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Sigrid returned him to the cage. The other prisoners were shocked to see the state of Erik, and all touched the bars of their cages to have a better look. A few of them looked at her, but Sigrid bared her teeth and growled. Erik was placed in a sitting position. He groaned and cradled his wounded body, closing his eyes tightly to brace himself against the pain. The moonlight flooded over him, framing him as this ethereal being. For a moment, she thought that he wouldn’t look out of place in Asgard itself but then dismissed the idea as she left the cage to fetch some salve and ointment to clean his wounds.

She returned shortly and was surprised to see him still awake. Although he was groggy, his eyes were alert and darting about. She opened the cage door slowly. The other prisoners in the nearby cages were asking about Erik; Sigrid didn’t answer. She closed the door behind her, locking herself in with the prisoners. She had nothing to fear from them. They were all weak and feeble. In fact, she welcomed the challenge should any of them try and fight her because then she would be able to display her prowess and prove that she was worthy of being a warrior.

“You’re back,” Erik croaked. His voice was a rasp. Blood stained his wounds, and his clothes had been torn. Large bruises covered his face in a purplish shade. There was something unnerving about the sight. Sigrid allowed herself a smirk as she thought about her how sisters would react to something like this. Unlike her, they had never developed a taste for battle, and their stomachs were not as hardy as Sigrid’s was.

“I am here to tend to your wounds.”

“Oh really? I wasn’t sure mercy had any place here,” Erik said. “I suppose I should thank you for stopping your father from killing me.”

Sigrid scowled at the mention of Ivar. “I am not showing you mercy. I have been asked to clean your wounds.” As she said this, she rubbed some ointment into a particularly deep cut, and Erik winced, gasping in pain. It was clear to him then that she really wasn’t interested in mercy.

“I did not say those things to spare you pain. I said them to prevent the earl from doing anything cowardly. To kill an unarmed man…there is no honor in it. It would only have brought him shame, and he would have regretted it. Besides, he seems to have more plans for you.”

“I’m sure he does,” Erik groaned. Sigrid breathed deeply, annoyed that she had to debase herself by tending to this man’s wounds when she could have been training to fight. “But next time, I hope that he makes it a fair fight. I don’t much appreciate having my hands tied.”

“The only fights the earl likes nowadays are ones he is sure to win. He is quick to speak of the glory days, but recently he prefers other people to do the dirty work for him.” Sigrid scowled. It was probably a bad idea to speak badly of the earl in front of this prisoner, but these feelings were always bottled up inside her and she could never share them with anyone in the village as they were in thrall to Ivar. It was as though only she could see something that was plain and evident, while everyone else lived in this fantasy that Ivar had concocted. It felt good to be able to say these things without someone admonishing her or telling her that she should have more respect for her father.

“I take it you don’t have a good relationship with him,” Erik said. “I’m surprised. I thought family would still be important over here.”

“He is not my family,” Sigrid muttered. The emotions that rose within her were so intense that she pressed more firmly against Erik’s wounds than she needed to, causing him pain rather than soothing the ache of the wound.

“Go careful!” Erik exclaimed. “But what do you mean he’s not your family? I thought he was your father?”

“He adopted me after he attacked my village and killed my parents. He saw something in me that he admired, I suppose, and took me as his daughter. Ever since then, I have lived here, but I can assure you I have no love for him. He has enough love for himself to make up for that,” she averted her gaze and spoke this in a bitter tone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. She was surprised by the sorrow in his voice. Beyond the bruises and the pain, there was empathy for her and the tragedy she had suffered. “Sometimes, I forget how brutal this life can be. I suppose, in a way, we’re both prisoners.”

Sigrid scowled and almost spat her reply. “I am no prisoner. I can leave whenever I like.”

“Just because you don’t have bars surrounding you doesn’t mean you’re not a prisoner,” he said. “How long ago did this happen? What were your parents like?”

A shadow fell across Sigrid’s face, and an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. There were so many times when she thought of her parents and that day, but so rarely did she ever think about them. Her past was her past, and Ivar did not want her thinking about anyone else being her parents. Then again, she never liked doing what Ivar liked. There was something about this prisoner that unsettled her, and she didn’t like it. Part of her wanted to walk away, but another part of her was compelled to stay. It was rare for anyone to have this kind of effect on her, and this was a reason why she chose to remain with Erik and converse with him. She wanted to get to the root of the mystery of this man and find out why he intrigued her so and how he could be so calm given the fact that he was a prisoner. Usually, prisoners either went into themselves and lost their minds to a dazed, blank stare like the others in his cell, or they raged and rattled the cage, trying anything to escape until they proved themselves more hassle than they were worth and killed. But this man…this man was different.

Despite being bloodied and beaten, he kept his composure. His words were patient and calm, and he didn’t seem to be too eager to escape either. Yet she didn’t feel as though this meant he had resigned himself to his fate; it was more like he was waiting for the opportunity, as though he was certain that one would present itself. Sigrid felt as though his confidence was misplaced. Ivar did not let his prisoners go lightly, but this man who had come from another land had been brave in combat despite his condition, and this had won him at least the chance of an audience with Sigrid.

“I…do not remember much about my parents,” she admitted, focusing on his wounds rather than his eyes. “I was very young when they were killed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You must miss them.”

Her throat tightened, and she ignored the stinging tears in her eyes. “I do not remember them well enough to miss them,” she lied. “Besides, they were weak and could not defend themselves. If they were stronger, they would have survived.”

“Do you truly believe that?” Erik asked.

Sigrid bared her teeth and hissed her words. “The only way to survive is to be strong. They should have fought him off.”

“There are different ways of being strong. I’ve always believed that there is strength in working together.”

“People cannot be trusted. They only let you down. We warriors can only rely on ourselves. Perhaps that is a lesson you have forgotten,” she goaded, but he did not take the bait. Instead, he had a pensive look on his face. “What are your parents like? Is your father as impressive a warrior as Ivar described?”

Erik let out a small grunt and nodded. “I’ve never seen him lose a fight. Both my parents are strong but in different ways. I learned things from both of them. They’re wise people, and they rule the clan with kind hearts.”

“Kindness is in short supply around here. I suppose that is one of your Highland ways,” Sigrid scoffed.

“It’s not just Highlanders that live there. I know you may not remember any other way to live, but this lifestyle that Ivar has you living isn’t the only way. This isn’t even the Viking way.”

Sigrid arched an eyebrow. “You would dare lecture me on the way of Vikings? There are stories about the Hoffstads that have been passed down to us. We have been told how they fled this land, how they betrayed their ancestral roots to live elsewhere and mated with the weak Highland women. It is a wonder that you are still standing, given your blood must be thin.”