Dreams of Grief
Hvitserk was uncomfortable. It wasn't because he was traveling or because he was heading off with the intention to kill his youngest brother. He had felt an unsettled gnawing feeling in his gut ever since he had tried to convince Earl Olaf to join him in taking down Ivar. At the time he had just assumed it was because he had been quite literally hung out to dry in Earl Olaf's steam room. But even now days later, when he felt recuperated and had had a joyous reunion between him and his eldest brother the unsettled feeling in his gut persisted. Hvitserk's thoughts couldn't help but to turn to Thora and his worry for her. What Ivar could do to her. He pleaded to the gods that this unsettled feeling didn't mean that something had happened to his sweet Thora. But something else told him he already knew the answer. Trying not to dwell on such thoughts he retired to his tent to try and get some sleep after the days long journey.
His thoughts ran rampant for hours, wondering what the origin of this feeling was, and why the gods had placed it on him. He couldn't believe that it was his nerves about going to kill Ivar, he had been so sure that this was his purpose, he couldn't doubt that now. But what could be causing this roiling feeling in his stomach? This discomfort, that had him on edge as he traveled back towards Kattegat with an army in tow. Eventually he lulled himself into a restless slumber, but still his mind did not cease.
Hvitserk was standing on the cliffs of near Kattegat, overlooking the great city that he has for so long called home. Only now as he looked down at it he saw burning figures lining the beach and looking up at him. His mother, his brother Sigurd, his father, Margrethe, all stared at him with blackened hollowed out eyes as the flames licked at their flesh. A murder of crows flew up from underneath the cliff causing him to stumble back in surprise.
"Hvitserk," a familiar voice called softly from behind him. He whirled around and was faced with Thora standing several meters away from him with the statue of Ivar situated precariously behind her alight with flames. Thora stood unmoving, staring at him. Hvitserk watched transfixed as the burning idol tilted and swayed in the wind before falling towards Thora. The son of Ragnar tried to call out to his love but found that his voice would not work. He ran towards her, but no matter how fast nor how far he ran the distance between them did not close and he could only watch in horror as the statue collapsed onto his beloved Thora crushing her beneath its weight.
"I am sorry my son," whispered across the winds as the third son of Ragnar released an anguished cry unto the cliffs.
Hvitserk bolt upright gasping for breath as he awoke, the visions from his dream still haunting him. The unsettled feeling in his stomach that had plagued him for days, now turned cold settling like an ice block in his stomach as realization came over him.
"No," his whispered to the empty tent, "no, no, no, Odin please," he rested his head between his knees as he prayed to whatever deity would listen that what had been showed to him wasn't true. Tears slipped down his cheeks but he paid them no mind as he cried out to the gods in hopes that they would give him some sort of answer. But like for so much of his life, no sign was given and all Hvitserk had was the cold and empty feeling that had traveled from his stomach up into his heart and the three things that he now knew with a lasting certainty.
Thora, his sweet and beloved wife-to-be, was dead.
Ivar had killed her.
And Hvitserk would make sure he paid.
I hope I was not the only one who was immensely saddened and angered by Thora's death in this season of Vikings. Because let me tell you I ranted about it for a solid thirty minutes. Anyway, this was to help with some of my grief about the situation and how I thought if the gods showed Hvitserk Thora's death like they had shown Lagertha Ragnar's death etc.
Feel free the leave a comment/review of any kind. Criticism is welcome.