Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Bjorn
Awar band. Bjorn hadn’t been part of one of these since he’d failed in battle and had been taken by the human king. It was strange to lace himself up in armor the same way he had done all those years ago.
Trolls like him wore different armor than the rest of them.
He was their bulwark. The wall that stood between the others and the swords of humans that could bite through flesh.
While many trolls chose to go into battle with very little armor on their bodies, he was completely covered.
From his chest to his thighs, he strapped on thick hide that was harvested from wyrms deep within the mountain.
Even his forearms and the backs of his hands wore some of the scaled material.
He had his choice of weapons made by the finest craftsmen, and picking up his double sided axe again was like coming home.
He hated how easily it fit in his hand, and how well his muscles remembered how to swing it.
It would be so simple to cleave heads from shoulders with the sharp edges, even without thinking about what he was doing.
Every part of him was made to kill. Every bit of his body was a weapon that had been honed and trained by the labyrinth itself.
Now he was going back. Back to the place that had turned him into the monster his father had always wanted him to be. Because his people begged him to go. They wanted him to be a monster as well.
His soul ached with this burden.
Heading out of the armory, he pulled the pieces of the person the other trolls expected onto himself like more armor. He became the Destroyer they all wanted to see. The son of the man who had led them to victory countless times.
He would too. But not for them. Bjorn was not his father, who’d fought for glory and honor and the recognition from a king who was so willing to throw him to the wolves.
He did it instead for the children he could save who lived here in Trollveggen.
He did it for his bright one, who risked her life along with the rest of them.
He fought because it was the right thing to do.
His father had never possessed the ability to fight for others. This was what set them apart.
Astrid waited for him. She stood with her sister on the precipice of a steep cliff, both of them gleaming, golden beings who looked more like royalty than any other human here. They were stunning together, beacons of light in a dark time.
He was shocked to see them hugging. Rose had been so touch averse, it was almost startling to see her do so. This was a marked improvement.
Gunnar stood next to him and snorted. “Oh, sure. She’ll hug her sister but not the troll who’s been providing for her for ages now.”
He glanced over at the other man. “You?”
“Who else?” Gunnar shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a bleeding heart. You handed her to me in the labyrinth and I... I haven’t let go of her since, you know? Just hasn’t felt right when she’s been struggling.”
Bjorn eyed him a bit more, seeing right through what his friend said. There was something else at play here. Something that wriggled beneath Gunnar’s skin and wouldn’t let him go.
“You haven’t touched her, then?”
“Gods, no. She doesn’t even like it when she notices me looking at her.
I’ve got her set up somewhere nice. I bring her food, run a bath for her every night, and buy her new clothes.
Just little things to make her life easier.
” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I find her when she wanders off, which is often. She’s just.. . really broken, Bjorn.”
“Broken things have pieces to pick up.”
“I don’t think she even has a clue where all those pieces are. She hides them every day, scattering them to the wind so no one can put her back together.” Gunnar’s gaze was haunted as he looked at Astrid’s pale sister.
Where Astrid was golden, Rose was nearly white. She was losing more color every day, it seemed. Fading like all of her magic was draining out of her. Pale hair, pale skin, nearly like a star that had fallen into their realm.
“You’ll figure something out,” Bjorn murmured. “We all do when we love someone.”
“Love?” Gunnar scoffed. “I barely even know the woman. Like I said, I’m just a bleeding heart. Don’t know what’s good for me.”
He stalked off, but there was a nervous set to Gunnar’s shoulders now. He knew without a doubt that Bjorn was onto him. No one put that kind of effort into another unless there were feelings involved.
Poor man. He was going to have his work cut out for him.
Bjorn headed over to the sisters who had finally parted. Their quiet, murmured words filtered through the air as he approached.
“I’m going to be fine, Rose. I won’t even be in any dangerous situations.”
“You stay away from the king. He’ll steal you away from all of us, and I don’t know how I’ll get you back.” Rose wrung her hands, clearly nervous about her sister leaving.
“I’m not going to get taken, Rose.”
Bjorn stood behind Astrid, looming over both of them and casting a horned shadow that seemed to stretch across the ground. Rose’s face somehow paled even more, but then he saw determination square her jaw.
She looked right up at him—the first time she might have ever done that—and said, “You take care of her.”
He nodded solemnly. “It will be my honor.”
Astrid said one last goodbye before turning to him. Together, they headed toward the rest of the war band.
The waves of trolls, all armored and armed to the teeth, rippled around them.
There was so much flesh spread out before them, countless men and women who were so strong that he knew Astrid had to be a little frightened.
They all lifted spears, swords, and axes into the air at the sight of him.
Their whooping calls echoed throughout the hollow mountain until even those in the far reaches would hear the sound of their battle cry.
“Destroyer!” they called out as he held Astrid’s hand and weaved through the masses of them. “The Destroyer fights with us!”
The name dropped onto his shoulders like a weight. He was the one who would kill for them, just as he had killed for all those who had forced him to perform.
But then, a tiny hand squeezed his own. He could hear her above all the other shouts, perhaps only because he knew her voice so well.
Quietly, Astrid said, “You do not battle for those who tell you to do so. You battle for those who cannot.”
Her words stuck with him as they made the way to the front of the war band.
Ragnar waited for them there with a few other generals, and they headed out from the mountain.
Astrid had worn a cotton dress split at the sides that would make it easy for her to hop onto his back, although she would have to change before meeting her lord.
She didn’t have appropriate clothing for that, but there were many tasks for them to figure out as they moved forward with this plan.
He only cared for the sensation of her thighs squeezing around his hips and her arms around his neck.
They would do this together. They would fight as they always had, and they would make this work.
He’d keep her safe, he reminded himself. That was his only role in all of this. Keep her safe and get revenge for both of them.
For all of them.
The trolls ran long and hard away from the mountain. King James had sent plenty of soldiers all around their home, still trying to find a way inside that would give them the advantage. It was hard to get into Trollveggen without knowing where they were going, though.
Instead of attacking those human encampments like many of the trolls wished to do, they headed down a steeper side of the mountain and then around the back of the castle.
It took them all night, running at full speed, to find a place nearby that would allow them to remain in secret.
They set up camp quickly, lighting no fires to give them away.
Poor Astrid was pale and shaking when he pulled her off his back. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but she beat him to it. She lifted her hands to her arms, running them up and down as a way to show him that she was cold.
He wouldn’t have that. Not for long, at least. Bjorn set up their tent as quickly as he could.
Many trolls traveled with the war band who did not intend to fight.
They were the ones who brought the supplies.
Food, water, the tents, and bed furs that would keep them all warm in the coming days while they were waiting for Astrid’s message.
Bjorn took extra furs from the nearest troll who had them.
He didn’t care that others gave him dirty looks, or clearly wanted to complain.
His troll wife was cold, and he wasn’t going to watch her suffer.
Human skin was so much thinner than a troll’s, and he refused to be the person who didn’t take care of his wife.
Once the tent was set up, he waved for her to head in before him. He’d get inside as soon as he could, but he wanted her to eat.
Bjorn should have brought snacks for her. He should have thought of it before they’d headed out. The last time they’d traveled like this, he hadn’t brought nearly enough food for her. He would learn from this.
Once he grabbed the meager offerings, just a few slices of bread, meat, and cheese, he headed back toward his tent. His plan to snuggle up with her was thwarted only by Ragnar, who stood just outside his tent.
His oldest friend was waiting for him. Quiet conversations were still sparse among the trolls, but the lookouts were now heading to their posts. Theoretically, they would be able to have a quick chat without anyone scolding them.
Who was he kidding? No one would scold him anyway. He was the Destroyer.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I was making sure you were getting food for your wife. Humans are fragile.” But Ragnar’s expression gave away that there was more he wished to say. He just wasn’t sure how to say it.
“And?” Bjorn pushed.
“This...” Ragnar sighed and then blurted it all out so quickly, Bjorn almost didn’t catch all the words. “This is likely the last night you will see her for quite some time, perhaps ever. I would suggest making the most of it, brother.”
No, he would not think like that. He would not assume that he would never see her again, or he wouldn’t be able to let her go. Bjorn would end up keeping her in this tent, and they would have to figure out another way to enact their king’s plan.
He nodded though and headed into his tent. He didn’t turn around until he was certain he heard Ragnar leave, because he knew the moment he saw her, he’d lose his breath.
And he did. He turned to see her stretched out on their furs, those long legs bare after she’d removed her dress. Astrid wore nothing but a few strips of fabric covering her breasts and ass from his view, but not much else.
All long limbs, smooth skin, and a grin on her face that made him see stars where he stood.
Bjorn set the food down near the door so it wouldn’t get ruined and started stripping off his armor piece by piece.
She shifted on the furs, and the sound of her movement seemed so loud. “You took long enough.”
“I was getting you food.”
“Thank you for that,” she whispered. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be talking.”
“We aren’t.” Piece by piece fell onto the ground until he was free from their weight. Bjorn didn’t hesitate to shuck off his pants as well, letting them drop onto the ground along with the rest of his clothing as he prowled over to her.
The things he wanted to do were downright villainous. Not to hurt, or break, but to show her that every inch of her body deserved to be worshipped and all the other gods could be damned. He had never cared for them, anyway.
Dropping to the furs, he prowled between her legs. Kissing up one thigh, then changing to the next, he dragged his lips and tusks over her hips, between her breasts, and then to her stunning face that was still almost difficult for him to look at.
Reverently, he pressed gentle kisses first to her cheeks, then the tip of her nose, then underneath each of her eyes.
“Are you sure we should do this?” she asked, although her arms had already wrapped around him. Her legs spread, and he settled between them.
In a sharp moment, he realized that he had never felt more at home than he did right here. In her arms. With her smiling up at him and all that emotion shining in those pretty blue eyes.
“I love you,” he said, the words ripping out of him before he could stop them.
Then he just stared at her. Like the fool he was.
Now wasn’t the time to say it. He knew that. She knew that.
But he wanted her to know. Because if Ragnar was right, then he might never see her again. Bjorn would make sure she got back to Trollveggen to live with her sister, but the odds were far less likely that he would make it.
Breathing in deeply, he said it again. “I love you. I have for a long time now. Your strength, your resilience, your kindness, all of it has made me fall deeper and deeper in love with you. No one else could ever compete with you, Astrid. No matter how old you get or how sick you become, I will still worship the ground you walk on, savoring every mark your feet leave behind.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. She pressed her palms to his cheeks, holding him in place so he had to look at her when she said, “Against all odds, I love you as well. Bjorn, son of the Destroyer, you are my salvation.”
How was he supposed to do anything other than worship her after that? He loved her quietly and without any rush for hours on end. Slowly relearning the shape of her body, all the parts of her that made her gasp or shake with pleasure. Over and over.
Because if he might never touch her again, then he was going to make this night feel like it lasted an eternity.