black hair and dark eyes.
Satisfied, Odin nodded his graying head, "Very good..." he stated, "Now all of you may go."
At the dismissal, the four warriors bowed their heads respectfully before rising to their feet.
"My King..." spoke the woman once more. She turned away first and led the way out of the throne room; her three comrades following closely behind.
An hour later, Erica slid the final pin in, securing the plaited crown of hair about her head while keeping the rest of her curls gathered up in a neat braided knot at the back of her neck.
Her hair took longer to finish than she had originally anticipated, but she wanted to make sure that whatever she did would remain so throughout her upcoming travels.
Rising from her seat at the foot of her bed, Erica took a moment to smooth out the velvet creases in her skirt. Then, when she felt all was in order, as it could possibly be, the young woman moved for the closed door of her chamber.
She stopped only once, in a brief moment of hesitation when her hand closed around the door's handle.
This was it - the very last time she would ever be in this room, her room.
The truth weighed heavy on her heart. But now was not the time to let her emotions get the better of her; she still hadn't even said her goodbyes to her parents yet let alone actually leave the manor. There was just no room for tears.
Drawing in a deep, composing breath of air, the young woman gave the handle a swift turn, pulled the wooden door wide open. Without sparing a glance behind, Erica hurriedly swept from the room.