It was a cold winter's night in Valkenheim, frigid and bitter enough to perhaps be thought of as the beginning of the long and terrible Fimbulvetr. Thankfully though, for the villagers and warriors of Bilrost, there was only warm comfort and the joy of celebration to see them through the the seasons chill.

Midwinter was upon them, and all across the hold people had gathered together with friends and family to celebrate the festival of Jòl.

From his own hall of Brosmegard, Jarl Herleif Bjornson welcomed his people into his home with open doors and open arms. Everyone from the village was invited to come and celebrate, and no expense was spared to make sure that there was enough food and drink to be enjoyed by all. Especially the drink.

The fires were lit, the hall made open and decorated with holly and garlands to welcome his people and the gods alike. Herleif smiled with pride to see villagers beginning to gather for the first of three nights of celebrations. The year had been long, but soon the nights would slowly begin to grow short and spring would once again be on its way. It was time to give thanks and pay tribute to the gods for their favor through the rest of winter's cold reign.

"You seem excited, my love," came Audhilda's sweet voice from behind him.

Turning to look her, Herleif's smile grew all the wider as he saw her standing there looking as radiant as the sun. Her beauty and grace rivaled that of mighty Freyja, even while holding their youngest child in her arms. His heart swelled with pride to look upon his wife and daughter together, and happily approached to wrap them up into his arms and bury his face in Audhilda's golden hair before giving her a kiss.

"Jòl is always a time for excitement. And magic, and wonder. It is a time for joy and for family, and a time when your father can get as drunk as he wants without your mother scolding him too harshly," he said with a smile and quick tap to his daughter's little nose. Astrid giggled and shrank into her mother at the teasing, but reached up to tug on the shiny Thor's amulet that hung around his neck. Herleif could only chuckle and let her play with the little metal hammer that seemed to captivate her. It was hardly a child's toy, but there wasn't anything he wouldn't do not to see his only daughter smile.

"That is all very true," Audhilda added looking up at him, "and it is also a time we must play host to a great many people. All of whom will be expecting a horn of mead in their hand the moment they cross the threshold. Now take your daughter while I go and finish getting ready."

"You look wonderful already." Herleif said, though he hardly refused as Audhilda deposited Astrid into his arms. She gave him a coy smile over her shoulder as she turned and headed off for their rooms to finish being dressed by her handmaidens for the celebration.

Herleif hefted Astrid and held her tight, giving her a little bounce as she clung onto him. "Oof, you are getting heavier by the day little one," he grinned.

Though all of his children were still young, Astrid was now a year old, nearly two, and had grown so much already. She had bright blue eyes like her mother's that seemed to light up at everything around her, and golden hair that fell just over her ears in little curls. Her small voice was like the sweetest music to his ears, and no matter what kind of fuss she raised it seemed that she could never do anything wrong in his eyes. "Now where are your brothers I wonder, hmm? Lets say we go find them, shall we?"

"Ering..." Astrid chimed, giving an attempt at her brother's name as she looked around at the many candles lit about the hall.

"Yes. We shall go find Erling, and Bjorn too." Herleif smiled as he walked her out into the main hall. "They better not be trying to get into the mead already. No, no, that is father's mead, and father always gets the first sip. Is that not so?"

Astrid burbled some gibberish in reply, seemingly more interested in playing with his Thor's amulet again rather than locating her brothers. He patted her back and paid the tugging around his neck no mind. "That is right, father always gets the first sip."


"Another!" yelled Ragnar as he threw down his empty drinking horn, ale still dripping from his beard while he reveled in the cheers that rose up around him.

"Another! Another!" Ragna and Helge both called together, raising their own horns in toast before tipping them back and guzzling their drinks.

Herleif laughed happily from where he sat at his high seat, Audhilda by his side with Bjorn and Erling, and Astrid sitting on his knee. "Aha! Yes! Bring him some more! No doubt a mighty Berserker has a mighty thirst to slake! Bring this drengr more!"

He slammed his open hand down on the table before him to add to the rowdy chorus of noise and music filling the hall, which prompted Astrid to add her own shrill scream of delight to the clamor before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

A thrall brought over a pitcher of ale and a new horn, of which Ragnar happily snatched up before taking a long drink like a man dying of thirst. Ragna promptly grabbed the pitcher from the thrall's hands to refill her own horn and Helge's to take up drinking again with much fervor and relish.

Herleif took a drink from his own horn before having it refilled, bouncing Astrid on his knee while she took little bits of the food from what was laid out on the table before them. He had made sure that a bountiful feast had been prepared to mark the first night of Jòl, but many of the villagers and farmers who had come to Brosmegard to celebrate had brought their own share of food to last through the celebration.

As such there was plenty of fresh bread, roast pheasant, chicken, pork and beef to go around, as well as fish brought in from the western sea, and what crops were able to be grown and harvested before winter's frigid chill laid claim to the land. Herleif even had a number of horses slaughtered for the occasion, a sacrifice to the gods for good fortune and a hearty meal to fill his guests bellies. The music echoed up into the rafters with the tunes of pipes and strings. Spirits were high and soaring with the Valkyries, and not even the freezing bite of the night outside could bring down the mood even if the hall's mighty doors had been left wide open.

For all of her innocent ignorance of the occasion, Astrid seemed to delight in all of the noise and commotion, and Herleif delighted in the way that she could hardly sit still as she constantly looked about at all the people celebrating around her. He was so pleased at her excitement that he hardly felt bothered at all when she made a grab for his drinking horn, reaching out for it with her small hands.

"Maybe just a little taste," he chuckled, holding the horn steady so she could take a drink.

"Herleif..." Audhilda said in a soft but warning tone. "You will get her started too early. Your youngest son already lies here fast asleep because someone let him sneak too many cups than what was good for him." She glanced down at young Erling asleep and softly snoring beside her as they shared her chair, then narrowed her eyes over to Bjorn who appeared blissfully unaware of his mother's ire while he hastily stuffed his mouth with as much food as he could.

"It is fine. Just mead is all. She will love it," Herleif said, and by the way Astrid tried to drink the sweet elixir as quickly as she could it seemed that he was right. "Ah, she has good taste," he chuckled, then laughed all the more at Astrid's cry of protest when he finally pulled the horn away from her.

"You spoil her," Audhilda chided with an affectionate grin.

"It is the pride of a father to spoil his daughter. How else is she to know that she is my favorite?" he smiled.

"Hey!" piped up Bjorn through a mouth full of food, suddenly very aware of the conversation his parents were having next to him. "What about me? I'm your first born!"

"Did I say that out loud?" Herleif blinked as Audhilda tried to hide a smile behind her hand. "This mead must be stronger than I thought..."

Bjorn rolled his eyes and gave a sigh of indignation well beyond his years, and Herleif could only laugh along with his wife, glad to see that Bjorn was not so old to think himself above being teased by his father. His eldest son could only keep himself from smiling for so long, until a commotion from the door stole all of their attention.

"The Bear! The Bear!"

"The Bear is here! Bring him a drink!"

Herleif looked up towards the doors as the calls of greeting went out, and there was no mistaking the sight of his brother standing tall and shaggy haired above the rest of the villagers. "About time you showed your face!" he called out. "Someone bring my brother a drink!"

The task was already done before Herleif's voice carried over across hall, and Gunnar raised a horn up into the air and laughed along with the crowd he walked through. "Skål, brother! Now we can finally celebrate like proper drengir!"

Rising up from his seat, Herleif perched Astrid on his hip and went to greet his brother properly, stumbling a bit as he made his way around the table and earning a frightful look from Audhilda as their daughter swayed in his grasp. He gave an assuring nod that everything was alright, but felt the hall swimming around him a bit as he picked up his drinking horn and navigated the crowd like a choppy sea.

"You are late," he smiled, knocking horns with Gunnar as they came together. "I thought I would have to drink all of this fine mead without you."

"As if I would let you," Gunnar smiled with a wink before taking a pull from his horn, coming away with some foam coating his mustache. "And what of my little niece? I'm surprised to still see you up. Too excited for the first night of Jòl, is that- Ah!" His words were cut off as Astrid reached out and snatched the silver ring woven into the end of his braided beard with a sharp tug.

"She has a growing love for all things shiny," Herleif chuckled, and he offered up his Thor's amulet to distract his daughter. She happily dropped the silver ring and took up the amulet, promptly putting it in her mouth to bite on then held it up to the light coated in spit.

"Hmph, as do we all," Gunnar grumbled as he rubbed at his chin, but it was hard even for a proud warrior such as him to stay mad at Astrid while she waved about the amulet like it truly was a tiny version of Mjölnir fitted perfectly for her small hand. "And a adamant follower of Thor to boot. She will grow up to be a strong shield maiden with him on her side, I am sure of it," he beamed.

Herleif gave a ghost of a smile as he bounced Astrid in his arm. There was no telling what fate the Norns had in store for his daughter, whether she would indeed grow to be a mighty shield maiden or perhaps a ruler like him. She could become a wife to another Jarl, a mother of many children, or even a Berserker or Raider like her uncle, if Loki decided to play tricks on him. For now though he was simply happy to have her be his little girl, smiling and innocent of the hardships the world had in store for those who knew better.

"What took you so long? I began the feast hours ago," he said to Gunnar, feeling a growing desire to change the subject.

"I took a walk down to the docks. Wanted to make sure the longships were good and dry in the rigging. Don't want the frost leaving any unwanted surprises for us come spring."

Herleif cocked an eyebrow. "It is Jòl, dear brother. Surely the ships will be fine for a few nights while we turn our minds towards family and the gods?"

He caught the way his brother's gaze wavered though, and knew that this was something that ran deeper than just the snow upon the frozen ground. "But you are just acting to keep my own mind at ease, of course. I am a lucky man and a lucky Jarl to have a brother such as you at my side to help, and for that I am grateful. Skål." Their horns knocked together in a toast.

"I just want to be prepared come raiding season, as we all do. It has been some time since they have been put to the water for such a purpose, and I look forward to when we will do so again. But never mind all that now. As you said, tonight is for celebration!" Gunnar gave another wink just before taking a drink.

A small flare of agitation rose up in Herleif at that wink, knowing just what it was that Gunnar was implying. Now was not a time for argument though, and so he held his tongue. It would not do to get into a shouting match with his brother here in the middle of a crowded hall, especially with his daughter present.

"Indeed. You should get to it then," Herleif said, licking some drops of mead from his mustache. "Have some more to drink, enjoy a leg of boar. Relax, and let us leave the raiding for raiding season. For the next three nights at least."

Ignoring Gunnar's frown, he looked about the hall and gave both a nod and a grin over towards one of the tables. "It would appear that someone else has eagerly been awaiting your company while you have been out enjoying the frosty sea breeze."

The packed hall seemed to part by the will of the gods at that very moment, and in their midst sat a tall woman with loose blonde hair and a fine dress that accentuated the curves of her body. Shining rubies hung from a silver necklace that adorned her neck, along with bracelets of silver and gold chains about her wrists. With a golden cup held ever so delicately in her pale hand she appeared indifferent towards those around her, but every so often her eyes slid over to where Herleif and more particularly Gunnar were standing, and her painted lips curved up into a pleased smile.

"I did not know Sigrid would would be in Brosmegard for the festival," Gunnar muttered, staring like a fool struck by the sight of treasure beyond his wildest dreams.

Herleif shrugged. "Her family brought much from their farm for the feast. She is a guest of honor."

"Then I must go and pay my respects, and thank her for sharing such a wonderful bounty," Gunnar said with a grin while his eyes never seemed to part from Sigrid across the hall. "Enjoy the feast, brother. We'll speak again soon, but perhaps not until morning." He gave a knowing grin, then tickled Astrid under her chin before walking off.

Herleif chuckled as he watched him go, ever so slightly proud of himself for knowing just how to avert his brother's attention. Astrid cooed in his arm, no longer captivated by the shiny little Mjölnir around his neck, and he happily placed a kiss on top of her golden head.

"One day perhaps you will be a shield maiden. One day." He sighed, feeling that such a future should bring him pride and joy to witness, but in his heart only felt a growing sense of dread from knowing what horrors a life of war can bring, of living it first hand. "Mm, but not now. Happy Jòl, my little darling."

"Jòl," Astrid repeated, mimicking Herleif's sound and loving sentiment. She clung onto his shirt as she smiled at him, then made another grab at the drinking horn he held in his hand.


On the second night of Jòl Gunnar enjoyed the celebrations in the hall that had once belonged to his father, Bjorn Steel-Hide, and from where his brother now ruled over Bilrost. It was home, the place where he had grown up learning the traditions and laws of his people. Where he had trained as a warrior, sailed off on a longship on his first raid into Ashfeld, and made a name for himself to be put into the legends and songs of skalds.

For the past few seasons though, there had been a growing concern deep in his heart. A concern that the hall of his father no longer truly felt like the home he remembered.

Well into the mead and ale by now, as was befitting for the celebration of Jòl, Gunnar looked up from the table at which he sat and stared through the haze of fire light and wood smoke towards his father's high seat. No, his brother's high seat, where indeed Herleif did sit for the night of feasting with his beloved wife and children.

They looked happy sitting there all together, confident and content in the legacy left behind by his and Herleif's father. A legacy he feared was being left to spoil all for that simple contentment that seemed to suit Herleif just fine, but not him. A man's fate was predetermined from the moment he was born, but Gunnar knew that he was meant to walk the path of war and meet his end as a true drengr, to enter through the gates of Valhalla in glory. He loved his family, truly he did, but he was not meant to simply sit in a hall growing old while other warriors made their fame and fortune under Jarls and warlords that sailed their longships south every spring.

He was meant to fight, something that Herleif seemed to have less and less interest in as of late.

"Your brother has a fine family," Sigrid said languidly as she leaned against him, her head resting against his shoulder.

Gunnar slid his eyes down towards her, wary of her open familiarity with him and where this conversation might be heading. One night spent together enjoying the midwinter celebration was no reason to bring up the subject of family to his mind, regardless of how pleasurable that night might have been.

"Mmm... Mhm," was all the answer that he gave, in no way willing to prolong this train of thought if he could help it, but Sigrid already seemed to of a mind to get her point across.

"Have you ever thought of having such a family?" she smiled up at him, her cheeks rosy pink and green eyes half lidded from her drink. Even while holding her cup in her hand, she looped her arm around his and pressed against his side all the tighter. "I know first hand how proficient you could be at accomplishing such a task. You need only to commit rather than deviate your course just before completing the journey." Turning her head slightly she pressed her lips against his bare skin in a gentle kiss before whispering, "Perhaps you are simply waiting for the right woman to guide you on the path?"

Gunnar gave a small shake of his head. "Of all the paths I have ever thought to walk, I will say that one has been the furthest from my mind. But if there was ever such a woman that could bring about that outcome, I have yet to meet her."

As soon as the words left his mouth it felt as if the hall had become as hot as the realm of Muspelheim, and he quickly lifted his horn to his lips and took a long, long drink.

Sigrid slowly rose up from him on the bench, her once pleasant and easy expression turning as hard and cold as the ice that coated the rivers and lakes of the wilderness outside. "Well it sounds as if it would take a woman of true determination and will to convince you then, and I for one would gladly show you that I am up for the task."

"I have my doubts," he grinned, but it quickly slipped away as he saw how she fumed at his words. "What I mean to say is, I am a warrior, and I don't think my way of life would be suited to a family of farmers."

Sigrid's eyes flared angrily, her fingers tightening around her cup as if she meant to toss it at him. "You would be so lucky to join with my family! With the way your brother keeps his ships moored at the docks, there will be no more life here for warriors like you soon. What path will you walk then, oh mighty Bear?"

Now Gunnar felt his own fury rising, eyeing Sigrid with a less than kind expression despite whatever tenderness they might have shared the night before.

"Be careful what you say to me, woman," he growled at her, "I have seen what can happen when the worlds of farmers and warriors collide, and it is most often not a pleasant thing."

He remained still as Sigrid stared icily back at him, but soon turned away and looked at him no more. All at once he felt guilt wrestling with his anger inside, and he knew it was something he should not have said to her. She had not deserved it, but as it so often was when he spoke without thinking it was always impossible to take it back.

If the mood had felt tense before, it was nothing compared to the hurt and anger radiating off of Sigrid now. It was like a fire-flask had just exploded at their feet, engulfing them both in the flames of this petty argument. Gunnar's only thought was to quickly grab a pitcher of ale and refilled his horn, happy to drink his worries and the night away before things got worse.

That hope quickly vanished though when Ragna sat herself down on the bench across from them.

"If this big oaf of a man has ruined his chances of warming your bed for the night, as I suspect he has," Ragna said with a delighted smile, ignoring Gunnar completely as she reached across the table to take Sigrid's hand in her own, "then I would gladly share my heat with you instead. I promise, one night with me and you will never be sated by the warmth of another again."

Gunnar rolled his eyes at Ragna's ill-timed antics, knowing it was better to keep his mouth shut rather than wish her any luck, even if it was all in jest.

Sigrid however wrinkled her nose in disgust at Ragna and quickly pulled her hand away, clearly none to impressed by the savage looking woman or her honeyed words. "I think if I would look to share my bed with anyone, it would not be with someone more akin to beast than human."

If her remark was meant to cause offense then Ragna clearly did not take it that way, slapping an open palm down on the table as she laughed. Sigrid only seemed to grow more and more frustrated, and moved to look away when the sight of Ragnar dropping down onto the bench beside her with a toothy grin made her jump. No sooner did she fall back against Gunnar's shoulder again did Helge come up over the table, sliding from Ragna's side to Gunnar's and planting her bare feet on the bench next to him.

"Happy Jòl, you big smelly bear!" Helge grinned, lifting her cup into the air so quickly that the ale inside sloshed and spilled onto the table.

"Happy Jòl!" Ragna and Ragnar echoed in unison, raising their own drinking horns to clatter with Helge's cup, with each other, spilling more ale all around and then held them in waiting as they stared at Gunnar and Sigrid expectantly to do the same.

Gunnar frowned and said nothing, but lifted his horn anyway while Ragnar took Sigrid's wrist to lift her cup when she would not, laughing with joy despite how she tore her arm free from his grasp before their cups could connect.

Helge tipped back her cup and drank until ale dribbled down her chin, then tossed it away over her shoulder once it was empty.

"What is all this sadness about? We could feel it clear across the hall!" she exclaimed loudly, causing Sigrid to dip her head and glance about at all the eyes that turned to see what the commotion was. "This is no time for a lovers spat! It is Jòl, and now is the time to live with merriment and kindness in the sight of the gods, lest they take offense to your grump and grumbling and curse us all when the raiding season begins again..." Her blue eyes were wide with wonder and delight, reflecting the many candles and torches lit about the hall as she waved her fingers through the air in mock spell casting.

"If we ever do go raiding again," Ragnar snorted, giving a disappointed shake of his head as he leaned over the table.

Ragna mirrored her brother's resentment with a sneer of her own. "Taxes and tributes may fill a Jarl's pockets with silver and gold as much as any raid, but what honor does it bring? I'm telling you, Herleif is going soft, and it is only a matter of time before the gods take notice and forsake us all."

Gunnar quickly slammed a closed fist down on the table, making all other cups and plates of food jump from the force.

"Hold your tongue, you wild dog!" he shouted angrily, causing even more people to turn and look. He ignored them all, though he did lower his voice as he leaned over the table towards Ragna. "You would do well not to speak of my brother in such a way again, not in my presence. He is your Jarl, and you will treat him with respect."

The table went quiet after that, but Ragna looked neither angered or unnerved by his sudden outburst or his threats. She simply looked at him with the faintest of grins, her drinking horn held hovering halfway to her lips.

"Do you disagree then?" she smirked, then took a long and easy drink while she watched him over the rim of her horn.

Gunnar felt his entire body go tense, bristling as he fought to control his urge to reach across the table for Ragna and throttle her. Sigrid chose that moment to make her escape as tactfully as she could, or tactless, either suited her just fine at that moment.

"I think I hear my father calling for me..." she said before quickly getting up and slipping away into the crowd without so much as a backwards glance.

Helge watched her go before leaning back over the table and treating Gunnar with a wide smile. "She seems nice."

"Hey, I saw him first," Ragnar chimed in, giving a little tip of his horn to Gunnar as he slid over into the space Sigrid had left empty on the bench. "No other wench gets their chance woo this beautiful bastard until I get mine,"

"I think I have had my fill of suitors for one festival," Gunnar grumbled, feeling more melancholy than he thought possible since the night began. He downed the rest of what was left in his drinking horn, then made a grab for the pitcher again so he could continue drowning his woes in ale.

Ragna snatched it up first, refilling her own horn and then tipping the pitcher upside down to show that it was now empty. "Aw, love troubles? And here I was thinking you were just as down and out as the rest of us over your brother preferring to stay here and be a second mother to his children rather than take us raiding like a real drengr."

Gunnar glared across the table at Ragna as she drank again, but had enough sense still about him to know that she was simply trying to goad him into a fight. It was hard not to give in and welcome it, very hard, but now was not the time for letting his anger get the best of him while the rest of the village celebrated, no matter how much he might want to. "My troubles are my own, and how my brother chooses to walk his path is up to him. He is Jarl, and it is not any of our business how he decides to rule this hold."

"Not yet," Ragna said with a quick jump of her brows as she smiled back at him.

Tossing down his horn, Gunnar pushed himself up and away from the table as he felt the last limits of his self control being tested.

"Enough of this talk," he spat, glaring down at the three of them. "I am in no mood to think on what might be and what will be. I know what my fate is, and one day I will meet my glorious end with my axe in hand and pride in my heart. When the skalds sing of my name they will say that Gunnar the Bear lived a life of blood and glory, killing coward Knights and Samurai weaklings in greater numbers than any Einherjar that dwells in the Allfather's hall!"

"Are you so sure?" Helge asked before sliding down from the table to stand before him. She was barely tall enough to come up to his chest, but even still she stared up at him with all the confidence of a hunting dog snarling down a bear. "It is not our place to know where our paths will take us before we meet our fates. To know where they might bend or where they might falter. It is never so simple as a road clearly laid out beneath your feet."

Drawing her tongue across her teeth as she smiled, she reached out and slowly walked two of her fingers up Gunnar's belly and on over his chest.

"We will never know where we might go, or who we might meet. Whether we will make war or make peace. Who we might come to love, or come to hate. Who we will obey, who we will trust, or who we will betray. Our paths are a mystery, known only to the gods and the voices beyond. Such is this wretched story we all must weave. This mortal shroud we call life." Her traveling fingers made it all the way up to his collar bone, only to then give the metal ring tied into his beard a playful flick that let loose a soft ring. "And if we did know any of these things, then life would undoubtedly not be any fun."

Gunnar felt an uncanny shiver run down his spine as he looked down at her, finding no comfort in her words, only more unease. Completely frozen by her touch, he willed himself to break free of her Shaman's spell and slapped her hand away as it hovered in the air before him.

"The path I walk is no mystery to me," he hissed at her, clenching his fists but not knowing why. "I know my what is to be my fate."

With that he turned and pushed his way through the crowd towards the door, no longer in any mood for celebrations, family or friends. Especially not ones who took delight in shaking the foundations of his life, of everything he knew. He was a warrior, and that was the end of it. He was fated to fight and to die by the sword, to dwell in Valhalla with his ancestors. Of that he was sure.

He wanted his axe, that would make him feel better.

Working his way through the crowded hall he finally made it outside, feeling the cold attack him like an hoard of icy spears. He ignored it, willing himself to fight through the chill, to fight through this unease as he stalked off into the night.


"But Herleif, you promised..." Audhilda whined, though from her sultry smile it could hardly be said that she was upset, perched as she was on her husband's lap.

"Oh did I now?" Herleif muttered in her ear, letting his beard and mustache tickle her skin in just the way he knew would make her giggle. The sound was like music to his ears, just as the feel of her body beneath his hands made his heart race with excitement.

Audhilda did indeed let loose a light fluttering of giggles as they embraced. She gave his chest a light slap of admonishment, but did nothing to move away from him.

"You did. When we were married you promised me a Peacekeeper's dagger as a gift, and so far you have yet to deliver." She pouted and gave the end of his beard a light tug. "When Erik Golden-Shield married he gave his wife a stallion with its' own stable to house it. I hardly think asking for a simple dagger could be any trouble by comparison."

"Clearly you have never tried to hunt down a Peacekeeper," Herleif smiled, tilting his head up to receive a kiss from his wife. "And Ashfeld is such a far way to go for such a simple gift. Especially when my time could be better spent holding you in my arms."

Audhilda's smile spread even wider as she cupped Herleif's cheek. "Flattery always was your best talent, my love."

Their lips came together in another kiss, longer this time, full of everything they felt for each other. Herleif could smell the scented oils Audhilda combed through her hair, and in that moment he knew that he never wanted to let her go. He kissed her again, and didn't care who in the crowded hall might watch.

It was the third night of Jòl, and while everyone made an effort to turn out and see the celebrations brought to a close there were some who took it easy on the food and ale after two nights already spent drinking their bellies full. The children hadn't made it so late this time around, having already been given gifts for the occasion and sent off to bed. Bjorn had made a valiant effort to stay awake and listen to the tales of skalds and warriors, but even his eyes had been heavy and fit to close when his mother and father finally bid him goodnight.

Now Herleif sat in his high seat with only his wife to keep him company while the cold dark of winter began its slow shift towards spring, and he found himself quite happy for it. The celebration had gone on wonderfully so far, with plenty of music and games to keep everyone entertained.

Gifts were shared with all, from wooden toys for children to tools and gifts of treasure for those in need or who had earned them with their fine deeds. It was a celebration that had brought the village together in bonds of family and fellowship after so many days of cold and frost. It was something that Herleif felt immensely proud of, given what work he had put in to building up what wealth and comfort he could from Bilrost's lands after his father, and what glories he had given up as a result.

It was not something he dwelled on, but in his heart he knew that this was not the life he had imagined himself living when he was young. It was different. Things were quiet now when so much of his youth had been filled with war and death. He was happy though, he knew that much. He was happy for the time he had spent with his wife and with his children, a gift that he had never dreamed of possessing when he was just a young Warlord with not a scratch on his shield, and it was something he would be eternally grateful for.

For now it seemed that Valhalla could wait. For now, he was happy being home.

What he was not happy about though was the sight of his brother coming towards him through the hall, wearing a rather determined look on his face that told Herleif this last night of Jòl might not be so pleasurable after all.

Gunnar walked adorned in his war gear and with his axe in hand, and he had a pack and his helmet slung over one great shoulder. Herleif thought that odd, considering the time of night and the celebration going on around them, and Gunnar seemed to be in no quick hurry to get to a fight.

"Good evening to you brother," he smiled, working to keep a warm spirit even as he sat up in his seat and let Audhilda slip from his lap and into her own chair. "Where is dear Sigrid? I would have thought she would keep your attention until the moment she rode through the gates with her family. Or are you taking her down to the training circle for a little midnight sparring?"

"Turns out we don't have much in common beyond investigating the softness of the hay in the stables, so the conversation was becoming stale," Gunnar sighed as he approached.

"Youth and beauty are fine things, but if there is nothing to keep the fire alight beyond that then how can you ever expect to keep love burning through the long night?" Herleif said softly, reaching over for his wife's hand and rubbing his thumb against her knuckles as she smiled at him.

"If that is more of your family man hogwash then I am in no mind to hear it," Gunnar said, setting down his pack and taking a something from his belt before tossing it to Herleif. "I have come to give you a gift."

There was the light jingle of metal before Herleif snatched the object out of the air, and he turned it over in his hand to examine the dark iron ring and what hung from it. "Your keys?" he asked Gunnar with a quizzical raising of his brow.

"Aye. The keys to my room and whatever is left in it. I know it is only a small room in your own hall, but I want you know I am done with it. Give it to Bjorn. He is getting too big to be sharing a room with his brother. You and I should know," Gunnar grinned.

Herleif gave a slow nod, remembering the days where he and Gunnar would cause fights and mischief for their parents in equal measure while sharing a room, back when Brosmegard had belonged to their father and they were still young. "I remember. But then where do you plan to rest your stinking hide?"

"Wherever I choose, I suppose," Gunnar said, and the grin he wore seemed to fade. "Under the stars, or beneath the sun in the shade of the trees. Here in Bilrost, or perhaps in Gronstad. Maybe even Barrowcape if that is where my path takes me."

"Barrowcape?" asked Audhilda with a little laugh. "Going all the way across the world seems like a far stretch to find a decent place to bed down for the night."

Gunnar shifted where he stood, but held his chin up high as he looked between the two of them. "It is a bit more than that, really. I want to tell you both, I am leaving Bilrost."

Of all the news that would have sunk his spirits like a leaky ship to the bottom of Ran's cold embrace, hearing this from Gunnar would never have crossed Herleif's mind.

"Leaving?" he asked, not sure where this was coming from or why. "What is this Gunnar? What are you on about?" Getting up from his seat he closed the distance between them and put a hand on his brother's arm as he leaned in close. "Has something happened? Someone has made some slight against you and fled? If it is a hunt you are on then say the word and I shall muster some warriors and we will go after them."

"Would you?" Gunnar asked softly, giving an unimpressed look made Herleif frown. "Is that what it would take for you to take up your sword again, brother? Tell me if it is so, and I will gladly go and pick a fight with the drunkest lout in the whole village just to feel offended."

Herleif stared at Gunnar, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. He had always known that his decision to look inward with his rule would put off some of his warriors, even some that he trusted the most, but the fact that it was his own brother who would seek to abandon him first shook him to his core.

"Is that what this is about?" he whispered between them, lowering his head as he spoke. "I have tried to build upon what our father has left us, and you are displeased by the lack of blood coating my hands?"

Gunnar squeezed his eyes shut as he sighed, gripping his great axe tight in his hand. "I do not seek to lay any blame with you," he answered before looking at Herleif again. "You have built a life here. A good life. Anyone who does not see that is either jealous or a fool. But it is not my life, brother. It is not my fate."

"Your fate?" Herleif hissed, squeezing tighter on his brother's arm. "We have so much here, Gunnar. So much to be thankful for." He held onto him, not wanting to let him go as he pleaded with his eyes for him to understand. "This life is not just for me, it is for you as well. It is for all of us. A life to make us all happy."

Gunnar gave a pained look before he managed a sad smile instead, reaching up his hand and laying it over Herleif's on his arm. "If you wish me to be happy, Herleif, then you will let me go."

He pulled Herleif's hand from his arm and slowly stepped away.

A few people in the surrounding crowd had noticed whatever it was that was going on between them, and had stopped to watch. Gunnar gave Herleif one last parting smile before he bent down to pick up his helmet and pack, throwing them over his shoulder and turning towards the door. The nearest onlookers had just begun to get out of his way when Herleif knew that he could not simply stand there and watch his brother walk away.

"Where are you going?" he exclaimed much louder than he had meant to, drawing even more attention beyond just Gunnar as heads turned about to look. As Gunnar looked back to him again though, Herleif suddenly felt very bashful and foolish despite the many years he had ruled from this very spot. "I, uh... I mean, where is it that you plan on going?"

Gunnar wore a much more pleasant grin now as he shrugged. "I don't know. North I think. Steer clear of Thurshamrar and those red dogs. I hear Erik Golden-Shield is always looking for warriors to man his ships. I think a strong Raider such as myself would do well there."

That put a bit of fire back into Herleif's belly, and he frowned at the name given, knowing just what it was that the so called Golden Jarl liked to do with those warriors he gathered under his banner.

"Jarl Erik?" he asked, again striding towards Gunnar. "The only thing he needs warriors for is attacking his weaker neighbors. He has already claimed three of the holds that border his own, and might even take Iarla Stronghold for himself upon a day, if the rumors are to be believed." He stopped just a bit away from his brother, eyeing him in the torchlight. "What should happen if Erik soon sets his eyes on Bilrost, and leads his warriors against us while you still rest your head among them?"

A hushed silence fell over the hall, and Gunnar stiffened where he stood, unsure if this might be some sort of test or maybe a threat given here before all to see.

"That would never happen," Gunnar said boldly, then spoke a bit louder for the rest of the villagers and warriors to hear as he continued. "I would never raise my axe against those who are my kin! For that is what you are, no matter how far I may roam, you are all still my family!"

Cheers of thanks and well wishes rose up from the crowd, along with a few calls of good luck and good fortune.

Herleif smiled and gave an approving nod, but knew that this was more than just making sure he knew where his brother's allegiance lay. "That is good! Then let us swear it. Let us swear before all who are here and all the Jòl-folk watching that we shall always be family!"

More cheers rang out, calling their approval with raised horns and cups, but Gunnar just frowned and gave a questioning look as he stepped closer. "You don't believe me?" he asked, sounding rather hurt. "Do you really think that I could ever stand against you on the field of battle?"

Herleif shook his head, reaching out to lay an assuring hand on top of Gunnar's shoulder. "I believe you. But swear this bond with me anyway," he smiled, "If I am to let you go, my little brother, then this is the way I want to do it."

Gunnar gave a half-hearted chuckle, and this time when he placed his own hand on his brother's arm he did not pull it away. "Herleif, you are making a bigger deal of this than is needed. I was hoping to slip away quietly tonight."

"Gunnar the fucking Bear? Slipping away quietly into the night like some tiny little Peacekeeper? Never in the nine realms would I ever think to see such a thing!" Herleif laughed, giving Gunnar a playful shake before sliding his arm around his brother's neck and leading him towards one of the roaring fire pits. "Nonsense! This is a blót, is it not? If it is some blood that you want, then it is some blood you will have. Helge? Helge! Where are you, you rabid little forest creature?"

"Here!" came Helge's voice from not far off, followed by only a quick glimpse of her as she jumped up from behind a few tall warriors like a shark breaching the water before disappearing again.

"Bring us a pig, girl! It is time that my brother and I made a proper sacrifice!" Herleif called, and there was a flash of metal as Helge thrust her curved knife into the air among the crowd and cut a path of wary expressions towards the door.

"What shall we swear on?" Gunnar asked, all smiles and good cheer now as he set his things down by the fire.

Herleif reached for his Thor's amulet and slipped it up around his head. "We shall swear on this, and then I want you to keep it," he said.

Gunnar eyed the little piece of metal, almost leery of it as its presence made his decision to leave all the more real for him now. "Are you sure? What will Astrid do if she does not have it to play with when you're carting her about to and fro?"

"I will gladly get her one of her own. I want you to have this one, from me." He smiled at his brother, feeling both pride, and bittersweet longing swell in his heart. "If this is the path you truly wish to walk to meet your fate, then go with my blessing. That, and knowing just how terribly I am going to miss you."

Gunnar's chest swelled as he looked about to say something, but never managed to say the words. That was fine with Herleif. No more words needed to be said between them beyond this sacrifice. Everything else they already knew, from one brother to another.

A sharp squeal broke their moment, along with all the clapping and laughing as a pig was brought in out of the cold night and into the warm hall. The crowd parted and Helge led the way with knife in hand, Ragnar and Ragna pulling the squealing pig along behind her. It was a furry brown thing, with black spots and a wet nose that sniffed quickly at the air as it was brought closer to the fire.

"A pig's screams are just as pleasing as a persons, I suppose," Helge said with a devious smile, presenting the beast to Herleif and Gunnar.

"Always so quick with a pleasant thought, my dear Helge," said Audhilda as she appeared beside them. "Though I would ask if I may have the honor of marking my husband and brother this night?"

"The honor is mine, lady Audhilda," Helge said, bowing low as she offered up her knife.

Audhilda gave a bow of her head in return then took the knife's decorated handle in hand, lifting it up for all to see how the fire glinted and shimmered off of the clean blade. "Shall we begin?" she asked.

Herleif gave her a wink and a nod, then held up the small hammer in his hand. Gunnar reached up and clasped their hands together, fingers gripping tight as the amulet dangled on its string between them.

Audhilda took a breath, then lifted Helge's knife again and spoke out in a loud and clear voice. "With this sacrifice we give thanks to the Jòl-folk who watch over this land and our lives. We give thanks to Odin, to Thor, to Frigg and to Freyja. We beseech them to bless our lives and the lives of our children, to protect those that we love and bring good fortune to all!"

Lowering the blade, she leaned down and placed its sharp edge beneath the throat of the snorting pig, just as Helge crouched down ready with a bowl. They shared a quick look between them, and then Audhilda sliced the blade deep.

The pig's last squeal was drowned out by the cheer that rose up at the sight of it's life's blood spilling into the bowl. Audhilda made sure that the cut was clean, drawing the knife all the way through to make it fast. The bowl quickly filled, and soon more began to splatter and pool on the floor as the pig fell. Helge rose and handed the offering over to Audhilda with red hands in return for the knife.

Taking the bowl, Audhilda turned towards Herleif and Gunnar, dipping three of her fingers into the blood and feeling how hot it was.

"With this sacrifice do you swear to honor your brother? To treat him with respect befitting of kin and of a warrior?" she asked, reaching up and drawing wet red lines first down Herleif's cheek, then Gunnar's. "Do you swear to each other here and now, under the sight of the gods and before all present that you will remain true to this oath?" She dipped her fingers again, then flicked blood onto the Thor's amulet, invoking the power of the gods.

Herleif looked at his brother, locking eyes with him just as they locked hands. He smiled, seeing the troublesome little fool he had been when they were young, just as much as he saw the great and worthy warrior that Gunnar was now. In that moment he knew that he owed his brother this chance, this gift to go out into the world and do as he pleased with his life until he one day met his fate. He was proud to do it.

"I swear it," he smiled, squeezing his brother's hand tight.

Gunnar squeezed back, the amulet swaying in the air between them as it dripped blood onto the floor. "I swear it."

Audhilda flicked blood yet again onto the amulet, then smiled at the both of them. "So it is bound by blood. So it is done." She turned about to face the crowd, lifting the bowl high into the air. "It is done!"

The watching villagers erupted into cheers and applause, cups and horns raising into the air to splash ale in a sweet shower of celebration. Herleif's smile turned into a grin, and then a laugh, the drawn lines of blood curving along his cheek.

"It is done!" he cried, then pulled his brother in close and threw his arms about him. "Now and forever. Brothers until Ragnarök comes."

Gunnar hugged him back tight, laughing right along with him, only leaning back again to clap him on the shoulders in a brotherly embrace. "Happy Jòl, Herleif."

"Happy Jòl, brother. Happy Jòl to all!" Herleif exclaimed, waving a hand to his people just before a full horn of mead was thrust into it. Another was given to Gunnar, and they quickly knocked them together before each taking a long drink.

Music played echoing to the rafters. Laughter was shared by all. Audhilda fell into Herleif's arms, sharing with him his drink and a kiss while Gunnar shared one last night of stories with Ragnar, Ragna and Helge all clamoring to add their own twist. The gods would hold the blood sacrifice true, and it would be up for Herleif and Gunnar to do the rest.

For one last night the villagers of Bilrost gathered together in celebration of Jòl, and together in the warmth of the hall, in the warmth of their bond, they looked forward to whatever the new season might hold. Indeed, what the future would bring too.