#hefna

And this is the first sketch i did when I was initially working through my ideas :) I really liked the texture of the charcoal, which influenced the style approach I took with the digital a lot

“You know I barely remember my dreams,” you whisper as you look down at your hand in his. “But there was something, now that I think about it. Something I vaguely remember.” You continue to stare down at your entwined hands, biting the inside of your cheek and you slowly close your eyes to try and think more about your dream. “Something about your family.”

Estadir shifts on his feet making your eyes snap open and your head to lift. “That’s all you remember?” You nod your head. “You have every reason to think of your father now. And your family,” he gently says, a smile breaking on your face as his fingers slowly run up and down the back of your hand. It always warms his heart when you smile. He would do anything to keep you smiling.

“I must go into Kattegat to buy some things we still need before leaving,” Estadir states even though he knows it will go against what he wants and will take the smile off your face.

It does and it makes your head drop between your shoulders as you nod your head. “I will come with you,” you mention, expecting him to fight back and find a reason for you to stay in the camp. Instead, he smiles and leads you towards his horse and yours.

You both ride to Kattegat for what will probably be the last time with a few other people accompanying you. Riding next to Estadir, you can’t help but think about when you two will be traveling again, going through the wild and living off the land. Thinking of Holar where you and Estadir will marry and then at the thought that the Gods have blessed you with a child after this war makes you smile again.

In the city, you and Estadir go around the market, looking for things that had been lost when Vidar attacked the camp. Things like extra blankets for when it starts getting cold and then some foods you’ll need that you won’t be able to get from hunting.

Something grabs your attention when you reach the center of the city. Turning your head, a gasp catches in your throat and your hand covers your mouth at the sight of Vidar’s body hanging from two poles. His back is cut open and his lungs draped over his shoulders. You’ve never seen something so brutal before, considering that you saw Vidar kill your father.

You step forward, walking away from Estadir with your eyes fixed on Vidar’s body. Swallowing harshly as you slowly drop your hand from your mouth, you stop walking when you’re a few feet from the display. Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone walking towards you but you somehow can’t seem to pull your head away.

“I thought you would be there last night to see him die,” Ivar speaks, his voice making you finally turn your head. You stare at him, your eyes wide and your heart hammering away in your chest. “He was, after all, the man that killed-”

“I know,” you snap, taking a small step away from him. “Maybe I would have…” You trail off, stop yourself, and shake your head to yourself and you stare at the ground. You don’t want to say that you would have come last night if you knew because you don’t know if that would be true. If you knew that Ivar would kill Vidar like this, you’re not sure if you would have even come. “Revenge means something completely different to you and me. To your Gods and to mine.”

Ivar frowns at you, his eyes running over your face to try and understand what you’re talking about. “You don’t think he deserved this?” He points to the body on display but you don’t look back at it. You carry on looking at him. “After what he did to your family? And your people?”

“Maybe he did. But it’s not for me to decide what happens to him because of that.”

“Then why did you come? Why did you agree to help me in the war?” His voice is now getting louder, drawing attention from others around you.

“Because I…” You sigh, run your hands through your hair to calm yourself. You don’t want to shout just because he’s shouting. You need to remain calm. “Because I thought that he would die in war. That you would decide to kill him on the battlefield instead of making a show for your people,” you explain.

He narrows his eyes at you and takes a step forward, but you step backward. “Because that’s the way your people do things.”

“Well, we don’t go around killing innocent people for their gold and cities,” you fight back, keeping your head held high as he steps back slightly in shock. “I saved your life when I found you injured on a battlefield. And I didn’t ask for anything in return. Now, you killed the man that killed my father, my mother, and my siblings. I consider us even now,” you say, your head turning slightly to the side to see Estadir walking towards you.

He looks a bit distressed, especially as his eyes move up to the grotesque display of Vidar’s corpse hanging above your head. “Goodbye, Ivar,” you whisper, turning around to start walking towards Estadir again, who has now stopped in his tracks.

Ivar stares at Estadir as you walk and Estadir stares at him with a stern gaze. Neither of them move or say anything, not even nod to each other. When you reach Estadir, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and turns around to walk away with you. Ivar doesn’t want to go after you anymore. He turns and walks away, back to the Great Hall, telling himself that it’s useless looking back at you.

It feels like home again, traveling on the road with the sun above you and the horizon never-ending. Like always, Estadir rides in front of the moving tribe and you farther back. The sounds of your horse’s hooves hitting the stones start to drone out in a repetitive clip-clop.

Your vision starts to blur slightly, making you blink and take a deep breath. But it’s like the sun’s starting to shine too bright for your eyes, making you squint and lower your head so you stare at your hands holding the reins. You try to focus your eyes, but when a low buzz fills your ears, you have an idea as to what might be happening.

You pull on the reins and as quickly as you can, dismount your horse. You don’t hear people around you asking if you’re okay, alerting those farther ahead to stop, and don’t even feel Alke helping you to the ground.

On your back, your eyes turned up to the sky, you take a deep breath as the bright light fills your vision completely. You feel nothing but peace in your body and in your mind. You’ve felt like this, not even when Virheia chose you as her voice. As you blink again, you see a figure walking towards you.

Trying to speak, your mouth definitely moving, nothing comes out. Slowly, your father’s Great Hall starts to take form around you. And the figure starts to take form. Ethereal and radiant, she walks towards you with a serene light glowing off her skin. “Virheia.” You know her face all too well.

She gives you a smile as she turns and holds her hand out to the side. “Everyone should have a chance to say goodbye,” she says in a warm voice.

Looking towards your father's throne, you see him standing in front of it, his hands folded in front of him. He’s smiling at you. As you take a step forward, so does he. You have tears falling from your eyes, but you don’t feel any sadness. Seeing him in front of you makes your heart fill with happiness that feels unearthly.

He reaches up to touch your face and wipes a tear away from your cheek. “Don’t cry, my darling,” he whispers. Hearing his voice again makes you smile and you jump forward to wrap your arms around him.

“I miss you,” you mutter into his shoulder as his arms wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

“I know you do. But I am always with you,” he gently says, pulling out of the hug to smile down at you again. “And I am so proud of the woman you have become.”

You laugh, nod your head at him and drop your gaze to the pendant on his chest. The one you had carried for years. Hearing footsteps behind your father, you tilt your head to see who it is. And you feel your heart sink when you see your mother walking forward, your siblings trailing behind her.

Estadir sits on the ground with your head in his lap, gently stroking your temples with his thumbs as he waits for you to wake up. He knows everyone is wondering why Virheia is choosing to speak with you now, wondering if they have done something wrong or if something is waiting for them down the line that they need to be wary of. But Estadir knows that they know they need to wait for you to wake up.

It takes a few moments longer than usual before you wake up, breathing out a deep sigh as your head rolls to the side, pressing against Estadir’s hand. Your eyes flutter open and you blink a few times as your head returns back to the center. Estadir smiles down at you when your eyes meet his and you give a small chuckle. “Hi,” you whisper, smiling back up at him.

He leans down, presses his lips to yours as his thumbs continue to caress the sides of your face. It’s just a short kiss, one that tells you he’s happy you’re alright. “Hi,” he whispers against your lips.

“I saw my family,” you softly say, your hand reaching up to touch his. “Virheia took me to say goodbye. I saw them again.”

Estadir sighs, slowly pulls away from you but keeps his gaze on you. “You deserved to say goodbye,” he whispers, and you nod your head. “And what happens now?”

“Now, we move on. Focus on our lives and our future,” you mention, pulling his hand away from your face so you can wrap your hands around his.

He nods his head, strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I think that’s a good idea.”

You chuckle at him and slowly start to push yourself up. Estadir helps you up to your feet. He doesn’t let you go as he leads you to your horse again. Helping you onto your horse again, he quickly mounts his own horse and then looks at you. He smiles, shouts to the rest of the tribe that it’s time to move again, and holds out his hand to you. “Ride with me,” he says.

Placing your hand in his, you urge your horse forward when he starts to move forward to get back to the front of the horde.

With the sun dawning into a new day, you remember Vidar being dragged into the Great Hall and that you never asked what had happened to him. You still have questions that you want answered by him. Questions that you have had since you saw Nork in ruins and questions that might go all the way back to when he attacked your home city when you were still a child.

You feel a warmth growing in your body as you turn to face the Great Hall. You couldn’t ask one of the men standing outside where you might find Vidar because you know they will want to ask Ivar if you have permission to see the prisoner. You are, afterall, an outsider and a guest. You don’t have the entitlement Ivar has or any of his brothers have. And after what happened on the night of the second ritual - and how he never even looked at you during the night’s feast - you’re certain that you don’t want to ask Ivar. It’s best to just leave things as is.

Then, you see a man walking up to the door of the Great Hall and something inside you tells you to follow him. You’re not sure why you feel you should do so, but you’ve learned not to question it. So, keeping you eyes on the man, you move forward and follow him into the Great Hall.

As you walk, you don’t look around to see if anyone has noticed you fearing that if you do, you’ll lose sight of this man and you’ll never find out why you felt to follow him. If this is Virheia telling you to follow him then you trust that she won’t let you get caught.

The man leads you right to where you hoped he would lead you; the prison cells where Ivar’s keeping Vidar. “It can’t be comfortable wearing all those rings,” the man you followed says as you stand up against the wall so he won’t see you when he comes back out. “You’ll want to take those off when Ivar decides your fate.”

“You’ll have to cut them off my fingers for them to leave my hands.” Vidar speaks in a low voice, you almost don’t hear his words.

The man you followed chuckles and then you hear him leave. Waiting for a few moments of silence before leaving the spot where you stand to stand in front of the bars of his cells. Vidar lifts his head up at the sounds of your footsteps and the tired look on his face falls when he sees it’s you. “Well, well, well. Haven’t you grown since we last met, Verrasdottir.”

“I’m surprised you know it’s me.”

“Considering that you got away when I attacked your home?” he asks, pushing himself to his feet so he can get closer to you. You lift your head higher to keep your confidence and he shakes his head. “I knew where you had gone. I had men follow you so that I could complete my task of revenge but they told me you had found refuge in a huge, traveling horde. I would never have won a fight to get you back,” he explains, wrapping his hands around the bars between you and him as he smirks at you.

“Just so you could kill me?” you question and he hums. You scoff and run your tongue over your lips to push down the tears growing in your eyes. “I want to know why,” you demand, looking back at him with narrow eyes.

“Why your father? Why your family? Why your home?” he asks, tilting his head to the side as he smiles at you. “Your father and I were very close when we were young. Friends. With a very similar thought of what we wanted when we grew older,” he starts to explain, pulling away from the bars and taking a step back. “But then, things changed when the city chose him to be Earl after the last died without an heir. He met your mother and he never spoke to me again.”

You stare at him, taking in his words and trying to comprehend them. Taking in a breath, you shift on your feet and shake your head slightly. “So, he grew up and decided to live his life. That doesn’t explain anything.”

Vidar holds up a finger. “Until he banished me.” You swallow roughly at his words. “I went behind his back to build an army, to try and tempt him into traveling the world like we planned. He saw it as a threat to his family and his people and banished me. It destroyed my pride,” he carries on. “So, a few years later, I came back with a bigger army to make him feel how I felt when he took everything from him.”

“Revenge is only in the minds of corrupt men,” you breathe out, glaring at him with a cold gaze and your hands curled into fists. “And it never leaves you with the feeling of satisfaction. That’s why you went on to try and overtake over cities, isn’t it? That’s why your hands are covered in rings to show off your apparent success and hide the fact that your hands are covered in blood you will never wash off.” You take a step forward and rest your hand on one of the bars in front of you. “You still haven’t explained why you left Nork to die. Why didn’t you rule it?” you demand.

“As you said,” Vidar begins, holding up his hands to show off his decorated fingers. “I had my eye on other prizes. Each city was far more greater than Nork. Do you really think I wanted to rule that pathetic excuse of a trading post?”

“Nork could have been as great as Kattegat is today. Under the right hand, it could have flourished.”

“Then you are just like your father,” he snaps at you, rushing forward and standing up close to the bars and almost pressing his face between the bars. But you don’t back away. “Stupid and naïve.”

You open your mouth to fight back and defend yourself as well as your father but a sound to the side stops you and your head turns to see what it is. In the shadows, you see Ivar stepping forward. “She is anything but stupid,” he says. And he’s looking at you for the first time since he came back from the battle.

He stands next to you and you look back at Vidar when you hear him chuckle. “I have what I came for. And from what you told me, I hope your Gods don’t take pity on you. No doubt they won’t allow you into your Valhalla because of what you’ve done,” you sneer at him, look at Ivar for a brief moment as you step away from the bars. “You can do to him what you want, King Ivar.” And then you walk past him.

Ivar’s gaze follows you, his jaw tensing, and his grip on his crutch tightening as he watches you walk away. “How does it feel-” Ivar looks at Vidar as he speaks again. “-knowing that you can never have her no matter how much you want her?”

Rolling his eyes, Ivar shifts in his spot so that he faces Vidar now. “You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Oh, but I do. I see the way you look at her. We’ve all looked at a woman like that before.” Vidar smirks as he leans against the bars, looking the way you had walked off in. “A shame she doesn’t look at you the same way, isn’t it?”

Ivar doesn’t answer. He just stares scornfully at Vidar when he laughs and shakes his head in amusement. “If she’s anything like how her mother was, you wouldn’t be able to handle her. That bitch took down 3 of my best men before she finally died,” Vidar mutters, smirking as if he’s remembering a funny memory. But Ivar’s sure that if you had heard this, you would be furious. Probably as furious as Ivar feels now.

His hand shoots through the bars and he grabs Vidar around the throat, making him look at him with that smirk still on his face. “Maybe I should kill you tonight. Why wait any longer?” Ivar hisses at him, smiling at that thought as he lets go of Vidar and withdraws his hand.

“Just so you can prove something to a woman who doesn’t want you?” Vidar laughs. “You’re just as much of a fool as she is.”

Ivar doesn’t want to hear any more of this so he turns as starts to walk away, leaving Vidar in his cell. When he is alone, Vidar presses his back against the wall and takes a deep breath. He knows that nothing he says now will save him from what Ivar might have planned and if he decides to kill him tonight.

You thought that knowing why Vidar did what he did, why he killed your family would make you feel like you could move on. You could finally let go of that part of your life and carry on with being the Mother of the tribe and being Virheia’s envoy. But now, you can’t stop thinking about how your father must have suffered watching his family be murdered and everything being taken from him. And all from his childhood friend.

The camp that your tribe has set up for the second ritual out in the forest is still erect and will probably be dismantled the morning you and Estadir decide to leave. So, that’s where you go after walking out of the Great Hall. You’re also sure that Ivar might try and follow you to talk to you and you’d rather not talk about what he might have heard.

Sitting in your tent, your white owl on your lap and your fingers gently stroking her head, you know someone has walked in when her head turns around and she hoots softly. You know who it is from the footsteps, so you don’t bother lifting your head.

Estadir sits down beside you on the bed, folds his hands together, and breathes out a sigh. “I was wondering where you had gone. But from the look on your face and the way you won’t look at me, I can only guess that you went to talk to the man that-”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you cut him off, standing up with your owl on your forearm so you can put her on her perch. As she places her beak under her wing, you breathe out a long sigh and drop your head between your shoulders. You know Estadir is still looking at you, so you hesitate turning around all while keeping your eyes on your hands. “I just thought that if I knew why he did it, I could move on. I thought I would have closure and I wouldn’t have this...missing part inside me. Everything would be fine,” you mention, slowly lifting your gaze to him. “Everything seemed to happen so fast when I was a child. I didn’t have time to think about everything because I was so busy thinking about my own survival and now, everything seems to be crashing down on me.” As you speak, you walk over to him again and sit beside him, your eyes falling to your hands again.

He places his hands over yours, turns to face you more directly, hoping that you’ll look at him again. “Do you remember when my father died?” His question is what makes you lift your head and look at him again. You nod. “Do you remember how everyone has been waiting for him to be at peace for years? How we stayed in one place all that time, waiting for Sidar, God of Death, to take him?” You nod again. “Everyone was expecting him to die. But for me, when he finally passed on, it felt like everything had stopped.”

You know what he’s getting at. Somehow, whenever he tries to comfort you, no matter what he says, it works and makes you understand what he’s talking about. You nod your head again, glance down to his hands that rest over yours, and give a small smile. “I remember how I was the only one that was able to console you. The only one you would allow near during that time,” you whisper, your words making him smile and chuckle lightly at the memory you share.

“You did all you could to make me smile again. And now, I will attempt to do the same as I tell you the words you told me,” he starts, lifting a hand to cup your cheek and turn your gaze up to him. “Those we love don’t go away. They walk beside us, unseen, unheard, so loved, and so missed, every day. Yes?” You nod your head, smile gently, and lean into his touch. “What can I do to make you happy?”

Sighing, you glance to the side at the flap of the tent and think for a moment before looking back at him. “Honestly, I want to leave. I want to put all this behind me.”

Estadir nods when you look back at him. “Then we’ll leave in the morning. I’m sure there are others that would agree with you,” he states, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You being a part of them?” you tease, smirking at him when he pulls away from you.

“Of course.” He speaks softly, almost as if he didn’t want to admit that he doesn’t want to leave as soon as possible, smiles gently at you before he stands, and pulls his hand away from your face. But you know he likes moving around as much as the next person in the family.

Ivar looks over the gathering crowd in front of the Great Hall, in front of the podium set up for Vidar’s execution. He thought he would see your face among his people. But then he realizes that there is not one person from your tribe in the crowd. He wonders if he should send word to you that he will kill Vidar tonight so that you can be there to see his death. Perhaps he should go tell you himself.

Shaking his head at that thought, your words about how you don’t love him and how you never will echo through his mind, he glances up at Vidar as Ubbe and Hvitserk push him forward onto the podium. Remember what Vidar said earlier about you, Ivar starts to feel a bit of anger growing inside him.

Maybe you were right. Maybe he doesn’t love you but is just infatuated with you. After all, when has he ever loved anyone besides his mother? Perhaps people are right when they say that he doesn’t know what love is. Maybe he was stupid to think that he could love him and that you could love him too.

As his brothers secure Vidar’s arms to the posts on either side of him, Ivar steps forward with a look of murder in his eyes. Vidar still has those rings on his fingers, saying that he would like to die with them on. Ivar didn’t care. He doesn’t care if someone takes them after he dies and melts them down into something else. All Ivar cares about now is killing him, the man that tried to take everything from him.

It’s your bad if you’re not here to see him die, Ivar thinks. He doesn’t care anymore.

He doesn’t hear what Vidar had said when he walked up beside him, Ubbe staying on the podium to help Ivar with this execution if he needs it. But Ivar is silent, not moving his gaze anywhere except between blades when he switches from his knife to his ax.

He doesn’t even smile when Vidar starts to scream when the ax comes down on his bones.

It makes sense that the Gods chose this peaceful valley in between mountains to be their sacred land. You sit at the edge of the river every day, your hand over your swollen stomach, taking in the peaceful surroundings. Sometimes, you sit with your feet in the cool water. Other times, Estadir is behind you, rubbing your back and peppering kisses on your neck as he whispers what he thinks the baby in your belly will look like.

And on a calm, peaceful night - practically like any other night in the sacred land - the Gods decided that your wait for your child was over.

You stretch out to the side, letting out a small groan when your hand lands on the empty space where your husband should be. Lifting your head off your pillow, you look around the tent to try and spot Estadir. He’s not in the tent. And neither is your newborn child.

Slowly you push yourself off the bed, sighing as your feet hit the floor and feeling how cold it is outside this warm bed. Before you stand up, you pull the fur blanket over your shoulders and wrap it around you to keep yourself warm.

Walking out of the tent, you squint at the bright light from the sun, glancing around to try and find Estadir. He’s nowhere in sight. You walk a bit more out of the tent, continuing to look around, keeping your eyes open for your new husband.

Alke notices you searching around the camp and she knows exactly what you’re looking for. She was there, right beside you when you gave birth. Itris gave Alke the knowledge and led her hand to bring yours and Estadir’s child into the world.

When your eyes land on the healer and she points in the direction of the river. You give Alke a thankful smile, nod your head, and turn to walk the path you’ve walked so many times before your child was born. Sure enough, at the bank of the river, you see Estadir gently swaying from side to side, holding a sleeping babe in his arms.

He hears your footsteps behind him, turns his head over his shoulder and smiles brightly at you. Looking back down at the part of you that he holds in his arms, you stand beside him and rest a hand on his arm. “He was restless and I didn’t want him to wake you,” he whispers, leaning towards you to place a kiss on your forehead.

“Well, I couldn’t sleep without you beside me,” you respond, keeping your voice as quiet as his because you don’t want to wake your peacefully sleeping son. “But, I’m glad to see you two spending time together. Does that mean you’re going to steal him away from me more often?”

Estadir chuckles, bringing his hand up to his son’s cheek so he can gently caress it with his thumb. The baby doesn’t stir at all. “Perhaps I will. But I still love how much of a mother you look like when you’re holding him,” he says, making you laugh and rest your head against his bicep.

“And I love how much of a father you look like when you’re holding him,” you respond. Estadir smiles at your words, smiles down at the son in his arms, and at the feeling of his wife and the mother of his child leaning against his arm.

Even though the tribe has always been and will always be his family, he’s happy with the family he now has with you. His wife is beautiful. His son is beautiful. He has everything he could ever dream of.

You sometimes wonder what it would be like if your parents were still alive. You would have liked your mother and father to meet your son and your husband. But you know that can’t happen so you don’t let that make you sad. You know they are in a better place, and there’s nothing you can do about that. You know they are looking down at you now, seeing how happy you are with your new family.

The man drops his head in shame as if it’s his fault that the army isn’t doing what Vidar wants. Taking a deep breath, the king runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a deep sigh. “I suppose we could muster up arms for another attack. Perhaps it will be easier this time,” he mutters, looking to his lieutenant who just gives a stiff nod before turning to gather his army.

Vidar walks to his tent to get ready for the battle. Even though he is old, he still has fight left in him. Besides, he’s heard that there is someone among the horde from one of the cities he overtook a long time ago. Someone he didn’t have a chance to finish off because of their escape.

This time, he plans on reuniting you with your family.

Ivar, Estadir, and the army behind them arrive at the battlefield a lot quicker than they had thought they would. Maybe it’s because of the smaller army they have this time compared to the last time. It is something that worried both men, but according to Ivar, they had managed to reduce Vidar’s numbers as well. And battles aren’t won by numbers.

They both look out at the field, silent and thinking to themselves of the plan. The plan is Estadir’s, which means that Ivar’s not completely confident in it but he has to do what he must to get this over with. After last night and what you had said to him, leaving him heartbroken, he just wants this to be over so you can leave and he doesn’t have to feel like an idiot anymore.

The army remains silent as to not blow their cover as they hide in the cover of the forest, waiting for a sign from their leaders. “You’re sure about this plan?” Ivar questions, turning his head away from the open field to look at Estadir.

“You have a better idea?” he asks back, looking over at Ivar with a stern look on his face.

Ivar rolls his eyes and looks back out, not answering the questions. Estadir grumbles to himself in his own language before he turns around and shouts out to his portion of the army. As they prepare to move, Estadir looks over his shoulder at the king on his chariot. “Don’t fuck up,” he barks before he moves off, not waiting for a response from Ivar.

About half of the army follow Estadir into the forest again, most of the people from his tribe, leaving Ivar with his brothers and the remainder of their army. Ivar breathes out a deep sigh as he looks out in front of him, thinking about your words from last night.

“You went to go see (Y/n) last night, didn’t you?” Hvitserk questions as he and Ubbe join his side, waiting with him for the signal from Estadir. Ivar doesn’t respond to that, only clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the reigns. “What did she say?”

“That has nothing to do with you, Hvitserk,” Ivar snaps, turning his head down to him to glare coldly at him. “When this is over, she and her tribe will leave and I won’t go after her anymore,” he sneers, looking between Hvitserk and Ubbe as if to challenge them to ask him any more questions.

“If that is so, then why do you still carry her pendent?” Ubbe asks, his eyes landing on a pocket where the sigil of Yggdrasil hangs.

Ivar follows his brother’s gaze down to your necklace you didn’t take last night and pulls it out of the pocket. Then, he throws it to the side, abandoning it on the ground before he glares at Ubbe. “There. Happy? Can we think about this battle now?”

Ubbe and Hvitserk look at each other, thinking if you had rejected him. Of course, they would have known right away if you had chosen to be with him. Ivar wouldn’t have shut up about it. But he hadn’t said anything last night and looked at you with an almost sad look on his face when you and Estadir arrived this morning.

To the left of the massive expanse of the battlefield, Vidar’s army emerges from the trees, making Ivar and the rest of the army perk up in interest. To the right, Estadir and his own part of the army emerge, and the two armies stop far away from each other, staring at each other.

Estadir, who has left his horse behind, walks up in front of his warriors and stares at Vidar with his hand gripping his ax tightly. Behind him, his men start to bang their weapons against their shields in a slow steady beat. Estadir raises his ax to point it at Vidar, challenging him. And at the same time, every man begins to chant in a frightening voice that travels over the whole battlefield.

“You! Every man! Hear our voice. Listen to us now; in our hands is your death. We shall slaughter your people but any mercy is given. Fearless are we, death makes us laugh. War is what we want. You, will die. You will die in this battle.”

The chant is meant to scare an opponent and to challenge them. Today, it is also part of the plan to distract the opposing army. Because as they chant, intimidating them, Ivar and his army move out from their hiding place, forward to attack the unsuspecting army.

Estadir sees Ivar and his part of the army streaming out from the trees, raises his ax to the sky, and gives a loud battle cry before running forward himself, his warriors following him.

You’re certain that the longer you stay outside, the more clearly you can hear the sounds of shouting, battle cries, and weapons hitting shields. You stare up at the sky, arms wrapped around yourself, and your lip being held between your teeth.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you turn your head over your shoulder to see Alke walking towards you. You’ve noticed how her confidence and the way she carries herself has grown and you can’t help but smile at that. She looks out at the sky as she stands beside you, but she’s not listening for the same sounds you’re sure you can hear.

“There is a storm coming,” she whispers, looking at the dark clouds that slowly come down from the mountains. “Hopefully, it will come after the battle. I don’t think anyone would like to be caught in it.”

You swallow, nod your head as you look away from the sky and down at your feet. “Even so, I will stay out here until Estadir returns so that I know…” You stop, look down at your stomach as you breathe out a heavy sigh. “So that I know he is alright,” you say, unfolding your arms from around you and placing a gentle hand over your stomach.

Alke notices this, turns her head towards you, and her eyes falling to your hand. She turns to face you, places her hands over yours, and makes you look up at her. “I have faith. Do you?”

You feel it’s easy for her to say she has faith because she was chosen by Itris just days ago. It is easy to have faith when the Gods have been near so recently. Still, you cannot ignore the constant feeling of celestial magic in your veins. The feeling you’ve always had since Virheia chose you to be her envoy, her voice.

Smiling at Alke, you gently nod your head saying that you do have faith. “We should wait inside. Do not listen. It will only make your mind think of things that are not true,” she whispers, moving her hand to your shoulders to turn you around, leading you back to the Great Hall.

But as you start to walk away, everything goes silent. There is no more shouting, no more screaming, no more metal hitting metal. No even the sounds of the wind moving the trees. It’s all quiet.

The quiet seems to draw everyone’s attention, making them over the roofs of the houses. And the only thing that finally breaks the silence is the distant thunder roll in the dark clouds. But then, it’s quiet again.

You look over at Alke whose eyes dart all across the sky but just like you, she does not seem to be worried. After a battle involving your people, your Gods, it is often quiet. And most of the time, it is a good thing. The Gods reward a successful battle with peace. Peace after war. It always seemed fitting to you.

Those that have chosen to stay instead of following Estadir to battle come out from the temporary home in the Great Hall. The thought of going inside to wait is now lost. Now, everyone wants to wait outside to see who returns. How many more will be lost?

It’s not certain how long it has been since the silence fell, since you’ve been waiting for the army to return. But when you hear someone from the gate shouting and order to open them, your heart leaps in your throat and you take a step forward, whispering to Virheia, to Dedon, to bring your beloved back to you.

The first person you see coming through the gates in Ivar. He rides towards the Great Hall, towards you. He glances at you, his face and armor covered in blood. He doesn’t look at you for long, turns his gaze away, and shouts something to someone behind him. People start to move forward to greet their family that has returned. But as you look for your own people, your own family, you catch the sight of the man that started this war.

Vidar.

His face is bruised and bloodied, obvious that someone brought down their fists on his face. His wrists are bound and two men lead him into the Great Hall, probably to take him to a cell. You thought he would have been killed in battle, not brought here. But, then again Ivar has more reason to deal with him than you do. Vidar did declare war on him before you two even met.

Then, you see Estadir. You breathe a sigh of relief and feel your entire body relax before your feet take off toward him. The moment his eyes land on you, he drops his ax and runs to meet you halfway. He knows you don’t care that he’s covered in blood like those around him. You’ve definitely seen him in worse condition.

He wraps his arms around you as you throw yourself at him, lifting you off the ground for a moment and pressing his lips to yours as he holds you close to him. His hands move to hold your face after setting your feet on the ground again and he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. “The Gods have blessed us, my love.”

A big smile breaks across your face and you nod your head at him Estadir drops one hand to your stomach. It’s true. With his return, it means that the Gods have accepted your ritual and gifted you with a child, an innocent life.

Even Ivar knows what this means. He watches you and Estadir, looks down at his hand resting on your stomach that he knows now will grow with your child. Estadir’s child. He feels a fool to think that he could have ever won your heart as he watches the way you stare so lovingly at the man in front of you. How had he not seen that before? Was he so blind?

He moves his gaze over to Alke who stands in solitude, her gaze fixed on him as if she was waiting for him to look at her. Ivar straightens his back under her gaze, takes a deep breath when she doesn’t look away after a moment and your words about her come to his mind again. Alke gives him a look, almost to say that she had told him you’d never leave Estadir for him. She told him so, and he chose to ignore it because he thought he knew you better.

Forcing yourself to smile as you bring the cup up to your lips to take a sip, you look out to the room again and sigh sadly. Shaking your head and not being able to bear seeing them like you, you drop your gaze again and fight back the growing tears in your eyes. “I haven’t seen them like this before. Ever since I became a part of them, they have always been fierce, proud, and strong people,” you mention, making Torvi turn her head to you so she can listen to your words. “They’ve lost so much now and I don’t know if anything I say can comfort them,” you add, looking at her with tears in your eyes. 

She places a gentle hand on your forearm and offers a friendly smile. “You are in mourning, just as they are. You don’t have to say anything right now if you don’t want to. They will understand,” she softly says.

You nod, look down again and bite your lower lip. You’re so used to comforting those in need, feeling as if it’s your duty being the voice of a Goddess, you often forget that sometimes you need to be comforted too. That’s always where Estadir comes in and gives you that listening ear you’ve been to others. And now he’s not here. 

Hearing the horn announcing the arrival of someone, both you and Torvi stand and stare at the door in anticipation. When she sees her husband walking through the doors in one piece, she breathes out a relieved sigh and rushes forward. 

Your gaze catches Ivar after he glances around at the sight of your people occupying the Great Hall. He’s never seen such a broken look on your face before and it can only mean that your camp indeed attacked. He tries to step towards you so he can attempt to provide whatever comfort you may need, but your head turns at the sound of a couple reuniting. One from your tribe. 

The sight makes you smile for a moment before you realize that some of your men and women that went to fight have come back. It’s not as many as those that had left, telling you that the battle was lost, and that makes you fear that you lost Estadir too. Especially since you don’t see him now. 

But, before you can despair, you spot someone tall roughly walking into the Great Hall, with more sorrow on his face than you’ve ever seen. A man that looks like he’s lost everything. 

“Estadir,” you whisper to yourself as you place the cup down, shrug off the fur around your shoulders and start to move towards him, taking it slow because you don’t know if you’ll fall. 

He spots you, and it’s as if the burden on his shoulders is lifted as he breathes out and pushes his way past people to get you. He doesn’t care who’s in his way, he only has sights on you. And when he reaches you, he grabs your face in his hands and presses a deep kiss to your lips, like he hasn’t seen you in years. 

It’s a short kiss, enough just to make sure you’re real, that this is real. When he pulls away, he wraps his arms around you and you wrap yours around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. 

You don’t want to let go because you’re afraid to lose this, to lose him. 

Still, at this moment, you both know that the ritual didn’t work last night. Starting a family together, having a baby hasn’t been blessed by the Gods and has now been hindered. It’s something Estadir doesn’t understand. They lost innocent lives when the camp was attacked but didn’t win this war, meaning that the Gods haven’t chosen to balance the loss of innocent lives with another, one of his own. One of your own. 

He tightens his hold around you, buries his face in your shoulder when he hears a quiet sob leave your lips. He knows you’re thinking about all this too. 

Ivar watches the reunion, watches how you two seem to not want to let each other go. He’s never seen other reunited couples act like this. And though he knows that you both lost a lot of people today, both on the battlefield and at the camp, it’s different to see him silently comforting you in a tight embrace. 

And though he knows that Estadir might just kill him for ruining this moment, plans do need to be made to protect the city and plan both a counterattack in case of an invasion or another attack so they can win. 

Ivar turns his head to the side when you and Estadir pull away and walk off together, and he catches Ubbe staring at him. He shakes his head, telling him to leave you and Estadir be after what you’ve been through today. The thought that Ubbe is constantly watching him when you’re around makes Ivar roll his eyes and he turns to walk away. He’ll think about a plan himself, then. 

In a far corner of the room, Estadir sits in a chair and leans forward on his elbows as he looks out to his people. All of them are lamenting, either for the loss of a husband, wife, child, son or daughter, mother or father, or friend. He sighs as you stand in front of him and reach down to take his hands in yours. “This is all my fault,”  he whispers, moving his gaze to his hands as he shakes his head. “It was my decision to do the ritual quickly. I should have known that it would upset the Gods if we didn’t do it properly.” 

You reach up with one hand to cup his cheek, and he takes this opportunity to pull you closer, between his legs. “Their wrath is indeed mighty,” he whispers, leans forward to rest his forehead on your stomach and his hands on your hips as you start to run your fingers through his braids. “I do not deserve their blessing,” he mutters.

Shaking your head, you look down at him and bite back the tears that his words have brought forth. “This is not your fault, Estadir. Look at me,” you softly beg, lifting his head as you stroke his cheek. He keeps his eyes closed so that he doesn’t show his weakness; his tears. “You can’t be all-knowing all the time, my love. You couldn’t have known that this would happen,” you whisper, wiping away the dirt on his face with your thumb as he shakes his head. He only allows himself to be weak in front of you, but never this weak. You’ve never really seen him cry. “My love-”

“What kind of a father would I be if I cannot even protect those that trusted me?” he cuts you off but his question only makes you shake your head at him when he finally opens his eyes. “I don’t deserve what the Gods have given me,” he says, dropping his gaze and pressing his forehead to your stomach again. 

But you stop him, sit on his lap and hold his face in your hands so he can look directly at you. “Dedon wouldn’t have chosen you if you thought you unworthy. These people wouldn’t have chosen you to lead them if they didn’t trust that you would do everything you can to protect them,” you state, wiping away a fallen tear from his cheek before it can reach his beard. “You cannot change the fate of the Gods, even if you are their voice and bound to them.”

You don’t even realize that this is the first time you’re comforting Estadir as you would comfort others. But you’re speaking from your heart, where Virheia seems to be putting those words. And you know from the small smile on his face that it’s slightly working. 

“I don’t doubt there will be another battle. So, we will do the ritual again,” you mention, resting your hands on his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. “And this time, we won’t rush into it. We will do it how it is meant to be done,” you add, and your words please him. 

He nods in agreement before leaning forward to rest his head on your chest. Finding comfort in your heartbeat, he breathes out a sigh and lets his eyes flutter shut as you kiss the top of his head and stroke the side of his face with a tender touch. 

Tonight, they will honor the dead before planning another ritual. And he knows, he will make sure of it, nothing will be overlooked, nothing will be avoided this time around. It might be different because of the lesser size, but the meaning will be greater than the last. 

Now, there really has been innocent blood spilled.

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So, he pushes past you and heads straight out the tent, ax in hand and ready for a fight. You know that his biggest concern is the safety of his family, that he is afraid of an attack on this camp. You also know that he would defend everything with every bit of his energy until there is nothing left. 

Following him, you immediately see him standing just outside the tent and follow his gaze out to where he’s staring. 

There is no threat. It’s only Ivar, upon his chariot and his brothers either side of him, and his army behind him. He thought that it would be better to meet here instead of on the battlefield and Estadir hates the change of plan. He sees any army that enters his camp as a threat until they leave, just to be safe. 

You place a hand on his shoulder to calm whatever building rage he has inside him and he turns his head down to you when you stand by his side. “You should go. Don’t keep this fight waiting,” you mention, looking up at him as he turns to face you. 

Estadir knows Ivar is watching, and if anything, he’s certain that the King still has some interest in you. So, just as a reminder to him that you belong to him, Estadir leans down as he pulls you closer with an arm wrapped around your waist and kisses you deeply. Almost as passionately as he did last night when you did the most important, most sacred part of the ritual. 

The memory of that makes you smile and your hand shoots you to grip his braids as you kiss him back. 

When he pulls away and breaks the kiss, certain that Ivar’s gotten the message and has been reminded, he rests his forehead against yours and breathes out a sigh. “Be safe, my love,” he whispers as he pushes a piece of hair behind your ear. 

The next kiss isn’t as deep or passionate. It’s full of a tender kind of love, the kind that comes from the part of Estadir you’ve had to dig out of him. The kind that made you fall in love with him and the kind that you know he’ll only show to you and no one else. 

This time when he pulls away to wait for your response, you find yourself lost for words and all you can do is nod your head. He lets you go, steps backward, and reaches down for your hand to give it a comforting squeeze as he continues to walk away. 

You look at Ivar, bite your lower lip, and wrap your arms around your body as you turn your head back to look at Estadir who has mounted his horse and now rides towards Ivar. The rest of those that will fight with him prepare to leave as well, and you make your way to look for Alke knowing that she’ll need help preparing for the wounded when the fight is over. 

Ivar turns his gaze to Estadir when he nears. “(Y/n) is not fighting with us?” he questions. He thought that you might have been a shieldmaiden and would have liked to see you fighting. 

The question makes Estadir look up at him with narrow eyes and he stops his horse when he reaches the front of the King’s chariot. “She is forbidden by the Gods to fight today,” he bluntly mentions, drops his head to stare at his hands before turning his head to look for you again. 

“Because of your ritual,” Ivar deducts, making Estadir’s head snap over to him.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Estadir grabs his reins tightly and takes in a deep breath as his lips pull out in a thin line. “What do you know of Skapanir?” he sneers, but Ivar can tell he does not want an answer. Instead, Estadir turns his head over his shoulder, shouts in that rough language Ivar’s ears have had some time to adjust to and his fighters joining the fight, ride forward. 

You watch the two armies leave, riding out of camp and leaving it feeling almost deserted. Standing in one place for a moment, until you can no longer hear the army on the move. When it’s quiet, you sigh, drop your gaze down to the ground as you take a step forward. 

They sit there, on the edge of the battlefield waiting for their opponent to show up. This isn’t like any war Estadir has fought in before. He’s never felt like a sitting duck before. It was always show up, fight, end the war. Quick and easy. The strongest always wins. 

But he can see from the look on Ivar’s face as he tries to figure out what might be taking Vidar so long to show up that this is a game of smarts and trying to figure out the other’s move before they do it. Estadir doesn’t waste his time with such games. 

It’s only when a horn in the distance sounds that Estadir’s interests peak and he straightens his back at the sight of something on the horizon. The army they had been waiting for. 

Leading this army is the man Estadir can only guess is Vidar. Of course, Ivar knows it is, and he shifts in his spot and glances to his brothers before placing his helmet on top of his head. But Estadir notices something Ivar does not. 

This isn’t Vidar’s full army that he had seen from the cliff with you. It lacks size, making Estadir think that there is either a trap, or they haven’t thought of something. It makes him shake his head and tighten his grip on his ax. “Something isn’t right,” he mutters, catching Ivar’s attention and making him turn his head to him. “This is not all of his men. I remember the size,” he mentions, keeping his gaze fixed on the enemy in front of him. 

Ivar looks back out in front of him, shakes his head, and thinks to himself about what Vidar could be thinking, what he would use part of his army for if not to fight here. 

Another horn blows, and Vidar’s men rush forward at the sound of a war cry. 

And that’s the start of the war. 

Alke made you leave, reassuring you over a hundred times that she no longer needed help with the things to heal those that might return wounded. She told you that she could see that you have something else on your mind, that you are of no use miserable to her.

You thought it would be good to spend time in thought in your tent, perhaps pray to Virheia and the Gods just for safety’s sake. Even though you know that after the ritual, it’s all to the Gods now and that prayer is essentially useless, you still like to think you can try. 

Before you can even push open the flap of your tent, you get this terrible feeling running through your entire body. Like you need to get out, get away. It comes to you with a voice like the one you hear when Virheia speaks to you and it makes your heart drop to your stomach. 

Turning your head over your shoulder to look out at the camp, the feeling grows stronger, making you lightheaded. And for a moment, you think the scream that you hear is only one that you imagine in your mind. 

An arrow lands not too far from you, the tip in flames and looking for something to set ablaze. 

Your name gets called, breaking you from your frozen state and making your head snap to the side. Now you realize what’s going on when you notice a few tents up in flames. The camp is being attacked. 

A warrior rushes towards you, knowing that you are forbidden to fight because of Skapanir. He’s there to protect you and lead you to a horse to get you somewhere safe. He keeps a shield in front of him to stop any arrows and keeps you behind him as you look around wildly. 

Men that belong to neither yours or Ivar’s army race through the camp, burning tents and killing anyone they come across. It only brings tears to your eyes to see them brutally cutting down a child in their way. The screams make you sick and seeing the blood of your family, innocent blood being spilled infuriates you. 

Mounting your horse the moment you reach him, your eyes find Alke in the middle of chaos, looking for a way to get out. You shake your head, stare at her with wide eyes as she holds her hands up in surrender. She’s not a fighter, you know that. 

“No!” you shout as you watch a man strike her down with a sword, shattering those beads she wears and making them litter the ground she falls to. The warrior protecting you smacks the back of your horse, making it gallop along with the others that try to escape on horseback. 

You have to trust your horse and those around you to lead you to safety because of your clouded vision from the tears. When you see a hand around the reins you weakly hold, you know that you’re in safe hands of those that have managed to escape. 

Still being able to smell the burning tents, you refuse to stop riding until otherwise. But you don’t know that the man beside you, a man who chose to stay behind to take care of his wife and daughter only to lose both, is leading you and what remains of the tribe to Kattegat.

If anything, the city that was once almost taken will be more protected than being out in the open.

A lot of people died before the choice to retreat was made. When part of the missing section of the army surprised them from attacking their sides, Ivar refused to change his plans, determined for that success. 

Estadir knew then that they had lost. He saw his people, men, and women of all ages - some around the age he was when he fought his first fight - being slaughtered, their blood staining the earth, and their weapons lying beside them. 

The call to retreat came to them like a breath of fresh air. But to Estadir, it doesn’t last when he catches sight of smoke in the direction the camp is in. His heart stops beating in dread before he shouts in rage and turns to grab a passing man off his horse. 

He hates thinking that you won’t be waiting for his return, that he’s lost more than just this war. 

Looking around, he sees that some of his remaining men who had also seen the smoke are now on horses themselves. They will go with him to see if the camp still stands while the rest retreat. 

Ivar doesn’t notice what causes Estadir to leave in the other direction away from that of Kattegat until he sees the smoke rising in the sky. And he knows Estadir’s reason for racing away like a madman. 

He follows the smell of the burning tents, the sounds of fire, through the forest he thought would conceal the camp from the battlefield. All he can think and he rides with his men at his side is how wrong he was. 

“Dedon, do not take her from me,” he whispers to the God of Life and Death, closes his eyes when the smoke smell gets stronger. He dreads seeing his family dead. 

When he does open his eyes, he sees some of the tents burned down completely, some still burning, and a great number of the tribe dead on the ground. He stops the horse, glances around with a heavy heart, and then slides off the horse. 

He tries to remember where your tent is, but everything is so different now. One of his men shouts out for his woman, hoping that they have hidden somewhere. Estadir doesn’t have the heart to tell him that calling out is useless. 

As he walks through the ruins of what used to be a place he called home, he steps on something that shatters, making his head drop and his eyes land on a scatter of beads. His eyes shift and meet the blood-stained, pale face of the healer. 

“Alke,” he whispers in sorrow and kneels beside her. She’s a daughter lost, someone everyone in the tribe knew and cherished. Because of the vow she took when she became a healer, she could not protect herself. She could not harm someone. And the slash across her chest and face saddens him more. 

He hears an owl’s call and turns his gaze away from the deceased healer to find the bird. It’s your owl. He could never mistake that white owl. And as it circles a tattered tent, he’s reassured that it’s your tent. 

His heart races in his chest as he pushes himself onto his feet. Walking towards the tent, he prays that he doesn’t find your body inside, especially when he hears a man scream to the skies when he finds his son among the dead. 

With the number of bodies on the ground, it would be a wonder if anyone got to safety. The numbers practically make up what he and the army left behind. He’s not sure how many were lost on the battlefield, but he knows one thing is certain. 

The tribe is not as strong as it was before this war. 

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