A beautiful little doe walked through the winter forest, its hooves sank into the deep snow with each careful step that it took. It moved between the bare trees that stood close together, and its ears turned slightly as it listened to the quiet around it. The doe paused near a cluster of low bushes, and it lowered its head to sniff at the ground where some grass poked through the snow. A cold wind blew gently past the branches, and the doe lifted its head again while it turned its body in a circle.
Suddenly, it heard a faint sound from the trees, and its muscles tensed as its eyes widened. The doe turned quickly and it started to run, its legs pushed hard against the snow that flew up behind it. It leaped over a small fallen branch that lay in its path, its breath came out in rapid clouds that trailed after it. However, the doe did not get far before an arrow flew from the trees, and it struck the doe in the neck. Blood flowed from the wound and the doe stumbled forward a few more steps before it fell over into the snow, its body twitched a couple times before it finally lay still.
Thorfinn then stepped out from behind a thick tree trunk where he had waited in silence. He stood nearly six feet and five inches tall with a body that consisted of pure muscle that showed even through the thick woolen clothes that he wore. A heavy fur cloak covered his shoulders and back, and snow clung to the edges of his boots as he moved forward. His white hair was tied back with a simple leather cord, a few loose strands fell across his forehead while he walked through the deep snow.
Thorfinn trudged ahead and reached the doe where it lay on the ground. He knelt down beside the body and grasped the arrow shaft with one hand while he pulled it out of the neck. Blood dripped from the arrow tip onto the snow so he wiped the shaft clean with a quick swipe against his cloak. He grabbed the doe by one of its hind legs and lifted the entire animal with just that one hand. Thorfinn turned away from the spot, and he walked back through the forest toward the camp with his dinner.
The camp sat in a small clearing where the trees opened up enough to let some light reach the ground. A fire burned in the center on a ring of stones that the group had placed earlier. The Nubian sat close to the fire on a log that he had dragged near the flames. He was a large man with dark skin and a wide build, he wore a thick robe that wrapped around his body while he sat with his legs stretched out. He moved his feet and slapped the wood of the log as he let out a song, one from his homeland that was spoken in its tongue.
"Iro ai, iro ai,
Niló kin el-mar,
Anu safi, anu safi,
He lives, he walks, he returns."
He slapped the log again, feet shifting as the song carried into the trees.
Sophia sat on another log across from the Nubian, she faced the fire while she listened to the song. She clapped her hands in time with the beat of the song. She smiled as she clapped, her eyes staying on the Nubian while he sang with his hands gesturing to match the words.
Thorfinn entered the clearing and let out a deep sigh that showed in a cloud of breath as it left his mouth. He walked straight to the edge of the fire, and let the doe drop to the ground where it landed with a heavy thud that sent snow scattering around the body. Thorfinn knelt down beside the doe without a word, and pulled his knife from his belt. He began to skin the animal and carefully cut along the belly, he peeled the hide back and ripped it off.
Meanwhile The Nubian finished the last notes of his song, and looked up at Thorfinn with a wide smile that spread across his face. He stood up quickly from his log, and he spread his arms out wide while he walked around the fire toward the doe. "Look at what we have here," he said in a loud and joyful voice. "Our conquering hero has returned from the hunt and he brings a feast that will fill our bellies tonight." The Nubian stopped near the doe, and looked down at the body with approval in his eyes before he turned back to Thorfinn. He placed one hand on his own chest, and he raised the other hand high while he cleared his throat. "This moment calls for a poem," he said.
"No it—"
"Oh Thorfinn the hunter who walks through the snow,
He shoots with an arrow and down the deer goes.
With one mighty hand he lifts up the prize,
While we sit by the fire and rub hungry eyes.
But his face stays so stern like a storm that won't pass,
You would think that the doe put a stick up his ass."
Sophia listened to the poem, and she giggled while the sound came out light and warm as it mixed with the crackle of the fire. She covered her mouth with one hand for a moment, and her shoulders shook slightly with laughter before she lowered her hand. She looked at the Nubian with bright eyes, and then she glanced at Thorfinn. "That was well done," she said in a soft voice that carried across the clearing. "Let me add a few lines of my own to it." She paused for a short time while she thought of the words, and then she spoke them clearly with a smile on her face.
"Thorfinn the strong with arms thick and wide,
He carries a deer like it chose him to ride.
He hunts through the snow without any fear,
But gods help us all if we ask for his cheer.
He scowls at the fire, he scowls at the stew,
He scowls at the stars like they wronged him too.
If smiling were gold we would all still be poor,
Yet we thank him all same for the meat on the floor."
The Nubian laughed loudly at her lines, and he clapped his hands together several times while he bowed to Sophia with a flourish. "Those words fit perfectly Sophia," he said, his voice ringing out with delight as he straightened up again.
Thorfinn did not look up from his work. He kept cutting the skin from the doe, his knife moving in straight lines while he pulled the hide back further. Blood ran over his hands so he wiped them on the snow beside him before continuing to remove the insides of the animal. He set the organs aside in a pile, his face staying blank as he focused on the task without speaking a word to either of them.
Sophia watched Thorfinn for a moment, her smile fading slowly as she noticed the way he kept his eyes on the doe. She tilted her head slightly, and glanced at the Nubian who had also stopped laughing. He rubbed his chin with one hand, and nodded to her as he looked at Thorfinn's back. Sophia stood up from her log, and walked quietly to the Nubian while she touched his arm lightly. "We should take it easier on him tonight," she said in a quiet voice.
The Nubian nodded again, his expression growing more serious as he looked at Thorfinn. "Yes, that is what's best," he said softly. He walked over to where Thorfinn knelt, and knelt down beside him while reaching for the knife. "Let me take over this part brother," he said in a calm voice that lacked the earlier joy. "You have done the hard work of bringing it here, it's only fair yours truly does the grim work," he added with a laugh.
Thorfinn looked at the Nubian for a moment, before handing the knife over without argument. He stood up slowly and brushed the snow from his knees before he walked to the fire. He sat down on a log near the flames, and m stared into the burning wood, not saying a word.
Sophia walked over to Thorfinn, and sat down next to him on the same log leaning against his side, she put her arm around his waist while resting her head on his shoulder. After a moment she looked up st him and put a hand to his face, rubbing across the scar that crossed down from his eye. "Are you okay," she asked in a gentle voice.
Thorfinn grunted and kept his eyes on the fire. "I'm fine," he said in a blank tone.
Sophia lifted her head slightly, a frown crossing her face as she pinched his cheek. "I know you better than that," she said softly. "Speak and tell me your thoughts or you can share a bedroll with The Nubian."
Thorfinn let a small smile grace his features, though he still hesitated for a moment. He'd found that talking about things brought the pain he desperately wanted to keep away.
Sophia waited patiently however and rubbed his arm gently with her hand. "Do you still worry about Kattegat," she said as if she could read his thoughts.
Thorfinn hesitated for another moment, and then nodded while keeping his gaze on the fire.
Sophia tightened her arm around his waist and pulled him closer. "You will be welcomed back with open arms when we arrive," she said. "Your family will celebrate for days on your return, they will want to hear every story that you choose to share, so don't worry about them not accepting you."
Thorfinn wanted to take comfort in her words, but he could not find it inside him. He had been gone for over four years, and in that time he had not even set out to do what he had originally planned when he left. All he had from these four years were bad memories and scars that would never heal, all he had were the memories of the faces of those he had lost. Everyone he had met in his travels was gone now, all except those who sat around this fire with him. Yet he still thanked Odin and Freyja every day that they were still here, he sent silent words to the gods for keeping Sophia and the Nubian alive through everything they had faced together.
Sophia leaned closer and kissed his cheek softly, her lips lingering for a moment against his skin. "We are almost home now," she said in a warm voice. "Your family will not want to see you so moody when you walk through the gates."
The Nubian, who had finished dressing the doe and now wiped his hands on a cloth, looked up from his work and cut in with a smile. "She is right, my brother," he said as he walked over and sat on the log across from them. "If you stay too moody, they might forget about you and adopt me into the family instead."
Thorfinn looked at the Nubian for a moment, and a small smile finally appeared on his face while he shook his head slightly. "They would send you away after one day of your talking," he said in a dry voice that carried a hint of jest.
The Nubian laughed loudly at that and slapped his knee with one hand while he leaned back on the log. "That is the spirit," he said with delight in his voice. "I knew you could not act like a woman the whole trip."
The Nubian stood up again and walked to their packs where he pulled out bottles of ale and wine that they had saved for the journey. He held them up with a wide smile. "We have ale and we have wine," he said as he set them near the fire. "And now we have meat from the doe that our hunter brought. We have also reached the end of our long journey, so we should celebrate tonight while the fire burns bright."
Sophia smiled at the Nubian, and nodded while keeping her arm around Thorfinn. The Nubian began to cut portions of the meat and place them on spits over the flames, the smell soon filled the clearing as the food cooked. Thorfinn sat between them feeling the warmth from the fire and from Sophia's body while the Nubian passed bottles around and started another song in his deep voice.
The three of them ate and drank under the stars.
...
"My brother... let me tell you...*Burp*... let me tell you how much I love you..." The Nubian slurred as he leaned across Thorfinn shoulder, the latter of whom sighing as he carried him over to his bed roll. He knew he shouldn't of let the man drink the rest of their Egyptian Ox-Wine, but The Nubian had a way of complaining so much that it's easier to accept his request than to go against it.
Thorfinn sighed. "Yes my friend... I am aware of how much you love me, you never neglect to tell me when you are well into your cups," he replied as he dragged the man over and dropped him onto his bed tool.
*Burp*
The Nubian let out a belch as he hit the ground, which sent him into a fit of giggles as he started rubbing himself into his bedroll. "Fate, Brother... that's how we met, that's how I came to... *Snore*" he closed his eyes as he fell asleep almost instantly.
Thorfinn shook his head with a little exasperation before he headed back to the other side of the fire, it was getting a little low so he put a few more logs on it. Many men have died because they underestimated how cold spring could be, they thought since winter was gone that they were through the worst of it.
Not here.
Thorfinn watched the fire crackle a little longer before he let out a long breath through his nose. The Nubian snored like a dying ox behind him, the sound half muffled by the way he had buried his face into the bedroll. Thorfinn stood, stretched his arms above his head, and rolled his shoulders once before turning to leave.
"Where you going..." Sophia mumbled from the other side of the fire, her eyes half-lidded as she propped herself up on one elbow. Her hair had come loose, and it framed her face in soft, wild strands. A half-empty skin of wine dangled from her other hand. "Hey..." she slurred, waving a finger at him, "You... you should come lay with me tonight..."
Thorfinn raised one eyebrow, a little amused, and stepped around the fire toward her.
"Come on, big man..." she said as she grabbed weakly at his tunic. "You know you want to..."
"I know you're drunk," he said as he gently pried her fingers away. "And you'll be complaining to me come the morning when you can't sit on the carriage comfortably."
She tried to say something else but only yawned and then flopped back with a soft sigh, curling up and pulling her furs close as she drifted again.
Thorfinn shook his head and turned, walking past the edge of the firelight and through the brush, toward the small pond they had found earlier in the day. The moon hung overhead, its reflection dancing across the still water, broken only by the ripple of wind.
He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and setting them on a flat rock nearby. Then he stepped into the pond, the cold water wrapping around his legs, his waist, his chest. He let out a sharp breath as he dipped under, then surfaced again, water dripping from his beard and shoulders.
He rubbed a hand down his chest, and his fingers brushed against it—
The rune.
A deep, circular brand carved into the center of his chest. Black around the edges like the skin and muscle it touched was dead or decaying. His hand froze there, and he stared down at it, watching the distorted shape of it under the water.
He felt sick.
His stomach turned and the back of his throat clenched as the memories came.
He was strapped to the stone table, wrists bound in cold iron, the stench of blood and shit gilled the air so much that it was the only thing he could breath. Thea's face was above him, smiling without warmth. He had tried to kill her, tried to kill the empress in the Colosseum, but she had been too fast, too strong, and he hadn't even come close. He remembered the way she whispered the spell in an old tongue, how the blade she used had glowed red like molten metal, and how she carved it into him slowly, watching his face the whole time.
Then—
His fingers drifted lower, to the scar across his stomach. That pain was different. That was where the fruit had been torn from him. The fruit from the Leviathan, the one he had claimed when he had killed the beast, the one that gave him that power over the earth.
He remembered Thea's hand on his belly, her clawed fingers sinking into his flesh, and how she tore the fruit from him like plucking the core from an apple. The power had vanished the moment it left him, ripped out and taken.
His hands clenched into fists under the water.
His jaw tightened, and the muscles in his neck stood out like cords.
His eyes narrowed and they burned.
Golden light flickered in his irises, growing brighter, and brighter, until his eyes glowed like twin suns under the night sky. The pond began to ripple outward in waves, the air around him turning hot despite the chill water. His breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with each thudding heartbeat.
He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
The water shook and started to steam.
Then he forced himself to stop.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep through his nose.
Again.
Again.
The light in his eyes began to dim.
The ripples faded.
Eventually, the pond was still once more, and Thorfinn dunked his head under one last time before stepping out.He dried quickly with his tunic and dressed again, water still dripping from his hair and face as he walked barefoot back through the trees. By the time he returned to camp, the fire had burned lower but was still warm. The Nubian hadn't moved an inch. Sophia had curled up tighter, her face buried into the crook of her elbow. As Thorfinn lowered himself onto the bedroll beside her, she shifted slightly and wrapped one arm over his chest, her cheek pressing against him.
He reached out his arm and pulled her closer. His eyes were open, staring up at the stars above them. His mind wasn't with the fire or the camp or the warmth of her skin on his. It was with Rebekah and his family. He would see them again soon, and he could only hope that they would be happy to see him.
It was only when his body finally gave in to sleep that his eyes closed.
_____________________________________
The thudding of small feet across a muddied path drew the attention of multiple passerby's. It was only because of this sound that they managed to move out of the way of the small battering ram that was making her way through the streets of Kattegat. She panted heavily as she avoided barrels and nets, and even a bucket full of shit that was currently being thrown in her direction.
"Get out the way!" The girl yelled out yelled out to the those in front of her, trying to part the sea of people as a wide grin split her face.
Despite the chaos she was causing the people that saw her merely rolled their eyes, as if they had seen this a hundred times.
"She must've done it again."
"Bloody girl... always getting into trouble."
"Her Mother won't be happy."
"Someone go fetch her mother."
They were all used to her behaviour, the girl had been a troublemaker ever since she could walk, and even before that she had a habit of throwing things she wasn't meant to touch, and biting people she wasn't meant to bite. She had a mouth as foul as a sailor's and the mind of a fox, and she ran wild through Kattegat like a spirit of mischief, dragging other children into the chaos she created whether they liked it or not.
A few moments later another figure came running down the path, though this one was much taller, and far less nimble. Her blonde hair was coming loose from the braid she had tied it in that morning, and her face was already red from running as she pushed past a cart and shouted at a man who was too slow to move out of her way.
"Where is she?!" the woman barked to no one in particular, then spotted a few of the fishwives standing around watching the aftermath with knowing looks on their faces. "Where'd the little shit go this time?" she asked as she skidded to a stop.
One of the women snorted and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "That way. You better hurry if you want to catch her, Gyda. You know Floki's got a soft spot for her."
Gyda groaned and muttered something under her breath before taking off again, feet thudding down the same muddy path that Freydis had carved her trail through. It was harder now—Kattegat wasn't the same tiny harbour it used to be, it had grown in the last four years, with more streets, more houses, more people, and more places for a brat to hide. And Freydis was fast for someone so young. Too fast. And too clever by half.
"Freydis!" Gyda shouted as she turned a corner and finally caught sight of the little troll sprinting ahead of her, her white hair flying wildly behind her and her cloak flapping like a banner. "You get back here right now or so help me I'll drag you back to your mother by your ears!"
Freydis turned, only just, while still running, and stuck two fingers up at Gyda with a grin stretched across her face like hela's own child.
And then... her eyes flashed gold.
A clatter rang out as a stack of barrels along the side of the path suddenly tipped and spilled across the way, wood and rope and gods know what else scattering into Gyda's path. "Freydis!" Gyda yelled, leaping up and over the mess as she landed hard on the other side. "No magic! You know the rules!"
But Freydis didn't slow down.
She was already laughing and running again, her arms pumping and boots splashing through shallow puddles as she weaved between startled traders and a man trying to carry two goats who cursed loudly as she darted past. Gyda pushed on, her teeth gritted and eyes locked ahead, chasing the girl down until the smell of salt and sea told her they were close.
The docks.
Freydis reached them first and didn't stop running until she reached the far edge where the longships were tied up. There, standing at the end of one of the smaller piers, bent over some piece of nonsense only he understood, was Floki.
The girl ran straight to him and ducked behind his legs like he was a tree trunk. Floki blinked and looked up, turning around slowly with a little smile already on his face. "Ah... Freydis," he said with that strange tone of his. "What are you doing here, little sprite? Did you get into trouble again?"
Freydis looked up at him with wide eyes and shook her head, "I just came to see you, Floki."
A few moments later Gyda finally caught up, her chest heaving as she came stomping down the dock, mud on her boots, her hair in disarray and a red face. "I swear to the gods I'm going to drown you in a fish barrel!" she snapped, pointing at Freydis like she meant it. "Why did the gods curse me to look after you of all people?!"
"She's mean to me," Freydis said softly to Floki, clutching his robe and peeking at Gyda with wide, sorrowful eyes. "She doesn't like me."
Floki giggled as he reached down and scooped Freydis up with both hands, spinning her once before settling her against his hip. "You shouldn't be so hard on her, Gyda," he said playfully. "She's only a child. A very... special child."
"She's your problem now," Gyda said, rubbing her forehead and turning on her heel. "I don't care if she burns down the whole bloody harbour. You deal with her." As she stomped off, Freydis leaned over Floki's shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Gyda's back.
Floki giggled again before he turned around and walked slowly across the dock, his boots tapping gently against the old wood as the seagulls cried overhead and the sea lapped against the hulls of ships. "You shouldn't play jokes on your family so much, little sprite," he said in that sing-song way of his, still carrying her like she weighed no more than a sack of feathers.
"She's so annoying, she's always telling me what to do!" Freydis huffed, her arms folded across her chest as she scrunched up her face in a scowl. "She says I can't use magic in town, and she pulls my ear when I do! And she never lets me have honeycakes before supper! And she made me take a bath last week even though I wasn't even dirty! And she talks like she's my mother when she isn't!"
Floki chuckled again, the sound light and mad and warm all at once. "Ah, but Gyda cares about you, little one. She might grumble and shout and pull ears, yes yes yes, but she's been watching over you since the moment you were born." He leaned in close, whispering like he was sharing some grand secret. "Do you remember when you had that terrible cough as a babe? It was Gyda who stayed up all night with you, every night, when your mother was away she held you to her bosom and sung you to sleep each night."
Freydis pouted harder, her nose wrinkling.
"And who stitched your dress when you tore it climbing that fence, hmm?" Floki continued. "Who taught you how to braid your hair like the shieldmaidens? And who always comes running when you're up to no good and get into trouble?"
"I guess," Freydis mumbled, kicking her little boots in the air, still not fully convinced.
Floki's voice grew softer. "She knew your father long before you were born, you know. They grew up together, there's is a bond that only the gods fully understand... just like the bond between mother and daughter, husband and wife... brother and sister. Gyda loves him. And so, she loves you, even when you're a little storm cloud full of lightning and mischief."
Freydis frowned again, her gold-flecked eyes narrowing in thought as she turned her head to glance out over the water. "Floki..." she said after a moment, "will you tell me another story about Papa?"
Floki threw his head back and laughed,. "Oh, so many stories I have! But I think I've told you all of them, every single one! The ones where he fell in the river, the one where he fought a Draugr and the ones where he fought five wolf men and came out with three black eyes and a fishbone in his hair!"
"I want to hear about the one," Freydis interrupted, sitting up straighter in his arms, "where he slew the Leviathan?"
Floki gasped theatrically. "Ohhh, now that is a good story... a true saga," he said as he lifted her up a little higher. He spun on the dock for no reason at all, and began to walk again as he began the tale.
"Your father, when he was only a young man, not that long before you were born, was brave and reckless and full of fire," Floki said dramatically. "He was so in love with your mother, that when he asked your grandfather for her hand in marriage he did not even flinch when he was told he must slay the leviathan!"
No no no, Thorfinn took a longboat out to sea the very next day, and not a proper one, oh no, a small thing barely held together, one I didn't even have a hand in building! But he still took the boat and he sailed it north. North of the winds, north of the maps, north of where even the gods lose their way!"
Freydis's eyes widened, her mouth hanging open.
"And there, in the frozen sea, in the land of icebergs as tall as mountains and winds that sing like wolves, it came, the Leviathan!!! A beast so big it could eat a village whole and use a longship as a toothpick! It rose from the sea with eyes like moons and tentacles longer than the tallest trees!" He wiggled his fingers wildly as he said it. "And an awful tail that smashed his boat into kindling!"
"Oh no!" Freydis gasped.
"Oh yes!" Floki cried. "So unprepared for as he for the fight that his boat was euni beneath the waves and he was lost, alone, near death..."
"Then the god Freyr saved him!" Freydis cried out, clapping her hands.
"Yes!" Floki sang, eyes shining. "Yes, the god Freyr, looked down at the brave warrior and pulled him from the deep! But he didn't just save him, no no no, he gave him a sword, blessed by the gods, and a new ship that could ride the winds themselves!" He raised a hand toward the sky as if painting the scene across the clouds.
"Freyr told him, 'The spawn of Jörmungandr must die!' For the gods hated the Leviathan, for it was kin to the world serpent and born of chaos. So your father sailed Freyr's ship, and with harpoons blessed by Thor he hunted the beast across storm and sea!"
Freydis leaned forward her eyes burning with excitement.
"And when he found it and BOOM! He struck it in the eye! Then he leapt from the mast with his blade in hand! He fought it on the ice, with no fear, until finally... finally..." Floki dropped his voice to a whisper. "He ripped its heart out... and ate it!"
Freydis gasped so loudly a passing gull cried out in surprise.
"And when he did, the gods blessed him again, and he gained the strength to shake the earth itself!" Floki said, stamping his foot dramatically for effect.
Freydis let out a wild laugh and clapped her hands, full of joy. "Tell it again! Tell it again!"
Floki laughed with her as he did a little shuffle down the dock back towards the village. "Maybe later, little sprite, maybe later."
Floki laughed with her as he did a little shuffle down the dock, his thin legs wobbling and bouncing with every step as he sang some little nonsense song under his breath. "Maybe later, little sprite, maybe later."
Just then, a soft voice called out from nearby, and Helga stepped out from between two moored ships, her long skirts swaying and her smile gentle. "There you are," she said, walking up to them. Floki beamed and leaned in to kiss her, his hands still holding Freydis up high like she was a prize he had just won.
"Look what I found!" Floki grinned, his eyes dancing. "A little mischief-maker, up to no good again, hmm?"
Helga raised an eyebrow and looked at Freydis. "What are you doing here again?" she asked in a kind voice, though there was a little sternness in it too. "Getting into trouble?"
Freydis shook her head rapidly, her braids flying, and put on her most innocent face.
Floki giggled and carried her a little further before turning to Helga again. "Could you take her back to her mother, sweet dove? I've got to make sure none of these 'shipbuilders' ruin any of my work."
Helga smiled and nodded. "Of course."
Floki leaned down and placed Freydis gently onto the wooden planks. He crouched before her, his hands on her shoulders. "Be good, little sprite," he said in a mock-serious voice. "No more being a terror, or the god Loki might come and snatch you up, hmm?"
Freydis nodded solemnly and then hugged him tightly, wrapping her arms around his thin neck. He hugged her back with a soft chuckle before she took Helga's hand. They walked away from the docks and into the city proper. People shouted over one another as fish were gutted, hides were tanned, and goods were haggled over. Children ran past with sticks, men argued over grain. The streets were busier than Freydis remembered, with new stalls and buildings rising where once there had been only mud and wood.
She didn't much like Kattegat, she preferred it back at home. As they walked, Freydis looked up at Helga. "How long until we go back home?"
Helga gave her a soft look. "It will be a while, little one. The summer raids are coming soon, and Kattegat has asked Torfinstad to join them... along with King Horik and Jarl Borg."
Freydis scrunched her face. "Why does mama want to raid?"
Helga giggled lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Your mama doesn't want to raid, sweetling. But Torfinstad has grown very big these past few years, and your mama thinks it's best to let those who do want to raid join Jarl Ragnar."
"I thought mama didn't like Jarl Ragnar..." Freydis muttered.
Helga gave a knowing little smile. "It's complicated, little one. There are those who believe Jarl Ragnar is not the true Jarl... that he's only keeping the seat warm for your father's return. But still, Ragnar has done many things your mother disagrees with. Many things that go against the instructions your father left."
Freydis didn't quite understand, but she remembered supper-time whispers, the way her mother and Lagertha cursed Ragnar's name like it tasted bitter on their tongues.
"Will my uncles be raiding too?" she asked.
Helga nodded. "Your uncles Elijah and Niklaus, yes. And perhaps even Henrik."
They were nearing the Longhouse now. It loomed over the rest of the village, larger than any other building in Kattegat. Unlike before, when it had been splintered and destroyed by Dahlia, now it stood on a foundation of stone, its carved wooden beams rising high into the sky, triple the size it once was.
"Can I go raiding?" Freydis asked suddenly.
Helga laughed aloud. "When you're older, little one."
Freydis pouted, dragging her feet. "That's not fair! I can fight! I beat up Ubbe and Hvitserk! They cried last time I fought them!"
"When you're older," Helga said again, smiling patiently. "Even Gyda is only going for the first time this summer."
Freydis grumbled and crossed her arms as they reached the great wooden doors. They opened slowly as they approached, the massive doors creaking slightly as they mov d inside.
Inside the Longhouse, the hearth burned bright. Several people were already gathered.
Ragnar sat at the centre, beside his wife Aslaug, who listened with a slight smirk as her sons, Ubbe and Hvitserk, played with small wooden swords by her feet. Nearby, Elijah stood beside his wife Blaeja, who whispered something in his ear with a smile. Niklaus leaned against a post with a small knife in his hands that he used to carve at a piece of wood. Lagertha stood apart from the rest of them standing next to both Thyri and Rebekah. Mikael sat near the hearth with a horn of mead, drinking lazily as if he wanted to be anywhere else but there. They were all speaking of the raid, but more importantly of the wisdom of receiving King Horik and Jarl Borg.
"You're being foolish," Lagertha said sharply. "Both of you. King Horik's ambition is like fire, and Jarl Borg's greed is worse, both of them have argued about the disputed land for years and it is known that they eye Kattegat and Torfinstad like hungry wolves."
Ragnar waved her off with a lazy hand. "Their minds will change when they see what I've seen. The lands to the west. England. Riches and soil and cities so fat they sink the ground. When they see it, they won't care about this piece of land or that piece of land."
Aslaug nodded. "He is right. Once the men see the riches of the new land they will forget about Kattegat and Torfinstad, it will be in their interests to look further out, that is how men are," she added.
Lagertha scoffed. "Naïve... that is just naive. Their eyes will always be on this land. This land is what gives them power, our land is connected to the gods, they will not give it up just because there is better land elsewhere, they will simply want both," she said, her frustration peaking as she tried to make the blind man see his folly.
Mikael muttered into his cup, "Let them take Torfinstad. That place is cursed," he commented before going silent again.
Lagertha turned on him with a scowl, as the unofficial Jarl of Torfinstad along with Rebekah, she took his comments personally. "You—!"
"Father," Elijah snapped.
Blaeja reached up and touched Elijah's arm. "We have the largest iron and silver mines for a hundred miles. Letting them fall into other hands would be madness."
Mikael only drank deeper, clearly not caring to argue further. It was common knowledge that the man hated anything to do with Thorfinn. That included the farmstead he owned that had now grown into Torfinstad.
Ragnar raised his hands trying to get everyone back on track. "Can we speak of the raid? That is what this meeting is for," he asked as he looked to all of them.
Then Rebekah spoke. Her voice cut through the hall like a knife. "Do not forget, it is Torfinstad's ships that will make up the majority of this expedition. And it will be us who shoulder the burden if they are lost," she said. To her these were Thorfinns ships, they had been paid for with his gold and silver snd made by Floki. She would not be using them at all if not from the pressure of Jarl Ragnar as well as the other two rulers.
"Ships that are docked at Kattegat," Aslaug added, clearly making an insinuation.
Rebekah's eyes narrowed. "Yes... I'm aware of where they are docked. Thank you for reminding me. I'd expect no less from the steward's wife." It was well known that Aslaug fancied herself a Queen, both Rebekah and Lagertha took the time to knock her down when she thought herself their better.
Niklaus chuckled behind his han and Blaeja laughed loudly. "Stop that," Elijah muttered at them both.
Ragnar's jaw twitched, but he said nothing.
Just then, Helga stepped into the room announcing herself and gently guiding Freydis forward. Rebekah turned, and her stern face softened at once. Freydis ran straight into her arms, wrapping herself tight around her mother's waist. "There you are," Rebekah said softly, stroking her daughter's hair. "Troublemaker."
A moment of silence passed before Lagertha stepped forward and crossed her arms. "I think this conversation's run its course," she said flatly, glancing between the others in the room. "Let's not wear ourselves out bickering before anything's even begun. Best we speak again later. With clearer minds and less sharp tongues."
Ragnar gave a nod at that, bouncing Ubbe once in his arms as the boy giggled. "There'll be a feast before nightfall. We'll speak again after that." He looked around the room with an easy going smile, but the tension hadn't quite faded from his eyes. Aslaug moved to stand beside him, her expression unreadable as ever, though her eyes lingered on Rebekah longer than they needed to.
Lagertha turned without another word, her cloak catching behind her like a sail in the wind. Rebekah followed, her hand on Freydis's back now, guiding her toward the exit. The girl looked back for a moment, sticking her tongue out at Hvitserk who made a face in return before darting back to his wooden sword. As they stepped into the street, the cold air met them, and Lagertha glanced down at Freydis with a little grin. "Well?" she asked, reaching out to ruffle the girl's hair. "And where's my daughter then? She was supposed to be watching you was she not?"
Freydis looked up with a dead-serious expression. "She got drunk and fell asleep in a pig sty."
Rebekah turned her head and slapped the back of her head. "Freydis!" She said incredulously.
"What?" the girl said, her shoulders rising in confusion. "That's what happened."
Lagertha burst into laughter. "Well, she is my daughter," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "And I have been known to fall asleep in strange places in my younger days."
"She's going to hear you one of these days," Rebekah said, though a small smile tugged at her mouth.
"I hope so," Lagertha said. "She needs to stop moping about,"
They moved through Kattegat as they spoke, with the raids coming up there were many people here, especially people from the outlying villages and even some from further away. This was looking to be one of the greatest raids that Kattegat has ever had in its history, everyone expected to earn great wealth.
Rebekah and Lagertha both continued to speak about the upcoming raids "I think later we must discuss our share of the profits for the raid," Lagertha said as they passed a blacksmith hammering away at a half-finished helm. "With the twenty ships from Torfinstad, we'll be over thirty. We will be providing over half the ships for both our men and Kattegats."
Rebekah nodded slowly as she considered it. "You are right... but I fear Ragnar will not take that well."
Lagertha shrugged nonchalantly. "He should've built more ships if he has a problem with it..."
Rebekah giggled as she adjusted her hold on Freydis. "That might've been hard since the best boat builder was already making ships for us," she replied.
The two women shared a laugh.
Lagertha then turned back to her. "What of the strange weapons that your husband wanted to built
"Ready," Rebekah said with a nod. "Floki's finished those... they'll be mounted by the time we set sail."
"The gods willing, we won't need them," Lagertha replied.
"The gods haven't done much to help lately," Rebekah muttered.
They kept speaking about the raid and of Ragnar and the other rulers, but Freydis wasn't listening. Her attention had drifted, her head turning toward a commotion further down the main path. People were gathering by the market square, and she could hear laughing, shouting, and music, or singing.
"Mama," she said, tugging at Rebekah's sleeve. "What's that?"
Rebekah frowned and looked over at the commotion. "I don't know." They moved closer, picking their way through the gathering crowd until they reached the edge. What they saw there made both women pause. There in the middle of the square, performing for a large group of children and curious onlookers, was a man unlike any either of them had seen before. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with arms like small trees and skin so dark it looked like a moonless night. His smile was wide, white as snow.
But what caught their attention most was his voice.
He was speaking their tongue, but it was strange, twisted in his mouth, the words bent around a thick accent none of them had ever heard before. "Watch now! Watch, little ones, I show you something even the gods have never seen!" he called out, his voice booming with joy.
He spun a long staff in one hand while balancing a bowl on his head. With the other hand he juggled three stones while stepping carefully across a tightrope strung between two barrels. The children screamed with laughter as he feigned slipping, then caught himself, then spun the bowl from his head into the air and caught it behind his back. Coins clattered into a wooden dish on the ground, and more children gathered to watch.
Freydis laughed loudly. "He's funny!"
"He's something," Lagertha said, folding her arms.
"He speaks like no man from here," Rebekah said, her brow furrowed as she studied him.
"Far south perhaps," Lagertha said. "Far, far south, I'd guess. Or maybe beyond even that."
The man bowed deeply after his trick with his arms widely opened. The children clapped and cheered for him to do more. Then he spotted Freydis, and he gave her a grand wink, spinning the bowl in his hand before balancing it on his nose.
Freydis clapped wildly. "I like him!"
Rebekah smiled down at her, fishing a small silver coin from her pouch. "Here, little one. Go put this in his bowl. He's earned it."
Freydis snatched the coin with a squeal and darted forward through the crowd, weaving between legs until she reached the wooden dish. She dropped the coin in with a clink, beaming up at the tall man. The Nubian looked down, his eyes widening in mock surprise. He swept into a deep bow, one hand over his heart, the other flourishing like a courtier. "Ah, my noble lady! Such generosity from one so fair! May the gods bless you with riches tenfold, and may your beauty outshine the stars forevermore!" He took her small hand gently and kissed the back of it, as if she were a queen.
Freydis giggled.
Then he tilted his head, studying her. "And such hair! White as fresh snow on the mountains, beautiful like a winter spirit. I have seen many wonders in my travels, but this... ah, it reminds me." He paused while grinning. "I have met only one other with such pretty white hair. A man, strong as an ox, fierce as a storm, with eyes that burn like fire when angered."
Freydis's eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open in shock. "Really?" she said.
The Nubian nodded grandly. "Oh yes, little lady. Hair white as yours, flowing like a wolf's mane. A warrior from these cold lands, he also has a stomach big enough to swallow the sea if the sea were ale."
Lagertha and Rebekah exchanged glances, their brows furrowing slightly. The description tugged at something familiar... too familiar. Could this stranger know Thorfinn? They watched the rest of his performance in silence, the man juggling flaming balls now the crowd roaring with approval. When he finally bowed for the last time, coins scattered at his feet, they pushed forward as the onlookers began to drift away.
"Stranger," Rebekah started, "that man you described, with the white hair, we wish to know more of him, he sounds like—"
The Nubian chuckled deeply, gathering his coins into a pouch. "Ah, fate must have smiled on me today!"
This confused them. Lagertha tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"I must admit, I did not expect to run into you mere hours after entering the city," he said ignoring their question.
"Do you know us?" Lagertha asked with a frown, her hand resting near her axe.
The Nubian straightened, his smile warm but sly. "I know only one of you, I think. My companion spoke often of you in our travels. But I must admit, I am not sure which one is the woman he meant."
Rebekah's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"
"For he said she was the most beautiful woman in this world, with golden hair that shines like the sun and blue eyes deep as the ocean. Before me, I yet see two women who both fit this perfectly."
Lagertha chuckled, a rare spark of amusement in her eyes, and Rebekah joined her, shaking her head. "You have a silver tongue, stranger," Lagertha said. "But we wish to know about this companion of yours."
The Nubian puffed out his chest his eyes twinkling. "Ah, my companion! Where to begin? He is a giant among men... no, a legend! He wrestles beasts of legend for his own amusement, outdrinks kings and emperors, and charms serpents from their holes with but a few words. His sword sings death to his enemies, but his words? They could melt ice or mend broken hearts. He has traveled farther than the birds fly, seen horrors that would turn hair gray And his loyalty? Fiercer than a mother wolf. This man, he is... he is..."
"Thorfinn?" Rebekah whispered, her voice trembling with excitement.
The Nubian laughed, clapping his hands. "Yes! The very one!"
Lagertha's eyes widened. "He's here? In the city?"
"Indeed he is fair ladies, after being away so long he has returned," he replied with a massive grin.
They both erupted in questions, voices overlapping over one another in both shock and joy. "When did you arrive? How did you meet him? Is he well? Has he spoken of us? Where is he right now?"
The Nubian raised his hands for calm, still grinning. "He is close by. He and our other companion stopped to bury our treasure rather than bring it into the city, the fools worry about thieves, you see. But I found that boring, digging holes like a mole, so I wandered off to seek fun here."
"Take us to him," Rebekah said urgently, stepping closer. "Now!"
The Nubian shook his head gently. "Patience, fair ones. He will come. Thorfinn always finds his way even if he is not if the same intelligence as myself."
Rebekah's fists clenched, her face flushing. "I've waited long enough I won't be patient!"
Lagertha placed a steady hand on her arm. "Easy, Rebekah. He's right. Thorfinn will seek us out soon enough." She turned to the Nubian. "Come to our home, stranger. Share a meal and more tales while we wait."
The Nubian bowed again, eyes sparkling. "An offer from such noble ladies? I accept with all my heart!"
_____________________________________
The forest outside Kattegat was large and filled with tall ancient pines, but none of them even approached the height of; the great white oak that stood in its centre. Thorfinn wiped sweat from his brow as he lowered the last of the three chests into the deep hole at its base, chests brimming with silver, gold, artifacts, and scrolls of knowledge. He had chosen to bury his treasure here because it was here he first saw a sign of Freyja... he hoped she would take care of his treasures for him.
Sophia stood nearby with her arms crossed and her gaze focused on him. "You're making a mistake, keeping it with you," she said quietly.
Thorfinn didn't reply. He just grabbed the shovel and started filling in the hole. He knew what she referred to. It had been a great source of contention between them, but he couldn't bring himself to bury it too.
He needed it.
"It brought Idris nothing but sorrow and paranoia," Sophia pressed, stepping closer, her tone pleading now. "He wasted away chasing its shadows. If you continue to use it, Thorfinn, it will be your undoing. You'll become like him."
Thorfinn paused, shovel mid-scoop, his white hair falling across his face. "I have to use it, Sophia," he replied at last. "I need the power and knowledge it offers. If I look deep enough, search its visions long enough, I will find a solution to the dark magic that infests my body. This rune... it eats at me. I need to find a way to be rid of it."
Sophia's brow furrowed deeper. "What of your Rebekah's mother? She is a powerful witch, is she not? Will she not help?"
Thorfinn shook his head, resuming his work. "I do not think even she has the power to affect this rune. It is ancient, twisted... beyond her, beyond most people."
Sophia watched him for a long moment, concern etching lines on her face, her eyes tracing the tension in his broad shoulders. She sighed heavily, the sound carrying defeat. "Fine. I'm going to wait with the horses. Don't be long we should reach the city before dusk."
Thorfinn nodded without looking up, but he watched from the corner of his eye as she turned and walked away, her footsteps crunching on fallen leaves until she vanished among the trees.
He finished burying the treasure alone, packing the earth tightly, scattering leaves and twigs over the spot until it blended with the forest floor. No one would find it here. Satisfied, he leaned the shovel against the trunk and reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around something wrapped in rough cloth. He pulled it out slowly. Unraveling it with care, he revealed a golden orb, smooth as polished stone, etched with faint, glowing lines that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The Apple of Eden
As he held it, whispers began to echo in his mind.
Vampires... original family... blood that never dies, curses woven in eternity...
Odin... Ragnarok... the all-father's eye, worlds crumbling in fire and ice, the wolf unbound...
Magic... Arthur... Excalibur... sword from stone, kings risen, sorcery in the mists of Avalon...
Gun... Nazis... bomb... thunder from metal tubes, eagles twisted in and inhabited, skies splitting with unholy fire...
The visions flooded him, flashes of shadowed figures with fangs, halls of gods shattering, a blade singing through air, metal creatures of death roaring across blackened earth.
It became too much.
Thorfinn tore his gaze away, gasping, his head pounding like a war drum. He wrapped the Apple up quickly and shoved it back into his pocket.
He would discover the Apple's secrets.
He would.
No matter the cost.
(AN: So here we are with the first chapter after a while away from this. I have to say I'm having a lot more fun writing it now that I don't have to worry about getting that part 4 out so soon. It's nice when you can take your time with things. Anyway things will be explained in flashbacks or conversation if needed. Apart from that I hope you enjoyed and are ready for the story to finally progress.)
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