Aslaug had seen little of her sons' futures, and least of all of her most beloved Ivar's, and it worried her so. She had approached the Seer a number of times, though was often left with baffling and riddled answers, or was told to ask better questions. Though this time the questions were regarding her new plan involving the Beserker girl.
The Seer did not turn to acknowledge her presence for a number of moments before the Queen cleared her throat and approached the Ancient One, ducking beneath the strange ornaments that hung from the rafters.
"I have questions to ask of you," Aslaug announced bluntly, seating herself in front the disfigured man. That is, assuming he was a man at all.
He sighed audibly and said, "I am aware, Queen Aslaug."
"I want to know of the Beserker, Freydis Gudmundsdottir."
"Ah, yes, I have heard words on the wind about her," he stated. "But only whisperings, for the gods are fickle and have yet to let the tides settle."
Aslaug wrinkled her nose at the cryptic message, saying, "What use is that nonsense to me?"
"You never ask the right questions, Queen Aslaug, only demand answers for fortunes you have yet to reach," the Seer mumbled and turned his attention from the ever impatient woman. "But I have seen things of Freydis Gudmundsdottir."
"Then tell me if she will hurt my Ivar," Aslaug hissed through her teeth. If the girl showed any hint of betrayal in any of her possible futures then she would not hesitate to have her head cleaved from her shoulders for a treachery she could easily fabricate.
The Seer was silent for many moments, as if debating whether or not to speak. His twisted face left little room for facial expressions, though his lips were drawn into a thin, tight line. Finally a released a breath and began to speak.
"Her fate and that of your youngest's are as moveable as sand and control of them will slip through your fingers if you clench too tightly. As for your question: that girl will protect Ivar better than you ever could, Queen Aslaug," the Seer mumbled through weathered lips and continued before the now excited mother could interrupt. "But he will love her more than you. Far, far more than you."
A row of pearly teeth sunk into her lip at the news and the dryness of her mouth prevented her from speaking. To her mind's eyes, she could not imagine how her perfect little boy could love any but her, least of all a farmer girl. Aslaug had dutifully raised and loved him more than any of her other children, sacrificing countless nights to keep him warm and safe. Yet to think that another could replace that love was unthinkable.
"You are aware of the difficulties Ivar will face as a cripple," he added. "The gods are changeable in their ways, do not steer the course of fate in the wrong direction, Queen Aslaug."
The Queen stood up quickly and immediately exited the Seer's hut, leaving him without the necessary payment. Instead her feet carried her back to the Great Hall with a sullen expression, fists balling her dress until she found Ivar poking the fire with a large stick to make the flames erupt.
She knelt and engulfed him a deep hug, cradling his head against his shoulder. "I love none but you Ivar, you know that."
"Yes, Mother," came the muffled reply from her shoulder. "Let me go I am busy."
Reluctantly, the Queen released her son and gently stroked his dark hair, ignoring the hurt expression of her second youngest son watching from their sleeping quarters.
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The morning of the meeting with Queen Aslaug, Freydis' father took extra care in untangling his wild red beard, and had his daughter clean her boots and wash her equally wild hair. Few words were spoken between the pair, as Gudmund had never been a particularly sentimental parent.
Gudmund groaned and hissed as he jerked a wooden comb through his beard, whilst Freydis glided her hand over the bear pelt. Painted glass beads with rings of gold and kohl to make it seem realistic had replaced the eyes of the bear and sat snuggly in the empty sockets. It stared it her with an unreadable expression, causing her to hesitate before putting it on. The jaw sat around the top of her head much like a crown, with the rest of the pelt acting as a cape that dragged along the ground if she wasn't careful.
Her mind wandered to the cripple, Ivar and the way he had spoken of her as if she were nothing but a dirty beggar, when in fact Freydis and her father owned a relatively self sufficient farm. Due to the poor soil and hostile climate, the earth only produced enough vegetables for them to live off and fed the chickens enough for them to not starve. Never was there any money left over for niceties, hence Gudmund's eagerness to raid in the summer and to raise his social status through his daughter.
Freydis carefully stepped across the frigid hillside, which was sheer and rocky with a plummet that led to one of the largest rivers in Norway. The goat herd was carefully guarded by a pair of hounds, Mottir and Dottir, siblings from different fathers. They too trotted around the herd, keeping them safe and preventing any from wandering. Though this was normally Freydis' job, it was necessary for both to attend the meeting.
She snatched up a few wildflowers that protruded from the steep hillside, and fetched a pair of blue speckled eggs from the hen house that one of their best chickens had laid. It was considered a prize amongst farmers and even common folk, and would make a nice gift for Ivar. She hoped that Queen Aslaug would appreciate the flowers also.
Gudmund called for her, beckoning her towards him as he made his way down the harsh terrains to the riverbank. From there they would follow it all the way to the outskirts of Kattegat.
Which was easier said than done as the walk itself took nearly three hours and the frosty spray of wind beating the river chilled her to the core. By the time they had reached Kattegat, Freydis was near ready to collapse if it weren't for the harsh barking of her father. He all but hauled her to the Great Hall before setting her firmly on her feet.
Kneeling before her, he straightened the girl's posture and said, "Remember who got us here, Freydis. Don't antagonize the Queen's sons, don't touch anything just… don't mess this up."
"I won't, Father," she replied with the two eggs and wildflowers still in her hands.
He sighed deeply and led her into the relatively empty hall that housed a number of women doing needlework and general house keeping. Freydis immediately gazed upon their work and admired the finery of the colours and thread. She noticed Queen Aslaug mulling around the fire, examining the stew that hung over it with a critical eye before looking up to greet them.
"Ah Gudmund… Freydis," she began tersely. "Let us sit, I am sure you've had a long journey."
"Yes, Queen Aslaug, the child and I are weary from travelling."
"No doubt," she said and gestured for food to be brought. "What is that you're holding, Freydis?"
As if to sabotage the meeting, the girl felt her voice seize up in her throat and she tentatively placed the blue eggs and now slightly wilted flowers on the table they sat at. The eggs rolled slightly but she caught them before they could fall.
"T-The eggs are for Ivar. They're from our chicken Astrid, her eggs are really special because they're blue," she paused momentarily at the darknening expression of her father. "And the flowers are for you, Queen Aslaug… I picked them on the hills."
Gudmund noted how her jaw tensed at the mentioned of the gift for Ivar, but vanished just as quickly. He could sense the souring of the meeting and immediately interjected.
"Yes, Freydis has strange ideas of what is considered an appropriate gift for a Queen." He side-eyed his daughter before continuing. "Please forgive her."
"No need, in fact, you are welcome to give the eggs to Ivar now, Freydis. He would really love that," Aslaug said with a tight smile.
Freydis picked the eggs up again and examined them for dirt. "Really?"
With a nod Queen Aslaug said, "He would, Ivar is just near the throne playing."
The young girl turned her attentions to the dais where, rather than playing, the dark haired Ivar was carving something into the throne. She glanced back, expecting Aslaug to reprimand her son for such destructive behaviour, but instead she smiled brighter than before. One of Freydis' eyebrows quirked at the lack of discipline, though she shuffled off the seat nonetheless and approached the boy nonetheless.
Once she was close, the boy barely spared her a glance and continued his carving. She fidgeted in her recently cleaned boots and held out the pretty blue eggs.
"These are for you, Ivar," Freydis announced with a smile. "They're from our farm and they're fresh this morning-"
Ivar turned his head and glared. "I don't want anything from you."
She was lost for words and so pulled the eggs back to her side. Did he not understand how much of a sacrifice it was to gift the rare eggs rather than sell them? With a small huff she stared at the carvings in the throne Ivar had made with the gutting knife.
It was a vertical line with a triangle on the side. "That's Thor's rune," she stated in way that almost sounded questioning.
"Glad to know you at least know something, peasant," he muttered, not turning from his work.
"I know lots of runes, Floki taught me them on the way back from England."
"Good for you, now go away," growled Ivar, and Freydis glanced back to her father to see he was engaged in a serious conversation with the Queen. She glanced back at the boy, unsure of if she should go or attempt to play with Ivar like she was told. "I mean it, go away!"
With a violent shove, Ivar pushed her off the dais and onto the hard floors of the Great Hall, breaking the pair of expensive eggs in the process. Yoke and slime covered her hands, some leaking onto her bearskins. She tried to shake it off and stand but only slipped in the egg's residue, her head colliding with the edge of the dais. A sharp wave of pain emanated from Freydis' forehead, causing her mind to temporarily go blank, until the sound of laughter filled her eyes.
Holding her head, she looked up to find the cripple rolling on the ground laughing boisterously. He slapped the wood and clutched his stomach, fearing that he would burst at any second. Aslaug had risen from her seat, not out of concern for the girl who would surely sport a nasty bruise the next day, but for signs that Freydis would lash out. A twitch in her lower lip betrayed the tensions in the room, and the defining moment in which Freydis would either be accepted by Aslaug or slaughtered.
Air hitched in Gudmund's lungs as he saw all his hopes for the future drifting away like early morning mist. Oh gods Freydis had done it now. She was sure to receive a hiding for such behaviour. But if she went beserk, then not even the gods would be able to save her from Aslaug's wrath.
Freydis groaned as she sat up and gingerly touched the sore spot, which was growing hotter by the second, only to have her dark eyes immediately drawn to the broad, cheeky grin etched across the prince's face. It was like a new light ignited in them, and it caused her chest to feel tight with an unknown feeling. In turn, her own lips curled up into a semi-smile as the cripple struggled to contain his laughter. His boyish laughter was infectious, and she too found herself giggling nervously alongside him.
The Queen slowly sunk back into her seat, unable to slow the frantic beating of her heart. She feared the Beserker going ballistic before Aslaug could rush to Ivar's side, but instead Freydis seemed to tolerate the frustratingly mischievous side to her son.
"You are a stupid girl," Ivar blurted out between laughs. "I will carve the rune for stupid girl into my mother's throne. Then I won't forget."
Freydis stood tentatively, unsteady on her feet and said, "I don't think there is a rune for 'stupid'…?"
"I can put the rune for 'unknowable' and 'woman' because you don't know anything," Ivar replied, once again focused on carving the wooden throne. The girl approached slowly and sat beside him, watching as he whittled away the intricate and beautiful engravings of Queen Aslaug's throne, and replaced them with poorly carved runes.
Before he had finished he whipped his head to the said and stared at Freydis with mesmerizing eyes brandishing the gutting knife in front of her face. It was relatively dull, scratched and chipped, so Freydis had guessed it was likely one of his brothers' old knives that had been discarded. Regardless of how blunt it was, it was still sharp enough to crudely slice open skin.
"I want to play a game, peasant." The sound of his calm yet commanding voice sent chills down her spine, so she leant back slightly in apprehension.
She licked her dry lips and asked, "What kind of game, Ivar?"
"I saw some of the adults playing it at the feast last night," he paused and played with the knife between his fingers. Ivar watched the nervousness creep into Freydis' eyes and her muscles tighten; she wriggled uneasily on the spot. "You just put your hand on the floor with your fingers spread, and I'll stab between you fingers."
Her face twisted into an expression of disdain. "That doesn't sound like a fun game."
"You a cowardly Christian now?" Ivar sneered back as the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk.
"No!" She blurted out.
"Then let's play," his reply was so soft and innocent, but only betrayed by the dangerous glint in his eye.
He forcefully grabbed her wrist and made Freydis place her open palm on the dais floor, before telling her to spread her fingers. The girl swallowed thickly and did as she was told. Ivar held the knife in a downwards-stabbing position and jabbed it between each of her fingers at a steady, controllable pace.
Thick thuds resonated both in the wood and her chest as her heart beat uncontrollably against her ribs. The pace was quickening and the gap between his stabs and her fingers was growing smaller. Soon it moved to quickly and Freydis could feel his muscles moving on instinct without his mind processing exactly where the knife's end was falling and it was becoming much to close for comf-
"Ivar, don't do that it's dangerous!" Snapped a voice from behind them, and for a moment the boy's concentration slipped enough for the knife to skim the side of her middle finger, leaving a gash that was welling up with blood.
The cripple in question turned his attentions to his oldest half-brother, Bjorn with a deathly scowl. "We were playing, brother, leave us alone."
"Us?" The old blonde man chuckled. "Who is this?"
Freydis turned her attentions to the tall Viking who towered over her. "I'm Freydis…"
"That's not a good game to be playing if you don't know how to use a knife, Ivar," Bjorn reprimanded as he eyed his little brother's new companion. Children never approached the frighteningly unpredictable Ivar anymore, so it was a surprise that some a reserved looking girl was willing to.
"I know how to use a knife," Ivar hissed back. "And she's fine anyway."
Freydis glanced down at the blood pooling around her hands; the gash was deep, but not so much that it had severed any nerves and prevented her from feeling it. Though it stung, she was used to small wounds when working on the farm, so it was little more than a nuance due to the amount of blood.
"Well, little brother, perhaps you should practice more otherwise you might hurt your small friend again."
"I don't care, she moved it was her fault."
Aslaug interjected, having watched the entire scene, "He is right, Bjorn. The girl was not paying attention and moved, Ivar is not at fault."
There was a tense moment in which Queen and step-son stared one another down, watching with hawk-like focus to catch any sign of weakness. Yet neither was willing to back down until Gudmund approached. He could sense the air shift around them and quickly jerked his head towards the Great Hall's doors.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Queen Aslaug," he said gently as his daughter came to his side. She glanced back at Ivar who had been watching her wordlessly the entire time and gave him a brief smile, which returned only in the slightest twitching of his lips. "My daughter and I will head home, but I will accept your gracious offer, as will Freydis."
Freydis looked up at the three adults, her gaze lingering questioningly on her father until he pulled her away from the scene. She was curious as to the agreement she was supposedly accepting, though said nothing until they were out of Kattegat. Behind her, Ivar stared without movement as Aslaug bent to stroke his hair. It was a loving gesture, one that was saved for him alone. He lorded that fact over his brothers, relishing in their frustrations.
"Do you like her, Ivar?" Aslaug whispered.
He shrugged in response and said, "She can come again."
A smile etched itself across her beautiful face at the reply, knowing full well that it was likely the best response she would be getting from him. "Good, because she will be staying here for much longer next time."
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Once Freydis had gone off to attempt play with Ivar, Aslaug's false gentleness evaporated in a single breath. Gudmund was taken aback by the sudden change in personality and especially the same calculating stare he had witnessed the night before. It was unnerving to say the least.
"I do not wish to engage in niceties, so we shall head straight to the point, no?" She said in a lighthearted tone that contradicted her expression, though Gudmund nodded nonetheless. "I know you are an ambitious man, and I know you would appreciate more fertile land than the Ranveig Hills. So in exchange for your daughter I am willing to offer you farming land on the sourthern coast, they are rich lands and you will grow enough to build your own farmstead."
A tingling sensation emanated through the tips of his fingers and up the man's spine, but was interrupted by the words she uttered. He was not overly attached to his daughter, though the thought of selling his daughter to a witch was disconcerting even for him. Greed and duty tore through his ambition, and Aslaug herself could see the difficult conflict arising in his blue eyes. She rested her cheek on her fist and stared deeply into his eyes, noting the softening of his tense muscles. Queen Aslaug was aware of her effect on men and even women, and she would do her best to use it to her benefit.
"I do not wish to purchase your daughter, Gudmund Ango, only to have a companion for my son, Ivar," his eyes flickered to the children, with Freydis having made a fool of herself already. He watched her carefully, as did Aslaug, though the tense moment passed and they continued. "As a Beserker, your child would be suited to protect Ivar for as long as he needs. I intend to betroth them to gain Freydis' loyalty, though betrothal will not be honoured as I do not want my precious son marrying a peasant, do you understand?"
Gudmund sucked in a breath at the term 'peasant' which had been thrown around lately. They were above mere peasants, though only just. His mouth became thin and taut as he attempted to control his annoyance for the sake of this meeting.
"Instead she will be his companion until Ivar can protect himself, then she must leave and it will be as if they were never betrothed," Queen Aslaug continued. "They may do as they please, but she is not to fall pregnant nor harm my son in any way or she shall be executed."
"Freydis is a good girl," Gudmund uttered, staring at the sweet face of his only child. No, there was not much in her to be proud of aside from her gods given gift that would surely elevate their family status, though the thought of her being executed pained him in ways he had forgotten he could hurt. "She won't hurt your son, and she is not silly enough to sleep with anyone above her status."
Suddenly Aslaug's face shifted into that demure smile that had tricked Gudmund into thinking she was naught but a silly woman with too much power on her shoulders. "Well if you agree, then bring her back within the month, but don't tell her about our plan, only that she is betrothed."
The woman planted an erect index finger in front of lips before rising to interrupt the conversation between Bjorn Ironside and the two children. Gudmund watched sullenly, noting how the blood pooled around his daughter's hand caused by the strangely cruel Ivar. A twinge of regret echoed through his mind, but it was quickly smothered by his ambitions and greed. Freydis would likely live a better life with the royal family if she were sold to the Queen.
Or so he told himself.
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The wind had picked up and the sun was setting as the father and daughter pair picked their way across the frosty hills towards their farm. Gudmund stepped over the bumps and crevices cleaved into the hillside by the wind, whilst Freydis nimbly hoped from rock to rock as if it were all a game. Her face was set in a stern gaze of concentration, arms stretched out the side for balance.
Moments like these had him regretting the death of his late wife, particularly as his memories of her began to fade. Freydis had little to not recollection of her mother who had died giving birth to a stillborn son, and thus her father had placed all his hopes and dreams on her. Everything he had wanted to accomplish and be rested on his daughter, whom he had just sold to be the companion of a cruel child for a plot of land.
He dragged a hand down his face and said, "Freydis, you will be living with Queen Aslaug soon." He paused and scanned the beautiful horizon littered with hills and boulders. "You and her son, Ivar, are betrothed now."
"Betrothed?" She mimicked, unsure of the word.
"You will be getting married to him when you are old enough… So you must always protect him."
Freydis tilted her head, asking, "And where will you go, Father?"
"I will go down the coast, to build us a farm," he replied gently as they continued to walk. "You have to look after Ivar, Freydis. You've got to, for both our sakes."
She stared back at him with large, inky eyes that held a sea of questions in them, pink lips pursed as if ready to ask them all. Instead she stared up at the darkening sky.
"Okay, Father. Anything you say."
The two figures moved slowly across the landscape until they reached their farm, with the two hounds bounding to great them. Only the sound of howling wind and the bells around the goats' necks could be heard that night.