Master of My Sea
I'm hoping that I can update regularly now that I'm back. This chapter was the one that had been sitting in my docs for a year. It was a bit difficult to write because it's an in-between chapter, and I wasn't sure what to have happen in it without making it too lengthy. This is a Ragnar centric chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy
chapter thirteen:
THE TWO KINGS
The night that Ragnar Lothbrok returned to Kattegat had been monumental for different reasons for different people. For the night that the ships returned into Kattegat, Ragnar had lumbered off of the dock and disappeared into the wood. Many, like Lagertha, Bjorn, and even King Herald had all presumed he would return at some given point. It was no doubt that what happened in Paris broke him. However, the people of Kattegat would end up gradually learning how to live without a king. Weeks and then months had gone by and there was no sign of King Ragnar.
Bjorn had disappeared into the woods for a time, out of anger over his father abandoning not only his people, but his family. Eventually his anger subsided as he laminated on his father, and realized his greatest faults, his weaknesses, and above all the mistakes he made. For the younger sons of Ragnar, the resentment for their father was far more than Bjorn; they were young and their last impression of him was not at all favourable. Bjorn understood their hearts and pitied them. They hadn't known Ragnar for as long as he, and had never known him less than a king. They did not know him as a farmer, a viking, a visionary, or as a father.
The others, namely Aslaug and Lagertha, were not so angry at Ragnar's abandonment. Aslaug was bitter, but grew indifferent; her love for Ragnar had long been gone and her only resentment she held against him was leaving her with the responsibility of being Queen, and raising his sons alone. Lagertha, however, understood more than anyone why he had left. When she saw him in Paris, she did not see the Ragnar she knew, nor the one she once loved. Wherever he went, she knew he left to find whatever fragment of his old self there once was. Instead, Lagertha took this as an opportunity... an opportunity for a new beginning of Kattegat. She merely had to wait for the perfect moment to do so.
Then there was Floki, who was the last man to watch Ragnar flee into the forest never to be seen again. He alone knew where he went, but had not told a soul, nor went to see him, himself. He was in the gods' hands now, and it was for the best. One day, he knew, Ragnar would return to Kattegat, and when he did, the world would change once again. For better or worse, well, that was up to the All Father.
The return of Ragnar Lothbrok had affected two others far more than the rest, for he became a permanent guest in their home during that winter. When the broken king fell into the clearing of Hulda's home, she knew that life would no longer be the same; a storm was coming that would last more than a night. It would last for many moons.
Ragnar had indulged in a foreign plant more than any man rightfully should, all thanks to the manipulations of that slave girl who was no longer with them. Now the plant possessed him, to a point where his mind and body could not function without it. His mind, heart, body, and soul craved it so intensely, that it was willing to kill him for it.
Kára had seen many sick people come to see her mother, but she had never seen a man as sick as this once great warrior. Ragnar seemed to have a fever like no other, his body trembled and glistened with sweat, but he was cold, even under furs by the fire. It seemed like every orifice of his leaked with something. His nose was runny; his ears oozed with loose wax; his beard became filthy from vomit, and his bowels - that was the worst part. Hulda had incense and herbs burning constantly, but the scent of defecation lingered for some days. Kára, much to her discomfort, helped her mother with taking care of Ragnar, particularly with bathing him, feeding him, and ensuring that he remained in bed. Hulda insisted that he had to sweat out the demon from his body, but it wont leave easily.
Kára learned that the hard way. One sunny, wintery afternoon, Kára was left alone with Ragnar while her mother was washing the sullied rags in the basin outside, dousing them with herbs to flush out the smell. At this point, Ragnar was more conscious than he was before. He spoke words, while few, but his eyes were open - red, and puffy, but open - and he looked around with some awareness of where he was. Before this point, it was difficult to feed the man; he would either refuse out of nausea or he would vomit it out later anyways. Now, it seemed better, he stomached the porridge without complaint as Kára spooned it into his mouth.
The room was silent as Kára fed him, moving the spoon under his lip to pick up the bits that didn't make it to his mouth. Ragnar looked at her with blurry eyes, trying to process who she was, and if he knew her. In his mind, faces and names came to him, ones he should know, but the memory seemed to be so far away. Aslaug. Lagertha. Siggy. Gyda. Thora. Sigrún.
"K-Kára,"
The croak-like sound startled the redhead, causing her spoon to fall from her fingers and into the wooden bowl. She looked up at him with wide eyes, wondering if the sound came from him. Ragnar blinked slowly and breathed deeply through his nose before sucking back his lip to lick the porridge residue on it.
"Yes…?" She asked tentatively.
"I...know you," his eyes rolled around in his lids, as if he was dreaming, but eventually he opened them again. Those blue blood-shot orbs looked around the room to see if he recognized this place too. Yes, he has been here before, this was Hulda's house in the woods. How did he get here from Paris?
Paris.
Images of battle flooded in his mind in an instant. Visions of boats sailing on land; of a betrayer who called himself brother; of a life that was not lived; of a woman killed by her lover; of a former life and a dream lost. His body ached from the memories, which now felt so fresh it was as if it happened yesterday. Though, in reality, it had been weeks since those events had come to pass.
Ragnar gave a great groan and found some strength to pull his arm from under the furs and rub his sweaty face with it. His body was in the most pain he ever felt. It needed to be relieved of it, neigh, craved the release of its pain. It was everywhere. His bones, his muscles, his stomach, his heart, his mind.
"Girl…" he croaked again, eyes fluttering and chest breathing hard. "Give me something for the pain."
Kára was taken aback by this sudden display of life; a complete contrast from having to experience over a week of him barely alive and his body merely a sack of fluids. She put down the porridge and looked about her to find something to ease his pain, but the only thing she knew would help was poppy milk. Poppy milk, the reliever of pain, but also a poison that could spiral Ragnar back into his previous state. Kára was under strict orders not to give Ragnar anything from the poppy plant, no matter how badly he pleaded, screamed or cried.
Immediately, Kára picked up the food again, and took a big spoon full, "Here, eat. You will feel better when you do."
Ragnar grumbled, his fist clenching and his lips curled in as he sank back into the pillow with his eyes closed. He shook his head, "No. No more. I'm in too much pain." His eyes fluttered open, and those blue irises were on Kára like a sad child. "Doesn't your mother have something for this pain? That white stuff… Milk of…"
"Ragnar, I can't give you that,"
"Why...why not?" He began to breathe harder, as Yidu's face plunging underwater flashed before him.
"I just can't,"
Ragnar's lip curled into a snarl. With his free hand he reached and grabbed the girl's wrist in a strength neither knew was capable of. Kára yelped, and jerked her hand, the spoon falling as she did. She tried to pull away, but he had her in a vice.
"Give. It. To. Me."
"Let go of me!" She tugged furiously, but his grip tightened. She felt his nails dig into her skin.
"Yidu, I know you have more! Give me the medicine!" Ragnar tugged harder on her arm, pulling her close to his face.
Kára pleaded and yelled at him, insisting that her name was Kára, not Yidu. Though her words were unheard, or ignored, because Ragnar lifted himself up a fraction from the cot of furs to meet her face halfway. Kára was nose to nose with the broken king, blue and red eyes bulging and staring wildly into hers. His lips were curled as he growled into her face, and all the while Kára struggled against his grip and stare.
Ragnar was seeing everything but the reality around him. He saw Yidu; he saw his disloyal wife; he saw his people's lifeless bodies on the grassy meadows of England; he saw the faces in the fire of his failed siege of Paris; he saw Rollo standing with enemy colours; he saw his own face, coated in dirt, teeth and gums coated in blood, and eyes wide and bulging. Then in a blink, he saw her face. War painted and smeared with dirt, blood trickling from her forehead, light fading from her eyes as her lips spoke: Save her.
"Ragnar!"
And just like that, Ragnar's world struck like a lightning bolt when the flat end of a pot collided with his head, sending him flying back into his furs and knocked him unconscious.
Once free, Kára pulled herself away from Ragnar with her bruised wrist to her chest. She breathed heavily with tears in her eyes as she looked up her mother, who held the cast iron pot at her side like a weapon. Hulda blew away a stand of hair away from her nose and looked from Ragnar to her daughter, and back again.
"He-he….He called me Yidu," Kára breathed, wiping the dampness off her face.
Hulda nodded and walked over to a chair and sat on it, "The demon has not left him. There is still work to be done."
That moment wasn't not an isolated one, particularly that week when Ragnar had regained consciousness. He would start off as weak and pathetic and turn into an angry, vengeful man quite fast when denied any form of pain relief. Though slowly, those episodes became few and far inbetween.
x x x
When the ice began to thaw and Winter was coming to its swan song, things at Hulda's house started to get quiet. Kára and Hulda were outside, enjoying the first signs of spring by chopping wood and hanging out clothes to dry. Kára was enjoying the sounds of birds, having missed them these past few months. She whistled alongside them as she raised her woodcutter's axe and split the logs in halves, while her mother hummed behind her. Suddenly the sound of the wooden door swung open, and the two women looked up to see Ragnar leaning against a walking stick, shoulders covered in a thick sheep's fur. He was still pale and gaunt, but his eyes were no longer beet red.
"Ragnar," Hulda pulled herself from the line of clothes and walked over to his side. "You need to lay down-"
He shrugged her off, "I'm fine. I need air."
Kára watched as he hobbled over to a chair sitting against the side of the house and collapsed in it. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back his head against the wall and blinked against the sunlight. The two girls could do nothing but look at him and then each other, until he finally took notice of them both.
"Do I have something on my face?"
"Yes, but I think it's just your beard," Kára answered.
Ragnar grinned, his straight teeth flashing behind the straggly mess of his beard. He reached up and ran his fingers down it, wincing at the knots and the debri caught in it. "Perhaps it's time for a shave and a bath."
Hulda began to walk over to the house, "I will boil some water-"
"No," Ragnar raised his hand to stop her. "I need to do this myself."
Kára looked at him skeptically, but her mother didn't insist on helping him. Instead she took out her comb and grooming tools, and handed it to him. Ragnar gave her a nod of thanks, and started to stand up by putting all his weight on his cane.
Just as he was about to hobble out of the clearing, Kára shouted his name and ran over to him. Ragnar looked at her over his shoulder, patiently watching her taking something off her belt and handing it to him. It was the same little dagger she had threatened him with last spring.
"It's sharper than before."
Ragnar smiled as he took the dagger and then gave her a small nod. He turned back around and began his slow and long trek to the river. Kára and Hulda watched him slowly leave the clearing and disappear in the forest, and once he was just out of sight, the two looked at each other in concern.
"Should we follow him?" Kára asked.
Hulda shook her head and placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "No. This is something he needs to do alone."
x x x
It may be the early days of spring, but the river water was cold as winter. Dirty snow collected at the edge of the thawed out water, slowly disappearing with every warm day. Ragnar's hands shook as he plunged his palms into the water and brought it to his face, drenching his beard and brow. The shock of the cold made him gasp out loud, not realizing how hot he felt until true cold met his skin. It was enough for him to crumble back to Hulda's cottage, but he remained. He continued to cup water and bring it to his face over and over again, his thin body bent over the riverbed, completely exposed to the elements.
Ragnar bit through the bite of the water as he plunged his head in. He pulled out with a desperate gasp, ran his trembling hands over his face and then looked up across the slow moving river. Droplets of water collected in his eyelashes, so he just barely saw the three figures on the other side. Blinking away the dew, he now saw a family of deer; a fawn, a doe, and a stag. The mother and child both bent down to the river and drank, while the father eyed the human warily. Ragnar noted that the stag had grown back his antlers and was now shedding its velvet casing. Tendrils of velvet and blood fell from the proud animal's antlers, showing the card crown underneath. Both kings lock eyes for a long moment until the animal took a step forward, and bowed his head next to his fawn and joined his family to drink.
The viking watched in silence and stillness as the woodland family finished and retreated back into the forest, with the stag lingering for a moment to give one last look at Ragnar. He suddenly shook his large head vigorously, flinging off bits of bloody velvet from his fully grown antlers, and turned to join his family.
Ragnar looked down into the water and saw his reflection for the first time, and couldn't recognize himself. He was shallow-cheeked, pale, puffy-eyed, and his hair had grown out scraggly and muddy in colour. His hand reached out and touched his gaunt face, and saw his fingers were thin and knobby at the knuckles. The same hand that wielded an axe proudly over his shoulder, the same knuckles red with blood from his victims. He was viking no more; he was an old man who was ready to die.
Taking the dagger he was given, Ragnar pulled it to eye level, seeing the reflection of his blue eye in the foggy steel. He then flickered his gaze over to the bloody shreds of velvet felt left behind by the stag. Gripping the knife and his teeth, Ragnar straightened his back and pulled the knife to his scalp, where he began to cut off the dreads of his knotted tendrils until it was short enough to shave down to the skin. Blood began to trickle down his forehead and collected in the hairs of his brow, but he continued until the tattoos beneath the hair were visible, and the crown of his skull gleamed like the twinkling ripples of the river.
I was always curious as to how Ragnar was able to battle withdrawals alone. It's not exactly easy, and he could have easily died if he didn't have help. I had to look a up a bit of things about withdrawals from extreme opioid use, and I hope I made it as close to reality as possible. Hulda refers to addiction as a demon from the plant that Yidu was feeding them, since throughout history mental illness was always been explained that demons were possessing the human body. Which is why, even today, super religious folk confuse illnesses like Schizophrenia to demonic possession. By I digress. Starting next chapter, there will be time skips, and within three chapters (including 14), Kara will be fully grown and it will pick up sometime before season 4 part b.
