A gag was stuffed into the Berserker's mouth and a cloth was tied over her face to keep it there. Still a little dizzy, Dagure tried to kick the attackers. She was unsure if she could trust her vision, but it seemed like there were five of them. The one who had spoken to her picked her up by the waist and put her over his shoulder.
"Should we do it here?" one of the men asked.
"No," he answered. "This is too dignified. We will go to the forest."
Quickly, the group exited the hut and started to head into the wooded area. As they did, Dagure felt her heartbeat speeding up. Her breaths were quick and she kept kicking and yelling. She also was working on the ropes which restrained her. The Vikings reached a secluded area of the forest and Dagure was unceremoniously set down on the ground. She glared up at the group, still secretly weakening the ropes. The brother went over to her to get rid of the gag and cloth. He held her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Yelling out, he quickly pulled back his hand when she turned and bit him. It had drawn blood. Dagure gave a deranged smile that enraged the Defender. He glared at the Viking and tried to punch her in the stomach. The Berserker dodged, laughing.
"Ooh, angry, are we?"
The Viking lunged at Dagure, but she moved in time. Tugging, she was able to move her wrists apart from one another as the ropes fell to the ground. She took out her blades, getting into a fighting stance. Still, there was a hesitation in her.
"These are Mal's people," she thought, discouraged. "There are too many to just break their hands like I did with the one. I'd have to go for the kill. I can't do that. He'd never forgive me and the others would all hate me too."
The Vikings could tell that she was unsure.
"She's scared," one said, mocking.
The group's leader paused before shaking his head. "She knows she cannot kill us," he stated arrogantly.
"That doesn't mean I won't break every bone in your bodies," the girl growled back.
One leapt at Dagure and she lodged her blade in his side, causing him to grunt in pain. Realizing their mistake, the group attacked simultaneously. They came at every side of the Berserker. She dodged a punch but could not move from another without also being in the way of a kick. The blow knocked her over to one of the Defenders. He caught her by the arms and sniffed her hair. Snarling in disgust, she brought the heel of her boot down on the roof of his foot. This made him let go as the others continued to fight. Not amused by their attempts, the brother lifted something to his mouth. Dagure could not see what it was in the midst of the fighting, but she heard the sound of something flying through the air. She ducked to avoid a dart, then avoided another, but she could not prevent from being hit by the third dart without being hit in the head by another club. Dagure pulled it out of her neck, tossing it at one of the Vikings. The substance made her feel sluggish. She could not move fast enough to block a punch that got her in the chin, making everything go black.
In the village, Mal had just reached his hut when he stopped. He had never been disappointed to say goodnight to someone before in his life. There was no reason to feel that way. They would see one another in the morning. Was it truly so horrible to be separated for a few hours?
"Perhaps, it would be a comfort to her if she knew I felt this way," he pondered. "It might help her feel less lonely about living here." He started to feel sad as he thought more of Dagure. "It would be extremely difficult to not be able to return home. I do not want her to feel homesick. There must be something I could do to help with that."
The prince's face lit up with an idea. Quickly, he went inside and got a bucket as well as several other items. Once he had them, he went to the redhead's hut. Mal knocked on the door.
"I know that we said goodnight," he commented, "but I thought of something which I hope you will like." There was a pause. "Dagure?"
Mal knew that the girl would not have left again, so he knocked louder. Hearing no response, he opened the door and felt a pit form in his stomach. He saw one of the Dagure's knives on the ground.
"She would not leave this," he realized. "She was taken from here against her will."
The prince ran from the hut and found Throka.
"Have you seen Dagure?" he asked, voice tense.
Noticing his concern, the guard shook her head. "I have not seen her in the village, but I saw her stop Filip from attacking Hallie earlier. She could have been taken to the forest."
Immediately, the prince took off for the forest. There, Dagure frowned as she started regaining consciousness. Her body felt heavy. When her eyes focused, she saw the brother sitting on her stomach. She moved to punch him, but her arms also felt heavy. Turning her head, she realized that her arms were being held down by the other Vikings. The brother tangled his fingers in her hair, yanking her head painfully towards his face. His fingers on his other hand trailed over the tattoo.
"Is this a foolish Berserker custom? It seems incomplete."
The man lowered his mask, revealing a cruel smile. Dagure ignored the pounding in her chest as he kissed her forehead. She tried to headbutt him, but his grip on her head kept it from moving anywhere he did not want it to go.
"I'll make you regret this," she threatened.
"We have been over this, you will not because this is not your home. It is ours. If we choose to spend the evening with you, we shall."
"You're thinking the worst I can do is kill you. Trust me," Dagure said, eyes twinkling dangerously, "death is the best outcome."
The girl sucked in a sharp breath in surprise. The Defender was kissing her neck. His friends started to chuckle.
"All of sudden, the Berserker does not seem so threatening," one of them commented.
Dagure grimaced and tried to move more, but the man's weight seemed like it was pushing the air out of her. As he tugged on her hair, it felt as if she would be scalped.
"I'll rip every bit of skin off your backs, then–"
Dagure stopped talking as lips touched hers. She opened her mouth, intriguing the Defender for a moment before a burning pain got his lip. The brother grabbed the girl's throat and squeezed. She did not release him, digging her teeth in more until the lack of air made her woozy. Her jaw went slack and the man got his lip free, putting a hand against it to stop the bleeding. She spat the blood in his face.
"You need it more than me," she taunted in a hoarse voice.
Angrily, the man let go of her throat and reached for his sword. He stopped, hand trembling over the hilt.
"No," he said. "I will not kill you. Why punish a boar for being the wild animal we know it to be? This was my fault. There are safer ways to do this."
Keeping the scowl on her face, Dagure tried to not let any fear become visible in her expression. She locked eyes with the Defender and kept them there as hands went over her body.
"I-I'll tell Mal," she said, mentally cursing herself for sounding so pitiful.
"Do you actually think he would care? The prince cares only for dragons. He feels a sense of duty to us. If given a choice between his people and you, he would always choose us."
The Defender shifted, moving off of the redhead's stomach. For a moment, being able to properly breathe was a relief, but Dagure's face paled as he put his knees on either side of her. She tried to knee him, but more Defenders were holding her ankles. They started to move them further apart. That cruel smile returned as the brother began tugging on the waist of her skirt.
"Get off me!"
Dagure cursed at the group, using language so foul that she was almost worried the gods would strike her down. She just was unsure what else to do besides that and squirming. The Vikings were too heavy to push against successfully. She was trapped. Her swears began coming out as stammers and there was a tremble in her voice that caused the attackers to chuckle. Abruptly, their laughter stopped. The brother's breath caught in his throat and he gurgled on blood.
The pressure on Dagure's arms and legs lessened as Vikings stood up in fear. In front of her, the girl saw blood seeping out of the brother's mouth. Below that, a sword protruded from his chest. Before he could fall forward on her, he was flung aside. Mal raised his dripping sword to the others and Throka held up an ax to them. Immediately, they surrendered, getting apprehended by the guard. Hatred emanated off the prince as he glared at them.
"A thousand pardons, Your Majesty!" one begged, getting on his hands and knees.
He tried to kiss the prince's boots but was kicked.
"You are not pardoned," Mal told him, seething. "I have opposed this tradition for years and you dare contradict that decision by doing this?"
The Defenders kept their heads low. Throka lifted her ax to one of their throats.
"Shall I kill them as well?"
"No," Mal said, "remove their hands. They shall live out the remainder of their lives in a cell."
The Vikings looked up in horror as the young man continued.
"Let them serve as an example. This will not be tolerated under our reign." Each word was laced with venom. "Anyone who attempts such a crime will meet this fate. Gone are the days of lenience. We do not attack any Viking in this way, let alone one of our own."
"But that little psycho isn't even one of u–"
"She will be your queen!"
The Defenders flinched at the thunderous tone. Even Throka felt herself becoming more tense. Mal furiously regarded the group of criminals.
"Throka, bring more of the guards to transport them. I do not ever wish to see these faces again."
Quickly, the woman left and returned with the requested Vikings. The Defenders pleaded for mercy, but their cries went unheard as the guards led them to the prison. When they were gone, Mal's anger faded enough so that he could look at Dagure with warmth in his expression. The girl was standing again. If Mal had not been looking so closely, he would not have seen how she was slightly trembling. She let out a harsh-sounding laugh. It sounded more unhinged than it normally did.
"You've got good timing, Mally." She could not stop laughing. "I mean, if you'd even been a minute later…"
Dagure felt sick from all the nerves and brought a cold hand up to her forehead. Her hand was shaking, but she finally realized that the rest of her was as well.
"Dagure," Mal started to say.
He was not sure what he would say next. Whenever he or Throka saved a Defender, she would bow, thank them, and then leave. The prince did not know what type of conversation would be helpful to have. Asking about how much happened might cause more distress, but ignoring it might also lead to issues. Dagure decided for him.
"Thanks for coming by. Since I'm not tired anymore, I'm going to get some extra training in with Strykie. I'll meet you at the stables in the morning, so we can start teaching the others."
Mal could not say anything else before she ran off towards the dragons. Dagure kept running faster and faster, wanting to get to the reptile before any other relatives of the Defender arrived. The Triple Stryke could tell that something was wrong with the Viking and gave her a worried look.
"I'm fine," she insisted. "Let's fly. Come on!"
The duo went through the air, the Berserker adjusting more to what she needed to do to guide the dragon. Part of this seemed to be instinct, but it was also going to take a lot of practice. Since the dragon did not get tired, they practiced throughout the night. Dagure needed this. It was cathartic to attack the air, pretending it to be whoever she so desired. It made her feel strong–the exact opposite of what she would have called herself a few minutes prior. Finally, the sun came over the island and the pair returned to the stables. They did so just as the Defenders approached. Mal was there too and when Dagure stood next to him, he looked at her hand. Knowing how much he wanted to hold it, she held his and gave it a light squeeze. Then, they got to work.
"Don't pull on her head," Dagure instructed one Defender.
Taking the advice, the young woman adjusted. Her eyes twinkled happily when she realized how much easier it was to ride the Monstrous Nightmare. Mal approached another Defender who was struggling to not get scared while in the air.
"Try looking outwards instead of down," he advised.
Like before, the suggestion helped. Once the Vikings got the basics of what they needed to do, they began working on combat skills. This proved to be far more exciting for the Defenders. It made Dagure smile when she heard a few of them actually laugh in glee at how they were able to take down targets on their dragons' backs. The day was spent training and ended as night graced the island with its beauty.
"We do not even need to light torches," one Defender declared happily as his dragon lit a low flame and kept his mouth open.
"I wonder how many other practical uses we will find," a different Viking mentioned, sounding intrigued.
"Well, think up some ideas tonight and we'll see what we can try tomorrow," Dagure told them.
Excitedly, the people nodded and wished the couple a good evening. While they did, the Berserker felt some nerves building up inside her.
"Wanna go for a night flight?" she asked, turning to the prince. She began chuckling. "That rhymes."
Mal's expression showed his concern. "Would you also like to talk about what happened earlier?"
The girl's smile fell. "That doesn't sound fun. Can we just fly?"
"We can," he assured her.
The pair got on Strykie's back and flew up high, testing how close they could get to the moon. Whether they flew near the sunrise, in the afternoon, or in the dark of the night, it was amazing.
"It went well today," Dagure commented, hoping she would steer the conversation as easily as she could steer Strykie.
Mal was not oblivious to this, but he nodded. "It did. I think that the others are starting to bond well with their dragons."
"You're a pretty good teacher."
"Thank you. I think you are as well."
The girl smiled and had Strykie do a loop. It was a flight that Dagure did not want to end, but eventually, Mal put a hand on her shoulder. He angered himself by accidentally causing her to tense up.
"It might be best if we stop for tonight," he said.
"Don't you want to fly some more?"
"I do, but dragons can overwork themselves."
Understanding, the redhead nodded and Strykie landed back at the stables. He started playing with Shattermaster as the leaders said goodbye to them both. Dagure's feet dragged on the way out of the area.
"Uh, good night then, I guess," she said, uncertain.
The Berserker could tell that Mal was not ready to say the same. He wanted to talk, but she did not want to have the topic in his thoughts be their subject. So, even though she felt terrible for doing this, she speedily returned to the huts. Dagure stopped when she reached her own. Her breaths got faster.
"What if there are more waiting for me behind the door?" she wondered.
For several minutes, she just stood there, as though whatever threat would vanish with time. Maybe the Vikings would grow bored. When she turned her head, she noticed that Mal was walking over to her.
"Would you like to come to my hut?" he asked. "The bed can be yours alone," he added.
Dagure smiled at him. "I would like that a lot."
Eagerly, she walked beside him. The hut they reached was less fancy than she anticipated. It was not lavishly decorated like the king and queen's had been in their visit. Mal noticed the surprised look on her face.
"Does this disappoint you?"
"No, I'm just a little shocked. It's not all fixed up like some of the other huts are. Actually, even mine's fancier. Did the builder not get the memo that you're the crown prince or something?"
Mal chuckled. "I did not want it to be extravagant. Though I like nice things, I do not need them. If I use the best of everything we have, then there will be less for the Defenders. By using less supplies for this one hut, thirteen others were built without needing to buy anything additional."
Dagure nodded. "I see. I like it too! Practical, functional, and smart. Wouldn't expect anything else from you, Mally."
The prince smiled at her. "From what I have seen, I would expect the same from you. Cleverness is one of the traits I see the most in you."
Blushing at the compliment momentarily, the girl started to look upset. Earlier that day, she had not felt so clever. Mal noticed her change in demeanor.
"Please, can we talk about last night?" he requested. "I have heard countless accounts of such discussions helping Vikings whether or not we reached them before the attackers could complete their cruel acts."
"It's embarrassing," the Berserker mumbled.
"It does not need to be. In no way do I view you in a negative light because of them."
Dagure looked up at him in shock. "Really?"
"Really," he insisted. "What they did was vile. It came from a place of inner weakness and hatred. Nothing they could have done would have changed you from the kind, clever, and brave Viking I have come to know."
The Berserker blinked away tears and hugged the Defender.
"It almost happened back on Berserker Island too!" she told him.
Mal felt himself grow hot with anger, but he forced himself to stay calm.
"Who was it?" he inquired.
"This guy named Ansson. When I was fourteen, he followed me out to the hot springs. I broke his nose before the last of it could happen, but…" Dagure stopped hugging the prince, looking away from him. "Kisses and touches," she said quietly. "They don't seem like much until they're from people you don't want them to be from. It's always so humiliating. Ansson was angry about me hurting him and getting away, so he said I tried to go after him and did that after he rejected me. Everyone said it made sense because I was crazy. No one believed me when I told them what happened. My dad was the only one who knew."
"Did he do anything to Ansson?" Mal asked, hoping desperately for a specific, violent answer.
To his dismay, Dagure shook her head. "He said that I was probably tempting him. I drew too much attention to myself by being so weird. Only a matter of time before someone tried to take advantage of that, right?"
The prince's eyes held horror in them. Then, he had a resolute look.
"What idea just popped into that head?" Dagure asked.
"Would you like to return to Berserker Island with me tomorrow?"
The girl stepped back, appalled. "I can't go back."
"You can't go back alone. You will not be, but if it upsets you to return, I will not ask again."
Dagure considered the idea. "I don't want to be there for long. An afternoon wouldn't be bad, though."
"Before we leave, I will let the Defenders know that our training will resume in the evening," Mal told her.
Nodding, Dagure hugged him one more time and looked towards the room in the back. "Where were you going to sleep?"
The prince gestured to a chair, making the Berserker frown.
"Your back's going to hate you. Have any extra quilts?"
"I do."
"Good! Can I see where they are?"
Mal led the way to a small compartment with some of the quilts. Taking an arm full, Dagure spread them out on the ground. Then, she put pillows on them, fluffing each one. She turned to Mal with a proud grin.
"I'd feel bad about taking your bed. What if we did a sleepover instead? You get one blanket pile and I get the other."
Intrigued and a little excited, the prince agreed to the idea. They wrapped up in the blankets and he could not suppress his chuckle at seeing the girl resemble a caterpillar in its cocoon. He surprised himself by how easily he fell asleep with her beside him. The prince slept soundly through the night. Though he did not awaken, a smile appeared on Mal's face as the bundled up Berserker ended up scooching closer to him for extra warmth. Dagure did so slowly to prevent from disturbing him. Once she was cuddled next to the blond, she grinned.
"Sweet dreams, Mally," she said quietly, then drifted into slumber.