The great hall buzzed with lively conversation in a language foreign to Alaina's ears. Though it lacked the splendour of banquets at Hann Aisle Castle, a tantalising array of dishes adorned the long wooden tables. Glowing braziers brightly illuminated the hall, and a massive furnace behind the throne seats radiated heat. Columns displayed tapestries adorned with Dunkeld's renowned embroidery, attesting to the castle's heritage. Servants, recognisable as locals from their attire, bustled about, attentively refilling goblets with ale and wine or clearing away the dishes and cutlery.
Taking a deep breath, Alaina strode confidently into the hall, conscious of the northern men's gazes upon her. Some turned to observe her arrival, stirring unease in the pit of her stomach. Yet she drew upon every bit of her confidence and stood tall, resolute in appearing undaunted by their scrutiny. Atop the great hall's podium, Gareth occupied one of the oversized chairs, taking leisurely sips from his goblet, his face flushed from the beverage. Engrossed in animated conversation with fellow northern men, he exuded an effortless charm.
Alaina couldn't help but marvel at his breathtaking handsomeness. An otherworldly glow seemed to emanate from his golden tresses. Far from the crude barbarians depicted in her illustrated books, he bore an air of refinement that spoke of a noble upbringing. As fate would have it, Gareth turned his gaze towards her, their eyes locking for an instant. Flustered by the sudden scrutiny, Alaina averted her eyes to the floor, earnestly hoping her staring hadn't betrayed her thoughts.
Casting her eyes about the room, searching for an open seat, her stomach grumbled its impatience. Realising that it had been far too long since she had eaten last, the delectable spread beckoned her with tantalizing allure. Alaina claimed an empty seat in a secluded corner, away from the principal hubbub. As she began sampling the delicious fare, she suddenly felt a warm, calloused hand gently rest on her shoulder.
"My apologies for startling you, Alaina," said Gareth softly, feeling her flinch in surprise.
"I am just overwhelmed," Alaina replied, looking into his deep blue eyes. She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach. "I was under the impression that my home was severely invaded, but nothing much is amiss."
"I can understand your confusion. Trust me when I say that we did no harm, other than the knights who defended the castle - there was no unnecessary violence." His eyes searched hers, almost pleading for her to believe him. "The prince is also doing well in the dungeon, as you might have noticed."
There was a hint of annoyance in his voice, she noted. Annoyance curdled inside her, too. She couldn't care less about the princes' safety, she merely wanted to know if Gareth was truthful in his words. The lack of response from her made the edges of Gareth's lips curl into a smile. Surely he didn't notice the flicker of disgust that washed over her face at the mention of the prince.
"Where is my father?" she asked.
"He will be here shortly; I assure you that I have given my men strict instructions not to lay a finger on him."
Alaina smiled meekly at his reply; she was relieved. Thus far, he had not given her any reason to mistrust his words. Moreover, she was confused as to why Dunkeld castle looked… normal. She assumed it would be in more disarray considering there was an "attack". However, it looked as though they had just walked right in. She toyed with the food on her plate; it smelled divine, but her mind was all over the place.
"I will leave you to eat your meal. You must be hungry,"
Gareth walked away to speak to his men, and Alaina used this opportunity to take large mouthfuls of food, appeasing her hungry stomach. A servant came up to her to ask what she wanted to drink.
"Wine or ale, my lady?" asked the female servant, her bosom huffed up and down.
"Wine, please", Alaina replied. "Are you a servant from Dunkeld castle?" She thought this would be an excellent opportunity to ask how the attack happened.
"Aye, my lady."
"Have you been treated well?"
"Aye, my lady. I have no complaints. We have been treated very well."
"Was there an attack?"
"No, my lady. It was rather peaceful."
"How did they…enter?"
"Afraid I can't answer that. I was in the kitchen chopping potatoes when it happened. There was a bit of commotion, but you see, some of us are quite familiar with the northern men"
"I don't understand, how?"
"Ah, well, you see Dunkeld has been in a bit of a rut since the Duke has been absent. Some of the villages have been supported by the northern men, to buy food and grain."
"I see," said Alaina, after thinking if she had any more questions.
"I may have said too much, my Lady. My apologies. Please enjoy your evening". The female servant smiled faintly and hurried off to fetch Alaina's drink. She must have felt like she overstepped when speaking of the Duke. Her statement confused Alaina to no end, if her father had been away from Dunkeld for so long, then where was he? He wasn't at Hann Aisle. And whenever Alaina wrote to him, he would say he was busy handling affairs in the castle. Nonetheless, it pleased Alaina that there was no unnecessary bloodshed involved with this so-called invasion.
Shortly after Alaina finished her meal, she saw her father enter the great hall with his escorts. He was bathed and changed and almost looked like his regal self again, but it was only the disappointed look on his face that gave away his usual confident stature. The two escorts seated him next to Alaina and handed him a plate for his food.
"Eat", grunted one of them. "Gareth will have our head if you don't."
When he saw that Rainald made no move to put food on his plate, he took it upon himself to pile a mountain of various dishes.
"Eat!" he said through gritted teeth and walked away. Alaina glanced at her father, trying to read his face.
"You should eat, Papa," she said softly, taking a spoonful of stew and feeding it to his mouth. He snatched the spoon from her grasp and lunged it in his mouth. His brusque action shocked her, for she had never seen or experienced this rudeness from her father.
"I do not need you to feed me, child. I already feel like half a man!" he exclaimed, not even looking at her. She decided not to press him further and just let him eat.
After a while, the northern men slowly exited the room, leaving only a few behind. Gareth came up behind Alaina and her father and asked them to adjourn to the council room. Silently, Rainald got up and headed to the room, not caring that he had knocked over his plate and utensils. Unfortunately, Alaina did not know where the council room was, so she hurriedly joined her father, trailing behind him.
The council room, about a third of the size of the great hall, exuded an inviting warmth courtesy of the hanging braziers and a grand fireplace. At the room's centre, a large oval oak table surrounded by fifteen chairs played host to a detailed map of the five kingdoms, adorned with miniature pawns and figures arranged in strategic clusters. A smattering of northern men was already seated at the table, each in quiet conversation while nursing their goblets of wine.
Gareth, seated at the head of the table—an honour likely reserved for Alaina's father during important meetings—fixated upon her with his deep blue gaze, sending a shiver down her spine. His large hand supported his chin as his elbow rested on the table's surface. The corners of his lips curled into a smile, noticing her attention, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His grin rendered her breathless, her heart fluttering uncontrollably in the throes of a visceral attraction.
Get a hold of yourself, Alaina…
As he rose to his feet, Gareth's smile remained steadfast, never once breaking the magnetic connection of their locked gazes. Alaina struggled to suppress the spontaneous reactions his attention elicited within her, inwardly chastising herself for her inability to control the storm of emotions he stirred in her heart.
"Welcome, Rainald! Alaina!" he said, raising his hands. "Please have a seat, anywhere you would like. The servants will fetch more refreshments."
A small and stout man placed a filled goblet of wine in front of Alaina as she sat down. Her father, however, put up his hand and waved dismissively to the servant, rejecting the goblet meant for him. Alaina wrapped her dainty fingers around the goblet, not knowing what else to do with them. The well-polished goblet showed her reflection. Her eyes were slightly sunken and ringed in shadows, resulting from her poor sleep during her uncomfortable journey to Dunkeld.
"End this charade!" Rainald's voice boomed, his palm crashing onto the tabletop, causing Alaina to startle. "What do you savages want?" His words dripped with disdain, his vehemence evident as saliva flecked onto the wood before him. Gareth met his gaze but said nothing, infuriating him further.
"How did you even breach the mighty walls of Dunkeld?" Rainald surged to his feet, another violent thud echoing in the chamber. Alaina's fingers tightened around her goblet, its contents threatening to spill.
"Papa, please-" she began, but Rainald's interruption was swift and fierce.
"Silence, Alaina! You will keep your mouth shut."
Gareth interjected, his voice a thunderous roar. "Enough, Rainald! Direct your anger at me, not her."
Alaina's eyes darted back and forth between Gareth and her father. The tension in the air grew stifling, making it harder to breathe. She noticed two northern men next to Gareth placing their hands on the weapons at their waists. Silently, she prayed this would not turn into a confrontation. The room grew silent; only crackling embers from the braziers and fireplace could be heard. Gareth took a large gulp of wine and cleared his throat.
"Your people are unhappy, Rainald. It was almost as if they willingly opened the doors for us," said Gareth, trying to control his agitation.
"That is absurd!" Rainald snorted. "Stop your lies."
Gareth shrugged in response. Alaina stared hard at her father. So what the servant said was true, she thought.
"Your people were starving. Your iron-fist taxes bled them dry. You were barely here leading your people."
"What do you know about my people?" Rainald yelled. He was slamming his fist against the table again. Alaina kept her eyes down, staring at the base of her goblet. Her lips were parched from the confrontational argument, but she dared not bring herself to take a sip.
"I know enough. We were the ones feeding them. The very people you call barbarians were the ones aiding your people."
"Do you mean to say you bribed your way into the castle?" Rainald's eye twitched, his fingers clenched so tightly she was afraid the veins would pop.
"Call it whatever you'd like, Rainald. Your people needed help, and we were there. We have spent the last three years building alliances with them right under your ignorant nose," Gareth declared, his voice steady and self-assured, impervious to Rainald's mounting ire. Alaina detected the depth of maturity in his tone, despite their age difference.
The room once again surrendered to silence. Rainald slumped into his chair, exhaling a heavy sigh, his head cradled in his hands. At that moment, he appeared to concede defeat—a hint of despondency pervading his posture as he wordlessly traced the lines of his face with furrowed brows.
"I do not have the energy for this", Rainald said so quietly that even Alaina could barely hear him. "There is much to explain, and we have travelled for many days. I wish to rest."
"We can continue this discussion tomorrow" Gareth raised his hand as if allowing him to take his leave. A pair of northern men rose from their chairs, downing their goblets before they moved to escort Alaina's father back to his quarters. Throughout the procession, he never glanced back at her, and she conjectured that he might have been ashamed at the truth finally coming to light. Alaina, too, pondered his years away from her. For the past three years, he had been absent from her life, and even during that period, his correspondence was sparse.
She had written him letters multiple times a month, updating him on her activities and confiding how much she missed him. Yet, in those three years, she had hardly received more than a handful of replies.
Feeling the dryness in her mouth, Alaina seized the chance to quench her thirst, lifting her goblet to take a cautious sip. Her gaze scanned the room, meeting the eyes of other northern men who had also turned their attention to her.
"You can stay if you wish, Alaina. I believe you still have hundreds of questions swirling in your beautiful mind," Gareth smiled, approaching her and placing his large hand over hers with tender affection. Though she appreciated the warmth of his touch, her instinct drove her to withdraw her hand. The forlorn expression that followed her rejection stirred a pang of remorse within her, but she knew she needed time to process the revelations that had transpired.
"You said my fa-, I mean, the duke, was barely here. Where was he?" she asked quietly, looking up at him. She thought he was always too busy being a duke and handling the affairs of the castle, so he had no time to visit her or even write often. Gareth looked at the remaining men in his room and nodded towards the door. Understanding his unspoken command, his men finished their drinks and exited the room, giving them privacy.
Typically, being left alone in a room with a man would make her feel uneasy, an emotion solely provoked by Prince Sanson's unwanted advances when they found themselves in private. However, in Gareth's company, she felt not the slightest unease; instead, an inexplicable sense of comfort enveloped her.
As Gareth pulled out a chair and took a seat beside her, his alluring, masculine scent filled her senses, stoking the flames of a smouldering passion deep within her core.
"I was told Rainald often visited a woman called Salomé," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. That name was unfamiliar to Alaina, so she shot him a confused look.
"She is one of the most well-known witches in the five kingdoms. But she practices dark sorcery."
"But that's forbidden!" frowned Alaina. What was her father doing with a witch?
"Yes, it is. However, we do not know why he frequented her council," he said, idly circling the rim of his goblet with his finger. Alaina found herself captivated by the simple motion, and in a swift moment, sinful thoughts of his fingers delicately tracing paths along her body consumed her mind. A deep blush spread across her cheeks as she desperately attempted to dispel these tantalising fantasies.
"But why are you here?" she inquired, clearing her throat. His eyes met hers with an unwavering intensity, revealing the mesmerising specks of grey amid their entrancing blue depths. She detected his breathing quickening ever so subtly, and she licked her suddenly dry lips, attempting to dissipate the mounting tension in the air.
"The simple answer is, I came here for you." His candid confession sent her reeling, her cheeks colouring crimson once more.
"The truth is," he continued, pausing momentarily, "I did not know you were in Hann Aisle all this time. I thought you would have returned after your... procedure was successful."
"How do you know about my procedure?"
"Oh, my Alaina", he sighed, "I hope one day I will be able to tell you everything"
Gareth smiled widely, rising from his chair.
"You should rest now. It is late."
"No, wait - don't go," she implored, gripping his arm with unexpected urgency. He stilled as her soft hand made contact with his muscular forearm, and she swiftly withdrew her hand, just as taken aback by her impulsive action. Though numerous questions had raced through her mind only moments before, one glance at him left her utterly blank.
She couldn't deny his remarkable handsomeness, a rugged charm that differed strikingly from the polished beauty prevalent in Hann Aisle. The grit of his visage only served to underscore his strength and power, yet a gentle aura about him beckoned her closer. Despite their recent meeting, he made her feel protected and secure. Unaware of her awestruck expression, her lips parted in wonder.
"If you keep staring at me like that, Alaina, I might be unable to restrain myself."
His voice enveloped her like the smooth velvet caress, rich and warm. Normally, such a remark would have made her uneasy, but his delivery held no menace. As his words washed over her, the hairs at the nape of her neck prickled, and a vibrant blush stole into her cheeks, betraying the heat of her unforeseen emotions.
"Gareth, I -" she began, but her words were cut short as he swept her into his embrace, cradling her face in his hands with the tenderness of one holding a delicate porcelain doll. Though a voice within her protested the impropriety of the moment, she didn't recoil or flinch from his touch. The scent of red wine lingered close, teasing a mere breath away from her lips. The intensity of their proximity caused her nipples to harden beneath her dress, her body pressing into the safety of his muscled chest.
Her mind quivered with anticipation, coaxing him to bridge the remaining distance and claim her lips. Her body ached for the sweet release of their connection, but with his eyes closed, he chose a chaste intimacy, resting his forehead gently against hers before slowly drawing away with a deep sigh. The sudden void between them felt like a chasm, the cool air heightening the flush upon her cheeks.
When he opened his eyes to meet her gaze, her heart skipped a beat, consumed by his potent magnetism.
"You should rest, Alaina", he whispered, his voice strained. "We can talk more tomorrow."
Gareth guided her to the door, his hand resting gently on the small of her back. The silence that enveloped them was heavy, fraught with unspoken intentions. She longed to find the words, to reach out and draw his face to hers in a feverish, passionate embrace. She yearned for the security of his mighty arms wrapped around her, a sensation akin to an invisible force propelling them to one another. How could he, someone she'd only recently met, evoke such a sense of familiarity? The whirlwind of emotions left her bewildered and astonished, yet she did nothing to resist their pull.
As she turned to face him again, she sought any hint of regret for asking her to leave. Yet he simply pivoted and walked away without a word. She retreated toward her chambers with a resigned sigh, silently chastising herself for succumbing to such bewildering feelings.
Upon returning to her room, Alaina discovered that a servant had already drawn a steaming bath, and a delicate linen nightdress awaited her on the nearby rack. The soothing aroma emanating from the bathwater wafted through the room, offering a reprieve from her tumultuous thoughts. Alaina approached the bath, disrobing and placing her clothes on the rack before stepping gingerly into the heated water. She was greeted by instant serenity as the hot water calmed her weary muscles and nerves. Lowering herself into the bath, she closed her eyes, relinquishing herself to the embrace of the liquid warmth, which reminded her of Gareth's powerful arms.
Her hands massaged her legs with the scented water, administering gentle pressure to her calves before trailing upwards to graze her thighs. Her fingers reached the peak of her yearning, touching the aching bud with a tender caress. As the flames of desire flared uncontrollably within her, she closed her eyes, envisioning Gareth's handsome face and strapping form. The water splashed around her as her hands moved with increasing fervour, fanning the smouldering lust she fought to suppress. Barely containing her whimpers, she muffled her sounds with her free hand, her body trembling with anticipation. Her desire intensified, reaching a crescendo, the whispered chants of Gareth's name heralding the explosion that shuddered through her.
Her head fell limply against the bath's edge as she gasped at the waves of release washing over her. Gradually, the tides of rapture ebbed, leaving in their wake a question that plagued her soul: whence had her newfound fervour sprung? She knew hardly anything of Gareth, seeing him as the enemy who invaded her father's realm. And yet, she felt inexplicably drawn to him. Why had he resisted taking her when she would have willingly succumbed to his spell in the council room? Any other man would have claimed her, regardless of her consent. Still, against all expectations, this supposed barbarian had shown her more respect than even the prince. The gruesome, monstrous tales of marauding barbarians that had shaped her childhood now rang false, seemingly lit by the warmth of his gentle touch.
And how did he know about her procedure in Hann Aisle? He spoke to her affectionately and as though he had known her for years. She dug into the corners of her mind, desperately trying to remember if she knew him, but there were no memories. She pushed her feelings aside and knew that she would have to question him further tomorrow. The thought of seeing him again the next day excited her heart. Chuckling at her libidinous, she got out of the bath and readied herself for bed.
Gareth sought refuge in his chamber early that night, the embers of desire still smouldering within him following their charged encounter in the council room. Her intoxicating scent lingered in his senses, teasing his nostrils and provoking a low, needy growl. Compelled by the urgency of his unrelenting arousal, he removed his trousers lest his throbbing erection burst their confines. Sitting on the bed, he closed his eyes and attempted to steady his ragged breaths, admonishing himself for his lack of restraint.
He understood the importance of gaining her trust and knew all too well the tales and misconceptions that plagued the Western region regarding barbarians. He needed to rise above the shadows of the past. As his manhood pulsed dangerously, demanding release, memories of her nipples pressed tauntingly against him, and the hungry longing in her eyes only heightened his torment. He sensed that she would have willingly given herself to him on the council table. But he had chosen to resist the temptation.
No, he was determined to do things the right way: to rekindle the flame of their past love, igniting it anew in her heart.
"Your bath, sir", whispered a petite female servant. She saw his erection, and a searing red flush grew on her cheeks.
"You may leave", he grunted, removing the rest of his clothing and armour, unperturbed by her stares. Having his back towards her, he did not realise she had approached him. He was startled when he felt cold hands on his back.
"I can be of assistance…" she murmured through parted lips. He closed his eyes, silently praying Alaina was in his chamber. The servant took his scorching erection in her fingers and stroked it gently. He released a painful moan, which caused her to chuckle in delight.
"I can be Alaina if you want me to be." Her tone was suggestive and imprudent. Gareth's eyes shot open, and rage bubbled within him.
"Get out!" he roared at her, causing her to trip over her dress and fall backwards on the floor.
"I only wanted to help", she whimpered in fear, edging backwards slowly towards the door.
"I said get out!" His anger exploded through his shaking lips.
"I'm - I'm sorry", she cried as tears streamed down her frightened face. She hurried out the door like a child freshly whipped by their parents. Gareth stormed to the door and slammed it shut; the impact caused a vase to fall off the side table. He sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips, trying to calm himself. He had never bedded a woman before; he could never bring himself to do it because his heart had always belonged to Alaina. It always had. His fellow northern men would bring him women of all sizes, shapes and skin colours, hoping he would end his anguish and perhaps find himself a wife. But none of them could be Alaina.
He knew his brothers spoke of his lack of experience behind his back. But he did not care; he was not one to bother about worthless banter. Even his closest friend, Einar, would joke about his lack of experience.
They were visiting a tribe to discuss an alliance; the leader of the tribe had offered his youngest daughter, Illora, to Gareth, hoping that her beauty would win his heart. She was beautiful, with long blonde locks that draped around her plump breasts. Her eyes were a dazzling shade of blue, which glittered in the firelight.
"Are you a barbarian or a monk in the monastery?" Einar laughed haughtily.
"Shut your mouth, Einar", Gareth muttered under his breath. Illora filled their cups as they sat in a warm tent while their skald sang poems about Gareth's prowess. Gareth had noticed her looking at him and smiling seductively, but he paid her no attention.
"Take her to your tent all the same. You don't have to wed her", Einar snorted. Illora rubbed Gareth's arm suggestively, but he ignored it.
"That was an invitation, my dear friend. In case you did not notice," Einar nudged him, but Gareth did not respond. Instead, he drained his goblet of wine.
"Take her then since you cannot stop staring at her either."
"Oh, but I am not Gareth the Great!" Einar threw his hands up in exasperation and guffawed loudly. "I am but only his friend". He shot Gareth a look of feigned sadness. Illora walked up to them again and took Gareth's hand in hers, which he gently pulled away.
She looked at him sadly and whispered in his ear, "You can have my maidenhood".
Gareth cupped her face gently in his large, strong hands and kissed her on the cheek.
"Give it to someone worthy of you".
Gareth suddenly stood and left the tent, retiring to his own alone.
A sharp crackle from the burning wood in the fireplace jolted Gareth from his reverie, and he realised that he had neglected the bath. The water had grown cooler, yet it was still a more welcoming temperature than the icy water he typically endured. Climbing into the bath, he attempted to wash away his illicit thoughts of Alaina. Despite the temptation to indulge in self-pleasure to ease his throbbing arousal, he resisted and retired to bed.