Chapter One: A Plaything for Ivar
Rúna followed the blonde woman through the underbrush, errant brambles and twigs cutting against her ankles and shins in her too-short dress. This woman, her guide, was leading her by the hand and talking all the while.
"…Queen Aslaug will be very kind. There are four boys for you to play with: Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. King Ragnar is a merciful king, and usually in good cheer."
Though her voice was soft, as was the hand that held Rúna's, the small girl was staring at the woman's back with wide, fearful eyes. Rúna didn't want to play with the four sons of Queen Aslaug and King Ragnar; she had been happy at the hut, with the other girls. Despite her wild, tangled, fiery red hair and the dirt smudged on her cheeks—not to mention her dress, threadbare and patched—Rúna had only known the hut as home, and she had been happy there. She didn't understand why Amma and Afi had taken coins from this woman and allowed her to be led away.
"Helga," a man's voice admonished, soft but scolding, when they walked from the tree line. He was not so much taller than the woman, with black-rimmed eyes just like her own. His eyes flicked from the woman—Helga—down to little Rúna.
"Aslaug wanted this," she said by way of explanation. "Ivar needs someone to play with. She asked for a little girl, so he would not get jealous."
At the name Ivar, the man's face darkened to match the evening sky around them. Unknown to Rúna, earlier that day, this Ivar had killed another child by striking him in the head with an axe. The man only sighed, waving Helga and Rúna on to the house. It was not so much bigger than Amma an Afi's hut, though much cleaner. It was warmer, too, insolated on the inside with animal pelts. The water inside the tub, however, was not.
Helga stripped Rúna down before lifting her into the tub. Hands cupped, Helga poured cold water over the little girl's hair until it was sufficiently soaked. "We must get you fit to meet Queen Aslaug and little Ivar tomorrow."
Rúna shook as chilled water sluiced over her body, even as Helga continued to murmur softly to her. The water turned gray around her as she was scrubbed clean, Helga's fingers combing through her hair to gently dispel tangles. When Helga was pleased, Rúna was dried and dressed in a shift and given some bread for her dinner while she sat close to the fire.
"Here." She didn't realize the man had entered the house until her voice sounded behind them. "Angrboda's clothing will do for the child. What is her name?"
He handed Helga a child's dress, a simple cut of plain, dark fabric. Helga ran her hand lovingly over that unassuming fabric before giving a resolute nod. "Can you tell Floki your name?"
"Rúna," the little girl managed to squeak, quickly taking another bite of her bread before another question could be asked of her.
Floki giggled, the firelight shining mischievously in his dark eyes. "Secret, huh? Yes, I suppose you will have many to keep over your years with Queen Aslaug."
Helga braided her hair so that it curved around her head and hung in a heavy mass over one shoulder before Rúna was determined fit to present to Queen Aslaug. She had never had her hair braided, let alone with the strips of white fabric Helga had weaved into the strands.
"Hmm." Floki grunted as Helga tied the strings at Rúna's neck to keep her dress closed. Likewise, she tied strings at the wrist to make the sleeves fit better. He looked her over, from the top of her head to her feet, which were now covered in leather boots that had her tripping over herself.
Rúna had never worn shoes before. In the winter, she and the other girls from the hut would bind their feet in layers of fabric to trudge through the snow when it was time to do chores. Now her feet felt restricted despite the supple softness of the leather.
"She makes a pretty picture, does she not?" Helga asked, cupping the child's cheek in her hand while a watery smile wavered on her lips. "I think Aslaug will be pleased with her."
Queen Aslaug. Rúna had heard that name constantly since Helga had taken her from the hut the day before. Yet, Rúna was unable to form a picture of the woman in her mind. She was made to sit inside and wait for this woman, though the summer day was pretty outside and Rúna could hear other children playing.
The queen came at midday, pulling a small wooden cart behind her. Rúna wasn't entirely sure what she had expected of the queen, but the frighteningly tall woman wasn't it. To look at her face, Rúna had to tip her head all the way back. Queen Aslaug smiled at her, but somehow it didn't soften any of her sharp features. Rather, that smile made Rúna's stomach feel heavy, as if weighted down by stones.
"This is the child, Helga?" The queen knelt before her, summer sun glinting off the jewels she wore in her hair. She took Rúna by the shoulders and made her to turn in a full circle so she might have a better look. "She is small."
"But strong, with capable hands. She helped me with the morning chores, carrying a full milk bucket all on her own. Floki had her carrying wood to the shore as well. And she is of an age with Ivar."
With a noncommittal hum, Queen Aslaug forced a finger between Rúna's lips, spreading them for a look at her teeth. "She seems healthy, and if she is as strong as you say she is, then I suppose she will do. Come, child."
She took Rúna by the wrist, whereas Helga had always taken her by the hand, leading her the short distance to the wooden cart Queen Aslaug had been pulling. Inside, atop a bed of furs, was a young boy with long hair and a contemptuous expression.
"Ivar, my love, look here. Helga and Floki have found you a plaything."
Her smile now was transformative, lighting up her face when she looked at Ivar. His eyes, bright and blue in his face, slid from his mother to Rúna. However, his lips only pursed further as he crossed his arms across his chest.
"I do not want to play with her!" Ivar pouted. The change in Queen Aslaug was instantaneous, the smile slipping from her lips and all the light draining from her face. She dropped Rúna's wrist, drifting from the children as she straightened to her full height.
"Fine. Make her pull your cart and fetch you things. I do not care how you use her." She drifted away from them, not looking back once.
The two children stared at one another for a beat, blue eyes staring into gray. "Well, you heard my mother. Pull my cart!"
He gestured with his hand impatiently, prompting Rúna to grasp the handle in her fingers. "Pull it where?"
"To Floki!" Ivar didn't quite shout, his tone letting Rúna know how stupid he thought she was. Cheeks burning as red as her hair, she did as he bid her, pulling the cart. It was not so heavy as she expected, most of the weight seeming to come from Ivar's body rather than the wooden structure. When they got close enough, Floki smiled before lifting the boy beneath the arms.
"Ivar! Are you ready to hear the story of how Odin lost his eye?" Now that Ivar was free from the furry pelts in his cart, Rúna could clearly see that his legs were bound together. Where he had been taciturn with his mother and Rúna, he now smiled as Floki tickled his side. "Come, Rúna. Stories of the gods are never ones you want to miss."
The night after meeting Ivar, Helga had combed her fingers through Rúna's hair while they sat before the fire. It was already a routine for the two, Rúna sitting on the floor between Helga's knees. While Helga combed and re-braided her hair into a simple plait for sleeping, she explained Ivar to Rúna.
"When he was born, his legs were thin and twisted. Even now, there is hardly meat on his legs. The skin sticks so closely to the bone, but his legs are much straighter now, all thanks to Floki."
Here, the man in question gave a high-pitched noise of amusement from across the fire. He was carving something, the shavings falling from the piece of wood in Floki's hands to burn in the flames.
"You saw his braces. They help Ivar's legs grow straight, and Floki makes him a new pair each time he outgrows the old ones."
Helga fell quiet for a moment, tying off the end of Rúna's braid with a length of leather cord. Then she pulled the little girl into her lap, so that she might look into that youthful face. "He is angry often. Do you understand? It is hard to be a cripple living amongst Vikings. Ivar is the son of King Ragnar Lothbrok. Ivar is a cripple, but he is not stupid. Already he understands he will have a different life than other Viking men, and sometimes that makes him very angry."
Rúna did not yet have a proper bed—Floki promised to build her one—so it was into a pile of furs reminiscent of those lining Ivar's cart that Helga tucked her into. "Sometimes, Rúna, it cannot be helped that Ivar gets angry. But I want you to try very hard to never make him angry on purpose, no matter how hateful he gets. Do you understand?"
That question, again. Just like the first time, all Rúna could do was nod. Helga smiled at her, then, firelight glinting off her teeth. Smoothing a hand over the top of Rúna's head, Helga nodded resolutely to herself. "Yes. Good girl. They said you would be smart, and you are."
Smart though she was, Rúna hadn't yet figured out how to easily fall asleep in this new place. She liked Floki and Helga and didn't think either would hurt her. They had given her clothes that fit and fed her at the table like a family member. Still, she felt scared at night to fall asleep inside the warm, cozy house.
Eyes screwed shut, Rúna listened to Floki and Helga putter around the house, talking to one another in low tones.
"…poor boy. Aslaug told his parents he struck Ivar and it was retaliation." Helga, voice barely carrying over the scraping sound as she cleaned the ashes from the hearth.
"You cannot argue with a queen," Floki murmured. His knife made a scritch-scratch sound as he worked it over the wood. "Especially a volva queen. Not even if her child buries an axe in your child's head."
Rúna rolled herself deeper into the furs at this, pulling the thick hides over her head. Inside this shelter she had created, all she could hear was the erratic beating of her heart.