As dawn broke, Rannveig stirred, her eyes adjusting to the soft light filtering through the cabin's windows. She sat up quietly, careful not to wake the others. Her gaze fell upon Sigrida's sleeping form, and she found herself studying the young woman with newfound interest.

  The past two days had revealed something about Sigrida that Rannveig hadn't expected. She recalled Sigrida's unwavering patience during their journey, her courage in the face of danger, and the respect she'd shown even when challenged. Most striking was Sigrida's selfless act of putting herself between Rannveig and potential harm during their escape.

  Rannveig felt a twinge of discomfort as she wrestled with her conflicting thoughts. Her upbringing had instilled in her certain views about thralls, views that now seemed to waver in the face of Sigrida's actions. She thought of Brandr and his apparent feelings for Sigrida, a notion that still filled her with concern.

  Yet, as she reflected on Sigrida's actions, Rannveig couldn't ignore the evidence before her. There was no hint of manipulation in Sigrida's behavior. Instead, Rannveig saw a woman who acted with integrity, regardless of the situation.

  With a small sigh, Rannveig questioned her initial judgments. Could she have been wrong about Sigrida? Could a thrall truly be worthy of respect? The possibility unsettled her, challenging long-held beliefs. Rannveig's certainty wavered, leaving her with more questions than answers as she watched Sigrida sleep.

  As Rannveig grappled with these thoughts, the morning light strengthened, rousing the others. Sigrida stirred and rose, reaching for her sword belt and light armor. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she prepared for the journey to Torbjorn's camp, unaware of Rannveig's scrutiny. The weight of the upcoming negotiation hung in the air, lending urgency to their preparations and momentarily pushing aside Rannveig's internal conflict.

  Erik and Rannveig gathered their belongings, exchanging quiet words as they readied themselves. Sigrida had just begun to fasten her belt when Erik approached, his expression troubled. He placed a gentle hand on her arm, halting her movements.

  "Wait," he said softly, his voice laced with concern. "It may not be safe for you to travel to Torbjorn's camp with us."

  "But I've come this far," Sigrida protested, her chin lifting. "I want to help, to see this through."

  "It will only be Rannveig and me," Erik said, his voice low. "If Torbjorn decides to punish you, I won't be able to protect you."

  Sigrida studied his face, something unspoken passing between them. "Do you really think he would hurt me?" she asked quietly. "You know how he's treated me compared to the other thralls. Because of my mother—"

  "Even so," Erik cut in, though his eyes showed he understood. "He may see this as a betrayal."

  Rannveig watched their exchange with growing curiosity, sensing layers of meaning she couldn't quite grasp. Something stirred within her, a newfound respect battling against her earlier prejudices.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. "Sigrida," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Your bravery is admirable, but Erik is right. We cannot risk losing you." She paused, surprised by the sincerity in her own words. "Your presence on this journey has been invaluable. You saved my life, and your commitment to our cause is clear. We will need your strength in the battles to come."

  Sigrida looked up, surprise and warmth mingling in her eyes as she registered Rannveig's unexpected words of acceptance. "Thank you, Rannveig," she said softly, clearly touched by the praise.

  As the group finished their preparations, Sven arrived at Gorm's cabin, ready to guide Erik and Rannveig to Torbjorn's hidden camp. Erik secured a blindfold over Haakon's eyes, ensuring their prisoner couldn't discern their route. Sigrida, resigned to remaining behind, busied herself with chores around the cabin.

  With a final nod to Sigrida and Gorm, Erik and Rannveig set out, following Sven into the dense forest. The blindfolded Haakon stumbled between them, guided by Erik's firm hand. As they disappeared into the trees, Rannveig cast one last glance back at the cabin, her mind already working how she would approach the challenging negotiations that lay ahead.

  As they journeyed through the forest, a heavy silence settled over the group. Erik's brow remained furrowed, his thoughts clearly focused on the impending confrontation with Torbjorn. Rannveig matched his pace, her own mind racing with potential scenarios for the negotiations ahead.

  Hours passed, the forest path winding endlessly before them. Rannveig's feet began to ache, unused to such prolonged walking, but she pressed on without complaint. The weight of their mission overshadowed any physical discomfort.

  Haakon trudged between them, his blindfolded head bowed. As they neared their destination, his posture stiffened, perhaps sensing the change that awaited him under Torbjorn's custody.

  As the forest began to thin, Erik and Rannveig exchanged a tense glance, their vigilance heightening. The dense trees gave way to a clearing where Torbjorn and Asbjorn waited, Sven guiding them along the final stretch.

  Torbjorn's face remained a mask of grim impassivity as they emerged. Asbjorn stood beside him, his expression cautious. A handful of Torbjorn's men, including Erik's father, Arvid, and brothers, Harald and Sigurd, formed a protective circle around their chief.

  Erik's step faltered momentarily as he caught sight of his father and brothers. His jaw clenched, eyes flickering between them before he steadied himself, focusing on what he needed to say.

  "Where is Astrid?" Torbjorn's voice was taut with barely contained emotion. "Why have you come without my daughter?"

  Before Erik could respond, Rannveig stepped forward. "Chief Torbjorn, I am Rannveig, daughter of Jarl Magnus. Astrid is safe in my father's hall."

  Though her words offered a measure of relief, Torbjorn's expression remained thunderous. "Explain yourselves," he commanded. "Why does my daughter linger in another's home while you dare to stand before me?"

  "The journey was too dangerous to bring her," Rannveig said evenly. "Gunnar's men patrol the coastline. We dared not risk her safety on such dangerous waters."

  Asbjorn, who had been observing quietly, spoke up. "Father, they came here to tell us something. We must trust their intentions."

  Harald scoffed under his breath, while his father's face twisted with anger. Torbjorn silenced him with a raised hand. Sigurd's eyes darted between Erik and their father, torn between brotherly love and clan duty. Torbjorn's scowl deepened, unsatisfied but willing to listen. He grunted acknowledgment and gestured for them to step closer.

  Erik and Rannveig stepped forward into the heavy silence. Torbjorn's rigid posture and crossed arms spoke of both fury and restraint, his hard eyes fixed upon them. Time stretched as Erik fought the urge to fill the quiet with explanations, knowing the chieftain would speak when ready.

  Finally, Torbjorn's voice cut through the tension. "I know why you have come. Gunnar and his men have been circling these lands like vultures. Already he has made raids into my territories, burning farms and stealing livestock. It won't be long before he comes looking for us in the forest."

  He turned his piercing gaze upon Rannveig. "I presume you've come to extend Magnus's guardianship and negotiate the provisions of such safekeeping."

  Rannveig inclined her head respectfully. "My father has sent me to discuss terms, yes. We hope to reach an agreement that will benefit both our clans against this threat."

  Torbjorn sighed deeply, a sound caught between contemplation and skepticism. "And what price does the Jarl set upon the lives of my people, I wonder?"

  His angry gaze returned to Erik, but still he said nothing. Asbjorn stood beside his father, his expression guarded but curious.

  Rannveig straightened, preparing to lay out her father's proposed alliance. Though anger flashed in Torbjorn's eyes at the mention of ceding the northern lands, rich in timber and iron ore, he held his tongue and let her finish.

  When she concluded, silence fell over the clearing. Torbjorn stared beyond the treeline, his broad shoulders rigid. Erik watched him closely, noting the struggle in the subtle movements of his bearded jaw and his white-knuckled fists.

  At last, Torbjorn raised his head. His voice was tight with suppressed rage. "Your father's demands are steep. The northern lands are my people's lifeblood. Without them, we will wither and fade."

  Before he could continue, Erik's father, Arvid, stepped forward, his face flushed with anger. "Jarl Magnus is exploiting our vulnerability!" he spat. "He seeks to profit from our misfortune!"

  Rannveig tensed at the accusation, her jaw clenched but she maintained her composure.

  Harald, his eyes flashing with indignation, said, "It would be better to remain free in the forest than to ally ourselves with such opportunists. At least then we'd keep our dignity."

  Torbjorn silenced them with a sharp look and raised hand. "Enough," he said firmly.

  Erik's brother fell silent, his anger still visible in his clenched fists. Arvid crossed his arms, defiant but restrained.

  Rannveig inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. "I understand this is a difficult choice, but--"

  Torbjorn's gaze burned with intensity. "A difficult choice?" he scoffed. "For you and your father, who stand to gain much, it is no choice at all. You risk nothing while we lose everything."

  Rannveig stood her ground, her voice taking on a cooler edge. "My father puts his own kinsmen and alliances at risk to aid you. And let us not forget, it was not the Jarl who incited Gunnar's wrath. Your daughter's actions brought us to this point."

  Erik shifted uncomfortably, heat rising to his face as the weight of his role in Astrid's escape pressed upon him. Behind Torbjorn, Harald's veins visibly pulsed at his temples, his anger barely contained.

  Torbjorn's face flushed a deep crimson, fury etching every line of his features. As he opened his mouth, likely to unleash a torrent of rage, Rannveig quickly continued, her tone softening.

  "The outcome my father seeks brings peace to both our clans," Rannveig said, carefully. "This alliance offers mutual benefits and protection. The sacrifices are great, yes, but so are the potential rewards."

  Harald, unable to contain himself, stepped forward. "Who are you, woman, to come to our home and—"

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  Asbjorn stepped forward and raised his hand, silencing his kinsmen. "We must not let anger cloud our judgment," he said firmly. "Father, this alliance offers us a path forward. Wealth can be rebuilt with such powerful allies."

  Torbjorn's face was a mask of conflicting emotions. He glanced at Erik, who stood rigid, silently shouldering the weight of responsibility. Arvid refused to meet his son's gaze, while Sigurd shifted anxiously. Harald's fury radiated from every tense muscle.

  With a deep sigh, Torbjorn spoke. "I have no choice but to accept. Without this aid, Gunnar will destroy us all. We will endure this grievous price."

  He faced Rannveig, pride and defiance warring in his eyes. "Tell your father we accept his terms. We will bow to his rule to save our people."

  A stillness fell over the clearing. Erik felt a conflicting surge of relief for the clan's safety and crushing guilt for his role in their downfall. As Torbjorn's gaze bore into him, Erik stood firm, bracing himself for the confrontation he knew was coming.

  Erik knew he must focus on the truth: their escape was meant to be a brief adventure, a short diversion before he would return Astrid safely. He was prepared to take full responsibility, to explain his intentions and accept whatever punishment Torbjorn deemed fit.

  As Harald and Sigurd led Haakon away, Torbjorn faced Erik once more. Rannveig, sensing the gravity of the moment, respectfully retreated to the edge of the clearing.

  Torbjorn towered over Erik, rage distorting his features. But as he opened his mouth, something seemed to break within him. His shoulders sagged, the anger in his eyes giving way to deep sorrow.

  "Why, Erik?" he asked, his voice rough with grief. "I trusted you."

  Erik's chest tightened at the pain in Torbjorn's voice. He looked up, meeting his chieftain's gaze, shame and remorse plain on his face.

  "I never meant for it to turn out this way," Erik said, each word an effort.

  Anger rekindled in Torbjorn's face. "Never meant? You helped my daughter flee her duty. You risked her life, her honor!"

  He paced, tension visible in every movement. "I welcomed you as family, and you took what's most precious to me."

  Torbjorn halted, his voice hollow. "Her marriage would have secured our clan's future. Now we're at another's mercy."

  Erik stood silent. Having failed the man he'd admired and loved as a father, his jaw tightened and his eyes held a haunted look.

  A tremor entered Torbjorn's voice. "And you... you were as a son to me. I would have gladly given you anything. Why could you not be content?"

  The words shook Erik. "We meant only to escape for a short time," he said hoarsely. "Just long enough to let her taste some adventure. I swear, I intended to bring her back before the wedding."

  Torbjorn studied him coldly. "Do not insult me with half-truths, Erik. You wanted her for yourself. My own daughter."

  "No, that's not what I—" Erik began, but Torbjorn cut him off.

  Erik's protests died on his lips as Torbjorn continued, his voice cold and cutting. "You could have come to me, Erik. Told me your feelings like an honest man. Instead, you chose deception." He stepped closer, each word cutting. "You took the coward's path—skulking away with her in the night rather than standing before me as a man of honor. You could have preserved her dignity, yet you've made her a fugitive."

  Erik stood silent, the certainty of his intentions crumbling under Torbjorn's relentless words. Memories surfaced, unbidden and undeniable. He saw himself watching Astrid, his heart aching at the thought of her marrying Einar. He relived the thrill of their escape, the joy of their time in Skipavik, and the blissful days in Honningdal. Even when he had the chance, he hadn't brought Astrid back to her father.

  The truth of Torbjorn's accusations settled heavily in Erik's gut. He had created this situation, driven by desires he'd refused to acknowledge even to himself. And now, because of his actions, his clan faced ruin, salvation coming only at the cost of their ancestral wealth.

  As these realizations settled over Erik, Torbjorn continued.

  "You have ruined my daughter, betrayed your chieftain, and worst of all, you have forsaken your own blood. Your father, Arvid, deserves better than a son who would break a bond that has stood for generations beyond memory."

  Erik remained frozen as the reality of his actions and their consequences sank in. The honorable man he had believed himself to be was gone, leaving only the harsh truth of his betrayal. Each word stripped away another layer of his identity.

  Torbjorn's anger resurged, his face twisting with disgust. "And now... you come sideways to lie to my face about your intentions." His contempt filled every word.

  The chieftain's voice boomed across the clearing, his fury palpable. "Astrid is lost to me now. A ruined, faithless woman. You two are well-matched in your dishonor."

  Erik reeled from Torbjorn's judgment. His entire worldview—his sense of honor, duty, and self—shattered. In that moment, he faced the ruinous truth of who he truly was.

  "Asbjorn!" Torbjorn bellowed. "Bring them all back. Let Erik's family witness his shame."

  Asbjorn returned, followed by Rannveig, Arvid, Harald, and Sigurd. Rannveig's face showed concern as she took in Erik's broken stance.

  Torbjorn's voice rang out, cold and unyielding. "For your crimes against me and my clan, I strip you of all rank and privileges. You are exiled from my lands, never to return on pain of death."

  His expression darkened as he continued. "As for the company you keep... the thrall, Sigrida, if found and returned, will have her hands cut off. Such is the fate of slaves who betray their masters."

  Erik's stomach lurched as he realized the dire consequences his actions had brought upon Sigrida. The thought of being responsible for her mutilation twisted his already overwhelming guilt.

  Torbjorn's final judgment came like a death blow. "And Astrid... I pray our paths never cross again. For I could not stay my hand from exacting what honor demands."

  Erik's last hope died. He stood before his clan, utterly bereft, exiled not just from his lands but from the only family he had ever known. The finality of Torbjorn's decree echoed in the silence of the forest, sealing Erik's fate.

  Asbjorn's expression was a mix of sorrow and resignation. Rannveig remained composed, though her eyes held deep sadness for Erik's fate and Sigrida's potential punishment.

  "Remove yourself from my sight," Torbjorn said, his voice unsteady with rage. "Before I forget the love I once bore you."

  Arvid's face twisted with disgust and disappointment as he turned sharply away. Harald followed, his back rigid with disdain as he joined his father.

  Sigurd hesitated, anguish clear in his features. He met Erik's gaze, torn between what Erik had wrought and his compassion for his brother. After a moment, he too turned away, following Arvid and Harald.

  Erik stood motionless, overwhelmed by shame. As he finally moved to leave, Rannveig approached, gently touching his arm in a gesture of silent support. Without a word, Erik walked away from the clearing into an uncertain future.

  As Erik and Rannveig trudged back to Gorm's cabin, only Sven's footsteps broke the heavy stillness between them. Erik moved like a man in a dream, his eyes fixed on nothing, each step seeming to drain more life from him.

  Rannveig glanced at Erik, her lips pressed together. She reached out, but hesitated, unsure if her touch would offer comfort. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Erik, I... I know this is unbearable. But we must focus on protecting Sigrida now."

  Erik remained lost in his thoughts, his eyes fixed on the ground. The weight of Torbjorn's words crushed him, leaving him unable to process or react to anything around him. They walked on wordlessly until they reached the cabin. Sigrida hurried out to meet them, her face etched with worry.

  "What happened?" she asked anxiously, looking from Rannveig to Erik.

  Erik's eyes flickered to meet hers but quickly looked away, his jaw tight.

  Rannveig took Sigrida's arm gently, guiding her a few steps away. She hesitated, the weight of what she had to say pressing heavily upon her. "Torbjorn has exiled Erik," she said softly. "And... he said if you're caught, your hands will be cut off."

  Sigrida staggered back as if struck, her face draining of color. "No... Torbjorn wouldn't—he couldn't..." Her voice broke, the certainty she'd always carried about his regard for her crumbling. "He wouldn't do this to me." Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around herself, trembling.

  Rannveig felt rage surge through her at Torbjorn's cruelty. This was the same man who had been willing to give Sigrida to Gunnar as a dowry, knowing the brutality that awaited her. Yet even as anger burned in her chest, Rannveig recognized the bitter necessity of their alliance with Torbjorn. Politics, she reflected grimly, cared nothing for justice or mercy.

  Taking a deep breath, Rannveig grasped Sigrida's hands, her voice firm despite the tremor of emotion she felt. "I won't let that happen, Sigrida. I swear it." She met Sigrida's eyes, her resolve strengthening. "We'll find a way to keep you safe. You deserve far better than this."

  Next to her, Erik stood motionless, his eyes fixed on nothing. The weight of Torbjorn's decree crushed him, but it was the burden of his own guilt that truly paralyzed him. He had deceived not just Torbjorn, but himself. In his selfish desire for Astrid, he had jeopardized his clan's future and tarnished her reputation. The realization that his actions had hurt the very woman he claimed to love pierced him to his core. As they entered Gorm's cabin, Erik remained lost in the abyss of his own making, grappling with who he truly was.

  The three sat in heavy silence inside Gorm's cabin. The weight of Torbjorn's sentence hung over them like a dark cloud. Rannveig glanced between Erik and Sigrida, wanting to offer comfort but recognizing their need to process their grief. Gorm moved quietly in the background, careful not to disturb the somber atmosphere.

  A knock on the door startled them. Sigrida looked up, fear flashing in her eyes. Even Erik, still somewhat catatonic, tensed at the sound. Rannveig offered a calming gesture to Sigrida before moving to answer.

  She opened the door to reveal Asbjorn. Rannveig relaxed slightly as she recognized him. Erik's gaze flickered to Asbjorn, but his expression remained vacant, devoid of emotion.

  Sigrida, realizing Asbjorn posed no threat, rushed to him. She threw her arms around him, tears falling freely as she sought comfort in his familiar presence. Asbjorn returned her embrace, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  "I've missed you," Sigrida whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

  Asbjorn nodded, his expression a mix of relief and sorrow. "I've missed you too, Sigrida." His gaze shifted to Erik, his demeanor becoming more serious. "But I need to speak with Erik now."

  Gorm gestured for Asbjorn to enter, but he shook his head. "No, we must speak privately."

  Wordlessly, Erik followed Asbjorn outside, his movements mechanical, still numb from the day's events.

  Rannveig turned to Sigrida, seeing the full weight of Torbjorn's judgment settle over the younger woman now that Erik had stepped outside. In that moment, something shifted within Rannveig. She no longer saw a thrall or someone beneath her, but a fellow human being in pain. The last vestiges of her ingrained prejudice melted away, replaced by a surge of empathy.

  Without hesitation, Rannveig moved to Sigrida's side, wrapping her arms around her in a comforting embrace. She held her close as Sigrida trembled, one hand clutching the Thor's hammer amulet at her throat.

  "I don't understand," Sigrida whispered, her voice small. "Even as a thrall, he was always kind to me..." She shook her head, murmuring something about her mother, the words trailing off into confused silence.

  As time passed, Gorm and Sven, sensing the need to lift the heavy atmosphere, began preparing a simple meal. The aroma of cooking food gradually filled the cabin, providing a welcome distraction. Rannveig and Sigrida accepted the offered plates, sitting close together as they ate. Though they consumed the food slowly and without much enthusiasm, both were grateful for the normalcy of the act and the quiet companionship they now shared.

  Hours crawled by, marked only by the shifting shadows and the occasional crackle of the fire. Conversation was sparse, limited to quiet murmurs and necessary exchanges. The absence of Erik and Asbjorn hung heavily in the air, fueling unspoken worries about what might be transpiring outside.

  As twilight deepened, Erik finally returned, slipping quietly into the cabin. The crushing despair that had engulfed him earlier had receded, replaced by a somber determination. Yet, the weight of guilt still hung heavily on his shoulders.

  "How did it go with Asbjorn?" Rannveig asked tentatively, searching Erik's face for clues.

  Erik sighed, running a hand through his hair. "As well as could be expected," he replied, his tone guarded.

  Sigrida leaned forward, concern etching her features. "Is Asbjorn alright? Did something happen?"

  Erik's gaze flickered to her, then away. "Asbjorn is fine," he said firmly, his tone indicating no further discussion was coming. "We should all get some rest now. We'll be heading back to Fjell?rn at first light."

  Rannveig and Sigrida exchanged puzzled looks, the mystery of Erik's long absence and his reticence fueling their curiosity and concern.

  "Of course," Rannveig agreed, though her tone suggested she was far from satisfied with Erik's evasiveness. "We'll need rest for the journey ahead."

  Erik gave a brisk nod before moving to unroll his bedroll in the corner. He lay down without another word, turning his back to the women. As he settled, the burden of his actions and the unspoken conversation with Asbjorn weighed heavily upon him, making sleep an elusive prospect.

  As they prepared for sleep, Rannveig and Sigrida shared another glance. Erik's mood had shifted, no longer mired in despair, yet he seemed determined to keep the contents of his conversation with Asbjorn to himself.

  Resigned to waiting until morning for answers, they settled into their own bedrolls. As she drifted off to an uneasy sleep, Sigrida's thoughts turned dark with visions of mutilation and terror of capture. Beyond the physical threat loomed an even deeper ache—the finality of losing the only home she'd ever known, and the shattering of what she'd always believed about her place there. Though she had sworn to leave Skogstrand behind, the knowledge that she could never return left a hollow emptiness that frightened her as much as any physical threat.

  Each time she closed her eyes, the images returned: Torbjorn's decree, her severed hands, the familiar paths she could never walk again. Sleep, when it finally came, offered little respite from these haunting thoughts.