The engagement

They rolled out from behind the bush and snatched up the clothes before running back through the woods and out onto the grassy plains as they laughed.

"Where should we put them?" She asked, barely able to get the words out between fits of laughter.

"I'll take them," Leif said. "I'll leave them somewhere my father will see!"

"You're not too bad for a Gustavson," Sigrid teased.

"You're not so bad yourself," he said honestly.

"I'd better go now, so they don't notice I'm gone.I can't wait to hear about Ragnar's punishment." She said with a grin.

"Me too," Leif laughed as he waved, heading up the meadow.

As she slipped through the barn door, a cold hand clamped down on her shoulder.  

"Where have you been?" Sigurd barked.  

"I just went to pee," she said quickly.  

"For that long?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion.  

"Balder ran off, so I had to find him," she lied, trying to sound casual.  

Sigurd glanced at Åsmund, who stirred groggily. "I see Åsmund is asleep. You both have far too little to do around here."  

"We do everything we’re supposed to!" Sigrid snapped.  

"Yeah, calm down," Åsmund mumbled sleepily.  

"I’ll be keeping an eye on you two," Sigurd said, storming out.  

The next day, Sigurd’s constant scrutiny kept them trapped, leaving no chance to slip away unnoticed. Winter passed in the same way, his presence a dark cloud over their days.  

By spring, Sigrid had had enough. Seeking respite, she spent a day doing needlework with her mother.  

"Åsmund can’t even sleep anymore," Sigrid sighed. "Sigurd watches us like a hawk."  

Her mother frowned. "Maybe we can get Sigurd assigned to the church project in the village."  

"That’s perfect!" Sigrid said, brightening.  

The next morning, Gudbrand announced Sigurd’s new task. Sigurd puffed up with pride, oblivious to the laughter Sigrid and Åsmund tried to hide.  

Finally free, Sigrid hurried through her chores and set off to see Fenris after what felt like an eternity.

Sigrid! Leif came running towards her."What took you so long?"

"It was my brother Sigurd. But fortunately, he is no longer a bother," she said, breathless. 

They ran together to the stable and got Fenrir out.
Leif lay in the grass, watching as she rode across the meadow.

"By the way, how did things go with Ragnar?" Sigrid asked cautiously.

Leif grinned mischievously. "I was just about to tell you! Father found the clothes and caught Ragnar red-handed! You should’ve seen him—he was furious!"

"Yes, I can imagine," she said with a smile.

"And now, Ragnar has to marry if he even looks at a girl!" Leif laughed.

Sigrid glanced around. "Where is he now, by the way?"

Leif's grin widened. "Father's probably put him to hard labor somewhere."
"Good! That'll teach him," Sigrid said with a smirk.

After a while, as the time to head back approached, a strange feeling washed over her as she strode down the forest path. A sudden sense of being watched crept into her mind.

She quickened her pace, but just as she neared the end of the path, a figure stepped out in front of her.

"Ragnar," she said, her voice tense.

"I'd like to accompany you," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"There's no need," she replied quickly, trying to keep her distance.

"I'm going anyway. After you," he said, stepping closer with a teasing smile.

Sigrid stopped in her tracks and suddenly shouted, "Balder!"

Ragnar paused, confused. "Is he going to kill me?" He asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Not as long as you keep your hands to yourself," she said firmly.

Then Ragnar laughed behind her. "I knew it was you! You saw us that day by the water. Were you perhaps a little jealous?"

"I don't know what you mean," she lied, keeping her gaze ahead.

"You can pretend all you want," he smirked. "I know you want me."

"You can believe what you like," she replied, trying to brush him off.

"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it? There's no hope for us anyway, not when you're set to marry."

Sigrid stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "What do you mean by that?" She asked, her heart racing.

"Haven't you heard?" He teased.

"Does it look like I have?" She snapped.

"No, not at all," he laughed. "He's much older, I heard."
Ragnar took a step closer to her, his grin widening.

"Stop," she said, pushing him away. "I think we're crossing a line now. It's best if you leave before someone sees you."

But Ragnar grabbed her hands, pulling her closer. She could smell the earthy scent of smoke and thyme on him. She pulled back quickly as Balder stirred behind them.

"What if someone sees us?" She whispered, glancing nervously around.

"Let them see," he murmured, his face close to hers.

"Please," she said, her voice shaky. "Just go."

But Ragnar leaned in once more, whispering, "One day, you'll pay for what you did. Just wait and see." His voice was playful, but his eyes were serious.

She pushed him away again. "We'll see about that," she said with a sly smile, then turned and quickly walked away, leaving him standing there on the path.

Her father and her two oldest brothers were already seated at the table when Sigrid and Åsmund came in for dinner. And they had a guest.

Her mother was busy, eagerly arranging the table, her movements quick and precise as if the presentation itself could determine the success of the meal.

Her father’s voice rang through the hall with an unusual air of excitement. “Sigrid, come and sit here,” he said, gesturing toward the seat beside the stranger.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, long enough to feel Sigurd’s gaze burning into her from across the room. He always watched her like that—judging, waiting for her to falter.

Not tonight, she thought. Whatever this unexpected meeting was about, she wouldn’t give Sigurd the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

With a composed smile that betrayed none of her thoughts, Sigrid walked to the chair and sat down gracefully, folding her hands in her lap. She finally allowed herself a closer look at the man seated next to her.

The stranger wasn’t imposing, at least not in stature. Small and stout, with thinning hair and teeth stained the color of old parchment, his grin felt oddly predatory despite its supposed friendliness.

The flickering candlelight seemed to distort his face, making his dark eyes gleam unnervingly.

Her father clapped the man on the shoulder, an act of camaraderie that made her stomach tighten. “Sigrid, this is Knut Olafsson,” he declared, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

“Knut Olafsson,” Sigrid repeated, inclining her head politely.

“Sigrid,” Knut said, his voice gravelly but smooth, like a wolf trying to mimic civility. “Your father has spoken highly of you.”
“Has he?” She replied lightly, forcing a small smile.

The meal was brought in shortly after, a feast that would have impressed on any other night. Platters of roasted meat, fresh bread, and steaming vegetables were set before them, but Sigrid found herself with little appetite.

Throughout the dinner, Knut peppered her with questions—about her interests, her daily routine, her thoughts on the world beyond their village.

He laughed too loudly at her measured responses, his eyes lingering on her in ways that made her skin crawl. She answered everything with polite indifference, refusing to give him any insight into her true feelings.

Sigurd, meanwhile, barely touched his food. His gaze remained locked on her, sharp and calculating. From the corner of her eye, she could see him smirking faintly, as though he were enjoying the game unfolding before him.

“What do you think, Sigrid?” Knut’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her attention back to him.

“About what?” She asked, careful to keep her tone pleasant.

“Your father tells me you are strong-willed,” Knut said with a chuckle. “But I wonder, are you as practical as you are spirited? Could you adjust to... new circumstances?”

Her pulse quickened, though she didn’t let it show.

“I’d like to think I can handle change when it’s necessary,” she replied evenly, reaching for her goblet to take a slow sip of wine.

Knut leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Good. That’s a quality I admire in a young woman.”

The words sent a chill down her spine, but Sigrid held her composure.

And as she met his gaze, she vowed silently to uncover what this man was truly after—and why her father seemed so eager to please him.

The meal dragged on, tension coiling tighter with each passing moment. By the time the final course was cleared away, Sigrid’s resolve was set like steel. If there was a storm coming, she would be ready to weather it.

"We need to talk with Sigrid," her father said after he left, sending everyone out except for her mother.

"It seemed like you and Knut got along well," her father said.

"Well, I suppose I was just behaving as I've been taught," she replied.

He cleared his throat, "It happens that Knut wishes to marry you."

"And we think you should accept," her mother added.

"Do I have any choice in the matter?" Sigrid asked, her voice laced with desperation.

"We like to believe you want what's best for this family," her father said firmly.

"I do... but does that mean I must marry that old man?"

"He's not so old Sigrid," her mother replied. "There's ten years between your father and me. I was but fifteen when we wed, and look at us now."

"Yes, look at you now," she teased, knowing well how little affection they had shown each other over the years.

"This man is heir to vast lands. He is precisely what we need."

"Need for what? We have salt for our food and plenty besides."

"Sigrid," her father said gravely, "there are great matters unfolding in this land-things beyond the understanding of that small head of yours. His alliance would mean much for us, for this farm."

"We need more allies," he continued, "and Knut is a good match for our family."

She played the fool, pretending not to understand. But Sigrid knew well what he meant. Her father had stood against the king, and he and her brothers were involved in matters kept secret.

"At least it won't happen before you turn sixteen," her mother said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"That's not far off. Why not marry off Sigurd instead? He's much older than I am."

"Boys take a little longer to be ready than girls, Sigrid. You're fortunate to be given some time."

"Yes, I'm the luckiest in the world," she said sarcastically.
"I'm off to bed. You've made your decision, haven't you?" She added sadly.

"One more thing before you go. I've already arranged for you to stay with my cousin Ulvhild. There, you'll receive the finest training you need to manage such a large estate."

"So, you're sending me away?" Sigrid had to hold back her tears.

"It's the best education you can get, Sigrid."

"Fine," she said coldly. "When?"

"In a few days."

Just then, her oldest brother entered the room.

"Thank you, brother," she said, walking over to him and stopping right in front of him. She saw the surprise in his eyes. "For arranging all of this for me. I'm eternally grateful."

"But... how?" Sigurd stammered surprised.

"Oh, I figured it had to be you," she smiled a false smile, her teeth showing as she turned away, adding, "Good night," before the tears began to flow as soon as her back was turned.

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