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II. Bound by Duty, Torn by Desire

Eksel rolled his neck, grimacing when it cracked loudly.

He stood in the middle of the large hall, with his men at his back and Earl Arrion in front of him. A silence filled the room, leaving it cold and empty in its wake.

Eksel scowled at Earl Arrion, wondering if he was worthy of the title. He noted his small body and how he shook with visible fear.

“I’m sure they’ll be down here soon, Jarl Agnar,” Arrion stuttered through his words, sweat spilling down his forehead.

Eksel tilted his head, fatigue beginning to eat away at his mind. He had traveled for two weeks to come fetch his brother’s betrothed. His brother, the perfect golden boy who was surely ravaging a village at the moment.

Why had he been so eager in taking the bride their father had chosen for him?

Eksel didn’t know. From what he knew, his brother enjoyed taking women from every village he ravaged. He didn’t need a wife.

“I am not Jarl Agnar,” He grunted.

“Oh?” Arrion questioned, his eyes looking over Eksel’s shoulders and to the men that had accompanied him.

They were Eksel’s men. The men that no one else wanted. But Eksel didn’t care about how they looked or how they spoke. He just wanted the ones that could kill without remorse. The ones that had no family to go home to.

“Who are you?”

Eksel watched him, and grunted, not feeling the need to explain himself to the coward that had given his own daughter away to a complete stranger.

Especially because that stranger had been his father.

Arrion shifted uncomfortably, twisting his hands together, “I had my kitchen prepare a meal for you and...your men.”

He looked piercingly at the Earl as maids walked in with food and ale. He turned and faced his men with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head.

“Give me the girl and we will be on our way,” Eksel murmured, his patience wearing thin, not that he had much to begin with.

He wasn’t a social person, and avoided people at all costs, rendering his social skills uselessly indisposed. He was just here to do the job his brother had sent him to do. He was here unwillingly but loyally nonetheless.

He loved his brother, in his own way. Agnar stuck by his side and helped him in ways he would never admit to anyone.

Everyone knew that Eksel was tormented. His village spoke about him in whispers. Mothers told their kids stories about the villainous brother that would find you in the night if you refused to listen.

You could see the torment in his eyes, but by what demons was the question no one knew the answer to.

That was a secret Eksel kept close.

Agnar was the only one who knew, and Eksel owed him for that.

Arrion inhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring, “My daughter. S-surely we can come to another agreement?”

Eksel gripped the hilt of his sword. The coward was backing out and though he could care less for his brother's bride, he itched for blood. A broken agreement was sufficient reason to start a war.

Arrion’s eyes widened as he noticed the sword attached to Eksel’s hip, “N-no, I just wondered if maybe this warrants another conversation.”

Eksel smirked, his chest expanding with a broken laugh, "Can you speak to the dead?"

Arrion turned even paler and shook his head.

"Then how will you come to another agreement with my father?"

"Your father?"

Eksel narrowed his eyes, the snickers and chuckles from his men did little to ease the irritating itch that crawled up his chest. Yes, his father, who had two sons. Or did people so easily forget about him as they placed Agnar on a pedestal?

The Earl turned red, anger forcing his hands into tight fists.

He was about to question Arrion on his plan for those fists when a soft voice caught Eksel's attention.

He stood up straight, turning to face the small woman that slowly approached them.

Immediately and much to his surprise, his heart tensed at the sight, but he forcefully bit down on his tongue until he could taste coppery blood.

It was like a shock to his system. So surprising he almost missed the older man that walked beside her. All he could focus on was the breathtaking woman who looked at him with a soft frown.

He could not deny that she was beautiful. Her long brown hair framed her face perfectly, her hazel eyes were mesmerizing and were paired with a small straight nose and small but plump lips.

Her frame was small and she seemed to shrink as she stood before him. Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink and her eyes wandered between Eksel and her father.

Eksel's ears burned hot as he looked at her, and he was overcome with a prickling sensation of self-awareness. They were all watching him, weren't they?

He scowled, not liking the thoughts that took over his head. He had come for her for his brother, he had no business thinking of her as if she was his.

He wasn’t used to such vulnerably small looking women. Wasn’t used to wide eyes looking at him with curiosity instead of fear. Wasn’t used to wanting to taste such small, pouty lips.

With a sneer, he looked back at his most trusted man, Sten, who had been eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.

So maybe he wasn’t all that great at hiding his emotions.

He snarled, trying to clear his head and stepped toward Elva, who gasped at his sudden advancement.

Arrion stepped toward Elva but was stopped by the sword of one of the men.

As Eksel stood in front of her, he eyed her up and down. He took in every curve of her body, the sight of her slightly tan but soft skin made him wonder how angry his brother would be if he took his bride.

He reached for her.

"W-wait," She huffed, desperately, her eyes widening. She shot her father an alarmed look, shaking her head in fear.

Eksel's heart hammered stronger at the sound of her pleading voice, but he continued to scowl at her. In a hurry, he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed, slapping his back, yelling at him repeatedly to put her down.

Eksel turned to face Arrion one last time and tipped his head.

Arrion stood there with his mouth open wide. He was at a loss for words, unable to move as he watched the man take away what was most important to him.

Eksel grimaced in annoyance at the soft punches she landed on his back. He growled to himself as he and his men made their way to their horses.

Elva was still thrashing in his arms, giving him a piece of her mind when he stopped beside his horse. He slid her off his shoulder and carefully placed her on the ground.

"Stop," He grunted, keeping his hands on her waist.

Her lips parted as she looked at him with a frown, "Let me go!"

He tightened his hold, grumbling to himself as he lifted her onto the horse. She kicked her leg, her toes coming dangerously close to his chin.

Her caught her dainty ankle with his heavy hand and raised an eyebrow at her, trying with all his might to ignore the softness of her skin.

"Don't test my patience, girl."

Her hazel eyes widened slightly before determination had her frowning and clenching her jaw.

“You will take me off this horse and take me back to my father!” She yelled, her hands in fists, her nose flaring in anger.

Eksel only turned and looked at her, his expression suddenly cool and hardened.

Sten approached them, keeping his gaze on Elva, who struggled to wiggle out of Eksel's grip.

"Are we heading back to Gleneg?"

Eksel nodded.

"I've sent Kos ahead. We wouldn't want to run into-"

"No, we wouldn't," Eksel grunted, releasing Elva's ankle.

Her breathing turned heavy beside him and he shook his head, dismissing Sten with a nod of his chin. The men around them waited for orders as Eksel turned to Elva.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Her chest heaved with her heavy breaths, "Just let me say goodbye."

Eksel tried to keep his heartstrings in check, but she pulled them just as easily. He could feel his hand twitch with the need to wipe the tears that ran down her cheeks. But he couldn't. He couldn't care, not about her.

He hardened his gaze, "You've had seven years to say goodbye."

He mounted his horse, settling behind her as she swallowed the shocked sob that racked her chest. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around her waist, causing her to stiffen.

He barked orders to his men and they responded with cries and jeers. They were ready to get home. To eat and rest and fuck.

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