"Remember me, I remember you.
Love me, I love you."  

~Runic Love Quote~

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.....dawn broke in the eastern horizon. Erik cradled Aria in his arms as he stared at the skies, streaked crimson with the rising sun. She looked so peaceful, as though she was sleeping, her soft skin still had the pale rosy hue that only deepened when she blushed. Green eyes, however, wide with wonder at life around her, but now closed in repose. Aria was a young girl, with lush locks of sunrise gold hair framing her oval face. She was bubbly and had a songbird sweet voice, a voice that could charm men and beasts alike. 

He had fallen in love with her voice, even before he had set eyes on her. She sang as though her voice came from the very depths of her soul and there appeared a brightness to her song that drew him to her. He had watched her for long, before making his presence known, unsure of her reaction.

Aria had loved his strength and gentleness. And the poems he wrote, they captured her soul. Aria was fascinated with words, for her, words were a thing of beauty, each was like a magical powder that could be combined with other words to create enchanting spells. 

'It must be so,' he agreed, for when she sang his poems, it was mesmerising.

'It is not fair,' he screamed silently at the gods above, she should not have to pay the price for his crime, if loving her was indeed a crime. He should have known better, really, his family would have never left him alone, but he had hoped, hoped that since he was one of five sons, his refusal to adhere to the family duty would be condoned. He was tired of the filial duty rant; he did not want to follow his father's and forefather's footsteps. He really was not interested in the gore and bloodshed; he was born a jarl with the soul of a poet. 

But his family was adamant, surprisingly his mother more than his father, "No son of hers would be a poet, they were born of Jarls and a jarl he would be." He recalled how firm and cold his mother had been, when he had informed her about his intentions to marry Aria. She had only said, "Son, sometimes, walking away from one's destiny, leads one directly to fate's doorstep." 

He had not understood her then, but as he looked down at Aria, he knew.

He gently laid Aria down and stared at the growing scarlet stain. Very gently, almost reverentially, he pulled the knife out. Well, his family would finally get their wish – they wanted him to be a Viking and a Viking he would be. And maybe he could just start his journey close to his home, he did recognize the knife, it was one of his mother's prized possessions. He had the rest of his life to mourn Aria, now was the time to act, avenging Aria was the only thing on his mind now. He looked skywards at the blazing sun, as an equal fire raged in his heart and bones...