Chapter one
The kingdom of Vardari located far north, rested beneath a canopy of starlit frost, nestled between jagged cliff and snow-draped fjords and ancient pine forests
Snow clung to the high arches of longhouses and the gold-threaded banners flapping along the street of the kingdom
It was the last night of the Skybló, a seven days festival to celebrate the prince wedding.
The air was filled with the cacophony of a celebration , a symphony of grunts, praises, and bellows that echoed the very essence of joy and revelry. Prince Wayden wove his way through the crowd of drunken dancers, a veritable human river of bodies, all intent on their own dances of merriment. He tried to navigate the happy chaos without colliding with any of the revelers, a task that felt akin to threading a needle.
Among the guest was prince Wayden of Luminary, he was clothed in a foreign clothes ever so different from the Viking
He stood in the corner of the palace hall after paying his respects to the Viking king, staying away from the crowd of drunken Vikings, it's a mystery how they haven't drank their self to death from the amount of ale they consume
He came to visit as he knew his stay would be filled with Vikings who are war driven and songs of feast and the northern wind biting into his skin. His brother the crown Prince was far too occupied with kingdom duties with his father.
Just when his frustration seemed to reach the top, his eyes then landed on a familiar figure, seated like a benevolent king amongst the merrymakers, Chief Eirik, the jovial, white-haired Viking. A wide, beckoning wave of the Chief's hand cut through the surrounding noise.
"Hey! Welcome, C'mere!" he bellowed, his voice thick with warmth and the promise of a shared good time. Wayden made his way towards the sound, drawn by the infectious energy of the elderly chief.
Eirik snorted, a loud, cackling noise that seemed to shake the very rafters of the hall. "Hah! So nice to see you," the Chief roared, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"The pleasure is mine, Chief Eirik," Wayden replied, settling onto the exalted seat, legs sprawled out in a relaxed posture.
The Chief chuckled, his wooden cup overflowing with ale, "We're in the presence of high lord Wayden!" he exclaimed, announcing to everyone.
Wayden's smile was a thin line. "I'm not sure I'm the one who's high, Chief Eirik," he quipped back, his own voice slightly strained. Eirik's laughter erupted again, a sound that boomed even over the din of the party.
Chief Eirik, round-bellied, red-faced, and drunk enough to find anyone interesting—even Wayden.
Chief Eirik chuckled, clapping Prince Wayden back hard enough to jostle bone. "Come now. It is a night for beauty. For gods and men to share the same wine."
"You Vikings celebrate like they're trying to make the gods jealous," he muttered to the Viking chief beside him, his voice low.
Wayden's jaw clenched as he watched the merriment unfold—so much joy it felt almost violent. He lifted a cup of dark ale, lettung it touch his lips.
"I heard some men come to parties like this without their wife's permission," Eirik said, his finger pointing playfully in a funny way at Wayden.
"Hm?"
"Hope you're not one of them," he added, and once more his raucous laughter filled the air. "Skohl! Bring more wine! (He commanded a passing servant.) Today is a wonderful day! Enjoy yourself. All these women are mine and yours," he said, his gaze sweeping over the dancing women.
"I'm always certain to have a good time when I'm with you, Chief."
"There's something to catch your interest" This made the peaked the prince interest and the chief leaned closer. He said, lowering his voice. "Legend. They say she walks among us tonight."
Wayden raised a brow. "She?"
"The Nature Goddess," he said, and the prince could hear the reverence in his voice. "Too lovely for words. Too soft for this cruel world. They say she fell from the sky with the snow, and the earth grew quiet in awe."
Wayden arched an eyebrow, his tone laced with dry skepticism.
"There's no lady likened to a goddess. Men see a pretty face and craft a myth. Nothing more." His tone sounded like he was done with the conversation, he believed if the girl was a beauty like they claimed, why didn't the king or prince take her for himself
Eirik only smiled, and said no more.
He eventually broke away from the Chief, drawn by the inexplicable desire to leave the conversation and drift towards the dance floor, the Chief's outrageous declaration still echoing in his mind. Two women, their dresses shimmering, glided toward him.
"My Prince," They bowed in greeting. One was ginger haired, the other had raven black hair. They moved their bodies elegantly on his entertaining him. He danced with them, but his eyes were drawn to a different figure across the room.
A blonde girl, her hair like spun moonlight, stood a little apart from the crowd, her aura like a magnet pulling at him. There was something different about her, a magnetism he couldn't explain.
Every Viking danced, his eyes bored stayed on them but when he saw her, it was like the whole world stopped moving for moment.
Wayden felt it like a strike to the chest.
She moved like riverwater, smooth and entrancing, her long hair cascading like gold silk laced with pale blue blossoms. Her dress—gossamer and ice—clung to her in folds, revealing nothing yet suggesting everything. Her skin, pale as new snow. Her eyes—
He couldn't place the color. Only that they made him forget what breathing was.
She danced barefoot on frost without flinching, her steps more ritual than movement, as if the land itself swayed beneath her. The others cheered
The prince's hand tightened around his goblet, now forgotten.
When her gaze flickered across the room and found his, something shifted as he stared at her.
Wayden stepped forward before he even registered the movement, one leg before the other, he took steps till he got to her, their eyes never moving away from each other.
Hey there, beautiful," Wayden said, his voice smooth
"You seem to be enjoying my dance from afar" the lady's voice likened to a musical instrument. The 'goddess' said with a laugh at the end, her laughter was so clear and beautiful that it made the prince heart race
'She's a goddess, she's really beautiful' prince wayden couldn't think straight as he continued to gaze upon her
"Ah yes" he finally said breaking the silence "I'm interested. I'm jealous actually. I used to be quite the dancer myself."
"What took away that lovely talent?" Her Norwegian accent blends well with her sweet voice.
"I won't say it's gone. Maybe you can remind me a few steps," He stretches out his hand. "My lady. Dance with me," he said, his voice lower than he meant it to be.
She tilted her head. "Do all foreign men speak in commands?"
"Only the ones who don't beg."
Her smile tugged at something inside of wayden he thought long dead. "And if I say no?"
"Then I'll die embarrassed."
She laughed, soft and bright. "Let's give the gods a show."
And they danced.
Gods, they danced.
Her body fit against his like a missing piece he didn't know he needed. Her fingers in his.
She held him and drew him away from the crowd and into the garden.