THE VIKING KING'S BRIDE

⚔️ ALICE RETURNED TO THE CITY

The wolf was wounded, but it was far from finished. Its blood dripped from its side as it dragged itself toward her, its breath coming in ragged and angry gasps.

Alice scrambled backward on her elbows, her bound feet dragging behind her like a heavy anchor. Her fingers searched the dark floor frantically, brushing past loose pebbles and ice until they locked around a large, sharp stone left behind by the Viking explosion.

The werewolf reared back on its hind legs, its shadow blocking out what little light remained in the cave. It dropped down, its jaws wide, aiming directly for her neck.

But Alice didn't blink.

As the monster dropped, she raised both hands, driving the sharp stone straight into the werewolf’s open eye with every ounce of strength she had left.The rock shattered inside the socket. The beast stiffened, its body freezing mid-air as the sharp point pierced its brain.

For a second, the world was completely still. Then, the massive creature collapsed forward, its heavy head landing heavily across Alice’s bound legs, pinning her to the floor.

Silence returned to the cave. Alice lay beneath the heavy weight of the dead monster, her chest rising and falling in deep gasps. She was bruised, bleeding from her shoulder, and completely exhausted, but she was alive.

Using the last of her energy, she reached down, found her dropped knife sticking out of the wolf's side, and began to look at the thick ropes around her ankles. One by one, the heavy strands snapped open. She pulled her legs free, stood up on shaking knees, and walked out into the biting winter air, leaving the dark cave behind.

But today, the morning sunlight is trying to break through the gray clouds.

Miles away, the Grand Viking warship was floating in the port of the northern kingdom, along the other 25 medium warships, that can be seen from the highest mountain.

Inside the main cabin, the High King stood by the window, his arms crossed over his chest. He was a man of immense stature, his face was free from the long beards, as if he were regularly shaving the beard off his face. He has long gray hair that is braided carefully. His eyes held the weight of a ruler who had seen too many wars.

He had followed his younger brother, Roosevelt, across the sea, hoping to see a true conqueror expand their empire through traditional laws of honorable combat. Instead, he had found a trail of blood, broken rules, and stolen wealth from the nearest land going to the next land, and now the richest and the untouched land from the Vikings, the north.

If this will continue, the Vikings legacy may fall.

The heavy wooden door of the cabin swung open. A young warrior stood there, his face completely pale, his hands shaking as he held a stained piece of cloth.

"Speak," the King ordered.

"Your Grace..." the warrior stammered, falling to his knees.

"The General. We found him in the private quarters near the city walls. He... he did not make it back."

The King turned around swiftly, his eyes narrowing.

"What do you mean he did not make it back? Did Roosevelt refuse my command?"

"The General was murdered, Sire," the warrior whispered, lifting the cloth. It was the General's royal insignia, covered in dark, dried blood.

"He was stabbed through the throat with a royal dagger. And the young King Roosevelt is gone. He took his most loyal warriors and fled into the high mountains."

The King’s face hardened into a mask of pure fury. The silence grew so heavy that the warrior could hear the wood of the ship creaking against the waves. Roosevelt had not only stolen the silver, he had murdered a high officer of the crown. He had spat on the laws of his own blood.

"He thinks the mountains will protect him, to hide from my justices" the King said.

He walked over to the table and slammed his heavy fist onto the wooden map of the northern territory.

"Change of plans. We will not depart. Send word to the remaining fleets. We stay in this northern kingdom until every corner of this land is searched."

He looked up at his commanders who were waiting near the door.

"I will see the true state of this land. I want to know how the people live, who have been leading them into this ruin, and what my brother has truly done. If Roosevelt wants to live like a wild animal in the peaks, let him. But I will tear down this city brick by brick until I find the truth."

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Alice Carpio pulled her fur mantle tightly around her shoulders as she limped through the dense forest surrounding the northern capital.

The walk from the mountain peak had taken hours, and her body ached from the brutal fight with the werewolves. Her face was stained with dirt and dried blood, but her eyes remained sharp. She needed to get back to her people. She needed to warn them of Roosevelt’s betrayal.

But as she reached the last road of the tree line, overlooking the city gates, she stopped. Something was wrong.

The banners hanging from the high stone walls had changed. The flags of her family, the kingdom signage was now standing and touched by the air, only they replaced by massive black and gold drapes bearing the crest of the High Viking Crown. And she noticed also that the gates were heavily guarded.

These men wore polished iron armor, carrying heavy shields and long spears with disciplined precision.

"Roosevelt.. wait for me, because I will be the last person you will see in this world.." she cursed under her breath. Expecting that Roosevelt may already taken her throne now.

The tension in the air was thick, like a storm waiting to break.

Alice wrapped a dark cloth around her head, hiding her pale face and distinct features. She mixed into a group of poor farmers entering the city with wagons of firewood. The guards checked the carts but barely looked at the dirty, limping woman walking beside them.

Once inside the city square, Alice’s heart sank.

Standing on the grand balcony of the royal palace was a man she had never seen before... he looks so powerful, commanding Viking leader dressed in fine furs and gold trim, shouting orders to the crowds below. But it wasn't just the new leader that made her freeze. Because the one who was standing right beside him, dressed in royal silks and looking completely untouched, was her sister, Margaret.

Alice gasped, stepping back into the shadow of a market stall. Margaret was supposed to be locked away, punished for her treason against the northern crown. Yet there she stood, a smug smile on her face, looking down at the citizens like a rightful ruler. And behind them, sitting in a heavy wooden chair, was their father, the old King. He looked weak, his hands shaking as he leaned on his staff, but he was wearing his royal crown once more.

The old administration had been restored, but under the tight grip of a foreign leader? Alice's mind raced with questions.

How had Margaret freed herself? Why was their father back on the throne, and who was this powerful new Viking king ruling over them all?