THE VIKING KING'S BRIDE

Long before kingdoms united beneath one crown, the people of the northern lands lived as scattered clans. They were not one race, but farmers, traders, hunters, and warriors who carved their lives from unforgiving mountains and the sea. -------+++++-------- High in the craggy peaks, the mountain air grew so cold it stung Alice’s lungs. The trail had vanished beneath a thick blanket of snow. Clutched tightly in her gloved hand was the velvet pouch of "healing herbs" Margaret had given her. Her horse whinnied, its ears pinning back in sudden terror. Alice froze, her sharp mind instantly picking up on the danger. The wind had died, but the crunch of heavy boots on frozen gravel echoed from the ridge above. Out of the white mist, three men emerged. They wore ragged furs and carried rusted, notched blades. These were not elite royal soldiers, they were desperate assassins from the starving, lawless villages at the base of the mountain. Men who would kill for a single gold coin. "Look at that. The princess actually came. Just like the high-born lady said she would." the lead assassin sneered, his breath pluming in the freezing air. Alice kept her voice low, forcing her trembling hands to hold the reins firmly. "My brothers from my neighborhoods, if you are looking for coins, I carry none. I am on a mission of mercy for my grandmother. Let me pass, and the crown will reward your mercy." The men laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that echoed off the stone walls. "Your grandmother is safe in the palace, little bird," the leader said, taking a slow step forward. "You were sent here to die. The lady who paid us didn't want any royal blood in her own hands. She wanted the mountain to do the work. But we're here to make sure it's finished." The revelation hit Alice like a physical blow. The lie collapsed, and the truth laid bare her sister's utter malice. Margaret hadn't just bullied her, she had sentenced her to execution. "Margaret...She... she sent me to the slaughter." Alice whispered, her voice cracking as tears pricked her eyes, freezing almost instantly on her lashes. "Don't take it personally, Princess," the second assassin muttered, pulling a hunting knife from his belt. "In the lower villages, our children are eating dirt while you royals sit in heated halls. Your sister offered us enough gold to feed our families for three winters. Your life can save the thirty of us. It's just a trade" Alice looked at the desperate, hollow eyes of the men before her. Her heart broke.. not just for her own impending death, but for the cruel reality of the world she had been sheltered from. But as the leader lunged forward to grab her horse's bridle, Alice's brilliant mind overrode her terror. She was physically outmatched, but she was entirely superior in intellect. "Wait!" Alice cried out, her voice ringing with an authority she didn't know she possessed. The leader paused, his blade inches from her horse's chest. "Screaming won't save you." "If you kill me, you will never see a single piece of that gold," Alice said quickly, her eyes darting to the ridge above them, calculating the structural integrity of the heavy snowdrift overhanging the cliff. "Think of it! If my sister is willing to murder her own flesh and blood to secure the throne, what do you think she will do to three peasants who know her darkest secret? She will have her royal guards hunt you down the moment you ask for payment. You are loose ends." The assassins looked at each other, hesitation flickering in their eyes. The leader gripped his sword tighter. "She's lying. She's just trying to save her skin." "I am not lying, I am just giving you a choice," Alice said, her voice dropping to a fierce, desperate whisper. "Help me survive, and when I return to the city, I will grant your villages the grain and lands you deserve. Kill me, and you sign your own death warrants the moment you return to Margaret. Trust me.. I know my sister!" "Too late for talk!" the leader roared, losing his patience. He lunged. Alice didn't hesitate. She dug her heels into her horse's flanks, forcing the beast to rear up. The horse's hooves struck the leader squarely in the chest, throwing him backward into the steep snowbank. As he crashed into the drift, a sharp, echoing crack vibrated through the mountain. Alice’s sharp eyes had predicted it, the heavy snow on the ridge above will give a way. "Avalanche!" one of the assassins screamed. A massive wall of white roared down the slope. Alice steered her horse toward a shallow cave indentation in the rock face, pressing herself flat against the stone. The world turned into a deafening, blinding vortex of rushing snow and ice. When the roar finally subsided, a suffocating silence returned to the mountain. Alice slowly opened her eyes, coughing on the icy powder. The trail was completely gone. The two remaining assassins were nowhere to be seen, buried somewhere beneath the white shroud. The leader lay a few feet away, pinned up to his waist under heavy snow, gasping for air, his sword thrown far out of reach. Alice dismounted, her boots sinking into the fresh powder. She walked over to the trapped assassin, her body shivering, but her gaze fixed and resolute. She picked up his dropped knife. The man looked up at her, true terror was in his eyes now. "Finish it," he wheezed. "Kill me." Alice looked at the knife, then down at the freezing, dying man. She knelt in the snow, but instead of striking him, she used the blade to dig into the hardened snowbank, loosening the weight trapping his legs. "Why? I came to murder you." the assassin whispered, and stunned. "Because you are a symptom of a rotten kingdom, not the cause," Alice said, her voice filled with a quiet, fierce determination. "My sister is the enemy. You are just a man trying to feed his children. Help me dig you out, and then you are going to tell me exactly how to get down this mountain through the hidden hunter paths. The main road is no longer safe." The assassin stared at the young princess, realizing that the court who called her weak had never truly seen her strength at all. As they worked to free him, a distant horn echoed from the valley far below... a deep, resonant sound that shook the very air. It was not a royal horn of their kingdom. It was the war horn of the Viking longships. "Who are these people?"