I stood tall, facing three of Askeladd's finest—or so they'd like to think. Their leering grins were as wide as they were ugly, the kind that suggested they'd seen me as nothing more than the dirt beneath their boots. Predictable, really. It would be these three who'd fancy themselves the first to challenge me, the first to test whether they could break me.

To abuse me.

How wrong they were.

When I had returned to the fortress, wounds freshly bandaged, gambeson snug on my person, and my pack slung over my shoulders, (and my breasts bound with a makeshift bra of linen), it had been Aksel and his band who had the nerve to confront me.

Aksel, the one who had sat in front of me on the boat I was assigned to, always ready with a threat to gut me if he ever caught me slacking when we had rowed. Yet, I had never mentioned how he'd pause for breath while I never faltered in my rowing. But that was neither here nor now.

Oddly enough, it had been Bjorn who had intervened when they had tried to corner me as I had wrangled my tangled hair while I'd walked back into the fortress, ignoring the stares that clung to me like flies to a corpse. He had barked at them to save it for landfall, warning that Askeladd wouldn't be pleased if they had squandered the time needed to get the canal cleared so they could set sail before the other Viking factions.

So they could pillage the wealthy lords in this area before anyone else.

Bastards.

Once we had finally cleared the canal—though, to be fair, it had been the Vikings doing all the clearing while Thorfinn and I played the part of idle spectators—we'd trudged back to the boats and started rowing. But, as we'd rowed, the men kept casting sidelong glances my way, their eyes brimming with all the frustrations they hadn't yet voiced.

That, and their leering.

Bjorn, of all people, had decided to play the unexpected hero, barking at them to quit their ogling and focus on rowing. "Eyes on your oars, not on the girl," he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The crew, of course, had plenty of grumbles and muttered questions, but one hard glare from Bjorn's steely eyes silenced them quicker than any sword could. The man was a wall of determination, not about to let a little insubordination slow them down.

Things were unfolding in ways I hadn't quite planned for, Bjorn being a welcomed surprise. But then again, that was before we hit landfall…

As soon as our boats found land, Aksel and his band of misfits leaped into action—or at least tried to, if you could call it that. Aksel, that walking disaster of a man, stood at average height, though his bulging gut and wild, unevenly hacked hair made him seem somehow smaller. His beard, as unkempt as the rest of him, was a patchwork of filth, with teeth to match—those he still had, anyway, most of them rotting in his mouth like a graveyard of bad decisions. Cleanliness was clearly an enemy he'd long since surrendered to, and he made damn sure everyone else suffered for it.

His two other men who stood behind him weren't far behind in looks and…cleanliness…

It was odd for Vikings to look so…disheveled. In those days, bathing once a week was considered strange and objectionable by Anglo-Saxon chroniclers, if you could believe that.

The Vikings were likely among the cleanest folk in Europe at the time—ironic for a group better known for pillaging than polishing.

Too bad their grooming habits didn't extend to evicting the lice they all seemed to be hosting…

How in the world did a man like this even worm his way into the band? Must be one hell of a swing in that arm of his—or pure dumb luck.

"Are we all just going to ignore the fact that there's a woman among us?" he bellowed, his voice thick with mockery as the others began to circle around us like vultures once Aksel and his groupies cornered me, again, right when I departed the ship once we made landfall a ways down the canal.

"Here we go," I muttered, crossing my arms and locking eyes with Aksel as he kept up his macho act.

"What's next? Do we let children join the raid?" He turned to his right, away from the boats, eyes narrowing as he shouted, "Askeladd! Did you know our mighty Thorben was hiding skirts under that hood?"

That wasn't a great look for Aksel—questioning your Chieftain's decisions wasn't exactly a masterstroke of strategy. Askeladd would have to deal with that little rebellion.

And I couldn't wait to see just how he'd make Aksel regret it…

Askeladd, lounging off to the side as we disembarked atop crates and food previsions they had pulled to recount and reassmble, barely bothered to lift his gaze at Aksel's outburst. His head was still angled toward Bjorn with one leg propped up on the crates, who stood to his left with his arms crossed, deep in conversation. "Didn't know you were so concerned about what's under Thorben's hood, Aksel," he drawled loud enough for everyone to hear, voice dripping with sarcasm, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as his eyes shifted to Aksel.

But then Askeladd's eyes flicked to me, a brief glance, but it was enough. There was something there—like he was asking me a question I didn't quite catch. My eyes narrowed from where I stood in the middle of the circling men, bracing for whatever scheme Aksel might be plotting. Not that I suspected he had much up his sleeve. I kept my silence, but kept my eyes locked on Askeladd as I waited for his next move.

"But if you're that curious, why don't you step forward and find out for yourself?" Askeladd's voice cut through the tension, cold and sharp, his gaze locking onto Aksel like a predator sizing up prey. "Or is your bravado only good for shouting when you think no one's listening?"

Was he… helping me? I knew I'd have to fight my way out of this. That was a given, and it would seem Askeladd also knew this truth, too.

He was setting it up.

Why?

He was baiting Aksel, in front of his own men no less.

My eyes stayed fixed on Askeladd, my confusion probably plain as day, but he didn't look my way again. Even Bjorn was watching him now, that calculating look on his face. Was something brewing, and I was caught in the middle of it, or was I reading too much into it?

Whatever. Again, only time will tell.

Aksel stiffened, realizing exactly what Askeladd was doing. He glared at me, then back at Askeladd, his jaw tightening. The men who had just moments ago leered at me with vile grins as Aksel spoke now fidgeted behind him, their bravado unraveling like cheap thread.

"Are you trying to make a fool out of me, Askeladd?" Aksel spat, his voice laced with anger. "This isn't about curiosity; it's about keeping order. This... girl," he gestured widely at me, "doesn't belong here."

Askeladd's smirk widened as he saw the anger flare in Aksel's eyes. He tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of making a fool out of you, Aksel," he said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. But I also heard the unspoken sentence: "You're doing a fine job of that all on your own."

He glanced briefly at me again, and I glanced back with a bored expression, my earlier confusion forgotten, before turning back to Aksel, his eyes narrowing. "As for keeping order, isn't that exactly what I'm doing? You've got a problem with her, so solve it—unless, of course, you're worried she might prove more than you can handle."

His words hung in the air like a challenge, daring Aksel to either step forward or admit defeat. To admit weakness.

"The men are watching, Aksel," Askeladd goaded. "What kind of man are you if you can't deal with one little girl ?" The way he emphasized "girl" made it clear he didn't see me as the weakling Aksel wanted everyone to believe.

It surprised me. Deeply surprised me. But he was also taking this too far. Goading Aksel too hard. What the hell was he planning? He was making it obvious he preferred me, a girl, over one of his men.

After all, he wasn't goading me along. Wasn't mocking me like he was to Aksel.

But then again, Aksel was questioning his decision making.

But, in the end, this would only work in my favor. Askeladd could deal with his own problems he was making for himself.

Askeladd's smirk vanished, his face sharpening into a mask of ice-cold calculation. Without warning, he rose from his seat and closed the gap between us in a few measured strides, entering the circle of men, his eyes never wavering from Aksel. His left hand tightened around the sheath of his sword, near the hilt, a silent promise of…something.

"Or is it that you'd rather I step in? Because if you're not up for it, I'd be happy to show you how it's done."

I went completely pale, staring at Askeladd in disbelief. The cold, unyielding look in his eyes as he fixed on Aksel told me he wasn't bluffing. Not even a little.

His words carried a dark promise—he'd handle me first, then Aksel.

I didn't even start this! Aksel was the one with the issue. This was nothing but blatant vagina discrimination.

What. The. Actual. Fuck. Askeladd!?

Guess my earlier observation of showing blatant favoritism was out the window. Jackass.

I could see it now, the way he was asserting his dominance over this mess. Not only was he ready to deal with me, but he'd put Aksel down for starting it. If Aksel didn't step up and face me, it would expose him as weak in Askeladd's eyes.

And in Viking society, weakness was a death sentence.

Askeladd wouldn't just put Aksel in his place; he'd kill him.

But what about me? Would he kill me too? Or just beat me to a pulp?

Either way, I knew without a doubt that Askeladd wouldn't hesitate. He'd beat the living hell out of me and not lose a wink of sleep over it.

Askeladd was the last man I'd ever want to face. He went toe to toe with Thors, and Thors could shatter wooden planks with a single swing…

Aksel's face twisted in fury, but I could see the fear lurking beneath it. He knew exactly what Askeladd was implying and what it meant if he didn't act. He couldn't back down now, not with Askeladd breathing down his neck, ready to pounce on any sign of weakness.

"You think I'm scared of her?" Aksel spat, trying to keep his voice steady, though it wavered slightly. His eyes darted between me and Askeladd, a flicker of desperation showing through. "I'll take care of this myself. I don't need you stepping in."

Aksel's men exchanged uneasy glances behind his back, clearly unsettled by Askeladd's words.

I was wary as well, but couldn't help noting how nicely this was playing into my hands, despite Askeladd's earlier comment.

Aksel took another step forward, his grip tightening around the sheath to his sword, as if trying to convince himself that he could actually do this. But the uncertainty was still there, hovering just beneath the surface.

"I'll show you who's weak," Aksel growled, though the words felt more like a challenge to himself than to anyone else. He was caught between his fear of Askeladd and the need to prove he wasn't a coward. And as he squared off against me, I could see the battle raging within him—one that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the brutal reality of living under Askeladd's command.

"Honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing Thorben, or whatever her name is, go against Askeladd," I heard one of the men say behind me loudly, and I stiffened. "It's not too often you see a woman fighting."

"Askeladd would win within moments. Wouldn't be much of a show if you ask me."

Yes. I agree with that commenter.

"What's your name, girl?" The first commenter asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Without so much as a glance his way, I called out for all the gathered men to hear, "Fiadh, daughter of Rowan."

"Bullshit! Drop those pants and prove you don't have any balls!" shouted another, then there was a pause before he continued, "What? You saw how she fought back there! There's no way in Odin's hall could a woman with a woman's strength fight like that!"

He wasn't wrong. But I did workout each night.

"After I'm done with Aksel," I called out, fingers raking through the tangled mess that was once my braid. Damn this rat's nest. "Anyone else who thinks my place here is up for debate can step right up—if Askeladd allows it, of course." My gaze sliced toward him, catching his inscrutable stare from the sidelines.

"Depends on how long you take," he replied, tone clipped with disinterest. "We don't have all day for this nonsense."

He said you. Me. He just admitted he knew I was going to win…

Aksel, caught between shame and fury, was visibly unraveling—not just from my casual dismissal of his challenge, but from Askeladd's open contempt for the whole affair. And honestly, it was nonsense. I could fool myself into thinking Askeladd was backing me up, but let's not kid ourselves. He knew exactly what he was doing when he let me join this crew, woman and all. This was more about his authority than about me.

I yanked the tie from my hair, wrangling the chaos that was my hair into a high ponytail, ignoring the eyes crawling over me. Filthy pigs.

"This is fucking bullshit! Askeladd, did you know she was a woman this entire time?" Aksel spat, his face purpling with humiliation.

"I did," Askeladd answered, no more than a flicker of emotion in his voice.

The murmurs around us were a chorus of shock and annoyance, and as I glanced at the men, their faces mirrored their discomfort—surprised, irritated, and thoroughly unsettled.

"You're all acting like a bunch of green boys who've never seen a fight or a woman before," Askeladd's voice cut through the murmurs like a blade, cold and commanding. He took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over the men with barely concealed disdain. "If you're questioning my judgment, then you're questioning the very reason you're still breathing. I don't have time for mutiny dressed up as petty grievances."

He paused, letting his words sink in, then added with a smirk, "If any of you feel your balls shrinking at the thought of a woman on your crew, then I'll be happy to put you out of your misery myself. Otherwise, shut up, watch, and learn."

The shift was immediate. The men, chastened and cowed, exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing more. Askeladd had reasserted his control, and they knew better than to challenge him again—at least not openly.

Askeladd's eyes flicked over to Aksel, his voice dripping with mockery. "Aksel, you stirred this up, so let's see if you can finish it. Or did you just want to put on a show for the boys?" He smirked, leaning in slightly. "If you're going to back down, do it now. We've wasted enough time on your posturing."

Aksel's pride flared at the taunt, his fists clenching as he stepped forward, too far gone to back down now.

Askeladd's gaze then landed on me, a sly smirk tugging at his lips, but his words laced with a dangerous edge. "As for you, Fiadh—don't let me or the men down. It'd be a shame if you gave them a reason to think you don't belong here."

His words were a challenge, a reminder that this was more than just a fight—it was a test for his men, one I couldn't afford to fail.

I already knew that, asshole.

"Of course, boss ," I said with a sly grin, though my eyes were sharp.

Askeladd glanced over at Bjorn, and raised his voice over to him, "Bjorn, you're witness for this. Make sure everything's done fair." He paused, then added with a smirk, "And try to keep from jumping in yourself unless it gets too boring."

"Fair, huh," I muttered.

Yeah, right.

Bjorn's gaze flicked between Aksel and me as he walked forward and took Askeladd's place, who had walked back near the crates. As he stood in the circle of men, his eyes settled on me. I flashed a smug grin, baring my teeth in a way that said more than words ever could. He snorted but wisely held his tongue.

"If this is what you both want," Bjorn began, spreading his arms as if to consecrate the space between us. "In Odin's name, the duel between Aksel and Fiadh begins now. Each may choose their weapon. Fight with honor, and in death, Valhalla's gates await you." He paused, letting the gravity sink in, before adding with a hint of mockery, "The cause of this duel is Aksel's wounded pride, insulted by the mere fact that Fiadh is a woman." The crowd reacted with a mix of snickers and approving grunts. Aksel shot Bjorn a venomous glare but bit back his words, still smarting from Askeladd's earlier taunts.

"Any objections?"

Aksel's only response was a terse, "No."

"None," I echoed with a casual shrug.

"Need to fetch a weapon, Fiadh?" Bjorn asked, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.

I shook my head and patted my bare side. "No need. I'm good." A flicker of déjà vu teased at the edge of my mind, but I pushed it aside.

"I'm going to enjoy gutting you, you stupid bitch," Aksel hissed through clenched teeth, his anger flaring at my refusal to take him seriously enough to wield a sword. "Then I'll fuck you in front of everyone so the last thing you'll remember before dying is your place, bitch."

"Sure about that?" Bjorn pressed, one last time.

I met his eyes, unblinking. "I'm sure, Bjorn." I said, ignoring Aksel. "I've no desire to kill him. Not yet, at least."

"As if you could, wench!" Aksel spat, trembling with rage.

Bjorn sighed, lifting his arms once more. "Then begin." He stepped back, leaving me to wait, arms crossed, as Aksel's lackeys melted into the crowd. Aksel drew his sword, letting it dangle by his side, the weight of his fury pulling him down.

Good. But I could bring it down even further.

With my arms still crossed and one hip cocked, I sighed, "You know, I honestly hoped it wouldn't come to this. One-on-one feels so… underwhelming."

Aksel's face turned purple as he snapped, "Underwhelming? I'll make sure you regret ever opening that arrogant mouth of yours!"

I shook my head, raising my arms with a mock shrug, palms to the sky. "But what's a girl to do?" I continued, completely dismissing his outburst. My hands returned to my side, a hand on my cocked hip, and I continued with a more sultry tone, "One-on-one is just so dull. Now, if it were all three of you at the same time—well, that might've been worth breaking a sweat. It's just my style—I prefer a little more action. One man alone doesn't quite do it for me anymore, you know? Doubt you alone could slick me up."

My words struck their mark with precision.

"I'll give you all the action you're craving, darling! I'm more than enough!"

"Funny, Dynr—your wife seems to think otherwise!"

"I'm the whole package, sweetheart! Three men's worth of action in one!"

"How many fingers can you fit, sweety!?"

"My brothers and I are at your service, sweet Fiadh! Just make it through this and back to Denmark, and I'll introduce you to the family!"

Ew, but whatever.

"Beat the shit out of Aksel, Fiadh!"

"You got this!"

"Win for us, why don't you?"

I turned toward the source of the uproar, fanning my face with an exaggerated flourish and flashing a smile that was syrupy sweet. "If you boys play nice, I might just consider it. How's that for a deal?"

"Only if you win!"

And if I didn't win, they'd take turns, was the unspoken promise.

Got it.

I pivoted back to Aksel, whose face was contorting, looking constipated, with the strain of the situation, and set my hand firmly on my cocked hip. "But really, Aksel," I began, letting my smile shift from saccharine to a hint of venom, "perhaps you should have taken Askeladd up on his offer. At least if you fell by his sword, you might have a shot at Valhalla. Getting bested by a girl, though, seems unlikely to earn Odin's favor."

I gave a casual shrug and eyed his disheveled form with a smirk. "And let's be honest, Askeladd's worth, what, ten men? That sounds like a better time to me." My gaze wandered over him with a touch of disdain. "Far more appealing than anything you could ever offer in that small…parcel of yours."

His eyes flashed with a fury so intense it nearly turned them white, and I felt a wicked smile tug at my lips as he charged at me. Like every other man driven by blind rage, he raised his sword high, telegraphing his next move with reckless abandon.

But I didn't flinch. As his blade came crashing down, I simply sidestepped, just a breath to the right. With a wide stance, I caught his right forearm mid-swing, my right hand snaking up to cup his neck as if greeting an old lover. But just as I twisted my body and wrapped my right leg around his to take him down, his left arm shot around my waist, pulling me closer until my right side was in his space, his once-blank eyes now burning with stubborn resolve.

I met his gaze with a smirk before tightening my grip on his neck, my right arm coiling around him like a serpent, by body twisting until he was pressed against my back. With a sharp twist and with a surge of power, I sent him hurtling over my shoulder. He crashed onto his back, the impact jolting his sword from his grip.

I dropped to the ground, landing on my backside as I quickly wrapped my thighs around his neck, pulling his arm taut against my torso. His free hand clawed at my leg, even digging into the wound that screamed from the strain of all this, but it only fueled my determination. I squeezed harder, his face shifting from red to a deep, suffocating purple.

And then, just like that, he was out cold.

I released him the moment his body went limp, standing up with a fluid motion before rolling him onto his side so he wouldn't choke if he puked while unconscious.

My leg howled in protest, but I forced the weight down, swallowing the pain like bitter ale. Aksel's lackeys were still gaping at him, stunned into silence, as if waiting for someone to blink first.

"So, what's the plan, boys?" I drawled, my voice laced with mockery. Their eyes snapped back to me, and I let a wicked smile curl my lips. "How about you all come at me together? Make it worth my time." I beckoned them with a lazy flick of my hand, a taunting gesture. "Here's a tip—one of you go at me from the front, one from behind. Make it interesting for me, yeah?"

One of them gulped while the other said, "Yeah, w-we're good."

I chuckled. "That's what I thought." I turned to the crowd, who had grown silent after my victory, then to Bjorn. "Think we're done here, don't you agree?"

Bjorn's eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and approval as he regarded the scene. His usual stoic expression broke into a slow, wolfish grin, and he let out a low chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest.

"Aye," he rumbled, stepping forward with that lumbering grace that made men wary. "I'd say we're done here." He gave the fallen man a disinterested glance before meeting my gaze, something fierce and knowing in his eyes. "You've made your point, loud and clear."

With that, he turned to the others, his voice hardening. "Anyone else got something to say?"

The men shook their heads, their faces all reflecting a mixture of shock, wary, and amusement. Bjorn nodded, satisfied, before gesturing to me, his finger pointed down at my leg. "Let's get that leg looked at. Can't have you bleeding out after putting on a show like that."

I glanced down, finally noticing the fresh streak of blood spreading across my pants. With a weary sigh, I rolled my eyes and muttered, "Great, just what I needed." I shook my head and added, "It's nothing. I've had worse. Aren't you supposed to be off pillaging or something?"

Bjorn smirked, crossing his arms as he looked me over. "Pillaging, as you put it, can wait. You, bleeding all over the place? That's something I can't ignore."

I tilted my head, letting a sweet, syrupy smile spread across my face as I teased, "Why, Bjorn, don't tell me you're starting to care about me. How touching. Truly, I'm moved." I let the words drip with just enough flirtation to keep him guessing.

Bjorn chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he eyed me with a mixture of amusement and something sharper. "Care? Don't flatter yourself too much. But I'd rather not drag a half-dead body around—not my idea of fun."

He paused, his grin turning into a smirk. "Besides, it's not every day I get to watch someone like you take down one of our own. Consider me entertained."

Either he was immune to my flirtation, or he didn't care. Either way, having Bjorn mostly on my side was a turn of events I wasn't expecting. A good turn of events.

Looked like my plan to worm my way into the hearts of some of these Vikings had some success to it.

When I opened my mouth to say something, I suddenly felt two arms circle around both of my shoulders, two bodies on either side of me. I stiffened, but based on the familiar stench of one of them, I knew who they were. My ball grabbing hands moved back up to cross in front of me.

"We knew from the very beginning our friend Thorben here, or should me call you Fiadh? Was a woman all along!" Torgrim said jovially beside me, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You got that right!" Came Atli's response. "And we don't care!" Then he added softly, "As long as you still cook for us?"

I chuckled at their antics. But then what they said had me pausing. "How did you guys find out, anyhow?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Atli's eyes quickly glance at Bjorn, then return back to me. "We're smart, that's how our dear Fiadh!"

"Uh huh," I huffed, giving Bjorn a playful scowl, which he returned with a huff, before I reached up between their bodies and snaked my hands around the brothers shoulders, gripping them back.

Might as well play along…

"But what can I say? Glad to see you two don't care I'm a girl," I said loud enough for everyone to hear who was listening in on our conversation. "Think that deserves a reward, don't you think?"

Torgrim's smile only widened. "Oh? And what reward would that be?"

"Why my cooking skills of course." My wide grin matched the brothers, but before we could continue, Askeladd walked into view and clapped his hands together, getting most of everyone's attention.

"Alright, alright. That's enough wasting time. Now, let's move out, unless you bastards want to freeze your asses off this winter," he called to the men around us. "If you're after an easy season, I'd suggest you get your feet moving."

I let go of the brothers and took a step back from their grasps as the men started to move out. Some men grumbled, while other called out to me with suggestive remarks. I only waved at them, smiling sweetly, until Askeladd walked up to me, his hand on his hip with a contemplative look as his blue eyes gazed down at me.

Then he half smirked. "Staying behind to watch the boats I take it?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Of course. Gotta have someone do it. Might as well be me."

His eyes blinked in a slow, deliberate rhythm before they slid sideways to something on his left. "Whatever you say." That damned smirk curled his lips, just enough to get under my skin, and then he spun on his heel gesturing for Bjorn to follow, walking away like he'd already won.

I glanced to my right as Bjorn walked past me to follow Askeladd and spotted Thorfinn, charging toward the chaos with that look—sharp, cold, and all too familiar.

I rushed to him, catching his arm in my grip. "Wait, Thorfinn. Where are you going?"

He cast a glance down at my hand, barely acknowledging it before shaking me off. "Where do you think?"

My eyes widened, hand falling uselessly to my side. "But… why?"

He was heading straight for a village—a quiet, unsuspecting village, about to be torn apart.

And he was going to…help them?

"To fight." Was his only response.

"But they're innocent. Innocent lives…"

"Innocent or not, it doesn't matter. This is war."

"But they're not at war, Thorfinn! They have nothing to do with war…or Askeladd!"

"That's not how it works. War doesn't care who's involved."

His gaze hardened, the weight of his experiences evident. The torture. "They may not be part of my war, but they're in the way."

Fuck! What do I even say to that?

What slipped past my lips next was a reckless gamble, teetering on the edge of ruin. A moment suspended between boldness and regret, and I wasn't sure which side it would fall on.

"And what if they were your mother and sister! Would you still think the same?"

He froze for a moment when I mentioned his mother and sister, a rare flicker of emotion cracking through his hardened exterior. Then when he spoke again, his voice dropped, edged with bitterness, "They're not. My mother and sister…they're gone."

He looked away, the anger simmering beneath the surface, before adding, "It's too late for 'what ifs.' This is the only life we have now."

"We?" I echoed, the word hanging between us like a challenge. I blinked at him, searching his face for some crack in the armor. Nothing. Just that familiar, icy mask. I blinked again, slower this time, letting the weight of his words settle over me.

He didn't even flinch, just stared past me, as if I wasn't even there. As if he hadn't just exposed the smallest glimpse of the boy he used to be. That rare glimpse I would sometimes see when he was enjoying my meals…

But he wasn't that boy. Not anymore.

"You're an idiot," I spat, the words sharper than I intended. "Go then. Go kill the innocent. Go do to others what Askeladd has done to you."

He flinched, barely, but I saw it. The crack.

"Watch it come full circle," I continued, the bitterness rolling off my tongue. "See how much it changes you when you've become him."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. If the words struck, he didn't show it, but I knew--deep down, they had already begun to sink in.

"I'm nothing like Askeladd," he growled, his voice low, seething.

But there was hesitation now, a shadow of doubt creeping in. He turned away, fists tightening as if he could strangle the truth out of them.

"I fight for my own reasons. Not his."

And yet, even as he walked away, I could see the weight of my words following him, lingering like a wound he couldn't quite ignore.

As I watched Thorfinn walk away, his hands clenching and unclenching, I glanced back at Askeladd, trailing behind the rest of them like a shadow that refused to be shaken. He'd turned toward the trees, gaze hidden, but I knew—he had been watching us.

His lips curled into that insufferable, knowing smirk, the kind that made my skin crawl. Even with his back to me, I could feel it, as if he was already ten steps ahead.

And I was left behind…