"How did you know I was here?" questioned Raneir. Ragnar shrugged as he took a bite from an apple.
"You were not as sneaky as you thought," he answered, chewing the juicy fruit. "I would have expected my sons to train you better."
"Raneir?"
The young woman peered around Ragnar to see the youngest prince, his face turning a pale green. Raneir gave a small smile and sheepishly wiggled her fingers at the boy.
"What—?" Ivar's question cut off as he leaned over the side of the boat and emptied the contents of his stomach over the edge.
As Ragnar and Raneir made their way over to the boy, Ragnar asked "Are you alright?" Before Ivar could answer, he leaned over the edge once more.
Raneir shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's terrified of water, my king," she answered. The corner of Ragnar's mouth lifted up in a smirk as he watched Raneir sit down next to his son.
"There are plenty of worse ways to die than by drowning," he muttered, turning away to rejoin the men. Raneir rolled her eyes and turned back to Ivar.
"Did Aslaug tell you about her vision?" she questioned. Ivar huffed, his head rolling along with his eyes.
"Yes," he answered with a snarky tone at the edge of his voice. "And I told her that I was still going."
Raneir placed her hands in her lap, wringing her fingers. "Even though your mother saw you drown in the most terrible way?" she whispered. Ivar placed his hand over Raneir's, stilling her fingers. With a quiet voice, he answered
"Yes."
Raneir leaned against Ivar's shoulder and closed her eyes. With a small chuckle, Ivar added, "You should know that not all my mother's—"
With a quick jerk, Ivar once more leaned over the side of the boat. Raneir opened the pouch that was secured at her waist. As Ivar sat up, Raneir handed him a licorice root drop. "Here, I knew you would get sick."
The pair sat in silence, watching the men row. Raneir swiped away some of the hair that had fallen loose from her braids. With a furrowed brow, Raneir sat still feeling the wind brush against her face. Slowly, the boatbuilder's daughter stood up and caught Ragnar's eye. Looking up, they both noticed how the shift in the wind blew the flag at the top of the mast in a different direction.
"The wind," she stated, "It's changed."
In the distance, Raneir saw dark clouds billowing on the horizon. Ragnar saw the young girl's face grow pale. The old king gently placed a hand on the side of her neck as her eyes widened with fear.
"By the gods," she whispered. "It's coming for us."
It wasn't long before the bright sky was darkened by the monstrous storm clouds. Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up the frightened warriors' faces as they tried their best to row through the rolling waves. Somehow, Ivar's screams could be heard over the roaring wind and the crashing of thunder.
Ivar clung to the side of the boat, his anxious cries echoing in Raneir's ears. The young girl tried her best to comfort her friend but to no avail. As a wave crashed over the boat, Raneir lost her grip and slid along the deck, crashing into some barrels that were still aboard.
"Ragnar!" she shouted. Ragnar pushed past the warriors and lifted the girl to her feet.
"Help him," she cried, "I cannot hold onto him!"
Ragnar quickly lifted Ivar over his shoulder and carried him to the mast. He stood the young prince against it, tying rope around his waist and securing him to the post.
"Stay with him!" he ordered, turning back to help the men.
With Ivar still screaming, Raneir tried to silence him by covering his mouth with her hand but his panicked screams still leaked through her fingers. Dropping her hand, Raneir paused before she pressed her lips against Ivar's.
The shock caused Ivar to catch his breath, silencing his screams. As Raneir pulled back, Ivar stared at her wide-eyed. Raneir's lips pulled up into a small smile before she wrapped her arms around Ivar's body. Raneir closed her eyes and whispered her prayers to the goddess Ran.
"We will get through this!" she shouted next to Ivar's ear. "You will see! The gods have greater things in store for you, Ivar Ragnarsson!"
Raneir felt Ivar's arm wrap around her waist, pulling her in tighter against his body.
There was a quick silence before a vast wave crashed over the boat, turning it upside down and emptying out its contents.
Floating.
That's what it felt like.
Like floating on a raft that her father had made one time when she was a child, or like floating on the water's surface.
There was a brightness shining on her, making the back of her eyelids pink. However, this brightness did not bring warmth like the sun but a chill instead. Muffled voices and screams could be heard within the chill.
"Am I dead?" Raneir muttered aloud.
"Not yet, my child," bubbled a voice that sounded like a siren's call. "It is not your time yet. You still have battles to fight, kings to meet, and choices to make. There is still a boy who will need his anchor. There will come a time where he will cut the rope, but you must somehow find a way to be there for him. It will cause a broken heart. But do not worry for it will be mended."
Raneir wanted to open her eyes but the brightness was still there. "But if I am not dead—"
"This is your first choice to make. You can keep your eyes closed and continue to stay with me, for whom your father named you after. Or you can open them and be with those you love."
"But-"
"Choose, Raneir!"
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