He opened his eyes slowly but for the life of him, he couldn't move.

Once more, he had that dream… That horrible nightmare. His brother was standing between him and his love, and a dagger was thrust into his chest. One last glance at his beautiful Æthelflæd screaming with agony and he was reaching for his sword and Valhalla… Only to open his eyes again, and feel her soft warm body against his, skin to skin and hear her breathe.

If he were dead, this was far from the hall of the glorious that he had imagined. It was too peaceful and sweet. The sun was filtering through the coarse curtains she had made. She nestled closer to him, still deep in sleep. His name whispered as if to reassure herself.

"Sleep my lady.. It's not yet morning." He still called her lady, his lady. She would always be a lady to him… No matter the lies spread all through Wessex and the neighboring land : she would always be a lady. The most precious of creature to ever draw breath.

He couldn't move, he didn't want to move although he could hear the rooster calling the dawn.

They were safe for now. Perhaps, they'd have a few days of respite before they had to move again. Alfred of Wessex was relentless. Uhtred had told them that Alfred didn't believe his daughter would choose a pagan over her lawful Christian husband, and that she had been taken against her will by Erik. Æthelflæd had wanted to send him a letter but Uhtred himself was in danger. Whispers were growing over his involvement in their flight. This man would anything for love, love was the only god he served. That would be his fall.

On this peaceful morning, Erik couldn't blame him. Himself, Erik Thurgilson the warrior, who instilled fear to all saxons and britons, even danes, was a soft mewing kitten in the name of love, in her name.

"What are you thinking?" Her voice brushed against his chest, like the caress of a butterfly. His skin wasn't used to the delicate kiss she placed on the hollow of his throat. She straightened up to face him. Her face was still the only god he worshiped. A face that never left him, day or night. And she was smiling, his goddess was smiling… Like a fair morning breeze. He had become a poet. No longer a warrior. And yet, now more than ever he needed to be a warrior : for her, their family, the child growing in her belly.

"We can't stay here, princess." It wasn't a title to him, it was another pearl in the crown his ladylove wore. She stretched, the sheet barely covering had fallen off, offering a glimpse that took his breath away.

"Uhtred…"

"He agrees with me. We have to go Alba or Franckia."

"But he said he would talk to his brother."

He couldn't help himself, her words were barely reaching his mind as his callused hands lingered over her breast. He still couldn't understand how that excuse of a husband had mistreated her. She was everything a man could desire in bed and on a battlefield. His fearless princess who had killed his brother before he could strike him, was all that he needed. Far more precious than a kingdom.

"Too dangerous. Alfred has spies everywhere.. We have to go somewhere nobody knows us." He cupped her chin, looking into her eyes, "I'm sorry about all this."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Erik. I made my choice."

"But it was my…" She placed a finger on his lips.

"If it weren't for you, I'd still be married to a monster. Don't you see? You saved me Erik. Husband. Love." With each word she placed a kiss on his lips, her mouth inviting him to deepen the kiss. And there, all thoughts left his mind.

There was nothing stronger than their love, nothing that could go between them, no kings, no gods and no man.