~Astrid~

" — and then, I chopped the dragon's head clean off! Thor, you should have seen the spray of blood from that dragon's throat! Took me ages to scrub it all off, but I got this wicked scar on my arm to remember it by, as well as the head of the dragon!" A roaring laughter erupted from Dagur as he presented the pink and jagged scar that stretched from the top of his shoulder all the way down to the crook of his elbow to my father, who forced a polite chuckle, but was probably in the midst of devising some plan to save me from the claws of that terrifying man.

My knife cut deeply into the steak before me as I tried my best to remain unnoticed, which wasn't a specifically hard feat for a woman in my time and day. Fortunately for me, I had been born into a tribe in which the difference between women and men are for the most part what you've got between your legs — but if you were a warrior, like me, you would be respected in the same way that a man was. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case in all tribes, like the Berserker tribe. If I ended up marrying Dagur, I would never get the chance to become a shield maiden, I would never be able to fight on a battlefield; I would be stuck at home, baking bread all day whilst having to comfort a small army of crying children. A shiver shot down my spine at the very though of that future. Gods, how I hoped I would manage to find some way out of that horrid bethrotal.

Whilst I had been silently predicting a horrible future for myself, my father's general, Ulfric, had been talking my ear off with stories from his early dragon-killing days. As a little girl, his stories had always fascinated and amazed me, but as I grew older I had heard them all a thousand times and could probably recite each and every one from memory. Gods, did Ulfric need some action.

It seemed like the gods had been listening to my light suggestion seeing as suddenly, violent coughing erupted from beside me. I turned to face my father so quickly a loud 'pop!' sounded from my neck.

The sight I was met with as I faced my father however, was one that I was certain I would be seeing in my nightmares for years to come. The Great Chief of Averon was white as freshly fallen snow and slowly swaying from side to side, making him look like a deer attempting to stand on its own four legs for the first time and failing terribly at doing so. I didn't even have the chance to react before his eyes crossed and he fell face-first into the stew before him, his entire body going unnaturally still moments after.

A wave of nausea washed over me as my hands unwillingly began to shake. In a rather panicked state, I threw myself over my father before anyone else had the chance to get close to him and pulled him up from the stew in which he had landed, face dripping with its contents as I violently shook him in a desperate attempt to bring him back to a conscious state. "Dad? Daddy?"

"What are you oafs all standing around and moping for?" Ulfric shot up from his seat and roared at the gaping crowd like a grizzly bear that had just been woken from its slumber. "Fetch the healer! Our Chief is ill!"

Ulfric's gentle words of encouragement seemed to have knocked some sense back into some of the villagers, who scrambled out of their seats and hurried to go find the healer.

A moment later, realization seemed to have settled over the remaining villagers, who went into a full on frenzy at the sight of their fearless and mighty Chief being momentarily incapacitated. With a flurry of curse words, Ulfric jumped over the table and ran off to help calm down some of the villagers, leaving me alone with my father and ... Dagur.

The Berserker Chief picked up the bowl my father's face had been in mere moments before, studying like it was some ancient artifact from some lost civilization that had just been dug up and handed to him. A sigh escaped Dagur as he slowly shook his head. "Purple oleander ... my, this most certainly does not bode well for your father, my dear Astrid."

I narrowed my eyes at Dagur before I snatched the bowl from his hands, leaving him looking rather dumbfounded as I searched for any sign of the poisonous flower in my father's stew. There was none.

It was as if the room had been set on fire. Immense heat washed over me as I could practically feel my blood boil in my veins. How in the name of all that was holy could he have possibly known that there was poison in the stew when there were no visible signs?

My whole body vibrated as I balled my hands into fists and clenched my jaw. If looks could kill, Dagur would've crumbled to dust under my glare, but unfortunately, he did not. A sound which I could only compare to that of wolf growling right before it launched at its prey escaped me as I had to restrain myself from ripping Dagur's throat out. "You did this, you poisoned my father!"

A look of amusement and an arched brow was not what I had expected from Dagur as I was about to combust from sheer rage. "You're smarter than they give you credit for, you know that right? But you're right, I did poison that old bag, how else would I get him out of the picture?"

How could he so blatantly admit to poisoning my father? How could he sit there with a smug smile on his face and look down upon me like I was some toddler having a temper tantrum? Rage filled every crevice of my being and I knew that hadn't it been for the fact that I was busy trying to keep my father upright, I would've torn Dagur apart, piece by piece. "You're a dead man, Dagur."

"Ah, but you see, my dear, I don't think I am." Dagur twirled his knife around his fingers. "Because if you or any of your filthy people as much as attempt to harm me in any way, shape or form, my men will finish off your father for good."

I followed Dagur's nod toward the entrance, where four heavily armed men were standing, eyes fixed on Dagur as they awaited their next order. How had I not noticed them earlier? "But worry not, my dear, I've got a little deal that will benefit the both of us."

A huff escaped me as I bared my teeth at him. "I won't accept it, I'll find the antidote by myself, thank you very much."

For a moment, I could've sworn I saw a look of annoyance flash across his face before his regular mask of casual amusement was put back on. "Do as you will, but the thing is ..." Why did he have to stop for dramatic effect? I have no clue."There is no cure."

All the rage I had built up over the past few minutes had been knocked over by Dagur's forceful blow to my psyche. There was no cure? How could there be no cure? Surely, I had suffered enough for one lifetime, the gods couldn't truly be this cruel? They wouldn't take away the one thing that mattered most to me, the one thing I had left, would they?

"What do you mean there's no cure?" I spat, my eyes burning as my mind conjured cruel little images of what my life would be like without my father by my side. "And if there's no cure, why in the name of all of the gods would I ever strike a deal with you? What would I gain from that?"

"Sweet Astrid, how young and naive you are. Don't you realize how exposed you and your entire island have just become, now that your father is ... incapacitated? You, a girl with little to no Chief training, supposed to lead, protect and take care of an entire island by yourself? Even experienced Chiefs struggle with that, so how do you suggest that you will be able to do all of that by yourself, whilst also being faced with a full blown war with the mightiest, most vicious and most feared warrior tribe in the archipelago? Tell me, how will you manage?" Never in my life had I felt as small and insignificant as I felt in that moment. It killed me to admit it, but Dagur was right. How was I supposed to do any of this on my own? My entire life I had just imagined that my father would be dealing with the Chiefing business whilst I was out and about having the time of my life as a shield maiden, but now that I was faced with the reality of me having to take responsibility and step up to lead and protect an entire island full of people with the very limited amount of training I had? It was possible, yes, but if the rumors that had been whispered around the Great Hall all evening were true, Dagur's armada was right at our doorstep and a full blown war with the Berserkers was certainly not something I would be able to handle on my first day as Chief.

It dawned upon me what I would have to do and for me to do just that, I would not only have to swallow my pride but I would also have to throw every last piece of my dignity out the window. Dagur did not only have me surrounded, he also had me in a corner with an axe to my throat, I had no other option but to surrender, not only for my own safety, but also for that of my people. I glanced down at my father, whose head was resting against my chest and I felt my stomach tie itself into a massive knot. I'm so sorry for whatever I'm about to agree to, dad. "Fine, tell me about this deal of yours."

Dagur's grin stretched from ear to ear as the knife he had been playing with earlier was slammed into the wooden table and started rapidly going back and forth from the impact. "As you already know, I am in need of an heir, which is why I am offering you and your island protection from any potential enemies as long as you agree to take my hand in marriage and come to live with me on Berserker island."

Judging by the tone that weighed down Dagur's words, he was deadly serious, but for some strange reason of which I had absolutely no explanation for, I just burst into a fit of laughter. "Y-you want me to marry you? To actually marry you? You must be completely and utterly out of your mind!"

Gone was the look of amusement on Dagur's face as he clenched his jaw and the jugular vein in his neck started pulsing. "You will take the offer if you wish to see not only your people but also your father, live."

"I thought you said that there is no cure for purple oleander?" I snapped back, completely ignoring the potential consequences of my sudden outburst as I cradled my father in my arms.

Dagur's face matched the color of his hair as he looked like he was about to snap my neck in two, but somehow, he managed to keep his cool long enough to hiss at me through his teeth. "When one is exposed to small doses of purple oleander, you are only rendered immensely weakened and sick, but if the dosage is upped, the mortality rate will rise considerably. We have given your father a small enough dose to keep him out of our way, but if you do not wish to take my generous offer, we can always feed him more and kill him off completely."

Coward! Words couldn't even begin to describe how much I wanted to scream that straight into Dagur's face, but as soon as my gaze landed on my father, I realized that if I gave in to my rage, there would be no hope for me, my father or any of the people on our island. How I wished for my father to wake up and say something, do something that could get us out of the sticky situation we were in, but he remained perfectly still and I just prayed that Dagur had been telling me the truth so that there was the slightest chance that I could ever spend another moment with my father.

With a deep breath and a solemn expression, I turned to face the Chief of the Berserkers and give him my final answer: "I'll do it, I'll marry you."