Dangerous games

They were all gathered around the table the next day.
She glanced at Ragnar, who sat there, like an obedient hound, staring ahead. Not once did she catch him looking at Erlend or herself.

He looked so dutiful, eating his meal, not saying a word. Gone were the jests and glances.

She found it pleasing to watch.
Erlend planned their trip, beginning with a tour of his impressive estate.

The vast plains stretched endlessly, with fields, pastures, animals, and workers everywhere. The farms of both Erik Gustavson and her father seemed tiny compared to this.

Everyone was impressed, except Ragnar.

"What is it with Ragnar today? He is not himself." Leif said.

Thora, Sigrid, and Leif—walked separately behind the others.

Thora nodded in agreement."He behaves in the best manner."

Once they had finished the tour, Erlend challenged the group to a race on skis.

Ragnar stood out with his swift movements, brimming with confidence, and was the first to volunteer.

His eyes burned with excitement. He loved to excel in challenges and games. And she had learned that he was a terrible loser—possibly the worst.

"Can we agree that I'm going to crush you all?" Ragnar called out.

The others responded with shouts and laughter.
Several of the men joined in, and as the commotion grew, she slipped up to Ragnar and positioned herself just behind him. "You shall lose on purpose, Ragnar."

He did not answer, yet she could sense him stiffen in response."Are you serious?"

"I promise you, I am!"

"What did you say to Ragnar?" Thora gave her a sharp look when she returned.

"I only wished him good luck."

"So you haven't joined?" Thora asked, eyeing Leif.

"I loathe such things. Ragnar will win, mark my words. He is skilled on skis."

"We shall see," Sigrid said with a broad grin.

"Shall we wager?" Leif reached out his hand.

"I wager on Erlend," Sigrid said.

"I wager on Ragnar. Erlend is too large." Leif said with the utmost confidence.

The lads prepared for the contest.
Six men stood ready for the snow race. The snow sparkled in the pale light of the winter sun, casting a glow upon the faces of the battle-ready men.

Erlend shot Ragnar a glance. She could see Ragnar debating with himself, weighing what he should do. To lose such a contest could linger in his thoughts for days.

The starting signal rang out, and Ragnar surged forward, leading the pack. He glided through the snow like a wolf on the hunt, his powerful strides leaving the others looking like mere novices.

He easily jumped the initial snowdrift, showing the skill of an experienced racer. Behind him, the others struggled, trying to keep pace, but the distance between them only grew.

"Are you sure you're betting on Erlend?"

"I'm sure," she placed her hands on her hips.

As they rounded a large stone, Ragnar took a perfect turn, while one of the older men lost his balance and tumbled into the snow.

Erlend did his best to keep up, but Ragnar was in a class of his own.

Yet, halfway through the course, Ragnar slowed.
Then, he fell over a snowbank, allowing Erlend to glide past and cross the finish line first, to the cheers of the crowd.

"What did I tell you?" Sigrid said with a smirk.

"Why did you invite me on this trip, Sigrid?"

"Is there anyone else here who hates to lose?"

"You've been avoiding me ever since Ragnar came back." Leif gave her a piercing glare.

Sigrid blushed at the sudden accusation, and blurted, "You told Erik that Ragnar and I...shared a kiss."

"What! I would never have done that."

"Then who, then? It wasn't Thora."

"I swear, it wasn't me, Sigrid."

She paused, trying to study his eyes."I believe you, but then, who was it? I don't understand."

"And neither do I," Thora and Leif said almost simultaneously.

"I'm so sorry. I thought it was you, and I feel so awful. Leif, can you forgive me, brother?"

"I pardon you, sister."

She composed herself as Erlend walked toward them. She met him halfway, and he lifted her high into the air. "You are my prize."

"Congratulations on your victory," she said with a smile.

"Thank you, and now I want you all to myself. Will you come?"

"Of course," she smiled politely, casting a quick glance toward Ragnar.

Erlend led her up the snow-covered path that wound toward a rise above the farm. The wind bit at their cheeks, but the clear winter air made the view crystal clear.

When they reached the top, he paused and looked out over the landscape. With a calm hand, he pointed toward the vast scene before them and explained.

The fields lay snow-covered and silent, but Erlend pointed out the boundaries marking the extent of his land.

Along the outer edge of the fields were stone fences, some covered by snow, and beyond them, the forest began.

The forest, dense and dark, stood like a protective wall on one side of the farm.

When he finished speaking, he turned his gaze to Sigrid. "Perhaps... you will live here together with me?"

She smiled back, unsure of where to look or what to do with herself. "It's not unimaginable," she finally said.

Unwillingly, her taught drifted to Ragnar. Why did she let him distract her so easily?

●●●

After dinner that evening, they set the tables for drinking and games. The Hand's Tafl—was Ragnar's favorite game. She had watched them play it often during Christmas, and Ragnar had always won.

Naturally, he was the first to volunteer that night, his expression already reveling in the victory he expected over Erlend.

As the others busied themselves with the drinks and prepared the game, Sigrid slipped away from her conversation with Thora and Leif.

She needed air.
The noise, the heat, and the overwhelming scents of smoke, rosemary, and mead pressed down on her, stifling her breath and clouding her thoughts.

Seeking refuge, she slipped behind the small houses, retreating into the cool embrace of the shadows. There, she let out a long breath and drew in the crisp night air, letting it cleanse her lungs and steady her racing heart.

The flickering light was driving her deeper into the quiet dark. She withdrew, aiming to avoid the sounds behind her.

At first, but growing louder, came the sound of footsteps.
She froze, her pulse quickening. She was unaware he was following her.

"Ragnar," she began, startled as he appeared behind her, pleased at having caught her off guard. He grabbed her hands, holding them in a hard grip.

"Sigrid, Sigrid," he said with a grin, "you're going to be the death of me. Perhaps I'll have to get even soon."

"You wouldn't dare risk it."

She kissed him then, hard and deep, with a fervent, urgent need for him.

Suddenly, voices echoed nearby, and a thrill of panic shot through her at the thought of being caught. The fear only heightened exciting the moment.

"Shhh," she whispered, pulling him closer, both of them still as the voices passed by.

Then she took his hands and guided them over her body, experiencing her deliberate movements. His breathing grew heavier til she stopped. "I want you to lose again, Ragnar."

She leaned forward until she felt the warmth of his breath across her skin. His eyes locked with hers.

Her gaze drifted over his face, lingering for a heartbeat on his lips before a knowing smile curled at the corner of her mouth.

She pressed herself against him, leaving no space between them save for what she allowed. Her touch sent his whole body shivering, and she stopped when her lips hovered near his ear."I swear to you, you shall not regret it."

He inhaled, his breath faltering, as though she had drawn the air from the surrounding space. His fingers twitched, betraying the restraint he fought to maintain—a battle she watched with satisfaction.

"Is that so?" He said, his voice rough-edged, low enough that only she could hear. "Or is this yet another of your games?"

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her own steady, a wicked spark dancing within her eyes. "That is something you will only discover if you'll do as I say."

She felt the heat of his restraint; the war raging within him, the urge to reach for her—to claim her—held back only by the invisible chains she had placed upon him.

"You know what I would demand if I surrendered," he said, his voice a rough whisper, like the growl of a wolf cornering its prey.

"Oh, I know full well what you would demand."

Her gaze flickered to his lips before returning to lock with his. "And as for you, Ragnar..." She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear, "...I believe you have already made your choice."

With an unexpected movement, she slipped out of his grasp and into the courtyard, where two servants were passing by. She didn't look back, keeping her composure as she made her way back to Thora and Leif, sitting down as though nothing had happened.

"Something's up with Ragnar," Thora said when he re-entered the room with a sly smile playing on his lips.

And so, the game began.
Ragnar's expression turned serious as he studied the game board. Erlend, too, was proving to be a skilled player, having already defeated the others so far.

Ragnar took his place as the defender, placing the king in the center, while Erlend, playing the attacker, leaned in with eager focus. The room grew quieter as the game began, both men sharp-eyed and intent on the strategy unfolding.

From the initial move, Ragnar took control. His defenders moved with precision, breaking through Erlend's lines repeatedly.

Piece by piece, Erlend's forces fell, and Ragnar allowed himself a subtle, self-satisfied smile. This was his game, and he knew how to win it. He toyed with Erlend's pieces, his movements bold, almost mocking.

Sigrid crossed her arms in silent protest, her mind swirling.

Would Ragnar yield as she had urged him to?

"Ragnar's going to win," Leif whispered, leaning in. "I've been observing Erlend play. He's good, but far too predictable. Ragnar's going to dismantle him."

"No, Erlend will win."

"Another wager?"

Sigrid took his hand, but with her gaze fixed on the game board.

Just then, Ragnar made a move that exposed a vulnerability. Erlend hesitated at first, but then he repositioned his pieces, seizing the opportunity.

Ragnar pretended to try to close the gap, but it was already too late. With one final, dramatic move, Erlend captured Ragnar's king.

Leif, disappointed by his brother's performance, shook his head. "I don't understand! Ragnar had that so easily."

Sigrid clapped her hands.

"There! I won!" Erlend said with pride in his voice as cheers erupted from the others.

Ragnar, clearly irritated, rose and congratulated the victor.
As the cheers died down, Sigrid stood up and walked toward Erlend.

"Good game, but I'm not feeling quite myself. I think I'll go to bed."

Erlend's victorious smile faded, and his disappointment was clear. "That's a shame," he said, trying to mask it. "I hope you have a good night."

As she turned to leave, her stare met Ragnar's. He observed her. With a gaze as though he were a predator claiming its prey.

Thora came running after her. "Do you need me?"

"No, just stay. I'll be fine. Enjoy yourself." She had noticed that Thora seemed to have a good time, and didn't want to spoil it.

The moment she stepped into the darkness, her heart thundered in her chest, and she broke into a run.
The air stung her cheeks, and her breath came in quick, visible puffs, but she barely noticed.

What was she doing?
Her mind raced, teetering between nerves and a thrilling rush she couldn't deny.

Reaching the guest house, she threw herself inside, her hands fumbling to lock the door behind her. The silence of the small space pressed in on her, but her pulse was loud in her ears.

She slipped off her fur cloak, her movements hurried, as if shedding it would calm the storm within her.

Then came the knock—sharp and deliberate, slicing through the quiet like a blade. She froze, her breath caught in her throat.

She moved to the door and opened it just a crack, her eyes peering into through the narrow opening. She saw his hopeful eyes glinting in the dim light.

"Well, have I been a good boy?"

●●●