Father Brogan heaves an aggrieved sigh, but complies - his bony frame settling onto the bench with a creak of weathered wood. Those pale, rheumy eyes fix Erik with a pointed stare. "Well then, out with it, pagan. What devilry have you concocted this time that requires the church's blessing?"

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of Erik's mouth, though his tone remains respectful. "I intend to take Lile here to wife once she has flowered into maidenhood, Father. As is only proper in the eyes of your Christian doctrine."

He pauses, letting that pronouncement hang in the air for a beat. When Brogan doesn't immediately protest, Erik continues.

"To that end, I have already struck a bargain with Oisin Ban to ensure the girl remains well-cared for until she comes of age. Three silver pieces shall be provided each seven-day to supplement their stores and see that Lile wants for naught."

Brogan's bushy brows knit together skeptically. "You aim to purchase the whelp from her father, then? For what possible reason would you pay such coin for a scrawny brat barely fit to scrub your floors?"

"Because I also intend to claim her hand permanently once she begins fertile courses," Erik states, undaunted. "For that privilege, I shall present Oisin with three full gold pieces upon our marriage - a king's ransom by any peasant's reckoning."

I can't resist a derisive snort at that, earning a quelling look from Aislin. But the priest simply throws back his head and guffaws, the harsh sound making me flinch.

"A veritable fortune for a filthy turnip-picker's get?" he chortles once the laughter subsides. "Truly, Viking, you are as mad as the tales claim if you'd squander such riches on this worthless babe!"

Erik's jaw tightens, but he holds Brogan's gaze levelly. "I have my reasons for coveting Lile, reasons you could scarcely comprehend. Let's just call it...a wise investment in my future bride, shall we?"

The Viking's piercing emerald stare bores into the priest. "Besides, we both know Oisin's reputation for drunken rages and cruelty. A few shiny coins should help keep his baser instincts towards wife and child in check until I can claim them properly."

Brogan snorts again, but nods in reluctant agreement. "Aye, the bastard does have a cruel streak, that much is true. Many's the time I've had to talk him down from putting that useless sow out to pasture after his drink's been up."

I bristle inwardly at his callous words, but keep my features carefully blank as I turn to regard the grizzled old man. "Why is Papa so mean to Mama?" I ask in my most innocent childish tones. "Did she do something bad to make him angry?"

The priest's face softens somewhat as he meets my wide-eyed gaze. "Nay, child, 'tis not your poor mother's doing that fuels Oisin's rages," he says with surprising gentleness. "That one's bitterness stems from the horrors he witnessed during his years as a soldier fighting the Norse raiders. Terrible, unspeakable things that left deep scars upon his very soul."

Brogan shakes his head slowly. "And your mother's inability to birth him a proper male heir these past years has only deepened those wounds, I fear. For a man measures his worth by the strength of the sons he sires to carry on his bloodline."

Aislin flinches bodily at his words, quickly ducking her head in a show of contrition. "Forgive me, Father," she whispers, voice trembling. "I have tried so hard to please my husband and give him strong sons, but the Lord saw fit to deny me that grace for reasons I cannot fathom."

Erik coughs pointedly, cutting off whatever platitude the priest might offer. "Enough discussion of such...unpleasantries," he rumbles, mouth set in a grim line. "You are here to witness the first installment of Lile's bride price, Father Brogan. Nothing more."

With that, Erik reaches into the pouch at his belt and withdraws three glittering silver coins. He places them on the battered wooden tabletop with a solid thunk, the discs spinning lazily before coming to rest.

"There you have it, good Father," he states, gesturing to the small fortune now gleaming before us. "The first installment of many to ensure Lile's safety and care until I may claim her properly."

Aislin's eyes widen at the sight of such wealth, her chapped lips parting soundlessly. After a moment's hesitation, she reaches out with trembling fingers to scoop up the coins, cradling them against her breast like priceless treasures.

"Oh sir...you are too generous with your kindness," she breathes, gaze shining with gratitude. "The Blessed Lord himself has surely guided your path to us in our hour of need."

But Father Brogan is already shaking his grizzled head, mouth set in a grim line. "Do not be so quick to thank this Viking, woman," he cautions, pale eyes boring into Aislin. "Whilst his coin may seem a blessing now, I fear you bargain with forces you cannot begin to comprehend."

The priest turns that pointed stare on Erik, who meets it with an arched brow and faint smirk. "Oisin Ban is a hard-headed fool at the best of times," Brogan continues, each word clipped and precise. "But even he possesses enough horse sense to realize three silvers a week is coin better spent elsewhere than on peasant brats."

A muscle twitches in Erik's clenched jaw, but he simply inclines his head. "Then I shall take great pains to ensure that drunken bastard minds his manners where Lile is concerned," he rumbles. "I would not see my future bride suffering his rages, after all."

The Viking's emerald gaze holds Brogan's for a long moment before he continues. "Speaking of which, good Father...might I prevail upon your esteemed position to intervene should Oisin Ban prove...difficult regarding our arrangement? Your authority would surely give the wretch pause."

But Brogan is already shaking his head again, features hardening into a scowl. "I'm afraid I can only involve myself in matters pertaining directly to your intended bride's well-being, Viking," he states flatly. "What depravities that bastard inflicts upon his wife are none of the church's concern, I fear."

Erik's jaw clenches, but he gives a curt nod of acceptance. "Very well, I suppose that shall have to suffice for now. At least the threat of your intervention may help keep Oisin's baser urges towards Lile herself in check."

Seemingly satisfied, Brogan rises stiffly from the bench with a grunt of effort. "Then I have witnessed all I need to regarding this...transaction of yours," he declares, pale eyes flicking between Erik and Aislin. "I shall take my leave and allow you to attend to your other affairs."

But as the wizened priest turns toward the door, he pauses to level a stern look at Aislin. "You will bring the child to confession this coming Sun's Day, woman," he states, leaving no room for argument. "I aim to begin her instruction in the Lord's teachings and the duties of a proper Christian wife without delay."

Aislin bobs her head meekly, but I can't resist shooting Erik a sidelong glance. The Viking's features have hardened into a scowl, emerald eyes glittering dangerously. But before he can voice whatever objection burns on his tongue, Brogan is already continuing with a dry chuckle.

"Do not fear, heathen - I've no intention of allowing this innocent lamb to be led astray by your pagan ways," he says, mouth quirking in a thin smile. "The Lord's guidance shall see her firmly on the path of righteousness, I can promise that."

With a final nod, the grizzled priest turns and shuffles from the cottage, leaving an uneasy silence in his wake. I can't resist squirming on Aislin's lap, curiosity burning within me.

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"What did Father Brogan mean by that?" I ask in my most childish tones. "Is he going to teach me prayers and such like the other village girls?"

But Erik is already waving a dismissive hand, scowling. "Pay him no mind, little one," he rumbles. "That addled old goat can try indoctrinating you into his cult all he wishes - it shan't make a whit of difference in the end."

The Viking's full lips curve into a predatory grin as those blazing emerald eyes bore into me. "You are destined for far greater things than being some brainless peasant's broodmare, mark my words. The ancient fire already smolders bright within you...it's only a matter of coaxing the blaze into an inferno now."

Erik rises from his chair and strides over to the ladder leading up to the loft. I watch, curious, as his powerful frame ascends the rungs and disappears into the shadowy space above. A few moments later, he reappears carrying two small glass vials clutched in one massive fist.

Crossing back to the table, Erik presents the vials to Aislin. "Here, woman - these shall ease any discomfort from that bastard's mistreatment," he rumbles. "Apply this one to your tender areas if Oisin forces himself upon you again." He places one vial in her trembling hands. "And use the other to soothe the child's wounds from his cruel strapping."

Aislin bobs her head obediently, cradling the precious vials against her breast. "Thank you, good sir. I shall guard them closely."

Erik's piercing emerald gaze bores into her. "And you will inform me directly should that wretch lay another hand on Lile, yes? I've Father Brogan's support now - the church itself shall intervene to protect the girl if needed."

"Aye milord, I swear it," Aislin replies, meeting his stare levelly. "I'll not suffer another such beating in silence."

Nodding curtly, Erik turns his attention back to me where I sit perched on Aislin's lap. "I aim to get that foul bastard on my good side, little one," he states, mouth set in a grim line. "That way he'll be less likely to vent his rages upon you and your mother."

I can't resist an impish giggle at his words. "Does that mean giving Papa lots of shiny things to keep him happy?" I trill, delighted by the prospect of bribing that drunken lout.

But Erik simply arches one thick brow. "Not shiny trinkets, but rather the one indulgence that brute seems to crave above all others." He glances at Aislin. "What manner of gift does Oisin favor most, woman? I'll gladly provide it if it ensures your safety."

Aislin's shoulders slump as she lets out a weary sigh. "Why, the only 'gift' that bastard truly desires is a full jug of ale or mead to drown his miseries in, good sir. If you can supply his drunken habits, he'll be less like to turn that vicious temper on Lile and myself for a time."

Erik grunts in acknowledgment, already turning on his booted heel and striding toward the small door set into the floor. I watch, fascinated, as he descends a short staircase into what I can only assume is a root cellar of some sort.

When he reemerges moments later, the Viking is clutching a large ceramic jug easily the size of my torso. He sets the vessel down on the table before us with a dull thunk, amber liquid sloshing audibly within.

"There you have it, woman," Erik declares, gesturing grandly at the jug. "The finest honeyed mead my stores can provide. Be sure to dole it out carefully to that drunken lout - I'll not have my gift squandered in a single night's bender."

I can't resist leaning forward to sniff at the heady, sweet aroma wafting from the jug's mouth. The rich scent is utterly intoxicating, making my mouth water. No wonder Oisin craves such an indulgence if this is the quality of mead Erik keeps!

Seeming to sense my fascination, Aislin leans down to press a tender kiss against the crown of my head. "You're too young for such strong drink, my precious lamb," she murmurs fondly.

I simply giggle again, delighted by her rare show of affection. Aislin smiles wanly before carefully tucking the three silver coins into a hidden pocket in her dress. She then gathers up the bundle of leafy greens and roots, rising to proffer it toward Erik.

"Good sir, might you have something to wrap these humble provisions in?" she asks hesitantly. "I'd not see them soiled on the journey home."

Erik nods curtly, already turning to retrieve a length of parchment paper from a nearby shelf. He quickly wraps and ties the bundle, handing it back to Aislin with a faint smile.

"There you are, woman. Though I must admit some surprise that you aim to prepare those greens rather than sell them for coin."

Aislin's cheeks flush as she ducks her head. "We've...we've no need for more coin at present, milord. Not after your generous payment today."

An awkward silence falls, stretching between us. I squirm on Aislin's lap, growing restless. But then she seems to steel her resolve, raising her head to meet Erik's piercing stare.

"Good sir...might I be so bold as to request one final boon from you?" she asks in a tremulous voice.

Erik arches one brow but doesn't respond, his expression unreadable. Aislin swallows hard before continuing.

"You've been most generous with your gifts and kindness this day. I...I feel I must offer some token of gratitude, however small, in return. If...if it would not be too untoward, I would thank you properly. With a kiss."

I can't resist a delighted squeal at her audacious request, clapping my hands together gleefully. Aislin shoots me a quelling look, but I simply beam up at her proudly. This meek, broken woman is finally showing a hint of the inner fire I know burns within!

As for Erik, the Viking regards Aislin in silence for several heartbeats, seeming to weigh her words carefully. At last, he gives a slow nod of assent.

"Very well, woman. If it would ease your burdens, then I shall accept whatever token of appreciation you deem fitting..."

Aislin gently lifts me off her lap and sets me down on my feet. She stands up, her faded dress swishing around her calves. "Lile, why don't you go play outside for a bit?" she says, giving me a meaningful look.

I glance at Erik, who simply arches one thick brow at me impassively. Turning back to Aislin, I nod and start toddling towards the heavy oak door. My small hands strain as I try to grasp the iron handle and pull, but it refuses to budge.

Erik's powerful frame appears beside me, one massive hand easily grasping the latch and swinging the door open with a creak. "Off you go then, little one," he rumbles, gesturing for me to exit.

I step out into the bright summer afternoon, blinking rapidly as my eyes adjust to the dazzling sunlight. Erik's garden stretches out before me, a verdant oasis amidst the dense forest. Neatly trimmed hedges and raised beds overflow with a kaleidoscope of herbs and vegetables, their heady scents perfuming the air. A rambling stone path winds between the lush greenery, leading to a small grassy clearing ringed by towering oaks.

As the door thumps shut behind me, I can't help wondering why Aislin shooed me outside so abruptly. All she wanted was to give Erik a simple kiss as thanks, right? So why banish me from the cottage like an unwanted nuisance?

Curiosity piqued, I tiptoe back over to the door and press my ear against the rough oak planks. At first, I hear only muffled voices too indistinct to make out. But then...unmistakable wet slurping sounds reach my ears, punctuated by Aislin's breathless gasps and Erik's deep rumbling groans.

I jerk back, eyes widening as realization dawns. That sly wench didn't want a mere kiss at all - she aimed to pleasure Erik properly with her mouth! And the brute is allowing her such depravity right here in his home, like a pair of rutting beasts!

Hahahaha! I can't believe that sly wench Aislin is giving Erik the full-service Gluck Gluck 9000 treatment behind that door! Good lord, the sounds she's making are straight out of one of those raunchy adult animations the guys used to share around the office. I swear, it legitimately sounds like she's struggling to deepthroat whatever monstrosity that Viking beast is packing in his trousers!

Oooh shit, I just heard her gag and retch - the poor woman is really going for gold in the Throat Bulge Olympics! You go girl, give it your all and don't let that throbbing man-meat defeat you! Haha, I can picture her eyes watering and mascara running as she bobs her head furiously, determined to conquer Erik's mighty sword.

Oh wait, the slurping and gagging stopped. What was that, like a 3 or 4 minute window before he finally unleashed the Kraken down her gullet? Not bad endurance for a peasant wench, I'll give Aislin that! She definitely knows her way around the old Slurp Slurp Jerp Jerp 3000 maneuver. I'll have to take notes for future reference!

The heavy oak door creaks open and Aislin emerges, a ceramic jug sloshing with amber liquid gripped in one hand while her other clutches a bundle of leafy greens wrapped in parchment paper. She turns to me with a weary smile.

"I just had a quick bite to eat with Erik," she explains. "We should head back to the village now, poppet."

As if summoned by her words, Erik's towering frame fills the doorway behind Aislin. The Viking's deep voice rumbles out, "Remember, woman - return here each seven-day for your three silvers. And perhaps I'll have other...indulgences prepared for that drunken lout you call husband."

I can't resist a mischievous giggle at that, peering up at the imposing man. "If Aislin got an extra meal, does that mean I can have one too?" I ask impishly.

Erik's rich laughter rings out, the sound raising goosebumps along my arms. "When you're a proper woman grown, little one," he chuckles, emerald eyes glittering. "Then you'll be free to sample all the...delicacies you desire."

I pout exaggeratedly, but Aislin suddenly breaks into a strange, breathless laugh that cuts off just as abruptly. My gaze snaps to her - she's gingerly cradling her jaw with one hand, wincing slightly.

Erik rumbles with amusement again at her pained expression. I can't resist sneaking a peek at the prominent bulge tenting the front of his breeches as realization blossoms. So that's why Aislin seems so uncomfortable - the absolute size of the Viking's manhood must have stretched her mouth to its limits during their "meal"![...]