CHAPTER 004
1070 Words
Trapped in His Silence
FREJA’S [POV]
With her heart hammering against her ribs as if it wanted to escape, Freja stopped in the doorway. Mikkel was sitting on the couch with a half-full glass of amber liquor in one hand and a languid arm resting on the backrest. His icy eyes pierced the morning sunlight like a blade of ice. No grin. No warmth. The same glare.
"Sit."
He blurted out the word. No tenderness. Without a doubt. Simply give the order.
Freja had no desire to. Her legs moved despite her body pleading with her to turn and go. As if they were no longer hers. She took the seat farthest away from him after moving slowly across the room, each step heavier than the one before it. Her hands clenched tightly in her lap, and her spine remained rigid. Her muscles throbbed with pain, a cruel reminder of what he had done and taken the night before. She did, however, swallow it. pushed it away.
After taking a sip of his beverage, Mikkel clinked the glass onto the table. Sharply, the sound reverberated in the quiet.
Flat and empty, he declared, "We're setting rules." "Because we now share a residence."
Regulations? She wanted to chuckle. Or weep. Perhaps both. However, she spoke in a whisper. "What are the rules?"
Mikkel bent over. His gaze pierced her.
"The first rule is that you don't question me," he stated. I am now your spouse. You follow my instructions. No attitude. No games.
Her palms were bitten by her fingernails. One by one, his words clamped down like chains.
He continued. Rule two. Anything that occurs between us remains private. Don't gossip. Don't speak to your servants or friends. This is not their business; it is ours.
It felt like a lock turning with every word. She did not speak. What was the purpose?
"The third rule." His voice fell, low and menacing. "You grin in public. You act as though nothing is wrong. You portray the ideal wife. You are Mrs. Mikkel Sorensen as far as everyone knows, and everything is fine.
Her eyes burned with the threat of tears. She blinked quickly, though. kept them contained.
"You got it?"
Tight and small, she nodded.
"Well done."
Leaning back, he appeared to have listed groceries rather than shackles.
Her hands shook. She had pressed too hard, and her palms ached. Why did he consider this acceptable? Why did it sound so natural coming from him?
She inhaled. Then leave. Then uttered, hardly audible above a breath, "And last night? That's included in the rules as well?
There was a flicker in his eyes, but it was gone too quickly to read. He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward once more.
As if it weren't a giant deal, he said, "Last night was a mistake." "I had too much to drink." You were present. You have no idea how to keep your mouth shut.
She gazed. What?
"You weren't provoked by me."
"You didn't?" His voice broke.
The air between them tightened as they gazed at one another.
"You believe I desired this union?" He let out a bark. "My Jarl made it happen. He fought for land and power. Do you believe that you are the only one who has lost something?
The blood rose to her face. "You act as though that justifies what you did."
He retorted, "You're not innocent either." "You said nothing. Like a good little girl, you did as your father said. You also chose this life—this mess.
Her voice cracked as she exclaimed, "No, I didn't!" "I didn't request this. And you don't have the right to—
"To what?" he snarled. "To be like my wife to you? My wife *is* you. That implies that you are mine. Your life, your decisions, your body—mine now.
Her hands clenched once more as she gasped.
She trembled and said, "I'm not your thing." "I am a human being. I'm in pain. Additionally, what you did—
He yelled, "It was nothing." "You're exaggerating. pretending to have hurt you when I only corrected you.
Her voice wavered as she said, "You don't know me."
"I don't have to."
She gasped. It was this. Her reality. He didn't even think it was wrong that she was stuck in it.
"If you don't follow my rules, I'll make your life worse," he said icily. "You get it?"
Fear and hate mingled in Freja's chest as she gazed at him. She felt like screaming. She wanted to tear the room to pieces. However, she only said:
"I get it."
Satisfied, he nodded. Then leave my sight. I would rather not see you until after supper.
As she stood, her legs felt heavy. Each step she took towards the door felt like a tug. However, the pain in her chest persisted.
She left without turning around.
---
Pressing her back against the door, she silently closed it behind her. At least he was out of the hallway, even though it didn't feel any safer.
*Why am I here?*
Her mind was racing with ideas that would not stop.
*This isn't a marriage. This isn't affection. It's a prison.
It wasn't until she was close to the garden that she realised she had begun to walk. There was nobody there. A light wind blew through the hedges.
Knees to her chest, she sat on a stone bench. She couldn't stop thinking.
*Perhaps I ought to have run prior to the wedding. I might have to go now. Where would I go, though? He would track me down. Or my dad would drag me back. or worse.
Footsteps behind her. She didn't look around.
"You're up early," a servant girl said in a wary tone.
Freja said nothing. After a pause, the girl resumed her speech.
"Has something happened?"
Freja got up. "Nothing took place. Everything is good.
The young woman blinked. "But your face—"
"It's okay," I said.
Before more questions could be asked, she left. Once more, her hands clenched. She detested how simple lying was.
She went back to her room and shut the curtains. She took a seat on the edge of the bed. She ran her fingers over her arm's marks.
"I don't belong to anyone," she said in a whisper to herself.
She didn't believe it, though.
- Writer
