Chapter 9 Queen Emeline #3
“I do not obey anyone, you filthy bastard. Did you not learn from the lessons I delivered to your father and grandfather? Both cried like wee babes as I took their lives.”
Aethelbald’s eye twitches.
“Strong men they were not. Weak cowards who, in the end, bled like any other man before them. And mark my words…you will follow in their footsteps.”
“You cunt.” He tightens his grip around my throat, siphoning the air supply. Little does he know, I choose death over the alternative of being his wife.
He reads the determination on my face and, with regret, releases me.
“You will soon change your attitude, for I have everything you love in the palm of my hand.”
I refuse to show anger, so I remain stone-faced.
We walk the halls of the abandoned mansion Aethelbald calls home for now.
But once his plans are put into place, no doubt, King Raedwulf will be ambushed and his throne taken.
And what of Mercia? King Beornwulf, my friend, has shown nothing but loyalty to me, but I fear his kingdom will be challenged as well.
These men were put into power by me. Therefore, they are guilty by association.
These men will be killed if I don’t do what Aethelbald wants. This is the beginning of the demise of an entire monarchy.
The sweet child I once cared for is no more because Aethelbald is power-hungry and filled with revenge. That’s never a good combination.
We walk out to the gardens, and what I see makes me realize that, regardless of my reservations, I do not have a choice but to surrender. Ulf and Skarth are both strung up on crucifixes; a dishonor to their gods. Soldiers taunt them. They are bloody and beaten.
Ulf’s head is drooped to his chest, but Skarth keeps his head high. When we lock eyes, I see that defeat isn’t in both our natures. He could have given up, but he hasn’t. Beaten and bruised, he still reeks of victory because the only way for these men to subdue him is to shackle him.
Yet he still is far braver than every Englishman.
“Still refusing my proposal?” Aethelbald asks, looking at the macabre sight before us.
“The final words your father heard before I ripped his heart out of his chest were ‘I will do everything in my power to ensure your children never get on the throne. They will never know their birthright, for your name, your legacy, dies with you.’
“I always keep true to my word.”
Aethelbald screams, yanking me by the hair toward Skarth.
Skarth struggles, but the rope that binds him is tight. “You pathetic coward! Let her go and fight me like a man.”
“That is where you are mistaken, my beloved,” I say to Skarth, my neck craned to the side as Aethelbald holds me tight. “He is not a man. Our children are more men than his weak bastard.”
“My oversight, my love. You are right,” Skarth replies, grinning with a mouthful of blood.
“You will be my wife,” Aethelbald says between clenched teeth.
A hoarse laugh erupts from Ulf, who seems to have awoken from his beaten slumber. “Emeline is no one’s wife. Let history be a lesson for you. Not only is he weak and cowardly but he’s stupid too.”
I can’t contain my laughter.
This only infuriates Aethelbald more so, and he is keen to make an example of us all. “Get on your knees.”
“I bow to no man.”
“You will bow to me.”
Before I can object, he tosses me to a waiting soldier and storms over to Skarth, withdrawing his blade. Skarth doesn’t flinch and merely grins, daring him to do his best. My heart somersaults, and memories collide into me. My Viking warrior is back.
However, he was always there.
It seems I needed to be reminded that, regardless of the time apart, my heart, body, and soul belong to Skarth the Godless.
Aethelbald raises his blade and cuts through Skarth’s long hair. He hacks at it, slicing it off as he knows it’s a dishonor for a Viking to cut his hair.
I violently struggle against the soldier, but he holds on tight, chuckling as he watches the spectacle before us. “You bastard! Stop!”
But Aethelbald does nothing of the sort.
He severs through Skarth’s beard, shearing it short. When he cuts off a plait, he holds it high, a sign of victory. Skarth’s entire demeanor doesn’t change. But I know my Viking. He is plotting the many ways to destroy Aethelbald, just as he did to thousands of men before him.
Once Aethelbald is done, he turns to me with a victorious grin. “Bow.”
I wet my lips, as if contemplating his demand. But his mandate is met only in the fitting way. “Fara tú, tú óhróer svín.”
The soldiers gasp as I have broken about ten laws. But Skarth nods, a look of pride painting his beautiful face. Any anger I held toward him dissipates because you cannot have hatred without love, and I love Skarth the Godless with every beat of my heart.
We were lost, but our love knows no bounds because our connection was always fated in the stars. Perhaps one must lose something to realize its worth, and there is no Emeline without her Skarth.
“Big improvement if you ask me,” Ulf quips about Skarth’s new look. He is always one to ruin a moment, but it’s not destroyed because our love will always run three ways.
I love Ulf too.
I always have.
And I always will.
“Sooner or later, you will concede.”
Skarth’s laughter echoes from the trees. “Your father and grandfather thought the same thing. Look how things ended for them.”
Aethelbald clenches the blade in his hand, barely containing his anger. “I suppose I will have to be creative in other ways, then.”
He means our children.
“Take our prisoners to the dungeon.”
* * *
If this is supposed to scare me, then he’s in for a rude awakening, as the dungeons were my home as a child, thanks to my father.
Skarth, Ulf, and I are chained to a brick wall. We sit across from each other, as Aethelbald knew that if within reach, we would find a way to escape. But these chains are fastened tight into the bluestone walls.
Skarth sits quietly.
Ulf does not. “I would rather die in battle than in boredom. This is indeed torture.”
“Always so dramatic.” Skarth rolls his eyes.
“Who’s being dramatic? This is far worse than any torture I have ever endured. Remember that time a Christian put her—” He soon ceases from continuing as I can only guess where she put whatever where.
“What are you thinking, Emeline?”
Skarth knows me well. “The only real collateral Aethelbald has over us is our children. He won’t harm them. For now,” I add, my stomach churning. “But he will go after all the others who have helped me. King Raedwulf. King Beornwulf. My mother. Many are in danger.
“And I cannot do a thing about it. If only we knew where Sigrith was. Or Aedan. Truth be told, they are the only ones I trust.”
“We have no allies because no one knows where we are. We must make our presence known,” Skarth says.
He’s right.
But that’s difficult to do when we are caged.
Peering around the dark, dank room, I look for an out. There are none, however. Unless someone frees us, we are at the mercy of a merciless man.
Footsteps echo in the darkness, and by the scuffling of them, it’s safe to say they belong to someone who is blind drunk.
Skarth’s spine straightens when he looks over my head.
Instantly, goose bumps prick my skin.
This won’t end well.
“We shouldn’t be down ’ere,” says a soldier to his friend. “If Aethelbald found out…”
“The only way he would find out is if someone opens their big trap.” The man with sandy-colored hair carries a look I know too well. “Just one taste. What harm will it do?”
Skarth yanks furiously at his chains as the men approach me. “Get away from her!”
“Or what? You’re in no position to be making demands, Viking.”
Ulf frantically searches the room, attempting to seek a weapon, an escape, anything to avoid the inevitable. I am accustomed to men showing their true nature when it comes to lust. One of them pins my legs down as the other unfastens his trousers, freeing his disgusting cock.
I don’t even have time to fight.
He forces his cock down my throat and grips my chin with a pistol grip to stop me from biting down. He coaxes me to move my mouth up and down his shaft as he commences fucking my mouth. I gag when he hits the back of my throat. It only seems to encourage him to push down farther and faster.
I try to move my head, but his hold is tight.
I detach from my body and focus on flaying the skin from their bones as this is the only thing that helps me survive.
The other man’s hand wanders up my leg and under my skirt. He rubs over my sex crudely, grunting when he inserts a finger into me.
Two men are molesting me, whilst my two Vikings watch, helpless to stop it.
Skarth’s pained screams hurt more than my throat being fucked raw. Or my womanhood being breached by callused, rough fingers. The man whose cock is down my throat commences thrusting faster, forcing my head to bob up and down, taking him deep.
“Your mouth is a warm cavern. I see what the fuss is about, for a queen’s mouth feels like heaven on my cock.”
“Your cock is going to be down your throat when I am done with you.” Skarth’s threat isn’t empty. In one way or another, he will ensure this bastard pays.
He doesn’t listen as he shivers and groans, spilling his seed down my throat. Only when he stops gyrating does he release me. With tears in my eyes, I immediately spit, needing to dispel him from my body.
The other man wants his turn now. “Hold her still.”
I am being yanked from every direction, merely a plaything for these beasts to abuse for their perverted ways.
Both men now have their erect pricks on display, primed to take turns raping me.
I can feel the wall vibrate as Ulf and Skarth tug violently at the chains around their wrists. Norse fills the brutal air as they both attempt to save me. I sit with my arms chained above my head, so getting to my womanhood proves to be an issue as I flail madly.