Chapter 15.
Winds of change came, weather they were good or bad Llucia didn't want to choose. She walked through Kattekat in the morning hours. The houses and people looked the same, the way they went on their business, tending to the animals or doing chores. It was just something in the air.
The heavy feeling of anticipation.
It was like everyone lived normally but expected something. A storm. A war. A change bigger than the last.
Llucia's gut feeling wasn't welcoming. It was like swallowing a ball of hay, not heavy but annoying, poking at her sides. Everything on her itched when she slept in her old bed. Her bed? Ivar's bed. Earl Ingstad or should she just call her Queen Lagertha insisted they threw a feast before mourning the last queen and so she slept, drunk with her heavy mind in the nearest bed. It just happened to be his.
Smelling still of Ivar.
Waking up to see the Queen call for her. She could recall the way her face contorted during their talk.
˝Through this way or another I would like to express my gratitude for everything you have done for me but..˝- She paused and bowed her head in respect.- ˝I am still drawn to Ivar and I do not condone the way you seized the throne. I must be truthful to you, as a woman you deserve it˝
˝And as a ruler?˝- Queen Lagertha asked. Llucia stayed silent. The way the assault and the dying of Aslaug went on stuck to her. It was like thin sheet of dirt on her skin, no matter how much she washed herself a tiny part of it stayed put stubbornly. She wasn't fond of the her but she didn't want her to die like this, not when her sons and husband were away. She couldn't even say goodbye.
˝Very well, I...respect your feelings but I will ask of your alliance when the time comes˝- Lagertha announced it like a decree. In her heart Llucia already knew, she'd refuse. If Ivar came back...
When Ivar came back, she corrected herself, she'd stand beside him.
It was only proper with the last words she had given and the decision in her heart. Better to die on your legs then die on your knees. Llucia jutted her chin up and exhaled.
˝I will return to the cabin I was first..confined.˝- Lagertha's eyebrow lifted. ˝I have some of my belongings there and I wish to return to my craft˝
˝May the Gods watch over you and don't be a stranger to this hall˝- Llucia bowed again but only because she was brought up with manners, there wasn't much respect left for the new queen.
Her feet led her naturally through Kattekat, up the river stream, through the woods. She stood before the cabin and blinked. It was there, like nothing had happened. Maybe a bit over weeded but still standing stead fast. Her hand reached the door and pushed. Stale, old air greeted her with a bit of mold and dust.
She sneezed and heard something. Rustling and squeaking. A fluffy tail moved behind the table. She saw two green eyes. The animal came out and sat in front of Llucia. An ashen fox looked her right in the eye. She felt her breath stop and memories surge in front of her eyes.
She was back on the ship that carried her to the north. She was cold and hungry, covered in the cloths she wore back home, a simple tunic with blue waves at the bottom, sandals and her shall. She was sharing a knitted woolen blanket with another girl on the ship. The blanket smell of fish and piss but it kept them warm at least a bit. Her toes freezed and her hearth was hard with worry as they passed the seas up north.
She remembered seeing Kattekat, the wooden houses with the strange figures on the entrance roof. The people with long hair in furs and braids. The strong men seizing her, the women whispering to each other. She remembered a pair of blue eyes staring at her behind a barrel. The boy was leaning on the barrel watching everyone. His eyes narrowed and he frowned, irritated he'd been caught staring. She found his face handsome and young, not scared by battle and loss. He was like a northern spirit to her and she couldn't stop watching him, not even when a hand grabbed her face and turned her head sharply. She yelped and was greeted by a sweaty old man, face hidden by orange facial hair. She smelt the alcohol in his breath and coughed. He yelled in their language and laughed.
A hand was raised and she heard a young male's voice. The northen spirit had spoken. Another bald man snickered and told something the boy. He must have been the father. His head was tattooed in swirly designs and his beard was long and gray streaked. His eyes were the unmistakable blue of his sons'.
Llucia's vision changed to her trashing under the man's hands, yelling obscenitis in Latin and crying all the way up to the cabin. She had been hit to lay still. Afraid that the man would do something else she had frozen and closed her eyes. Let it pass fast Jupiter, oh please...
He never did anything. She spent hours lying on her side in the small cabin praying to her Gods to end her life and spare her. They never listened.
Instead shuffling noises and norse jumbling woke her. She moved to the corner and waited for the worst. The blue eyed boy came in. Crawled in. Llucia watched horrified. She wasn't scared of him but felt pity for his legs. He dragged them behind like ropes. They didn't work, she realized. That's why he had been leaning on the barel that way. He couldn't stand up.
He said something. Watched her. Talked some more. Shifted his head and went past her. Pulling himself up he leaned onto the fire place and started making a fire. Llucia watched him without speaking. There was an axe on his belt and a dagger. If she could take them, he'd be and easy victim.
While he was busy kindling the fire she reached for the dagger and promptly her hand was grabbed. His eyes were on fire, brows narrowed. He was mad. He yelled in his tongue and Llucia grew irritated. She yelled back in Latin.
The boy laughed and Llucia hit his arm. She stood up and hit his head and yelled again. She remembered the sound of her bracelets hitting the floor and the fire cracking behind him. The way her breath was ragged and her stomach roaring with hunger. The embarrassment as the boy smiled and retrieved a pouch from his side filled with salted fish and dried meat.
She mumbled and sat beside him, eating fast. She inhaled the food and chocked on a piece of salted fish. Unused to the salty, fat fish she ate too fast without chewing. A flask with ale was brought to her face. She drank greedily. A burp escaped her mouth and she put her hand shocked.
The boy laughed, the fire in his eyes warmer. Llucia stuck her tongue out.
The vision faded. Llucia blinked. The fox was gone so was the fire of that day. She felt cold and alone.
She closed the door behind her and walked to the fire place. Maybe a fire would bring her some solace, she thought as she hunched down and gathered small twigs and leaves to make a simple cone, arranging bigger logs under it to catch the fire as it grew. Two stones grinding on each other sparked the fire. Soon the warm light filled the cabin. Llucia stared at the fire. She watched the flames dance and change from red to orange to the yellow tips, bending and eating away at the wood.
The door behind her flew open. She turned and stared wide eyed at the figure.
Ivar was on his hands, his face sullen and dirty. His hair had grown a bit. Llucia stood up and almost ran to him. His eyes watched her with sadness.
˝Your…˝
˝I heard. Ragnar is dead˝- He said slowly. Llucia closed her eyes. He was an orphan now.
˝I…you're back. Ivar you're back˝
˝Yes..I returned to you˝
˝The words..˝- Ivar nodded. He learned of the meaning then. It wasn't appropriate but a blush adorned her cheeks.
˝Your hair grew…and you did too˝- It was Llucia's turn to nod. She didn't know what to say. All the nights she imagined him coming back, yelling at his stupid ass for leaving in the first place. Her mind was blank now that she had him in front of her. He looked haunted.
Silence stretched between them.
a/n : I'll add just some explanations for the things mentioned in the chapter. I guess you guys get tired of my ramblings. In Norse mythology, a fylgja is a spirit who accompanies a person in connection to their fate or fortune.
** Dreams of Blood**
Ivar watched the stars of the night sky. He'd see one occasionally fly through the sky. One of the Gods must have flown. Maybe even Thor as he rode his chariot. He was sailing back home on a ship full of Saxons. They guarded him with spears. His father was with their brethren, probably dead by now.
The great Ragnar Lothbrok dead. The King was dead.
Which meant on of the sons would have to be King.
Which one? Bjorn or Ubbe? Both the oldest, by two different women, by two queens.
Ivar closed his eyes, he was tired of the journey and he wanted to see his mother and Llucia. Her energy would fill his spirits and he could tease her for her words when he departed. Did she change? Did that dark hair of hers grow? Maybe she had a tattoo now..
His mind eased with those thoughts and he dreamt of the great hall, his brothers and Llucia, the people of Kattekat, Floki, Helga. He was smiling and sitting on the throne. His cup was filled with something red. Maybe wine? He tasted it. The sharp metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. It didn't taste like the blood of sacrificial goats. His eyes turned to the furs in front of the thrones. A blonde and a dark head were thrown, still bloody.