Jehanne oversaw food and drinks for the nobles, replacing anything empty. She filled Halle’s bowel with fish soup that she knew Halle liked best as her eyes gawked at him flirting with Solveig or what she assumed to be a form of romance. When in truth, they challenged each other's disguises.

“I hear Ulfhednars fight alongside the Hati clan, you must be just as strong as them?” Solveig’s fingertip slithered across Halle’s large bicep.

“Their strongest still beat me, l am merely on par with them since I’ve trained since I was a child with the shaman-warriors.”

Halle squeezed onto Solveig’s finger gently as if he were holding a delicate artwork.

She gasped letting Halle hold her hand instead, “You must have suffered being with those barbarians.”

Eyebrows twitching, ears thinking he’d heard wrong. It was a first for him to hear someone of Norse origins call Ulfhednars barbaric.

“Call them as you please, but they have honour and strength l respect.”

“A shrewd honour maybe, you must be a more honourable warrior than them. Yes?”

“I would...like to think so.”

It was a claim Halle wished to be true. He wanted to be honourable, similar to the heroes in Norse sagas that held bravery as the greatest trait.

Jehanne was not the sole viewer to Halle and Solveig’s interactions, Odell and Erik gazed at the two with gleeful smiles.

“It appears our children are mingling well,” Erik stated.

“We should have them wedded before the England invasion, make haste with the preparations and tell your son. It’s clear they love each other already upon their first meeting.”

“I pray so as well.” Erik swigged his mug of mead down.

“Ah the horses are ready, look at my stallion marching in with its prideful hooves.”

Odell stood up cheering, others clapped as well seeing the horse enter the ring of fences.

The stallion’s body was darker than crude oil, it’s mane the same shade of raven-black. Its steps were proud matching a champion, it knew the taste of victory never having its palette ruined by defeat.

“Your horse may be a tough opponent, but l have confidence in mine as well,” Erik grinned.

Another horse with skin similar to a blanket dirtied beige was guided into the circle that enclosed the battlefield for a duel between beasts. Animals taught to fight, instead of having to learn how to run.

Hooves digging into the soil leaving the marks of an untamed creature. Its nostrils flared while it neighed, complaining at the ropes that pulled at its neck to move forward. The karls were having a tough time bringing their jarl’s stallion in.

Erik guffawed into his beard dyed golden for this event, “My horse is feisty already.”

The horse raised its hooves making the people attempting to guide it step back in fear. It raced forwards entering where it was meant to be pulling the karls who held rope to the ground as they fumbled on the floor tasting dirt.

Men, women and children were brimming with excitement as they watched the two stallions probe at each other with glares scrutinising one another. Same species, yet the horses were trained from young to fight.

Poles of wood were the sole object that halted them from duelling now, it was for the jarls to start the match between their horses.

Odell and Erik stood up clasping forearms announcing to their people, “May we have a fair Hestavíg!”

The poles removed from the ring of fences pushing at the horse rear end urging them to fight. They needed no incentive, their front legs raised high standing on their rear legs. Hooves harder than stones bashed against head, mane or body. It was a spectacle to see blood fly, as the horses crippled each other with strikes staining the grass red with every charge.

Jehanne turned her head away unable to watch. She noticed Halle’s gaze on her for a second before it returned to the horse fight, a sport that was called Hestavíg.

Bets were being called out as men drank ale. Coins of silver, cattle or more were being gambled on.

Dirt sprang from their hooves every time the horses stood up, thrashing their legs in the air to attack. Crimson tainted their manes as blood dribbled down the corners of their beady eyes.

The crowd would not stop shouting, encouraging their jarls horse to win. Odell’s men screamed with veins popping, “For the Sverke tribe!”

Erik’s townspeople yelled louder, “For the Hati clan!”

The two horses circled each other with unwavering pride, understanding the other’s strengths now. They neighed with respect but none lowered their head to the other, stubborn not to lose.

Horses and Norsemen warriors were quite similar, they relied on haste to attack and then returned back to land they considered safe. Erik’s horse charged head first aiming to bash its skull against Odell’s stallion neck.

The clash of impact resounded as the horse that mirrored the night sky crashed into the fence nearly toppling the gates over. The beige horse neighed confident slightly wobbly on its legs, yet stood above the black stallion.

Odell’s horse was defeated.

The Hati clan in an uproar shrieked their elated cheers, while Odell’s men wore sour expressions handing over silver coins losing bets.

“You’ve won today but the next Hestavíg l won’t lose.” Odell’s face scrunched together miserably saddened at the loss.

Luckily his horse did not run but fought till the bitter end. A jarl’s horse represented them so if their stallion ran away from the fight, he too would be called a coward.

“We’ll have plenty of Hestavígs to come after our glorious conquer over England,” Erik was elated for obvious reasons.

One jarl laughed holding his mug high to drink and the other grumbled in his seat.

“The Hati clan is full of strong men and horses as well, is everyone here powerful?” Solveig asked Halle with a curious glint in her eyes.

“My father was just fortunate enough to find such a horse.” He drank his second mug of ale.

“I think not.”

Halle’s brow raised. “Then what do you believe is the reason?”

A seductive tone rolled on Solveig’s tongue, “Strong men raise strong horses, l wonder if you have strong—”

Jehanne intervened asking her, “Would you like me to refill your bowel?”

The question made Solveig want to snap. Her lips quivered with fury but she swallowed down the engulfing rage as it would be unbecoming of her to correct a thrall for such a small matter. She had been in the middle of appraising if Halle was a man controlled by lust where a finger was all that was required to sway him.

Solveig would let Halle punish the thrall for her inappropriate behaviour.

Halle filled the waiting silence with his low voice, “It seems Solveig does not wish for more, you may go thrall.”

Solveig’s jaw twitched hearing Halle finish his sentence without mentioning any reprimands.

Jehanne nodded returning to the side after Halle’s words, she did not know what compelled her to interrupt Solveig’s flirtatious attempts. Stupidity? Was love still within her bones, a small piece that had hidden itself. She hoped not and at the same time, Jehanne did not know if that were true.

Hate was a simple word, you could hate anything. But to once love something, emotions of such vile nature could not completely abolish the fickle feelings that can also hold stronger than dams against crushing waves.

Halle was a prime example of that, his mind faltered once more between Jehanne. He had promised to purge the past him, but his heart had kept a spark of dying flames alive in some corner unknown to him.

“Fool, forget the human woman that has betrayed you. You will be betrayed again, AGAIN, AGAIN AND AGAIN.”

Hati Hróðvitnisson growled seeing Halle ignore him. Halle’s emotions for love slightly rekindled knowing that Jehanne had interrupted Solveig’s attempt to be seductive.

The vargr was used to being disregarded as no one could see or hear him save for the Ulfhednar shaman that once saw him. Hati Hróðvitnisson was pleased to scare Gorm to the point where he ran away like a puppy with his tail between his legs.

Hati’s thoughts were not absolute, he could not always force Halle into doing what he wished. Only subconsciously sway his actions with urges, yet the mortal denied him many times over and once more he was going to do so again.

The jarls were tipsy. Erik shouted to his people, “We will butcher Odell’s horse as a feast for the gods. Let drinks of mead and ale be served to the townspeople without reserve over our win against the Sverke tribe!”

He emphasised the last two words to let it dig at Odell’s already aching heart.

Odell grunted under his breath, “Show-off.”

“Come Odell, let us feast in my manor privately with your men and daughter separate from the people’s festival.” Erik was dragging the reluctant Jarl from the Sverke tribe, still bitter at the loss.

Guards followed the nobles offering protection, while the townspeople slaughtered the black horse that’d been crippled from its defeat. It had no more use, unable to run with its injured leg and body. They paid respect to the animal by wasting none of the free food, eating the horse’s flesh and gnawing on the bone after roasting the meat.

Getting drunk was believed by the Norsemen as a way to be closer to the Norse gods. It was one of the reasons that enforced Noreg’s law on making a required amount of ale. Karls gulped down the barrels of beer sparring none for the future. They knew they could make more in time. Wrestling and tug of war were the entertainment for the common people.

There was more etiquette to the nobles that feasted, a bone flute was played with high notes but not loud enough to overpower the voices in the hall room. Food lavished with butter cooked above fires and berries to please their sweet tooth.

Odell’s guards sat on a different table while the two jarls and daughter ate delicacies. One person was missing though.

“Where is Halle?” Solveig eyes searched the hall and saw the chair meant for him empty.

Erik’s flushed cheeks from the beer turned to Solveig, “Probably training with Ulfhednars.”

Odell felt insulted, “He has the gall to ignore common manners. Leaving my daughter with us old men when she should be getting to know him more.”

“Do not be angry. He trains with them every day, though it is strange, he usually doesn't frequently visit them daily unlike now. Perhaps it is the attack on England that worries him.”

“But it is the Hestavíg festival, one day off should not harm him,” Solveig pleaded.

“My son is a warrior through and through. You should be glad though, his efforts will reward us with the territory of England!” Erik slapped at his knee laughing. Ecstatic just thinking about new lands to own.

Odell snickered, “Ha! And here I thought the king of Noreg Harald Sigurdsson was greedy by wanting all of England. I hear you tried to invade their borders once with your wife Gertrud and the Ulfhednars but failed terribly.”

Erik stopped drinking his mug of ale reminded by his sacrifices at the cost of no rewards.

“Apologies, l didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Your wife was one mighty shield-maiden, if she had wings I would believe she was a valkyrie in disguise.”

Valkyries were Odin’s maidens choosing slain warriors in battle to be taken to the realm of Valhalla. Ale and sparring partners given each day in the warrior’s realm where you lived and died to fight. Preparing for Ragnarok.

“I know of your pain as a widower Erik when my wife died during a snowstorm l wept harder than any other man.”

Erik nodded knowing of Odell’s misfortune. He noticed Solveig’s grip on her spoon shake with a tight squeeze, Erik hoped her heart did not ache at the mention of her mother’s death.

It was quite the opposite, Solveig did grieve for her mother but spite murdered sorrow as her grasp on the spoon imagined it was her father’s throat. Odell’s lies made her tremble and she tried to maintain this falsehood of knowing nothing, not knowing how her mother truly died.

Odell ignorant of Solveig raised his drink high and Erik did so too as their wooden mugs hit into each other letting ale swash, entering their bellies when they emptied the beer in few gulps.

“l know you are a greedy man, what do you wish to achieve after supporting Harald Sigurdsson. What did he offer you? Land, wealth, gold. The same as me?” Odell sipped at his ale.

Erik revealed a small smile. “None of that.”

Odell’s right brow raised questioning.

“The seat of the Earls of Lade,” Erik said.

Mug slammed down to the table, spraying ale. Odell asked again if he was hearing wrong, “What did you say?”

“You heard correctly, the seat of the Earls of Lade. A farming land across one of Noreg’s most important waterways. The land itself is not as important, but what it means.”

Earls and jarls were the same, used interchangeably in history, but earning one of the seats to Earls of Lade was an achievement gained from loyalty by the king.

“You have Harald Sigurdsson, the king of Noreg’s full trust.”

“Yes,” Erik casually said. Drinking more from his mug, acting as if it were nothing more than a simple matter.

“Do not forget me when you stand beside Harald Sigurdsson’s command,” Odell chuckled.

“Of course, how could l. Your daughter l won’t forget either.” The two jarls clanked their mugs together as Solveig’s keen ears deciphered all the political information she’d heard.

She planned more furiously now to obtain Halle’s hand in marriage, not for love but power.

Greedier than Erik Tokesson she was even if young, bearing poison in her hidden fangs hidden with caution. She would wait to pounce on the bare neck of her prey—Halle.

The man in question placed a foot forward and another forward. He did not know what he was doing besides walking with Jehanne. Halle did not plan this, his actions had carried him here unconsciously when he’d dragged Jehanne away from the end of the Hestavíg’s showcase of bloodshed.

It was quite easy to escape under the watchful eyes of his drunk father and the crowd that’d encircled them. Moving past the sea of bodies, he pushed through with Jehanne’s hand in his tight hold.

“Where are we going? Let go Halle!”

They’d marched outside the festival, outside the town to catch a glimpse of a lake with no one but them to see. Jehanne dragged against her will fought his grip, until she was lifted onto his shoulder where she could only hit at his back.

“Halle put me down!”

The sole witness to this scene of what appeared to be a lover’s quarrel was Hati.

“What does this mortal human have, that you go insane for her? There is the daughter of Odell who doesn’t fail to match this woman’s beauty.”

Hati complained, more with every passing minute.

“If you still have feelings for her, merely use her as a thrall. Rape her and be done with this woman of flesh.”

His growls roared in the spirit realm but within Midgard the human lands, his voice would not be heard.

“Listen to me!”

Frustrated, Hati may be silent but it could try to persuade Halle with its thoughts.

“This woman is nothing.”

Halle continued to march onwards with Jehanne resting on his shoulder.

“I’m sick of seeing you change your mind like the sea’s mood, either hate her or use her as a plaything already.”

The vargr who was meant to cause Ragnarok when he would swallow the moon trembled. It feared the Christian woman that Halle loved would sway him not to go to war, resulting in him not dying the death Hati needed.

Hati scared all the spirits close to Halle that could threaten him, from sea and land. He needed Halle to die a certain way for his bindings to loosen where he would eventually free himself and cause death to all the nine realms, or what was left which was Midgard.

Halle was his prey alone, that would die the death Hati wanted.

Revenge, Bloodlust, War and Chaos blighting his soul was what the monster Hati Hróðvitnisson required.

Yet the mortal Halle denied him of such wishes, as he carried the angry Jehanne with a serene mindset.

“I’m glad you’re calling me by my name now.”

“That doesn’t matter, what matters is you putting me down. I’m meant to help Tove and Gro serve the nobles!” Jehanne roared.

“There’s one noble here you can serve,” Halle smiled.

“Halle put me down this instant!”

They went past the lake, where a tiny wooden home had been built in secret long ago. Halle opened the door with Jehanne still slamming her fists onto him, they were more akin to tickles against his muscled back.

“If you say so,” Halle plopped her down onto a bed that’d been cleaned.

“What!—” She shrieked before feeling the sense of falling and crashing down onto a bed.

A soapstone oil lamp on a table was lit by Halle’s quick hands within the small room giving light, as the house more similar to a shack had no windows for sunshine to enter.

Jehanne asked alarmed and scared, “Where am l?!”

Hati revealed a full set of wolfish teeth thinking Halle may commit evil, but frowned, grinding its fangs when it heard the mortal’s answer.

“I thought it was best for you to take some rest after seeing the Hestavíg, you’ve been working since the sun rose from its bed.”

“Halle let me out,” she demanded with hasted breaths.

“Jehanne breathe slowly, l mean no harm.”

She scowled, “How can l believe you when you’ve dragged me here and trapped me alone with you. The one that’d I’d called a monster.”

“Because l don’t believe you meant it,” Halle stepped closer to the bed.

Jehanne leapt off the bed, edging away to the side of the wall to avoid him.

“Don’t take another step closer!” Jehanne screamed.

Halle did not falter, only curious when he asked, “Or what?”

“I’m warning you!”

Halle ignored it and stepped closer meeting the slap of Jehanne’s palm.

She gasped, shocked at what she’d done. Tears wanted to roll down her cheeks, Jehanne could not handle this anymore. She had wanted only for Halle to understand she was serious but a red handprint marked his cheek after the collision of her palm.

Jehanne expected him to dodge or halt her as he was a warrior that was stronger and faster than her. But he did not.

Accepting the pain that stung on his flushed cheek. Halle took one more step and Jehanne scuffled back meeting the end of the room where a wall was behind her. No more space to escape to.

“If you hated me, you would’ve done more than just slapped me.”

Halle’s hands met the wall behind Jehanne, his arms cutting any escape routes.

Jehanne raised her head to look into Halle’s interrogating eyes, “I’ve already told you that l don’t.”

“Then why did you reject me when l know you love me.”

“I don’t—”

“Lies,” he interrupted.

“I’M—”

“Why did you get jealous of Odell’s daughter flirting with me.”

“I…”

“Jehanne.”

Halle called out her name meeting her timid eyes.

“You’re a liar, a compulsive liar. But l am as well.”

For all the hatred he once had for Jehanne at her words on that scarring night, it evaporated as his heart beat once more for her. A second, a third and fourth time pounding harder.

Their gaze locked on one another, Halle’s eyes lowered from her stare to the softs lips of Jehanne.

“Push me away if you want me to stop. I’ll be gone from your sight if you never wish to see me.”

Halle took one last step, one that took all his courage from the rune on his mother’s amulet. His unstable breath could be heard, as the two stood close with Halle leaning down to meet her lips.

One...gradual but slow.

Two...uncertain with passion.

Three...he tasted bottom and top lip.

Four...a growing rhythm.

Five..."Hmm," Jehanne groaned with lust.

Six... "Hm," he responded with a small deeper moan answering back her pleads of more wanting—him.

Halle pulled his lips away and heard Jehanne beg, “Don’t stop.”

Strong arms lifting her small frame opposed to his, he carried her to the bed gently as they kissed more vigorously. Halle accidentally placed his hand onto the soapstone oil lamp’s fire on the table, causing the flame to wink out. His calloused palms squashed the light’s life out.

He didn’t feel any pain as Jehanne’s kisses rained down onto his face, halting him in relighting the light source.

“Give me a moment,” Halle pleaded.

He wanted his eyes to see with the light of fire to savour the sight of Jehanne’s body in all its glory, her voluptuous curves and eyes that craved for him.

“No.”

In the darkness of pitch-black she denied him of the chance, pulling him back to the bed. Jehanne feared her scars that’d healed from Erik’s torture would be seen by Halle, she did not want this moment to shatter with truths.

Hands roamed under her dress and Jehanne did not deny him of entry as they searched with hesitation. She wrapped her legs around his waist and now Halle knew not to fear. Clothes thrown onto the floor, tunic and dress removed with garments gone, the two laid bare on the bed as their breathing grew more unstable.

Jehanne revelled in the sensation of a man’s weight on top of her body, her fingers gripped at Halle’s back as he thrust forward with a slow rhythm for her sake. She bit her lip hard hissing at every action Halle committed with an intimacy she never faced before. Jehanne had been a virgin. Not anymore with blood staining the bedsheet.

The room was heated, as two individuals who once held spite for the other came to melt into each other's body. Tender endearment held them down as the bed’s legs shook more and more once Halle picked up the pace.

He could not explain the emotions running through his veins, a mixture of euphoria combined with adrenaline pumped into his heart. The two were one as Jehanne moaned with Halle’s final push, his hips pressed into hers.

They paused, breathing deeply rolling in the pleasures of intercourse, more intense than any activity both had ever experienced. They’d communicated everything with their bodies relishing in anger and love.

Time passed where night dawned on them, the darkness gave comfort to Halle and Jehanne resting with laboured breaths.

The two had many questions but none dared to ask not wanting to ruin this dream-like moment. Halle hoped he was not dreaming and wished if it was one, he would never wake up from it.

Hati irritated at Halle’s actions, watched the two spoon and he spat, pretending it physically could when it was just a spirit.

“Stubborn human.”

Those were Hati’s last words as it returned to its resting place in Halle’s soul that confined him, where he slept till the next time he awoke.

Closed eyes, Jehanne slept with the man she loved, hated and came to love again. It reminded her when they’d first met, she feared him but came to enjoy his warm embrace and she did so again. His chest acted as a pillow as she nestled her head onto his arm.

Monsters, sins or evil itself she had seen. The gaze of disdain from Erik Tokesson was one that she did not yearn to see, Halle’s eyes though differentiated from his father. Gentle and soft, caressing every feature of her face scanning each detail from nose to cheeks.

Jehanne knew he loved her, and she came to know she could not endure without his presence of tender comfort.

A cold night to some, Agneli’s and Solveig’s beds were empty of companionship. Stolen of common sense, the drunk Agneli repeated Jehanne's name over and over, pinning his hopes on Halle still hating her. For then at least he would have a chance at thieving a maiden’s heart that was already captured.

Solveig’s stoic thoughts already imagined Halle beside her, their wedding and how she would steal everything he owned. His mind, heart, authority and treasure. She would make sure the warrior would only think of her to lust over.

Decisions and consequences yet to be reaped, the spoils of fate would have to wait for the day to rise, as destined lovers slumbered in hope.

One of them awakened and slipped past the other’s embrace to step outside breathing the chilled air of the night.

Jehanne rubbed at her hands to gather warmth, her clothes back on not wishing the cold breeze to caress her limbs. She took in the view of a large lake, one that Halle had yet to show her till now, it was the same one he’d shared with Agneli. A hidden spot holding a special place in Halle’s heart.

The stars sparkled in the darkness to create a black sky of beauty. Holes in an ebony tinged blanket that covered the world letting light shine through, Jehanne sat on a hill staring at the dots of white.

She almost jumped hearing Halle’s voice, “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Jehanne having regained her composure nodded but blushed hearing his next words, “Not as pleasing to the eye as you are though.”

Her eyes timidly looked away avoiding Halle’s smile.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“My clothes are warm enough,” Jehanne answered.

“Come here, you may catch a cold,” Halle patted a spot right in front of him.

She shuffled over and paused when Halle wrapped his arm bearing tattoos around her. His head on her neckline, resting his chin that tickled her with hair.

“Stop that,” Jehanne laughed.

“I think this is the happiest moment of my life.” Halle’s warm breath and gentle tone soothed her ears, they listened to his words as if they were music.

“That makes the both of us,” Jehanne replied.

“Jehanne, l want you to know l love you.”

“I know,” her ears reddened hearing the words so close.

Halle said again, “I love you.”

“You don’t have to say it twice,” Jehanne lowered her head to her chest not wanting Halle to see her cheeks burning with warmth.

“Then tell me what are these scars on your body that I’ve never seen before.”

Jehanne attempted to swiftly shield her skin with clothing but too late as Halle held her in his embrace not letting her move.

“Who did this to you?” Halle growled the same anger Hati once held, mimicking the frustrated tone.

“I will kill whoever has done this.” The warrior demanded a second time, “Who did this?”

Sighing, unable to lie as the tears she held back rushed down, “your father.”

“What, how could he...no wait...he….,” Halle sat silent. His grip loosened on Jehanne, he was scared that she hated him now, and then it all clicked together.

He knew how cruel his father could be, witnessing what his father had done to past thralls who never had a chance at life as they often died through torture due to the mistakes they made.

Agneli and Jehanne had only survived through Halle making them stay by his side to have fewer encounters with his father.

What mistake had he committed, he regretted too late.

“Why did he punish you?” He hesitantly asked, not wishing to remind Jehanne of her pain.

“If l tell you, will you answer my questions?”

Halle nodded, he would share everything if it allowed him to know more about the one he loved, her pain and sorrow. He wanted her burdens to be his.

Jehanne wiped at her eyes that’d cried so much they could fill dried rivers full of water.

“I touched your mother’s spear, I only wanted to inspect it after seeing your name on the shaft. He asked Trygve to help punish me without my clothes.”

“For that alone, he whipped you this many times?” Halle glared at the many scars that trailed along her back and chest. They were hard to see after having so many days gone past, but a warrior’s perception would not miss the healed wounds.

“That’s why you hated me?”

Jehanne wanted to dig her hole into the ground, she didn’t know if Halle found it petty for her to hate him when he hadn’t been the one to inflict the pain.

His reaction was the complete opposite, yet it was the one she expected as well. Halle was not a monster, she knew it now with confidence. His words thundered with remorse and guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he begged.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” he implored.

“Of course you would hate me, I’m the son of a monster. My father, cruel and not caring to those who have no relation to him.”

Halle’s words continued to ring in her ear.

“Jehanne please don’t leave me, l beg of you.”

“I need you.” Halle’s voice was cracking with sorrow, “Please.”

The two cried together as Jehanne calmed down the whimpering man, just as how Agneli did many years ago when he was a child.

“The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the sins of the father. That is what my God taught me,” she repeated the same words she had said to Agneli when he revealed his past.

Halle declared, “You can hate my father, but understand he wasn’t always a...monster that you think he is.”

He continued, “Before my mother passed away, he was a kind jarl. Rewarding those of their efforts, but when she died he became bitter at the world. Hating those who were happy, he would harm anyone he could except for the ones he cared for.”

“Can l hear more about your mother Halle?” Jehnne inquired, she wanted to know the one that had raised the one she loved.

“...She was a warrior at heart like me. But she saw the world differently coming from a normal household of karls. She caught my father’s eye with her beauty and her skills even more so. My mother Gertrud...She was kind and loving.”

Halle’s voice cracked at recalling memories of his mother.

“She didn’t want war, she wished for trade to thrive. Not of slaves but the craftsmanship of our people, from ships to the clothes we could make.”

His sobs did not end.

“My father was different though, he was too greedy and planned to attack England's border for a swift viking. It was meant to be an in and out job, no sacrifices.”

Halle clenched his knuckles tight, “My mother followed him. With her skills she was worthy to fight alongside him and yet fate was not kind to her.”

“Her way was blocked by knights, too quickly were England's borders reinforced with soldiers. They were expecting them and my mother was forced to fight till her last dying breath as warriors dragged my father back to retreat.”

Halle laughed, “You know. Before my mother went for the viking, we spoke as if she knew she may die on the trip. She gave me her amulet passed down by my grandfather to her, promising me that she would return. She even let me carve my name into her spear.”

The broken man held onto his mother’s amulet letting the polished silver shine with the star's light.

“My mother told me, she wanted the trade with England to prosper but blood feuds between Norsemen and them made it impossible."

Jehanne was stunned to hear how Halle’s mother wished to trade with England. Laws in the 11th century stopped it as fear reigned the kingdom that Norsemen would grow stronger with more trade.

“She hoped she could satisfy my father’s desire for wealth to where he would no longer plan vikings."

Great shame doused Halle as he knew he became what his mother never wished for him to become. She didn't want his son to follow her or his father's footsteps. Bloodlust overcame the shame and drowned Halle to become alive and dead, marching towards revenge and a promise.

"My mother hoped l would grow up to be a trader, someone who knew how to defend themselves, not as a warrior. l would have as well but...She died on soil she wished to trade with.”

The night’s wind howled with a harsher breeze in accordance with Halle’s words as he held his anger boiling with fury.

“Maybe my mother deserved it, maybe I deserve to die for all the pain I’ve caused people. But she was kind even in war, letting those surrender become thralls and be sold back to their families as ransom.”

Erik’s retelling of the events burned into Halle’s memory as he retold what occurred at a past battle.

“England did not do the same for my mother wanting to make a statement. They forced her to fight when she wished to surrender.”

Halle’s palms bled red as nails dug into skin.

“My mother’s pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears and they beheaded her where she stood. That is war, cruel and unfair.”

Finally, Halle’s voice smoothened out with less bated breaths.

“Call me a monster, but even the best of men are not free of what you call as, ‘sin’.”

His gaze tore away from Jehanne staring at the abyss with few specks of light

“Maybe my grandfather was right that we are sophisticated animals at best.” The words he once thought to be false echoed in his wavering mentality.

The night paused with stars revolving around the two with their long-needed conversation. More secrets were about to be revealed for good and bad.