Colm pauses in his cooking preparations, setting down the knife as he turns to face Aislin directly. His piercing emerald gaze bores into her sunken eyes as he speaks in that deep, rumbling baritone.

"Aislin, I must pose a grave question to you. One that will determine both our fates from this day forward." He takes a steadying breath. "Would you be willing to slowly poison that drunken lout Oisin until he finally draws his last, wheezing breath?"

I can't help but gasp at the Viking's audacious proposal, eyes widening. But Aislin simply regards him impassively, seemingly unsurprised by his dark suggestion.

"Nay, good sir," she murmurs at last. "For though Oisin is a cruel and wretched husband, I cannot bear the sin of murder upon my soul. To commit such an act would blacken my spirit for all eternity."

Colm nods slowly, unsurprised by her pious refusal. "I suspected as much from one so bound by her Christian convictions." His powerful hands clench into white-knuckled fists as that piercing stare intensifies.

"But what if I vowed to take you from this squalor as my wedded wife, Aislin? To bring you back with me to the lands of my Norse ancestors where you would want for nothing?" A muscle twitches in the Viking's clenched jaw. "If you renounced your faith and embraced the ancient ways of my people's gods, I could make you my queen on those distant shores."

Aislin's eyes widen at this audacious proposal, her chapped lips parting soundlessly. I can't resist shooting Colm an admiring glance - the man is an utter genius at manipulation and coercion! Dangling the promise of a better life before this broken woman while simultaneously demanding she abandon the very belief system enabling her abuse. Brilliant!

After several tense moments, Aislin seems to collect herself with a shuddering breath. "You...you would have me turn my back on the Blessed Lord and Savior?" she whispers hoarsely. "To renounce my soul's salvation for the sake of...of earthly comforts?"

But Colm is already shaking his head, emerald eyes glittering with intensity. "Think not just of yourself, woman," he rumbles. "But of your daughter's welfare as well. Does Lile not deserve to know a mother's tender affections after suffering that bastard's cruelties?"

His piercing gaze slides to me briefly, and I can't resist preening slightly under his approving scrutiny. The Viking heaves a weary sigh, running a hand through his thick golden mane.

"I would see the girl raised in the proper ways, free from want or harm," he continues gruffly. "But she requires a mother's guidance to truly thrive, Aislin. Will you condemn your own flesh and blood to an existence bereft of such nurturing...or will you embrace a new path for her sake?"

Aislin's shoulders slump as the weight of Colm's words seems to crash over her. For several endless moments, the only sounds are the crackle of the hearth fire and my own thundering pulse. Then, slowly, the broken woman raises her bowed head to meet the Viking's stare. Her faded blue eyes burn with a sudden inner blaze, scorching away years of meek resignation in an instant.

"You're right, Colm," she whispers, voice trembling yet laced with iron. "I cannot keep deluding myself any longer. This...this God I've devoted my entire life to? He's nothing but a selfish, cruel prick who gets off on watching innocents like me suffer!"

My jaw drops at Aislin's vehement profanity, so utterly at odds with her usual pious demeanor. But she seems not to notice or care, bitter resentment pouring from her slight frame in waves.

"Fuck God and his supposed 'mercy'!" she spits, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. "All my prayers, all my devotions...and for what? To keep wallowing in this pit of filth and degradation while he looks on, masturbating at the sight of women's anguish?"

Aislin's chest heaves with each ragged breath, eyes burning feverishly. "If such a monster truly exists, then I'll have no part in its foul lies any longer! From this moment, I renounce my faith and embrace whatever path you set before me, Colm. I'll be your willing thrall in the old ways if it means salvation for Lile and myself!"

The Viking regards her in silence for several heartbeats, seeming to weigh her sincerity. At last, he gives a curt nod of approval.

"Well spoken, Aislin Ban. I can see the spark of the ancient fire burning bright within you at last." A feral grin curves his full lips. "We shall make a true warrior queen of you on the whale-road, I've no doubt."

I can't deny being utterly captivated by his ruthless charisma and cunning. The way he so deftly manipulated Aislin's desperation, playing to her most primal needs of safety and maternal instinct...it's a master class in coercion and psychological exploitation. I may be trapped in this wretched existence, but at least I have a front row seat to observe true genius at work.

Yes, the Viking healer is shaping up to be my best chance at clawing free from the squalor of these turnip-munching peasants. With an ally like Colm by my side, embracing the old ways and leaving this primitive backwater forever, perhaps I can finally begin unraveling the greater mysteries surrounding my reincarnation. I'll gladly let him believe I'm some mythological goddess reborn if it means unlocking the path to my true destiny.

With that, Colm turns and strides back to the hearth, deftly retrieving a wooden ladle to give the stew a vigorous stir. I can only sit in stunned silence, scarcely able to credit the exchange I've just witnessed.

FUCK YEAH, AISLIN, YOU TELL THAT SADISTIC COSMIC SHITSTAIN WHAT'S WHAT! If that malignant cunt-faced tumor masquerading as a deity actually existed, he'd have to be the most vile, repugnant sack of festering dick cheese to ever ooze out of Satan's puckered asshole! African babies starving to death while their bloated bellies swell up like overripe melons ready to burst? THANKS, "GOD"! Capitalist pig-fuckers exploiting the working class out of every last copper until they're left bleeding and broken, scrabbling in the fucking dirt? ALL PART OF THE "DIVINE PLAN"!

And don't even get me STARTED on the spineless middle-management cocksuckers who blather on about "company culture" and "family values" - right before firing some poor bitch the moment she dares to get pregnant! Real Christian of you, fuckos! And the governments - those syphilitic bureaucratic shit-weasels have the BALLS to demand 90% of our blood and sweat in taxes while giving FUCKALL back in return? EAT SHIT AND DIE SCREAMING!

Next up on the list is that whole LGBTQP+ clusterfuck! Those degenerate freaks have completely bastardized gender and sexuality into some kind of ridiculous circus sideshow. Thousands of made-up "genders" and "identities" all designed to undermine and oppress actual men through systemic injustice. It's like they're trying to breed an entire generation of weak, effeminate manlets. And of course the courts and justice system are totally on board with validating these mentally ill fucks that are wed to their disfunctions like pedos to their kindergarten children!

Ah-oh, and don't forget about the attack helicopters - I mean "nonbinaries" - and their shrieking feminist harpy sisters, all screeching about the "patriarchy" while gleefully castrating men left and right! REAL FUCKING EGALITARIAN, YOU RANCID CUNTS!

Oh, and let's not forget the greatest hits of human history, shall we? Hitler merrily sending the Jews off to the gas chambers, Stalin starving and purging his own fucking citizens by the millions, the USA deciding to play "Nuke The Slanty-Eyes" in Japan...SHOULD I KEEP FUCKING GOING?! If there was ACTUALLY an all-powerful magical sky daddy watching over us, HE WOULDN'T HAVE LET ANY OF THIS SHIT HAPPEN IN THE FIRST PLACE! But nope, that sadistic voyeuristic fuckstick is apparently content to just kick back with a bucket of popcorn and watch the world BURN! WELL FUCK YOU TOO, "GOD"! FUCK YOU RIGHT IN YOUR CRUSTY, CELESTIAL DICKHOLE WITH A RUSTY CHAINSAW SIDEWAYS!

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Either way, FUCK THAT ASSHOLE! If he was real, I'd spit right in his smug face and tell him to go deepthroat a flaming cactus. No "benevolent" deity would ever allow such unimaginable cruelty and injustice to happen on the scale we've seen throughout human history. So yeah, FUCK GOD AND THE ENTIRE CHRISTIAN BRAINWASHING CULT! I'll take my chances burning for eternity before I ever bend a knee to that kind of monstrous, evil piece of shit!

Colm stirs the bubbling stew pot, the aroma of hearty vegetables and meat filling the air. He glances over at Aislin and me with a faint smirk. "This stew will be ready momentarily. But first, I'm quite eager to learn more about you both - especially that drunken lout Oisin."

His piercing emerald eyes fix on Aislin expectantly as he takes a seat across from us. I lean forward, equally intrigued to finally unravel the full story behind this broken woman and her monstrous husband.

Aislin worries her lower lip, gaze downcast as she seems to wrestle with some inner turmoil. At last, she exhales a weary sigh. "My tale is one of tragedy and unending pain, good sir. I fear the recounting will only bring fresh anguish."

But Colm simply arches one eyebrow. "Nevertheless, I would hear it from your own lips. Perhaps then I can better understand the depths of your suffering at that bastard's hands."

Aislin nods jerkily, seeming to steel her resolve. When she speaks again, her voice is little more than a hoarse rasp.

"I hail from the village of Rath Cruachan originally, born the eldest daughter to a farmer and his wife. We were...happy, in those early days before the plague swept through." A distant, wistful look ghosts across her sunken features. "My father Aodhan, my mother Ava, and my younger sisters Bronagh and Maeve. We wanted for little beyond a son to carry on our family's name."

She pauses, lips trembling as she darts a sidelong glance at me. I simply nod for her to continue, keeping my expression carefully neutral.

"Then the sickness came," Aislin whispers, fingers unconsciously seeking the small silver crucifix at her breast. "Within a fortnight, both my parents had perished from the foul agues. On his deathbed, Father made arrangements for us girls - I was promised to one Oisin Ban, a plowman from this very village. As for Bronagh and Maeve..." She trails off with a helpless shrug. "I know not what cruel fates befell them and their intended grooms."

A heavy silence falls, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire. Colm regards Aislin impassively, though I sense a strange tension thrumming beneath his stillness.

At last, the Viking rumbles, "Go on. What befell you upon arriving in Baile Rois as this Oisin's child bride?"

Aislin flinches bodily, as though struck. When she continues, her voice is little more than a broken whisper.

"He...he took me that very first night. Ravaged me like a feral beast despite my tender age of eleven summers." A solitary tear streaks down her hollow cheek. "I screamed and wept for my mother, but Oisin would not be deterred. He had such...unnatural expectations of a wife's duties, even from one so young."

White-hot rage lances through me at her words. That utter bastard, violating and debasing a mere child in the name of his depraved "husbandly rights"! I want to reach across this table and throttle the life from Oisin with my bare hands.

But Aislin is already continuing in that same dull, emotionless rasp. "I tried so hard to be a good wife despite the pain, to bear him strong sons as was my purpose. But my first two pregnancies...the babes never drew breath. They were born dead and twisted, tiny corpses that I had to bury with my own hands."

She shudders violently, fingers clenching into white-knuckled fists. "Four years ago, I finally managed to carry one child to term - my Lile here." Aislin reaches out to grasp my hand tightly, as though anchoring herself. "But the strain was too great. Since her birth, my monthly courses have ceased entirely. No matter how Oisin tries, I'll never give him another heir."

A heavy silence falls, broken only by the crackle of the hearth. I can only gape at Aislin in stunned horror, processing the full extent of her depravity. This woman has endured a lifetime of torment and degradation unlike anything I could have imagined - all at the hands of that drunken monster she's bound to.

Colm is the first to break the stillness, his deep voice little more than a gravelly rumble. "And I suspect the cur began denying you proper food and necessities once you ceased being a brood mare, yes?"

Aislin can only nod mutely, eyes downcast. I feel sick to my very core as the pieces finally click into place. No wonder she and I are both little more than walking skeletons swathed in rags - that vile pig Oisin has been quite literally starving us to spite his own inability to breed!

As the full extent of Aislin's tragic tale washes over me in waves, I can only sit in stunned silence. This poor, broken creature has suffered a lifetime of unimaginable horrors - the deaths of her entire family, being sold into sexual slavery as a mere child, enduring the trauma of multiple stillbirths, and now being systematically starved and beaten by the very man she was forced to "wed".

I want to reach out and embrace her, to offer some small comfort against the relentless cruelty this world has heaped upon her slender shoulders. But I know such gestures would only be an empty platitude, a fleeting balm against the gaping wounds in her very soul.

So I simply sit and bear silent witness as the full extent of Aislin's depravity sinks in. This strong yet broken woman has been utterly destroyed by the barbarism and inhumanity of our primitive society. And I can't help wondering - in her position, would I have fared any better?

I turn to Aislin, my brow furrowing as a question burns in my mind. "What about Sean, Mama?"

Aislin's sunken eyes widen briefly before she darts a furtive glance at the Viking. "Sean...he was sent off to fight the Norsemen raiders when I was but a young girl of eight or nine summers," she murmurs, voice trembling. "I fear I've lost track of how many years have passed since then."

Colm gives a curt nod, his expression inscrutable. "The Norse have not troubled these shores with raids for many seasons now," he rumbles. "If soldiers were called, 'twas more likely against the Danes or Swedes pillaging your coastal villages. The Finns seldom venture from their frozen forests."

I listen raptly, filing away these tantalizing morsels of geographical knowledge. So the Danes, Swedes, and even the Finns exist as distinct peoples in this primitive era? But what of the Russians - surely they too must dwell somewhere upon this ancient world?

My musings are interrupted as Colm leans forward, extending one powerful hand to grasp Aislin's slender fingers. The contrast between their calloused skin tones is stark, like a finely carved oak limb entwined with brittle twigs.

"I believe I can remedy your...fertility troubles with the proper draughts and salves," he says, piercing emerald gaze boring into her own. "But you must vow to honor a condition of my asking first."

Aislin bobs her head frantically, eyes shining with a sudden spark of desperate hope. "Anything, good sir! I shall gladly abide whatever terms you require of me."

A faint smirk curves Colm's full lips as he gives a slow nod of satisfaction. "Very well. Once your monthly courses resume their flow, you must come to me immediately to catch my seed and bear my heir - not that drunken bastard's get."

I can't stifle my sharp inhalation at the Viking's audacious demand. Aislin herself gasps aloud, one trembling hand flying to her lips as if to stifle the sound. For a long moment, she simply stares at Colm in mute shock, eyes wide and unblinking.

Then, as if a string has been cut, her shoulders slump in resignation. Aislin's gaze drops to the battered wooden tabletop as she whispers, "I...I understand, milord. If that is the price for curing my barren womb, then so be it."

What? How can she so meekly accept such an outrageous proposition? I open my mouth to protest, but Aislin is already continuing in that same dull, defeated rasp.

"Truth be told, I would gladly bear the child of one as noble as yourself over that bastard Oisin," she murmurs, fingers unconsciously seeking the small silver crucifix at her breast. "For the moment my fertile tide returns, he will no doubt breed me immediately - damn the consequences to my health and spirit."

Aislin's voice grows harder, more resolute as she raises her head to meet Colm's stare unflinchingly. "So aye, I accept your terms, milord. Better to carry your heir in my womb than suffer another bastard spawned by that monster's rancid seed."

Aislin worries her lower lip, eyeing Colm with a furrowed brow. "If you'll pardon my asking, milord...Colm does not strike me as a name of Norse origins. What is your true appellation?"

The Viking's deep chuckle seems to reverberate through the very air around us. "A wise query, good woman," he rumbles in that exotic cadence. "But I fear I must ask you keep my birth name in strictest confidence, for reasons of my own."

Aislin bobs her head obediently, but Colm is already shifting that piercing emerald stare to me. I meet his gaze levelly, nodding once to show I too shall guard this secret closely.

A slow, predatory smile curves the Viking's full lips. "My true name is Erik, little one. Erik Ragnarsson, to be precise."

I can't resist a delighted giggle at this revelation, clapping my hands together gleefully. "Erik Ragnarsson - what a pretty name!" I trill, beaming up at him.

But my smile falters as Erik flinches bodily, as though struck. A muscle twitches in his clenched jaw as he growls, "I despise that vile bastard who sired me. Do not bandy his name about so lightly, child."[...]