Greenwood – Kings throne room
The heavy oak throne creaked beneath King Sweyn Forkbeard as he shifted, restless. The flickering torchlight carved deep shadows across his weathered face, but it did nothing to hide the fury burning in his eyes.
"They dare use my daughter as leverage to threaten Thornhold?" he growled, slamming his fist against the armrest. The sharp crack echoed through the chamber. "Cowards."
Silence hung thick over the long council table.
Sweyn leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"Whose doing is this? This reeks of manipulation… not Boldr's style."
His chief advisor stepped forward, carefully unrolling a sealed letter.
"The message came from Prince Ivar Thorsen, sire. He claims the throne now belongs to him."
Sweyn scoffed, a cold smile tugging at his lips.
"Children these days grow wings too quickly." He exhaled sharply. "My own foolish son steals my sword, and now this whelp drags his father's name through the mud from beyond the grave."
One of the counselors leaned forward urgently.
"Sire, our first battalion has already begun marching toward Thornhold. We should strike now—while they are divided."
Sweyn rubbed his beard, thinking.
Then—
"Contact the assassin," he said at last. "Tell him to get my daughter out of that city. Quietly. While we prepare our forces."
"Yes, sire."
He paused.
"My son… and Skógrimr. Any word?"
The advisor hesitated. "We found the servant's body… but no sign of your son. We believe bandits may have attacked them."
Sweyn's expression hardened instantly.
"Find the sword."
Before anyone could respond, the chamber doors burst open. A messenger stumbled in, breathless, clutching a scroll tied with a bird's cord.
"Sire! A letter from Ashenmoor!"
Sweyn frowned, snatching it.
"What does that old hag want now…?"
He broke the seal and read.
Silence.
Then his grip tightened.
"When did this arrive?" he asked, voice low.
"A day ago, sire."
Sweyn rose abruptly.
"Prepare my men. We ride to Ashenmoor.
I want to see this with my own eyes."
Without another word, he strode out,
leaving the council in uneasy silence.
Thornhold – Training Grounds
Crack!
The sharp snap of a whip split the air.
Dot's arms trembled violently as he forced himself through another push-up, a massive boulder strapped across his back. Sweat poured down his body, dripping into the dirt below.
His muscles screamed.
Sylric stood nearby, arms crossed, the chain whip coiled loosely in his hand.
"I agreed to train," Dot gasped, collapsing forward, "not to be tortured."
"You've been going for an hour," Sylric replied calmly. "Take it easy before you kill yourself."
"Shut up…" Dot muttered.
He shoved the boulder off and dragged himself toward the shade of a nearby tree, dropping heavily onto the grass. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.
After a moment, he spoke again.
"…Have you seen Yiva?"
Sylric glanced up toward the castle.
High above, partially hidden behind a stone pillar, Yiva stood watching in silence.
"No," Sylric said casually. "Haven't seen her."
Dot frowned slightly but said nothing.
"Go wash up," Sylric added with a smirk.
"You smell worse than my horse."
Later – Castle Corridor
Cold water splashed against stone as Dot poured another bucket over himself, scrubbing away sweat and dirt beside the open well.
He didn't care that he was exposed.
Didn't notice the eyes watching him.
Above, on a shadowed balcony, Astrid Boldr's daughter leaned against the railing, cheeks faintly flushed. Her gaze lingered, curious… intrigued.
A quiet voice behind her made her jump.
"What are you doing?"
Yiva stood there, arms crossed.
Astrid turned quickly. "N-nothing!"
Yiva stepped closer and glanced down—
—and froze.
Her face burned instantly. She snapped her head away… then, against her better judgment, peeked again for a split second.
Below, Sylric suddenly appeared, already stripped down. He splashed Dot with water, laughing as the two shoved each other.
A second later, Sylric slipped hard, crashing onto the wet stone with a loud curse.
Yiva's expression twisted from embarrassment… to pure disgust.
She turned and walked off quickly.
"A—wait!" Astrid hurried after her.
Castle Corridor
"Wait!" Astrid called again.
Yiva stopped but didn't turn.
"What do you want?"
Astrid hesitated, then stepped closer.
"About what you saw—it's not like that. I wasn't—"
"You weren't what?" Yiva cut in, turning slightly.
Astrid swallowed.
"…Do you like him?"
The question hit like a stone dropped into still water.
Yiva froze.
Flashback
Pressed against a cold stone wall, Yiva slid down slowly, her breath uneven.
Why did I leave like that?
Her hand clenched against her chest.
Have I really fallen for him…?
She shut her eyes tightly.
No… that's not it…
But her chest tightened anyway.
Then why did it hurt so much…?
Present
"Do I like him…?" Yiva repeated quietly.
Astrid watched her carefully.
"There's a dance coming up," she said. "I was thinking of asking him to go with me."
The word lingered.
Dance.
Ask him.
Yiva forced a small shrug.
"We're just friends," she said.
The words felt heavier than they should.
"So… you can ask him if you want."
Astrid's face brightened.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Yiva turned away before Astrid could see her expression.
She walked off quickly.
Astrid watched her go, a faint, satisfied smile forming on her lips.
Later – Castle Halls
Yiva moved through the corridors alone, her thoughts loud in the silence.
Fragments of conversation drifted from a nearby chamber.
"…several council members… poisoned…"
"…it's getting dangerous…"
Yiva paused.
Her hand brushed against a metal clasp at her side—
clink.
The sound echoed.
The voices inside stopped instantly.
Yiva's heart jumped.
She turned and slipped away before anyone could step out.
She rounded a corner—
—and collided into someone.
"Oh!" a gentle voice said.
Yiva stumbled back.
Elizabeth stood before her, steadying her.
"Are you alright?"
Yiva didn't answer. She pulled away and hurried off down the corridor.
Elizabeth frowned slightly, watching her go.
Then she turned and continued down the hall.
Royal Chambers
Two guards stood outside the prince's door.
Elizabeth entered quietly.
Inside, the young prince lay resting on the large bed, breathing softly.
She closed the door behind her.
Slowly… deliberately…
She loosened her gown.
It slipped from her shoulders… then fell silently to the floor.
End of Chapter