Echoes of the Judgment

Astrid's POV

Echoes of the Judgment

Freydis's tears fell freely, and I held her close, trying to comfort her as best I could. Hakon Bloodaxe, her father, cast a harsh glare at her, clearly displeased with her open display of emotion for Rolo Irk. But Freydis couldn't help it, none of us could. The judgment on Ser Rolo Irk was too harsh, far more than anyone should have had to endure, even for an Omega like her.

Hakon Bloodaxe was only scared that the king my father might be pissed that his wife cared so much for Rolo Irk that she had to cry in public for him, and he knew that it won't be good if the king is mad at his daughter.

The king, my father Harald Lodbrok, raised his hand high, and with a swift motion, he slashed it down across Rolo's face. His claws cut deep, leaving a raw, angry wound that would mark him forever. The cut narrowly missed his eye, but the mark of treason burned like fire on his skin. He might have escaped blindness, but he will forever live with the mark worse than darkness. Rolo tried to raise his hands to shield his face, but the heavy chains that bound him made it impossible.

As soon as the punishment was dealt, the crowd turned wild, throwing rotten vegetables, trash, and stones at him. Bleeding and in pain, Rolo managed to break his chains and, with desperate energy, shifted into his wolf form. He knew staying meant certain death; the mark of a traitor on his skin was an invitation for the crowd to kill him on sight.

He paused for just a moment, his eyes searching the crowd until they found mine. I searched his gaze for any hint of regret, any sign that he wished he had never agreed to help me. But there was none. His only regret, I could see, was that he had never been able to find happiness with the woman he loved—my stepmother, Freydis. And that realization broke her too. He tried to escape, but there was no way, he had been surrounded by angry mobs waiting to kill him, for he had just become what they saw as a threat, a rogue.

Freydis and I tried to push through the crowd, to reach Rolo, but my father's hand shot out and grabbed Freydis by the wrist, yanking her back. "Remember your place," he snarled, his voice low and threatening. Freydis lowered her eyes, obedient and terrified.

My stepbrothers, Thorstein and Daeron, felt our fear and pain, their instincts as Deltas responded immediately. Though they might have agreed with the judgment in principle, their loyalty to us outweighed their acceptance of the punishment. They shifted into their wolf forms, two strong wolves, smaller than the Alpha king but fierce in their defense of their family. They lunged at the crowd, scattering those who had been attacking Rolo, creating an opening for him to escape.

Aegon and Helaena, both Omegas, quickly guided us away from the place of judgment. They tried not to look at the Alpha king and Alpha prince, whose displeasure was palpable. Freydis didn't blame me, even though she had every right to. I couldn't stop blaming myself. This was my fault. All of it. If I hadn't tried to escape, if I hadn't dragged Rolo into my failed, reckless plan, he would never have suffered this fate.

I couldn't help but blame myself for all that had happened. Though Rolo and Freydis might never live happily together because of the obvious impossible to break barriers before them, he will still be with us as a free man.

"Please, sister," Aegon whispered urgently, his eyes wide with fear. "Do not deny your nature any longer," he pleaded. But I shook my head. I couldn't accept it, couldn't embrace a life of servitude and submission. At least give me a chance to prove myself, to earn some small measure of respect in this world.

"I can't," I replied, my voice breaking. Aegon squeezed my hand, trying to offer comfort.

"It is our nature," he insisted softly. "It's what we were born to do." I could see the shame in his eyes, the same shame I felt at being an Omega. For women, it might be seen as more acceptable, even something to be proud of. But for men like Aegon, it was a disgrace. A male Omega would never be in line for the throne; he had no rights over his own life or choices. He would live under the shadow of his wife if he was even lucky enough to find a mate willing to accept a mere Omega.

"What do you expect me to do? Build a nest of stolen clothes? Or beg my husband on my knees to grant me a son?" I lashed out, the frustration and despair pouring from me in a torrent. "It's not that I don't want to give Ragnar a child; I'm just scared. I don't want Bjorn, Leif, and Styrbjorn to be mistreated by their half-brothers if I bear a pureblood heir for Ragnar." I broke down into tears, and Aegon pulled me into a tight embrace.

Helaena stood off to the side, her face pale with fear. Her eyes flitted nervously between our father, Freydis, and our brothers. She was terrified for her own future, for what fate might await her as an Omega in this brutal world. Only her Bloodaxe heritage had saved her from being married off to an uncle. But that protection was thin, fragile. She knew that at any moment, her fate could change, just as mine had.

Looking at her, I wondered if this was what her life would always be like—trapped in fear, always dreading the next decree, the next decision made by someone else that would determine the rest of her days. I could see it in her eyes; she was asking herself the same question. Would her life become as stormy, as uncertain as mine had become?

Would any of us ever truly be free?