"Yes. I was the boy on that night ten summers ago."

I gulped loudly at his earth-rocking response. I ran a shaky hand through my ratted hair, not caring about the blood.

I let out a much-needed breath as my mind struggled to comprehend all of this. How was this possible? That this supposed ruthless and heartless man was the little boy with the sad doe eyes from so many years ago?

The Jarl obviously remembered our first encounter as children from ten summers ago. I used to think of the dark haired boy growing up, but simply forgot the exchange once I figured I would never see him again. Was that why he raided my clan and murdered my entire family and people? To take me for himself without any chance of protest?

The realization was hard to swallow. A few tears escaped, and I shivered as the eventide breeze swept through the darkening forest. My chest seized as I continued to cry; for my family, for my beloved friends and for all that I had lost.

'Twas my fault. I was the reason everyone I loved was dead. Oh, Odin, it should have been me.

I should have been the one to die. Not my family nor people.

It should have been me. That line rolled over and over in my head, tormenting me. I heard a low growl come from the brute, and through blurry eyes I watched his face tighten, his scar contorting. I must have said the words aloud, unknowingly.

"Nei! 'Twas not your fault! You do not understand, my little wildcat," He said fiercely, his dark eyes blazing. He no longer was looking around for the man, his attention completely on me. He glanced away for a moment and motioned with a hand to Ivar to give us privacy.

The brute's somber stare was intense, peering deep into my eyes, almost willing me to understand. I stared back, unflinching, studying his face. The moon's strengthening rays played with the sharp angles on his face, highlighting his strong nose. I could make out the ticking of his jaw, obviously displaying his fury of the events that transpired earlier. Even in the dark of the night, I could see the dark shadows under his eyes. A small part of me was satisfied at the signs of distress on my captor's features.

Served him right.

I sucked in a breath. "I-I..." I did not know what to say. I wanted to ask so many questions, yet I had no idea where to begin.

I had the great sudden urge to scream and rage at him-but what was the point? I was too exhausted and too confused. Great Odin, what do I do?

"I think the time has come - that I explain everything," the Jarl said carefully. "Perchance then you will not harbor any more hateful thoughts towards me." He muttered softly almost to himself, his eyes observing the darkening forest around us.

With a sigh, the brute gracefully moved into a comfortable sitting position on the ground across from me, his long legs spread out before him. His arms were extended on the cold ground, propping himself up. The brute's head fell back with a loud sigh as he gazed up at the beautiful night sky.

He then leaned towards me and gently reached a hand towards my still slightly bleeding neck to help stop the flow. But as his hand neared I could not help flinching. His extended hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist at my reaction to his desired touch. I turned my gaze away from him and watched him from the corner of my eye as he placed it back in his lap. I remained silent, not knowing what to say.

I was not going to apologize, not for running away nor for his exhaustion. 'Twas his fault we were in this position now, I thought with a new small feeling of determination.

The Jarl finally cleared his throat, turning his attention to the stars briefly before settling his gaze upon me. I silently awaited for his explanation, praying to the gods that this possibly could help me in some way understand.

"That night, ten summers ago, I was nearly four and ten winters old. My father, the old Jarl of my clan, suddenly decided to travel south, to your clan. He did not explain precisely as to why we were traveling so sudden, but he was a man not to be questioned. Not unless you desired to be slaughtered by his hand," he chuckled without humor. "My father coveted other's land, particularly your father's. Larse, my father, wanted to be the Jarl of all Norway; to be the most powerful being that the gods would ever see. Larse would not have been satisfied with only Norway, but other islands and vast lands we discovered on a few journeys we took. Valhalla would be his most desired prize. To rival the gods themselves for a spot to rule. Larse was a greedy and selfish man, and it showed in his leadership and within the clan.

"You see, my father tried to trick Dirk to combine the clans; feeding him lies about becoming one strong clan. But your father, Britta, your father saw through that. Our tattered reputation followed us to the south, and Dirk, thank Odin, refused Larse's offer. My father was not a man used to being told no to, and your father's response infuriated him. When your father looked into my eyes that night, he did not sneer with disgust like most Jarls or men did once they realized I was Jarl Larse's heir. Nei, your father looked at me as if I was a young boy, in fact, I was. I had only killed my first buck the winter before. I felt as an equal that had yet to decide which way to pursue in life; that of killing and raids or of peace and prosperity. Your father made me feel as though I did not have to follow in my father's deceitful footsteps, but those of my own."

A smirk crossed the brute's face, making his face and pale scar twist. "Then I saw you," he whispered softly, faint enough that I could barely hear him. His gaze was locked onto something off in the distance, then he suddenly blinked and looked at me deeply in the eyes.

"I saw you standing by the bridge holding your mother's hand and something inside of me clenched up. Right here," he said, thumping the center of his chest with a fist. 'Twas the strangest yet best feeling I had ever felt. I knew I had to get a closer look at you. I had heard a few whispers of a young becoming maiden of the south growing into the most beautiful girl Norway would ever see, and her kindness made the most war-hardened warrior smile with a new free spirit. I knew then and there 'twas you; you were the girl that the entire country was talking about. And I wanted to talk to you, get to know you, and know all about you. Your fears, your adventures, your stories...everything.

"I began walking towards you, to say hallo and finally meet you. But your father stopped me. We had to leave then; both the Jarls were on edge. I desperately wanted to meet you, to hear your voice, but I had to listen to my father or face another beating. But you smiled at me, making that feeling intensify. From that point on I vowed that you would become my future bride, my confidant, and my lover. You were the one I wanted, no other maiden I met shined in the same light as you."

A light blush covered the brute's face, and I nearly smiled at the child-like gesture. I bit my lip, making sure to keep my face nearly emotionless. It looked as if the powerful Jarl was almost bashful of his next words. "I used to come and visit, perchance just to watch you from the woods to see what you were like or what you were doing. You were exactly like what members of the other clans I traveled to described you as, and I wanted to finally meet you. I had also planned to meet with your father to reconcile our past differences. Two birds in one kill, if you shall."

The trademark smirk disappeared in a flash. His face grew solemn, his eyes now heavy with regret and sadness. "That 'tis the night I arrived when your village was being raided."

I turned my face away from him, breaking that growing intimate connection between us as I sobbed. Tears leaked continuously from my eyes, dampening my cheeks and running down my throat. Was he saying what I believed he meant to say? That he did not...

The Jarl continued, interrupting my train of thought. "My men and I arrived when the marketplace was being burned, and we jumped into battle alongside your father's warriors. Yet, the men we were fighting wore the same colors as we did. Our chainmail, leather protection, clothes...The exact warrior attire we wear ourselves when going into battle. One of my men notified me that we were short on uniforms, but it did not fall into place until we arrived here. But not one of my men recognized these imposters. Nor did I," he added.

"Th-Then, y-you did n-not..."

"Nei, Britta, I did not send my men to raid and kill your people. When we arrived, the fight was nearly over. 'Twas obvious that it was unexpected and your father's warriors were largely outnumbered. Thank the gods that I found you when I did. If I did not make it to you on time..." He trailed off, shaking his head at the thought.

"There were no survivors, everyone was gone. And the church; there was no way my men and I could have saved anyone. I am sorry, Britta. I truly am, min søte."

Stunned beyond words, I sat back on my backside on the ground. A deep ache began to throb behind my eyes, making it hard to fathom what the Jarl just said. I rubbed my face in agitation. Everything I believed or understood, was wrong. If the Jarl did not raid my home...then who did? My people were peaceful; negotiators first, fighters second. Who would want all of us dead? We had no enemies, aside from the tension with the Dahlsten clan. But at least none other that I was aware of. Pappa and my brothers tended to leave particular things out of conversation; was there something important that they omitted from all of us? A piece of information that lead to our demise? I groaned as the ache in my head worsened.

But what if the Jarl was lying? How could I know that he was telling the truth?

His eyes...

'Twas his features...his features were the obvious trait that I could see through all of his words. The Jarl had no reason to lie, his eyes held all the emotions of his words; the struggle, desire, want and determination twinkled in his onyx eyes as he spoke of that night so many summers ago.

I rubbed my temples, groaning with the stress and confusion overwhelming my mind. The tears stopped, only a few stray traitorous drops fell from my lashes. I glanced up to the brute, the look in his eyes telling me that he understood.

He waited silently, patiently watching my reaction to his confession.

"T-Ten summers?" I asked, spitting out one of the most palpable things my mind replayed over and over. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my face blaze with heat, turning my face red as blood.

"I-I mean," I stuttered out, fumbling over my words. He only chuckled at my tied tongue.

"Ja. I have waited ten summers for you, Britta. But it seems that I waited too long, I was too late to save your family. But I saved you. And thank the gods I did," he said with a whisper.

My heart thumped hard at his relieved whisper, making my belly flutter and my breath catch. My mind replayed the stranger's face above me, and I could still feel his unwanted touch on my body. I wanted to scoot away from the Jarl, yet inwardly I knew he would not take advantage of me. But I still did not want to be touched, not even by him.

I looked away, wanting to suddenly leave the intimate cloak around us.

A lone callused finger brushed along my jaw, gently turning my face back towards him. His eyes searched my face, taking in my tears and pallid skin. His thumb continued to rub back and forth along my jaw, trailing upward towards my lips. My lips parted subconsciously at his touch, yet I pressed my lips firmly together, stopping him from going any further.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the sound of footsteps. The brute retracted his hand, but I could still feel his heated gaze on my face.

"He is gone, Aderick. He headed towards the rising sun on his horse, too fast for us to catch him." Ragnar said as he strolled back towards us, Balder and Trond close behind him. Sweat made their skin glisten with the moon's rays.

Ivar suddenly dropped to the ground, leaving his perch from a tree nearby. He joined the rest of the men as they stopped before the Jarl and I. I clenched my cloak tightly around me, warding off any eyes and any more advances.

"What?" the Jarl growled low. I saw Ragnar swallow uneasily, yet he stood firm.

A loud roar left the brute as he stood up, picking up his axe from the ground. This new side of him was not the gentle and honest nature displayed a few moments ago, which made me nervous at the quick personality switch.

The Jarl was now furious and frustrated, beyond talking to. I watched with unease as he paced back and forth, silent. The other men seemed used to his antics, looking somewhat bored, only waiting for it to be over.

Glancing up at him, I watched as the Jarl suddenly heaved his axe through the air and the blade sunk deep into the trunk of a nearby tree. I jumped at the ricocheting thunk of the axe, nearly splitting the tree.

"BY THE GODS!" The Jarl roared out, his scarred face pointed to the sky.

His chest was heaving with rage and I could see the lust for revenge in his eyes. The Jarl's jaw was clenched, his entire frame shaking with the need to go after my attacker.

"We shall not eat nor rest until that vile vermin is underneath my boot pleading for mercy. Until I watch the light leave his eyes, and see the blood leave his veins, I will not be satisfied. Forstått?"

Alarm speared through me at the cold calculating look within the Jarl's black eyes. A bleak thought entered my mind as I watched this unfamiliar deadened person in front of me.

This was the ruthless cold-blooded Jarl of the Dahlsten clan.

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