Dressed in a thin, white nightgown, seated in front of the mirror in the bridal suite, and having her hair brushed by the headmaid, all Saga could think of was the last words her father had spoken to her before the marriage ceremony had begun.

"If you think you've experienced pain, then you know nothing yet. But you will if he for any reason changes his mind."

All she had managed had been a nod. A response which caused sharp pain to shoot through her body.

"You answer when spoken to," her father had said as his cane thudded against the floor again. A cane he never went anywhere without, though it wasn't because he needed it to walk. It was rather kept at his side like a knight kept his sword. 

"Yes, father," Saga had answered, and had ensured her voice was clear enough, though she had wanted nothing more than to curl in on herself.

"The Duke told me to give you some advice," the headmaid said, pulling Saga's attention back to the present.

Saga's brows furrowed as she looked at the older woman. Memories flashed in her mind, memories which made her want to recoil. But Saga knew better, and besides, it maybe was the last time she had to be in the presence of the woman before her. She really hoped so, really hoped she would never have to see that stern face, cold brown eyes, and grey hair ever again.

"Advice for your wedding night," the headmaid went on to explain.

As much as Saga both disliked and feared the woman, she couldn't help but find herself listening with her ears perked up. Her fear of the night was greater than her fear of any person.

"I know you have been told to act as if you enjoy it, even if it hurts," the woman started relaying her advice. "But from what I know about your husband, he might be one who enjoys causing pain. If that is the case, you'll fare better if you allow yourself to cry. He will then finish faster."

Saga shuddered. Both because the woman said it all in a tone one might use when discussing the weather, but also because Saga believed the words to be true.

She had seen, though never spoken to her husband a couple of times prior to their marriage, when he had been invited to dine with her father, and his appearance matched what all said about him. 

Sir Viggo, Lord of Sinkbek. A commoner who had earned enough money and glory through bounty hunting that the King had made him a vassal in exchange for a fief.

He was built for that part. A tall man with muscles earned from years of vigorous work. A scar ran up his neck, and Saga assumed more scars covered his body. He had black hair and equally dark eyes, which, from the times she had seen him, always looked to be hunting for his next prey.

Saga had no doubt he likely saw her more as prey than a wife.

The maid said nothing more, but left her on her own with nothing to do as she waited for her husband to join her. She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes focused on the door. Her fingers fidgeted where they laid in her lap.

As the seconds turned to minutes, she clasped her hands and bent her head. Closed her eyes as she prayed.

Half-way through the prayer, she realised what she was doing and paused. How many times had she prayed for just any kind of help? She had lost count, but she knew her prayers had remained unanswered the same number of times. But even so, she continued the prayer because maybe, just maybe, that time would be different.

The door creaked open.

Saga's breath hitched, and her eyelids pressed themselves shut to the point where her face scrunched up.

The door shut with a click, and she could feel the presence of her husband. The room seemed to have dropped several degrees in temperature.

Heavy steps against the floor, and she had to open her mouth to be able to breathe.

"Will you look at me?" a low baritone voice murmured. The voice caused her to tremble and hug herself in an attempt to not fall apart.

She opened her eyes, knowing she needed to follow her husband's orders. That was a wife's most important task, after all. A value she had been taught since before she knew how to talk. A woman first had to follow her father's orders, then, when married, her husband's. But she couldn't find it in herself to raise her head, so all she saw was the black linen pants and leather boots.

"You're shivering. Are you cold?" her husband asked her next before he removed the jacket he wore and wrapped it around her.

Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. From the explanations she had got about what happened between a man and a woman during their wedding night, she knew clothes should be removed from her, not added.

She was already failing as a wife.

"You don't need to be afraid," he told her, and squatted. Placed his hands over hers, which had been fidgeting about. With him bent down, she could see the white, loose-fitted shirt on his upper body. But still not his face, and she didn't want to see it. She was far too afraid of what she'd see in his eyes.

He sighed. "Saga." He said her name in a way she couldn't remember anyone having said it before. Not with spite. Not with anger. Not with mockery. No, it was something much more gentle. "I will not harm you. I will not touch you. All I want right now is to talk a bit with you, but I would prefer it if you looked at me."

Kindness was a foreign concept to her. She could count the times people had been kind to her on one hand. But it seemed her husband wanted to be kind to her, though what he had said felt more like a death sentence to her.

If he didn't touch her, if they didn't consummate their marriage, then it would be null. And if it was null, then she would be at her father's mercy again. She would receive whatever punishment his cruel creativity could conjure.

Her husband, who was thirty-three years old and as such almost twice her age. Her husband, who was said to be ruthless. Her husband, who had the eyes of a hunter. He was commonly described as a barbarian wearing the costume of a knight.

But despite all of that, she felt certain that whatever her life would be with him couldn't be worse than continuing to be her father's toy.

"I'm sorry if I have offended you," she said, her words tumbling out of her. "Please forgive me for any transgressions I might have committed. I promise I'll be a good wife. I'll do anything you want. So please, please have me."

At the end of her words, she looked up. Her tears fell now as she met her husband's eyes.

He had a deep frown, but they didn't look as dark as they were in her memories. Instead, they had a soft brown colour, and she did not feel like a prey under his gaze.

With a thumb, he brushed her tears away. It was pointless as more kept coming. In her head, Saga swore over the treacherous tears. What man wanted a wife who cried when she looked at him?

"Thank you for looking at me," he said. His voice was still kind, and his frown loosened a bit to make room for a smile. "And you've done nothing which needs to be forgiven. If you are afraid I'll reject this marriage, then don't be. I fully intend to leave this place tomorrow with you as my wife. However..." He paused for a moment. His eyes looking between hers, as if he tried to find a hidden truth in them. "I have something I want to discuss with you, but I need to know I can trust you. Can I trust you, Saga?"

"Yes," she answered immediately, for she would agree to anything if it meant she would leave the wretched place she called home. She realised, though, that her answer had come too quickly, been too eager to sound sincere. Shrinking back a bit, she took a calming breath. "Yes. You can trust me," she said in a more levelled voice. "I am your wife and will always keep any secret of yours."

His smile widened, sending a wave of relief through her. With the way this man was acting, she felt something resembling calm. She wasn't sure that was the emotion, though, because she wasn't certain how being calm felt.

"That is good. Because what I want to discuss needs to stay a secret between you and me. No one else can know about it. Do you understand?"

Saga nodded. "I understand."

"Good," he murmured and brushed her cheek lightly. She could breathe with ease, though his next words caused everything to rupture in her again. "You were forced into this marriage by your father and if you got to make decisions for yourself, you would never have married me. I'm correct, right?"

She opened her mouth to refute his words, but her lips trembled and the tears came back, so the only sound which escaped her was a sob.

"I take that as assent. And please, you needn't cry. I am not upset with you because of it, I only want to ensure we are in agreement about the circumstances before I make my proposal to you. The truth of the matter is that I was as forced into this as you were. I do not wish to be married. Not to anyone. But I had to follow the king's orders, just like you had to follow your father's."

She closed her eyes again. His words were needles against her skin, and they caused her mind to spiral again. To again believe he would leave her there. He didn't want to be her husband, so why would he take her?

"Can you look at me again?"

She shook her head, which she knew was a death sin, defying your husband in such a way. But she couldn't bring herself to open them again, as if as long as they remained closed none of all of this was happening.

He didn't say another word. Only held her hands in his.

Eventually her tears stilled, and she felt herself able to look at him again.

His eyes were still gentle, though they ought to have looked at her in anger.

"Thank you, Saga." He squeezed her hands lightly, and more tears came to her eyes, but this time for very different reasons. This man wasn't acting like any man she had ever encountered. Not like any person she had ever encountered.

He confused her to the point that she cried once more.

He got up from his kneeling position and sat on the bed next to her.

"May I put my arm around you?" he asked. 

Saga barely heard what his question had been, only that he had asked her something, and she had already defied him once, she couldn't do it again. So she nodded.

He placed his hand so it rested on her back. A gentle movement meant only for support, but Saga's body reacted by tensing, a part of her mind whispering pain would soon come. Though as it didn't, Saga's body relaxed, she even leaned toward his side. His arm went more firmly around her. With how much bigger he was, she felt shielded from everything by that one arm, as if she was a little girl being hugged by her father. Not that she actually knew what that felt like.

"Are you calm enough now to hear me out?" he asked after a few moments, and Saga nodded again. "Good. What I want to propose to you is that we live as man and wife in the eyes of everyone else, but in private we'll be nothing more than friends."

"What?" Saga straightened herself where she sat on his lap and met his eyes. The frown had disappeared once more to be replaced by a gentle smile.

"It means that you will be my wife in all official ways. You'll help me care for my estate and such, and I will protect and care for you. But I will never touch you the way a man would touch his wife. It means we will fool everyone into thinking we are a proper couple. We will fix it so people will believe we have consummated the marriage. That way your father will believe you have fulfilled your duty, and the king will believe I have fulfilled mine. And we will stay in this arrangement either until death do us part, as the vows say, or if you would find a man you would want to marry instead, then I'll find a way for us to divorce without it tarnishing your reputation in any way. I hope you'll find this fair because I believe it is the best solution for this situation for us both."

Saga blinked a couple of times, certain she had heard him wrong. "So we will be married, but you will not..." She swallowed hard and looked down as heat rose on her cheeks. "You will not lay with me?"

"Precisely."

A long silence stretched as Saga mulled his words over. It would give her what she wanted. She would leave her father and his tyranny, but the pain she had dreaded, the cost of escaping him would never come. The proposal sounded too good to be true to her. And it certainly didn't track with what she had heard about the man who was her husband.

Sir Viggo. Lord Viggo. Ruthless. Cruel. A barbarian.

If his proposal was true, then he was the first person in her life to show her proper kindness.

"Why?" she asked. Because it all was better than her wildest dreams. "Even if you don't want to be married, why would you agree to never touch me? Why not take that as compensation for being forced into marriage?" When the words were out, she wanted to swear at herself for giving him the idea.

He fell silent for a bit, and Saga waited for him to take the proposal back. Waited for him to force himself onto her. But he only continued to hug her with the same gentleness as before.

"I'm in love with someone else," he confessed, and Saga looked up at him again. Though he smiled, she could see the pain in his eyes. "Unfortunately, I cannot marry them. But I love them deeply and do not wish to bed anyone else."

His answer was like a weight being lifted off her shoulder. It made his proposal more sincere, more believable. So she nodded.

"I accept your proposal," she said, and his smile grew until it was all over his face.

He really wasn't that bad. Not at all like how Saga had thought nor how others described him. He seemed like a perfectly reasonable man, and being married to him didn't seem like a bad idea at all.

But in the calm of reaching that realisation, Saga's mind strayed to the other complications. The ones she brought with her, making her unworthy of a husband who cared for her.

Someone cursed didn't deserve anything good, after all.

But he didn't know she was, he didn't know about the danger running through her veins, and as long as he didn't find out, then maybe he would stay as reasonable as he had been so far. As long as he didn't find out, then she could be free from her father's violence.

So Saga kept her emotions in check and made a vow to herself to never let him learn about her magic. 

"Good," he exclaimed. "Then we should settle in for the night! We'll have to stain the sheets with some blood, so the priests will be satisfied we consummated the marriage when they check in the morning. And don't worry, I'll just make a small cut on my arm. We will need to share the bed as well in case they check in the middle of the night. At home, we'll figure something out in case you are uncomfortable sharing bed with me. Does that sound alright, Saga?"

"Yes, Lord Vi..."

"Please," he smiled. "You are my wife. Just call me by my first name. No title or any of the sort."

Saga smiled back at him. "Yes, Viggo."

The evening hadn't gone as she had planned, as she had hoped at all. But as she laid next to her husband in the bed dressed in white, though wearing a stain of his blood, about to sleep, she felt a tentative hope for the future. She only needed to keep him in the dark about her past, the dreams she suffered, and her magic.