The Einhjorn (The Relics of Asgard)

Her father was not in the habit of overindulging, but in celebration of his only daughter’s engagement, he made an exception. That night, it took the combined efforts of Hakon, Disa, and two thralls to drag him to his bed chamber. Lady Bergljot, who shared the large oaken bed with her husband, would remain in the kitchens for several more hours. The party that had accrued her father’s current condition had likewise left them all with a staggering mess.

  Her father blundered into a wall, and Hakon struggled to get the bedroom door open.

  Crushing his daughter into the wall hangings, Jarl Sigurd crowed, “I’m so proud, Disa! Sho-so proud! You shall be Ki-ki-king Harald’s—! A princess! Oh! I knew you weren’t beautiful for nothing! Thank the Allfather! Thank that lye-headed little prince!”

  “Don’t you think you’ve said enough already?” Hakon snapped, prying the jarl off Disa before he could suffocate her.

  While her father had been jubilant, her brother had maintained his sour disapproval of the whole marriage scheme. It threatened his inheritance, Hakon said. He had a hundred reasons: Disa could never be happy so far from home, it would be better if Disa married a jarl.

  Not that anyone besides Disa had any patience for his complaints. It was she, and she alone, who endured Hakon’s criticisms as they and the thralls carried the large man into his chamber.

  “Disa doesn’t belong at court, father. What does she know of their southern politics?”

  Her father was too drunk to pay his son much attention. He burped and mumbled happily under his breath as he teetered eagerly towards his bed.

  “Such a good prince,” he grumbled. “Such a good, hearty drinker!”

  “Yes, he sure showed you.” Disa smirked as she weaseled her way out from under his arm to make room for the thralls. The bed groaned as her father’s men pushed him down onto the straw mattress.

  Hakon wouldn’t be persuaded. “Don’t you think it’s suspicious that he just appears out of nowhere one night and proposes to your daughter the next day? He can’t know Disa well enough to really be in love!”

  “Love?” Her father was cognizant enough to hear only this much. “What’s not to love about this face?”

  His huge fingers lashed forward and clamped down around Disa’s cheeks. Sober, he frequently did not know his own strength. Drunk, he was downright dangerous.

  “Father!” she sputtered from between her pinched cheeks. “Let—me—go!” She wrenched herself free and rubbed at her red face.

  “I’m sorry, Disa,” her father said, and the mead sloshing in his belly lent his apology real earnestness. “Princess Disa…”

  All night he and his men had toasted their future princess. Their drinks spilled down the front of her gown, and their hands clapped her shoulder as, one-by-one, they stepped forward to offer their congratulations.

  Disa had incorrectly assumed that after drinking themselves into a stupor the night before, they would be less inclined to drink so heavily the today.

  “Get him in bed,” Hakon barked.

  The thralls, two middle-aged men who had been in her father’s care since their adolescence, braved the jarl’s flailing fists to peel away his jacket and shoes. They spilled him backwards onto his bed, and Jarl Sigurd laid flat upon his pillows and sank into their softness.

  “Drunkard,” Hakon scoffed.

  “He was only enjoying himself,” Disa said loyally.

  “You may go,” Hakon snapped at the thralls. They had collected the worst of the jarl’s mead-sodden things, laid the blankets over their master, and now stood watching the siblings. “Be sure he is brought water in the morning.”

  The thralls showed themselves silently from the apartment, leaving the lordling and lady with their father. Hakon gazed down upon the old man sprawled and snoring upon the straw mattress.

  “Disa…” Hakon began.

  Disa had endured his lectures all night; her patience was spent. “Please, Hakon, no more. I’ve heard enough.”

  “But you can’t honestly want to marry him. You don’t know anything about him.”

  Disa frowned at the uncomfortable truth. Since his proposal, she had spent only minutes in the presence of her groom-to-be. Prince Eric could not drink without an accompaniment of cheers and toast. He could not speak without an audience of awe-inspired young warriors nudging in close to listen. Everything he said was fascinating and amusing. It provoked reverential silence and thundering laughter. Tethered to her father’s side, Disa sat apart from the men and weathered her brother’s censure.

  “We have three days to become better acquainted. I have every confidence that father will find us time to be alone.”

  “The two of you… to be alone,” Hakon sputtered, looking horror-struck. “But he’s father’s age! Why would you ever want to be alone with him?”

  Surprised, Disa looked down at her father. His once rich-blond hair was peppered with gray. His scalp was bald. His skin was like leather, and his hands were cracked from having worked at sea for so many decades. He looked nothing like Prince Eric, with his head of red hair and mouth of white teeth.

  “That can’t be,” Disa said with a chuckle.

  “You really are a fool,” Hakon scoffed. “You see how little you know about him? He and father were born the same year. The same year!”

  “Father’s only thirty-two, Hakon. He was young when he had me. It’s not so shocking.”

  “Thirty-two is still double your age, Disa.”

  “Time will smooth the gap. Besides, I have heard of women marrying far older. Look at old King Harald, his newest wife is only twenty-two.”

  “And that makes your situation acceptable?”

  “It makes it a lot less shocking, yes.”

  “And the fact that the royal family infamously hosts concubines and mistresses doesn’t bother you? You’re willing to share your precious prince with others?”

  “You shouldn’t say such things,” Disa said, checking on her father to ensure that he was still asleep. “Father would be upset with you.”

  “Father is always upset with me. I’ve stopped caring.”

  “I wish you would. You upset us all with your moping.”

  “My—my moping? I’m trying to help you, Disa. Don’t you see what a mistake this is?”

  “No. No, I don’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sixteen, Hakon, and he’s a prince. Father might never have let me marry if not for Prince Eric.”

  “He will let you marry. He’s just waiting for the right jarl to prove himself deserving.”

  “Jarl. Jarl,” Disa snorted. “It’s all about the King now. The jarls are dying out. Those that are left are too old or weak to impress father.”

  “I’m not weak!” Hakon roared. Her father responded to the outburst with a snort but did not awaken. “I am strong, and I intend to keep Trondelag safe from those so-called kings.”

  “That may be, brother, but you’ll stand alone. There are no jarls left to take your side, just as there are no jarls left to marry me. Why shouldn’t I be happy to receive the prince’s proposal?”

  “Then marry me!” Hakon declared.

  Disa couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, Hakon. Are you really so young that you do not—?”

  “Don’t laugh,” he snapped. “I would marry you. I would make you my wife.”

  With dawning horror, Disa realized he spoke in earnest. She glanced again at her father; he was still asleep. “I am your sister,” she hissed. “You should not say such scandalous things.”

  “I don’t care if you’re my sister. You’re still a woman, and I’m still a man. You and I together could keep Hladir—all of Trondelag—independent.”

  “Stop it,” Disa growled. “This is wrong. What if someone were to hear you?”

  “What of it? I would have declared my intentions earlier if I had known that any of this was going to happen Now the prince has snatched you away.”

  “Snatch me away?” Disa sneered. “I can’t be taken from you. I am your sister. I
do not belong to you!”

  “I was going to wait until I was older to tell father. He needs to see me as a proper man before I can have you.”

  “You can never have me!” Disa shrieked, equal parts disgusted and horrified. “Do not say these things to me. Do not say these things!”

  “Disa, calm yourself.” Hakon’s eyes flooded with concern. The soft hairs on his chin quivering, he stepped forward to take hold of her shoulders. He pressed so close that Disa’s tortoiseshell brooches dug into her chest. “I did not mean for it to happen like this. I wanted to be taller and stronger—”

  “Get off me!” She tried to shove him away and screeched, “You’re speaking lunacy!”

  “Listen to me!” he cried, his own desperation rising to match hers. “Don’t marry the prince. Don’t throw yourself away on him. Stay here. You can forget I said anything. We can go on being brother and sister, and maybe someday when I’m older you can be happy with me as your—”

  “No! Don’t say it!” She dug her fingernails into his collarbone, but the more she tried to force him away, the more determined he was to pull her closer.

  He was not strong, not like her father, but he was stronger than Disa. He pulled her flush to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. His thudding heart pounded against her breast, and she could feel her own pulse throbbing in her throat. His hand stroked her hair, pulling it up off the back of her neck, and she felt his hot breath sweep across her shoulder.

  “No!” she wailed as once more she tried and failed to break herself free.

  His lips grazed her ear, and each of his breaths deafened her to her own despairing screams.

  He kissed her ear. “For my sister.” He kissed it again. “I can just be your brother for now. So, please, stay.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Prince Eric had heard her shrieking and come. He stood in the doorway to her father’s chambers, a dagger drawn and his cape thrown back over his shoulder.

  Her mouth dropped open to plead for his help. They had been caught, but still her brother would not release her. Adrenaline shot through her. This must be what a rabbit felt when caught in the eagle’s claws.

  “Hel—”

  “What are you doing?” The prince bellowed.

  Hakon loosened his hold and Disa was finally able to shove her brother away. They separated, both of them panting.

  In the bed, her father snorted awake. His unfocused eyes swept across the room, taking in his children before landing on the prince standing in the doorway. Only when he spied the dagger in Prince Eric’s hand did the jarl come fully awake. He shot up in his bed and scrambled for his sword.

  “Put down your weapon!” The jarl slurred. His own was still in the mead hall where he had discarded it in his stupor.

  The prince spat, his eyes flown wide. “Then explain to me, Jarl Sigurd, why your son was kissing my bride!”

  “Kiss? Kiss?” Still sloshed, the jarl turned on his children. Breathing heavy, flushed from collar to forehead, Jarl Sigurd’s expression crumpled into one of astonishment and dismay.

  “Disa?” he whispered, his voice more like a moan. “What is he talking about?”

  “He didn’t kiss me! He didn’t!” She turned to the prince and added, “I would never allow it!”

  “How can you lie to me?” The prince demanded. Fury turned his face red.

  “He forced himself on me!” she cried, rubbing the ear her brother had kissed only seconds ago.

  “He what?” Her father bellowed, his drunken haze burning away in a rush of anger. “Hakon, what have you done?”

  “Nothing!” her brother roared back, determined despite the dagger pointed at his chest.

  “I would never lie to you!” Disa said, but she was unsure whom she wished most to convince, her father or her groom.

  “What have you done?” Jarl Sigurd leapt to his feet. He swayed but kept himself upright with a firm grip upon the footboard. His meaty arms swung towards his son as he stumbled forward.

  Hakon, soberer and quicker, danced from his father’s reach. He skirted past Prince Eric’s dagger. He screamed at them both. He pled for them to be reasonable, but they were either too inebriated or too furious to pay him any such kindness.

  Her father charged after his son, grasping wildly for the back of Hakon’s tunic or his frizzy locks. Prince Eric, his dark eyebrows knotted and his eyes narrowed, went immediately to Disa’s side.

  “Please, my lord,” Disa cried as she took hold of the arm holding the dagger. “My brother—He did not touch me!”

  “Has your brother taken you, Lady Saldis?” Prince Eric demanded while behind him the jarl crashed into a small table. A bowl of water sitting upon the table’s surface upended upon the floor with a metallic clang.

  Hakon seized his opportunity. While their father fought to disentangle himself from the table, he raced from the room.

  Disa was still processing the prince’s question when Hakon’s feet drummed away down the hall.

  “No! No, I swear. I’m a maid.”

  “How can I believe you?” Prince Eric demanded. “I’ve just seen you embracing your brother. Your brother! What kind of family is this?”

  Jarl Sigurd threw the table. It left a dent where it struck the waddle-and-daub wall.

  “Disa would never lie!” the jarl roared, his mead-fueled rage turning upon the prince. “I do not raise liars.”

  “Only incestuous lechers?” Prince Eric bit back.

  “I do not know my brother!” Disa dug her fingernails into the prince’s arm. “Not in that way. Please, believe me.”

  Her father straightened to his full, towering height. “Hakon will pay for what he’s done, but I won’t let you discard my daughter. She is a maid. She says she is a maid.” Her father opened his arms for his daughter. He had been terrifying only moments ago, but now he seemed the safest place in the world.

  She left the prince’s side to race into her father’s enveloping embrace. He was wheezing and stinking of mead, but he was also so warm and strong.

  “She is a maid.” His voice rumbled in his chest like distant thunder.

  Disa pried her eyes from her father’s tunic in time to see the prince stuff his dagger back into the ratty sheath tucked into his belt. He was not fully convinced by her father’s declaration, his expression of consternation showed that. “If I am to marry her, Jarl Sigurd, it will not be here.”

  “What?” The word rumbled in his chest. “This is her home. She should be married here.”

  “The wedding is still three days away. You really expect me to trust her with her brother for three days? I might be convinced to believe her, but I have no faith in your son.”

  “So you would take her from our house unwed? Without any assurance that she will be safe?”

  “No assurance is necessary,” Prince Eric snapped. “She is safer with me than she is here. I have pride, Jarl Sigurd, and heavens hang me if I should ever act dishonorably! I will take her safely to my brother’s home in Saeheimr, and there I will marry her in the presence of my court.”

  “And what of her dowry, and her wedding clothes? How am I supposed to prepare everything in time?”

  “Clothes? Pack only what she needs for the journey. When she has been made my wife, I’ll see she has everything she needs.”

  “And her dowry? I must make arrangements for the land that—”

  “She needs no dowry. I don’t require it. I am not marrying her from a desire for land or power, Jarl Sigurd. I have enough of both for us to be quite comfortable.”

  “No dowry!” the jarl exclaimed, his grip on his daughter loosening.

  “But I wish to leave soon, Jarl Sigurd. As much as I respect you and your wife, I cannot tolerate your son. I shall not share a roof with him, not anymore. A brother… making love to his sister! Repulsive! Absolutely repulsive. ”

  “Repulsive indeed!” the jarl bellowed, so determined was he to convey his disgust. “My son will be punished.”


  “I ask that you and your wife allow Lady Saldis to sleep in your chambers tonight. I expect her to be ready to leave in the morning.”

  “The morning?” her father hesitated. “I understand your anxiety, Lord Eric, but surely you can give us more time to prepare our farewells. We cannot know when we shall ever see her again.”

  “I will not wait. There are wolves at your hearth, Jarl Sigurd, and I will not endanger your daughter’s purity by staying. I will compensate you for the effort you have taken to protect your daughter’s chastity, but then we shall be gone.”

  “My… my chastity?” Disa mumbled, feeling especially tiny next to her father.

  “Your chastity, my dear. As you claim it is still intact, I shall pay your father for the privilege of possessing it. Nothing is quite so magical as a virginal bride.”

  “No dowry…” he father hissed between his teeth, oblivious to the long stare his daughter shared with the crowned prince.

  Rubbing thoughtfully at his cheeks, the prince was the first to look away. His face was nearly as red as his bleached hair. “It’s late, and this affair has exhausted me. I will leave you with your daughter, Jarl Sigurd, with the expectation that I shall see her well and happy tomorrow.”

  “Yes, of course.” Her father hiccuped as he pulled his daughter from the prince’s path. “Yes… yes, tomorrow.”

  They prince spared her a look and then he was gone.

  Chapter Four