Master of My Sea


Happy Yuletide everyone!

I have exciting news, as this chapter marks the end of this story arc in this story, and that means the next chapter is what everyone is waiting to read :) I know it's been a HOT MINUTE, but I'm a person that focuses on character development the most, and I wanted to create an OC that people are invested in.

I'm hoping that I can get the next chapter out before the year ends. I'll give my word I'll try, but to say I'm tired from work is an understatement, hah.

Anyway, thank you everyone for reviewing! It's really the most motivating thing to any writer. We all crave feedback and knowing that people enjoy what they write! Every little one is highly appreciated :3


chapter nineteen:
THE SPEARWIFE


The peaceful rhythm of the water lulled Ulf into a meditative state that day, which was a great contrast to the days prior. He was drained emotionally, but his muscles, while exhausted, were numb as he carried on. He rode night and day to transport Sigrún's body to the lake, knowing this was where she wanted her body to be released. They had planned on making a house near it, where they could make a living from smithing and fishing in peace.

The lake was their slice of paradise in Midgard; it was where they first met, where they first made love, and where they decided to share their future. Now? Now it was a graveyard. Their grave yard.

Ulf's eyes were sunken from a lake of sleep, but he refused to rest until Sigrún was laid to rest. He took his old fishing boat, and filled it with dry leaves and twigs, then gently laid her body on top of it. By now her body was already advancing its stages to decay, and he knew he couldn't bear to look at what she'd become underneath the tarp he wrapped her in. He didn't want his last memory of her face to be that of death. Ulf still decorated her with wild flowers, and placed her armour on top of her clothed form. On Top of her head, he made her a crown of flowers and vines, and when he placed, he planted one last chaste kiss upon her forehead. Lastly, he placed her spear down vertically on her body. It was snapped in half during battle, but he had found the pieces before he found Sigrún. It seemed like it pointed to her body along the battlefield.

It was dusk once Sigrún was ready for her burial. Ulf sullenly poured oil on the bed of leaves and twigs, and with little strength he had left, he pushed the boat into the lake. Once the pull of the waves took hold of the hull, Ulf landed on his knees and watched the boat float away. He suddenly felt the weight return to his chest and shoulders. His dry, sleep-deprived eyes glistened with tears and fell freely down his dirt stricken face and to his beard. The further Sigrún's body floated away, the farther in despair Ulf found himself.

After what felt like an eternity, Ulf pulled himself to his feet. The weight made his knees weak, but he managed to keep his balance. There was still one thing left to be done. He took an arrow that he had wrapped in oil sodden cloth, and with a quick motion he lit it on fire with flint and steel. He knocked it and aimed, trying to focus his blurry eye onto the boat. He would not forgive himself if he did not make it on the first try.

The wind seemed to favour him, because the arrow flew with speed and precision, and it landed right into the bed of leaves, and all caught aflame.

And there Ulf watched as the fire ate up the boat and freed Sigrún's soul from her body, raising it to the gates of Valhalla. As the sun set over the mountains, the night sky quickly blanketed the area in a sombre blue. Soon the only light was the flames of the pyre, which sailed farther and farther away from Ulf.

The last light in his life shrank right in front of his eyes, and all that was left was the darkness.

X X X

Bjorn stood by the horse carriage as it was being packed and prepared for the journey back to Kattegat. His eyes looked around the area for the seventh time, and just like the other times, he didn't spot the head of red hair he wished to see. His mother came to stand by his side, holding Asa at her hip.

"I was hoping she would come," Bjorn confessed.

"Perhaps it is not her time to return," Lagertha reasoned.

"Or fear is holding her back," Bjorn looked down at his boot before turning to his mother. "It is a disappointment."

Lagertha smiled at him, "She will return, on her own one day."

Their conversation was cut short when one of Lagertha's shieldmaidens, the former Frankish woman Esmé, jogged over to them.

"Oh, thank the gods you have not left," she said, catching her breath once she reached them. "Kára left without saying a word. Where is she? I'd like to give her a piece of my mind for not saying anything."

Lagertha and Bjorn collectively gave the girl a confused look.

"She is not here," Lagertha spoke. "She was not there when you woke?"

Esmé's smile dropped, "No… She left this." She held up the cloak pin. It was nothing fancy, but it had been the first materialistic thing that Kára had bought with her earnings as a shieldmaiden. "I thought she took Bjorn's offer."

Lagertha took the pin and palmed it in her hand curiously. It was a simple pin, with the ends shaped as leaves. There was no other significance to it, other than its ties to Hedeby.

"Pardon my intrusion, Jarl Ingstad," a small voice spoke. Lagertha tore her eyes from the pin in her hand, and onto the boy. It was Kára's trainee, Frodi. His eyebrows were turned upwards, and had a curious crestfallen look to his eyes. "Kára wanted me to relay a message to you and Bjorn."

Lagertha shared a look with her son before looking back at the boy, "What is it, child?"

Frodi looked up at the man first, and spoke, "Kára wanted me to tell you that she made her decision."

Bjorn stared at the boy for a beat before sighing through his nose and gave him a tight lipped smile and a short nod.

Then, Frodi looked back at his Jarl, "And she wanted me to tell you, my lady, that… She had a sea to conquer."

It had been a couple of years since Lagertha had that discussion with Kára during her first months of being in Hedeby. However, the recognition of the words was immediate. She felt her chest swell with pride at this news. There were just some waters women had to sail alone, and it appeared it was Kára's time to do just that.

Lagertha smiled at the boy, "So she does. Thank you, Frodi."

X X X

The Remnants of snow turned into slush the moment hooves trampled over it. The birds in the branches chirped their mating songs, but the moment the large animal ran through the trees, they dispersed. The air was cold, but the bright sun warmed Kára's back as she rode through the familiar forest. It was familiar, but not at the same time. Sure, the trees got bigger, and the streams deeper, but the change was not from the aesthetic of it. There was something in the air that tasted different. It wasn't as sweet as she remembered.

Kára road through the day, only stopping to rest her horse by dusk. She got little sleep; like the night before she left Hedeby, her thoughts were a tangled mess of regrets and second guesses. She wished she could have given a proper farewell to her shield sisters, and given Lagertha the proper appreciation she deserved. Alas, she was already far enough that turning back would just be counter productive. Kára couldn't deny the selfishness of her impulsiveness, but with her mind as indecisive as it was, she couldn't trust herself if she sat on it for too long. If she had stayed until everyone was awake, she would have changed her mind and prolonged it, or never allowed it to come to fruition. And that, Kára understood, would be her biggest regret of all.

Kára reached the old fishing shack by the lake by mid day. It appeared exactly the same way she remembered it. There was still snow gathered in its crevices, but what remained of the skeleton appeared to be exactly the same. She hopped off of Dynja and allowed the horse to drink from the shallows of the lake, then walked over to the shack and looked it over like some riddle she had yet to solve.

She did feel compelled to be in this exact spot, as if she knew what it meant. Of course, this place did mean something to her. It was where she came upon the black wolf she had believed to be her father. Was her father. The older she got, the more sensible she seemed to get, but right now, her sensible reasoning seemed to dwindle away just like her childhood imagination.

This old fishing shack meant something, and she knew it was where she needed to begin. With a great sigh, she pulled off her cloak, her sword, her bow, her quiver, and then lastly, her riding boots. All that she allowed to remain on her were her trousers and tunic, which she tucked into her pants after removing her belt. Then she marched the shallows of the lake, biting the inside of her cheeks as the sting of the icy cold water bit her toes, and then her calves, thighs, and then her stomach.

The lake had not completely thawed, as slates of ice still clung to the earth at the edges. The sun still comforted the top of Kára's head, but that did little to sooth her numbing limbs. Her breathing felt laboured and heavier the more the water ate up her body. There was a moment when she thought to go back, and leave this for when the weather was hotter, but like she had done with her doubts before, she ignored that cowardly voice in her head.

When the water finally met her chin, she breathed out through her lips and began swimming further into the lake. She kept her eyes focused on the gentle waves of the lake, and her mind on the dream in which she marched through the humid fog. The ground was so far beneath her feet now, and all that was left was ice cold water. She wanted to look back to see how far she had swam, but looking back would be her downfall, so she kept on swimming.

And swimming.

And swimming.

And then, just when she felt like her legs and arms would turn into lead and pull her underneath, the water just… silenced. The sound of gentle splashing deafened in her ears, even though it still moved around her, completely unperturbed. All she heard now was her own laboured breathing… And the beat of a drum.

With a sharp inhale of air Kára plunged into the water, where she saw nothing by murky green-blue water. It seemed endless and hopeless, but she swam on, trying to fight the natural pull of her body wanting to float back to the top. She was never a strong swimmer, being that she spent most of her childhood afraid of the water, but at that moment her muscles felt like they were taking over. A stroke, a kick, a stroke, a kick; Kára had no idea how she was able to hold onto her breath for longer than twenty seconds, and by then it must have been no less than 2 minutes. Two minutes of swimming deeper and deeper into the depths of the lake.

Finally she could see the stringy tendrils of the curly weeds gently swaying in the water, and the darkening of the lake floor. As the green murk of the water cleared with the visual of the dirt ground, Kára could faintly see the outline of a sunken boat, and a gathering of rocks in the shape of a circle that encased it.

She knew there was not enough time to linger and laminate at it all. The boat, as she saw it, was decomposed, partially covered with earth and vegetation over time. A glint of steel is what caught her eye, and when she reached for it, it was the curve of a skull that made her pause.

Her lungs began to burn and panic in her veins was starting to bloom. She quickly grabbed the rusted steel, and in the process, she knocked a rock in the ring out of place. With an iron grip, she held onto her treasure and began swimming up. Whatever gave her the superhuman ability to swim this far into the lake in such cold weather was starting to wear off. The very real sensation of her mortality was apparent, and Kára frantically pushed her body up through the water. The surface seemed so much more farther away than the bottom did.

The desperation for air was too much for her lungs. Her mouth opened, letting out her last bubbles of air she had clung to for as long as she could. The cold then met her bones, and suddenly her body felt like an anchor. Kára made a sound of panic under the water while frantically kicking her deadweight leg. From the corner of her eye, she could see a dark form, like a giant fishing net cloaking behind her. Kára made the mistake of looking behind her.

The ghostly blue-green face of the raven-haired goddess Rán starred up at her. Her arms outstretched with her net in her grasp, ready to capture Kára and drag her to Hel. The panic intensified and she kicked harder, her fingers gripping her prize as if it were fused with her fingers. She looked back up, just faintly seeing the glittering surface. Kára could feel the brush of the net at her toes as Rán inched ever forward, readying her embrace.

Kára trained her eyes on the surface, which felt farther away than ever before. Her vision was starting to blacken around the edges, and the net seemed to be getting closer and closer to enveloping her. The sun seemed to dim above her, mimicking her fading lifeforce. And then suddenly it disappeared, and Kára's body froze as her last hope had been gone.

And as Rán's net hugged her shoulders, her arms floated above her head. In her right hand she still held onto the spear, as if it was now part of her arm.

A hand plunged into the water and grabbed a hold of it, then a second to reach for her wrist. With strength like no mortal man had, Kára was lifted from the water and onto a boat. Her eyes were half open, half dead, and her lips were blue and parted. She was frozen to the bone, but not yet the heart, because she could feel, and what she felt was a divine warmth on her skin. Her eyelids fluttered as she saw a brilliant golden glow radiating from a winged silhouette

"Sigrún…" A voice spoke to her, as if trying to wake her up from a bad dream. "Sigrún, it's time to go. It is time to go home."

Air seemed to push through her lungs and purge the water out. Kára began to cough harshly and violently. Her eyes blinked wildly, trying to get rid of the blur that obscured her vision. She could just barely make out the smiling face of a large woman, hair like golden wheat, eyes like sapphires, and pearl white wings stretch behind her.

Kára blinked again and the woman was farther away, closer to the sun and no longer alone. Another held her hand, wings drooping down behind her, and a long curtain of red hair flowed between her shoulder blades. When she turned around to look down at Kára, her smile was gentle, her eyes bright behind the dews of her tears, and her other arm stretched out towards Kára.

"Thank you," she heard her voice like the sound of autumn leaves in the wind.

And then Kára blinked again, and all she saw was the blinding sun.

"Kára," A gravelly voice spoke as a hand patted her cheek. "Kára, she's gone. It's done… It's done."

The girl slowly turned her head to the source of the voice, and found herself looking at the grotesque folds of the Seer. He held her closely to his body, his hands cupping her face, and his fingers moving along the edges of her features.

Kára stared at him for the longest time, as if he was the one that wasn't real. She breathed hard, and then swallowed. She realized she was hugging something to her chest, and when she looked down, she saw the rusted spear stuck in her grasp. As her vision focused, she could just make out a runes that spelt out the name of the owner of the spear. Sigrún Spearwife

"She's gone," Kára repeated in a whisper. "It's done."

She closed her eyes and rested her head in the Seer's arms, "I'm free."

X X X

Kára wasn't sure when, but she had eventually passed out. Her first conscious thought was recognizing the sound of a crackling hearth upon waking, and being bound in thick blankets and furs. She was staring up at the ceiling, which was decorated with herbs, animal bones, and runes on wood chips. The strong scent that was an indescribable blend of earth and age triggered a memory, and she slowly realized that she was in the Seer's house.

Without moving, she shifted her eyes over to the other side, immediately seeing the Seer by the hearth, grounding something up in a mortar.

"You're awake," he stated.

"How did I get here?" She asked after finding her voice

"I brought you here," he replied with a heavy breath. "Your horse is outside."

The mention of her horse seemed to ground her a little bit; she had forgotten she left him by the lake, but was relieved she hadn't lost him. Kára closed her eyes and settled into the comfort of the warmth that surrounded her. She never wanted to be cold again, but knew that eventually she would have to greet the cold air when she left. For now though, she would soak up the heat that her body was robbed.

As consciousness seemed to grasp her harder, the memories of the time past seem to float back to her like ship debri on the shoreline. It felt like a dream and Kára briefly wondered if that's what it was. Some fabrication her mind came up with while she was unconscious thanks to nearly drowning herself in a partially frozen lake.

As if he could read her mind, the Seer spoke.

"You did not imagine it, Kára," his gravelly voice spoke, making her open her eyes and turn to look at him.

"How is that possible?"

"You neared death, and that made you closer to the gods," he explained. "Being on the edge of mortality gives you a glimpse of what awaits you after death."

In the corner of her eye, she caught a glint of something reflecting the fire of the hearth, and when she shifted her eyes over to it, she saw the spear head that she had pulled off of the remains of Sigrún. This solidified the proof she needed that what happened, did happen.

Kára let out a soft sigh through her nose, and resettled in her furs, "The night of the blood moon, when you said that water was my grave… you weren't talking to me, were you?"

"I was," he answered. "You and Sigrún were one person. Had you not freed her from the ring of fire, you would still be one person."

"I have yet to understand that, and why she was trapped in a ring of fire in the first place."

"She was being punished for defying the All Father. Valkyries are meant to bring dead warriors to Valhalla, but she tried to intervene with a death; a death that belonged to the goddess Rán."

Kára recalled a dream that had always felt to her like a memory. She remembered dreaming of a frozen lake, a man standing on the ice and a winged woman before him. She realized now it was a memory, but not her death that the Seer mentioned was her father's. He was on that lake to die, and Rán was there to collect his soul. A soul that Sigrún deprived her.

The Seer continued, "The All Father punished her the same way he had done another Valkyrie: imprisoned in a ring of fire. Sigrún's body was bound in it, but her soul bound herself with yours on that day, when you were born. She knew if she hadn't, she would be trapped there until the end of days."

Kára listened quietly, soaking in each word and making sense of her life with them. The odd dreams, for example, were a constant mystery to her. It made sense then, when the Seer had said that she dreamed of 'her' death all those years ago. What she was really seeing was her aunt's death, who was, at the time, part of her. So, her fate really was unwritten. Perhaps it was Sigrún's influence that made her own fate unknown to even Freya; like her very presence created a storm around Kára that blinded even the gods.

Blinking in slight confusion from another small detail, Kára looked over at the Seer with a furrowed brow, and asked in a small voice. "Who was the other Valkyrie that Odin punished?"

"You know her grandsons," he replied.

There was a beat of silence as Kára stared at him in confusion until it finally dawned on her. She sat up straighter, "Brynhildr. The mother of Aslaug." The seer nodded silently. "She… she was the one who pulled me and Sigrún out from the water."

"She guided me to you," The seer added. "It is no coincidence she was the one to do so, as your life has tangled so tightly with that of her youngest grandson."

"Ivar," Kára deduced. She remembered what Bjorn had told her of what happened to him, and how he has been different ever since he had lost his memory - particularly losing his memory of her. "He does not even remember me."

"Your mark is still on him, child. The gods may not be able to foresee your destiny, but it is clear that Ivar has a great part of it. Brynhildr would not have come had she not a reason to keep you alive." Suddenly the grinding noise of the mortar and pestle stopped, and when she looked up, he was looking up at her; a disfigured face shrouded by the shadow of his hood. Even though he had no eyes, she could feel them still staring right into her soul.

"You have powerful allies in Valhalla, Kára. The Valkyries have their eyes on you."

X X X

Kára remained with the Seer for a few nights until she was strong enough to be independent. While she knew that he would have no qualms with her remaining with him, they both knew it wouldn't be in her best interest. Kára could see where she was needed, and that was home.

When she arrived there, she wasn't sure what she expected. The house was still there, but nature had taken over it to the point where it was nearly unnoticeable to a passerby. However the remnants of the chicken coop and Ragnar's garden remained. The grass roof was overgrown and hung over the entrance. When Kára cut the long fridge, the first thing she saw was her mother's door. The three cats carved in the wood, which had aged rapidly from neglect.

Her hand moved over the engraving, thinking back to when she was a child. She remembered naming the cats on the door, but she couldn't recall what she had called them. Hulda had told her that the door was carved by Ulf as a present when Hulda had told him she was pregnant. They had been trying for years, but to no avail.

Kára cut the rest of the fringe that covered the front of the house. It needed some work, but it still stood, and she could make it a home once again. The inside was almost untouched. It was clear that scavengers had taken some of the more useful tools, but the cauldron remained, and the cot was still intact. It had no furs, but Kára could make do.

It took roughly a week for her to clean up the house. It wasn't perfect, but once she was able to clear out the animal nests and litter, and covered the smell with lavender and other flowers, it was livable. However, she really would like some furs for the cot and to cover up the windows. With little money, purchasing furs at the market wouldn't be an option, so instead, she fletched some arrows, made sure her horse was secure, and took off the next morning to hunt some large game.

She followed a trail of deer tracks into the forest, and found a place that they seemed to frequent, given the teeth marks in the bark. She climbed up a tree, and leaned against the trunk with her bow in hand and gave a soft sigh. Now all she had to do was wait.

With eyes closed, Kára allowed the sounds of the forest to fill her senses. She could hear the gentle wind of the ruffling leaves, the chirps of birds from the distance.

And the distinct sound of uneven footsteps.

Her eyes shot open and she looked around until she could see movement disturbing the stillness of the wood. Silently sitting up, Kára pulled her bow from around her and then crept along the thick branch to follow the form of a man moving slowly through the thicket. She stalked him like an animal; camouflaging herself in the shade of the branches until she was able to get closer to him. The leaves blocked most of her view, so she could only see glimpses of his shoulder and the dragging of his feet.

The stranger came to a slow stop, giving Kára ample opportunity to hunch down against a branch and peek through a keyhole sized opening through the green leaves. He was tall, but lithe, with short brown hair, and squared shoulders that seemed to droop down. Tucked under his arm was a crutch; at his hip a quiver of arrows, and hanging from his shoulder a curve of a bow. Kára looked down to his long legs and saw…metal and leather bindings.

Ivar?

And as she thought of that name, her shock was so great that it lowered her guard. In those quick seconds, the man moved swiftly, and before she knew it, an arrow was flying right at her.


Gotta love a cliff hanger ;P

Ho boy, how I wanted to reveal this! So, a bit of background - Firstly, Brynhildr is the most famous Valkyries, mostly because she was the first to go against Odin, as well as who her first "spouse" was, which was Sigurd. They were both central characters of the Volsunga saga, which I won't get into. But as punishment for going against Odin's wishes by backing up an opposing army, Odin bound her in a ring of fire, to which Sigurd freed her from. They are Aslaug's parents, and the reason why she was an only child was because Brynhildr killed Sigurd, then killed herself. But I digress...

But back to Kara and Sigrun. Both are less known Valkyries, but they are, actually, the same person. I didn't follow the exact story, but essentially the story is of Sigrun and her lover Helgi and how they were reincarnated as Kara and Helgi by another name. So I followed the thread of reincarnation, and took liberties with the story (since the History channel does that anyway, lol). I never brought in Helgi, even though I did consider making him the father of Kara. I Just didn't want it to be obvious to those that were familiar with this story that this was what I was trying to do.

Another tidbit is that Kara means "the wild, stormy one", or possibly "The curly one", which is why I chose to give her wild curly hair, and the constant theme of storms that surround her. Which I plan on keeping as a theme throughout the story.

In other news, there are new images in Pinterest. I couldn't find a suitable picture of Brynhildr that I liked that wasn't hypersexualized, but if I find one in the future, I'll add it. In the mean time, I made a dollmaker creation to show what I pictured.

I feel like there was something else I wanted to say, but for the life of me, I can't figure it out. So I'll leave it at that, hah.

Happy holidays!