Chapter Twenty-Four: Death of a Queen
In the warmth of the great hall, Aslaug served Rúna rabbit and vegetables swimming in a buttery sauce. Her wine cup was filled by an older woman—this one free, and in Aslaug's employ of her own volition, unlike Margrethe. At the queen's behest, Rúna had dressed in the blue silk Aslaug had gifted her two Yules ago and matching beads shimmered in her braided hair. Other than this being Aslaug's whim, Rúna saw no reason for the finery, but she made no comment on it. Rather, she quietly ate her meal and drank her spiced wine, stealing glances at the serene picture Queen Aslaug cut across from her.
The servant woman brought sweet cakes out for them once the supper plates were cleared away. Rúna racked her mind, trying to remember the older woman's name. Helga had told her before, she was certain, and she knew this woman did much of Aslaug's sewing and other such menial tasks. Revna. Not so far off from her own name, yet it had easily slipped from her mind.
"Thank you, Revna," Rúna made sure to use her name when her own sweet cake was served to her and the servant filled her cup. Revna smiled pleasantly at her before fading away to the kitchens unless she was called for.
Breaking off a piece of cake, Rúna let the sweet flavors of honey and cherry fill her mouth. She tried to ignore the way the wind shrieked outside. Aslaug's storm had moved inland, pelting Kattegat with rain. Desperately, she clung to the warmth of Freya's breeze she had felt on the god's beach. No matter what Aslaug told her this night, there was comfort in knowing her plea had been heard.
For her part, Aslaug seemed to be waiting for Rúna. Swallowing against her cake and fear alike, Rúna lifted her eyes to meet the queen's. "Where are Sigurd and Ubbe?"
"Dining with Lagertha." This caught her by surprise, causing her to nearly choke on her wine.
"Why?"
The candlelight cast harsh shadows over Aslaug's features, making her smirk seem to writhe sinisterly. "Because Lagertha is planning my death."
Rúna stilled, her hand gripping the golden goblet encasing her wine. "Lagertha means to take Kattegat with Björn and most of our fighters gone, not to mention with Ragnar and Ivar having sailed away as well. Is that what you are telling me?"
"Yes, Rúna. She has drawn Sigurd and Ubbe to Hedeby by way of seduction."
"Margrethe."
Over top of her wine cup, Aslaug nodded before taking a long sip. They were silent for quite some time, watching each other from opposite ends of the long table. Finally, Aslaug set her cup down with a soft click of metal on wood.
"They will come in the morning, when this cursed storm has passed." Unlike when she revealed the vision of Ivar's death, the queen was entirely composed describing her own. "Torvi will help them. Kattegat would be no match for Lagertha's forces, depleted of fighters as we are, but I will not challenge her. Do you understand, Rúna? I mean to meet my death without conflict."
"You mean to have your soul reside in Hel."
"I mean to be with Ivar." With a scraping sound, Aslaug pushed her chair back and rose. "And I mean to protect the sons I still can. Ubbe and Sigurd will be held in Hedeby and I do not intend for that vindictive woman to have any reason to harm them. Ivar is being taken from me and Hvitserk is not here for me to protect, but I will not see Ubbe nor Sigurd suffer at Lagertha's hands."
She trailed her fingers along the table as she made her way around it to Rúna. The same fingers came to rest under the girl's chin, tipping her head up. "I would have you help me meet this death, Rúna."
The queen drew her from her seat, leading her again to her bedroom. There, on the bed, lay a black silk gown and an assortment of jewels. "Lagertha will not rule as queen for long after my death, that I have seen."
Aslaug lifted the gown, holding it before herself for inspection. "I have my faults, Rúna. I can admit them, now that I know the hours of my life are dwindling. I have never been as kind to you as I could have been, a queen jealous of a little girl. Even as children, the love Ivar held for you was so very clear in his face. At first it irritated me and later led me to resent you."
I mean to be with Ivar. Ivar is being taken from me. The love Ivar held for you. She was speaking of him as if he were truly, surely dead. Rúna tamped the fear down within her, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat along with it.
Setting the gown aside, Aslaug took a seat upon her bed and bid Rúna to do the same. "You taught him that, did you not? That walking stunt he performed this morning."
"Yes. Floki made the braces and crutches he used. We have practiced for years to get his legs strong enough to support his weight." Rúna saw no reason to lie to Aslaug now. A sad smile played on the queen's lips before her.
"When you were still children, I had a vision I have told no one, but I will tell you now. Björn may be Ragnar's oldest son, and Ubbe the heir by birthright and our marriage, but it has never been either of them I foresee on Kattegat's throne. Nor Hvitserk or Sigurd. It was Ivar I saw on the throne all those years ago, with you beside him."
Rúna's eyes felt like they might pop right out of her face, growing wider the more Aslaug revealed to her. But the queen only smirked and ran a hand down her cheek. "Angry as I was, before I had the vision of the storm, I thought Ragnar choosing Ivar to sail to England with him was confirmation of the vision of Ivar ruling. Now everything is a mess. I cannot see much clearly for the fog and shifting, but what I do see for certain is Lagertha falling from the throne. I cannot say when or by what means, but this knowledge and knowing I will be reunited with Ivar in the morning has brought me peace. I will meet my death with a smile on my face and my remaining sons will avenge me."
"Why are you telling me all of this?" Rúna asked, biting the inside of her cheek to keep tears from spilling down her face.
"So that you might say yes to seeing me through to my fate," Aslaug said simply. "I have found that it is easier to face the future if you have an idea of what it may hold."
Head reeling, Rúna's mouth fell open to argue. She found that none came forward. Dumbly, she shut her mouth and began to wring her hands before her. Aslaug dead, Lagertha queen… but only for a short time before some other calamity befell Kattegat.
And an unwavering belief that Ivar was dead.
Whatever she had thought this night might hold for her, Rúna could not have conjured any of this in her worst nightmares.
"There is not one of us that can escape the fate set out for us by the gods, Rúna. You know that as well as any other Viking woman, and should know it better than most, considering the love and esteem you give our gods. Now, tell me, will you be beside me come the morning when Lagertha brings my death to me?"
An odd calming of acceptance settled over her. It was a chilling sort of calm, not a comfort in the least bit.
"Yes, I will go with you, Queen Aslaug."
Aslaug smiled, lips wobbling only slightly. Still holding Rúna's face between her hands, she bent to press a kiss to the girl's forehead before sending her off to bed. Feeling spent, Rúna retreated to the princes' childhood bedroom, not bothering to light any candles or starting a fire in the hearth. In the gloomy dark, she slipped out of her dress and laid it out on Ubbe's old bed. Sitting in her shift on Ivar's bed, she blindly worked the beads from her hair and combed through the braids with her fingers.
When she slipped beneath the blankets, she found neither rest nor peace. Her mind was muddled and racing, and as much as she would like to ignore them, she preferred her thoughts to the wailing wind and Aslaug's muffled sobbing.
Ivar must have survived. It was a salve for the deep hurt inside her, the conviction growing each time she repeated it to herself. I felt Freya in that breeze. She heard me. She must have.
In the morning, Revna woke her. Rúna did not remember slipping into sleep, but she must have. Risen from her borrowed bed, Revna helped Rúna dress in her blue silk gown again.
Revna dressed her hair for her as well, weaving lengths of silver thread into braids that wrapped around the top of her head like a crown. All the while, the servant woman sniffled and wiped at her eyes.
So Aslaug had been truthful with those loyal to her as well.
Silently, Revna led Rúna into the front of the great hall. Aslaug was already there, sitting on her throne, but she rose when Rúna appeared. The queen was dressed in black, an ornate golden headband decorating her forehead. With a wave of her hand, Aslaug beckoned Revna forward to fasten her cloak around her. Another wave brought forth her guards, all solemn men sworn to protect their queen.
It was a dour, quiet morning until the high-pitched sounds of screams began to filter into the great hall. They made Rúna jump, hand reaching instinctually for a weapon she was not carrying. Aslaug caught her movement and shook her head.
"Remember, we will offer no resistance. Not myself and not any of you."
There was a terrible clattering outside, one Rúna knew well enough from all the afternoons she had spent training with the princes of Kattegat. Shields and weapons were meeting on another in the streets. Aslaug's posse were the only ones given the directive to remain peaceful, it seemed.
"Gorm, bring me the sword."
One of the guards broke from the ranks, retrieving the sword that had lain at the door of the great hall for ten years. Ragnar's sword. He had left it when he disappeared and had not taken it with him to England. Aslaug lifted the blade so that it sat flat, balanced between her palms. Straightening her back, the queen stepped forward. "Beside me, Rúna."
She fell obediently into step beside the queen. Though she had overheard the cacophony of battle, Rúna was ill-prepared for the scene that awaited them beyond the doors of the great hall. The reek of death was heavy in the air, sweat and metallic blood and waste. It soured the morning and made Rúna's own blood rush in her veins. Keeping her eyes trained forward, she couldn't bare to glance down at the dead littering the streets lest her gaze happen upon someone she recognized.
"These are my people." Lagertha's voice, drifting through the noise of the crowd. She must have called a cease to the violence; the moans of the dying were the last evidence of it. "I do not want to bring them harm."
Celebratory shouts could be heard, growing ever louder as Aslaug led them around a corner and into the heart of the market. Then there she was, turning and sheathing her own sword. You already have, Rúna thought. Lagertha squared her shoulders to meet Aslaug's eye.
They said words to one another, Rúna knew that. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, though, and as her eyes roved around the square, they lit on carnage and wreckage. There was a terrible roaring in her ears, like she was being pulled in a riptide, so that she could not focus. Her eyes landed on a strange figure within the crowd: The Seer. Never had she seen the… man… outside of his hovel. Now his eyeless gaze met hers, peering into her despite his physical blindness. He tipped his head, prompting her silently to pay attention.
"…renounce it all. I ask only to go freely, for safe passage as I take my leave." Ragnar's sword was on the ground. How had she missed Aslaug dropping it?
Smirking, Lagertha stepped to the side, seeming to grant Aslaug's wish. The queen nodded, reaching a hand back to briefly squeeze Rúna's fingers, and then she glided forward. Rúna watched her drift past Lagertha with steady, confident steps. She also watched as Lagertha accepted a bow and arrow from Torvi.
In her middle, her stomach twisted to stone, dropping heavily within her. That cold calm from the night before flooded through her veins as Lagertha raised her bow and took aim. The arrow hit Queen Aslaug in the back, squarely between the shoulder blades. Rúna gave a small jump as if she had been the one struck, but unlike Aslaug, she stayed on her feet. Before her, the austere queen fell first to her knees and then on her front, laying prone and lifeless in the mud left from the night's storm.
When the tears began to roll down her face, they burned her eyes and cheeks as if boiled. Why was she crying for a woman who had tolerated her at best all her life? These are not mourning tears, she realized, and well she should. More than her fair share of sadness had already been spent in the previous harrowing days. No; as her eyes slid from the figure of Aslaug's dead body to Lagertha's victorious face, she realized she cried not from further heartache but from anger.
She felt someone watching her and knew, without looking, it was the Seer. Lifting her chin, Rúna stepped forward. Somehow, she knew Revna and Aslaug's guard would follow her. "Surely you would not object to our use of the great hall to ready her for the funeral. I will oversee it, as you hold her sons captive."
Not waiting for Lagertha's answer, Rúna watched the guard gently lift the dead queen. She followed behind as they trekked through the crowd, ignoring the stench of so much death in the air and the eyes of Lagertha and the Seer alike.
Dark blood oozed from the arrow wound when Rúna withdrew the weapon. With Revna sobbing as she was, the task fell to her. Aslaug had already cooled to the icy chill of the dead, reminding Rúna of Siggy so many years ago.
Together, Revna and Rúna cleaned the deathblow and dressed Aslaug in the gown and jewels she had laid out the night before. Once ready, the guard retrieved her body again to be placed in a funeral boat. At a loss of what to send with Aslaug to the afterlife, Rúna settled on four gold coins taken from a chest of treasure in the queen's bedroom. One for each of her sons. One of the guards had positioned Aslaug so that her hands lay folded over her stomach. Rúna lifted them, slipping the coins into place before repositioning them.
And then she left. Her stomach was still twisted and she felt hot all over with her anger. If Ivar was dead, as Aslaug had seemed certain, then he could oversee her funeral. As for Rúna, she intended to go home.
Intended… until a hand gripped her arm and pulled her to a stop at the edge of town. The same hand spun her around, so that she was brought face to face with Lagertha. She, too, had changed clothing for the funeral. Her skirt swirled around her as she stopped.
"It had to be done." Simple words, spoken with a deep conviction. Lagertha's eyes were still bright with the thrill of her victory. It made Rúna grind her teeth.
"Did it?" She snapped in response, pulling her arm from Lagertha's grasp. "You have not lived here in, what, twenty years? Since before Ubbe was born. Kattegat was fine. We didn't need 'saving'."
Before her, Lagertha's face hardened to match Rúna's glare. "You are a child, Rúna. You do not understand the circumstances."
"I understand that this is all because of Ragnar, but he is dead, and so is Aslaug. But so are who knows how many of 'your people' that were slaughtered this morning for petty revenge."
With that, Rúna took up her skirts in her hands and ran, tears streaming down her face. She felt stupid, thinking back on the training sessions and walks with Lagertha. All those careful questions, not asked with any interest in getting to know her, but a calculated plan of gathering information to bring this day to fruition.
Two days past before Rúna saw either Ubbe or Sigurd. Though she supposed that was to be expected, as she had defied Floki and Helga's instructions in their absence and had since holed up at home following Queen Aslaug's funeral. She stood in the evening tide, letting it lap over her bare feet, skirts tucked up in her belt. Since taking leave of the great hall, she hadn't seen anyone.
The sound of the waves and the sand cushioning their footsteps wasn't enough to mask the arrival of the brothers. Half turning to see over her shoulder, Rúna watched them approach. When they were close enough, the setting sun highlighted their pallor and the red rimming their eyes. They were both scruffy, with unshaved faces and braids that had seen better days. Sigurd's hair especially was a messy red-gold halo around his head.
Quirking an eyebrow in question, Rúna waited for them to speak. Ubbe stepped forward, mouth opening only for him to shut it again and sigh. After a beat, he simply said, "Tell us what happened."
"Inside," she answered, tipping her head in the direction of the cabin. Once the brothers were seated at the table with warmed cups of Floki's mead before them, she took a seat and explained. Ubbe's bright eyes remained trained on her face for the entire gruesome tale, but Sigurd studied the woodgrain of the tabletop.
"And you haven't returned to town since," Ubbe said when the story was finished.
"No."
"Why not?"
Rúna ran her thumbnail along the length of a deep scar on her side of the table. She remembered when it was made, for she had been the cause. The first axe she had ever thrown had been here, in this cabin, under Floki's careful instruction. Helga had been none too pleased, though Floki had praised her aim. "I do not think it would be wise."
She lifted her eyes to meet first Ubbe then Sigurd's. Had Lagertha not told them of her outburst, then? Apparently not, if the confused depths of blue she peered into were any clue. Sighing, she continued. "Lagertha may hold Kattegat by conquest, but it was a hateful and cowardly capture. It would be a disservice to your father and mine to call what happened two days ago strategy."
"She shot Mother in the back," Sigurd swallowed to clear the thickness from his throat.
"After she had asked for safe passage," Rúna reminded them. "But… she knew Lagertha would not give it to her."
Her implication hung heavy in the air. Surprise and realization colored the brothers' faces in turns. "Are you saying Mother had a vision of this?"
"Yes. The day Ragnar and Ivar sailed for England, she had the vision. She shared it with me that night. She foresaw it all, from Margrethe aiding Lagertha to her death. Queen Aslaug told only myself, her servant woman, Revna, and her guard. And she asked all of us to stand by and let it happen."
Ubbe was on his feet in an uncharacteristic bout of anger, hands slamming down on the table. The blow made both Rúna and Sigurd jump. For a terrible moment, she thought Ubbe did not believe her, but then she saw the fresh tears shining bright in his eyes. "Why would she allow it?"
Biting the inside of her lip hard enough to taste blood in her mouth, Rúna refused to let her voice waver. "She also had a vision of Ivar drowning, and she could not see Hvitserk clearly. Queen Aslaug said she refused to allow Lagertha to have reason to harm either of you, that she would gladly die to protect the sons she still could."
Tears rolled silently down Sigurd's cheeks, but Ubbe's outburst continued. His mead cup hit the wall not far from the hearth. Rúna thought better of admonishing him, especially once he fell defeated back into his chair. Still, Rúna refused to let any more of her tears fall.
"Lagertha has requested all three of us at her table tonight," Ubbe said once the silence had grown long and torturous. Sighing, Rúna pushed away from the table. She had no desire to go, but she was hardly in a position to refuse.
"Let me re-braid your hair, at least. Neither of you are fit to go as you are."
Dinner was solemn. Rúna hardly tasted any of the food served to her, not that she ate much of any of it. Lagertha was stoic at the head of the table each time she chanced a glance at her, but she tried to keep her eyes on her food as much as possible. Each time she looked up, Astrid tried to catch her eye. Rúna lacked the energy to engage in conversation with the older girl.
Clearing her throat, Lagertha drew the attention of the morose dinner party. "Ubbe, Sigurd, I want you both to understand I mean you no harm. You were born princes of this land, and so you will remain. The same will be extended to Hvitserk and Ivar, should they return."
"When." To everyone's surprise, it was Sigurd who spoke. "When they return."
"Yes, you are right," Lagertha was quick to correct herself. "When they return."
Rúna knew not how she fit into this, nor did she care. Piercing a piece of fish, she took another bite just to have something to do. She mulled over Sigurd's words instead. Though she had told them of Aslaug's vision showing Ivar's death, Sigurd had spoken in plural. Curious… but Lagertha's eyes were on her, and she realized her name was being called.
"Yes?" The honorific and Lagertha's name died on her tongue. She could not call the shieldmaiden queen.
"Floki and Helga are dear friends. The great hall is open to you now just as it always has been."
"Thank you," she forced out, following it with a drink of wine, lest she be expected to speak again. The meal passed in this way, with stilted conversation thrown out between bites of food. Rúna made a concerted effort to ignore everyone, basically, save for Ubbe and Sigurd. She was still stinging with the acid of Lagertha's betrayal of her trust. Gone was the strong, complex shieldmaiden Rúna had esteemed the newly minted queen as. Now when Rúna looked into her face, she felt used and disenchanted.
At the very least, Aslaug had never been deceitful of her feelings toward Rúna.
When the conclusion to dinner came, Ubbe moved around the table, intent on seeing Rúna home. But Astrid all but shot from her seat, placing herself in the space Ubbe meant to take beside her. "I will walk her home."
Ubbe glanced first at Lagertha and then settled his gaze on Rúna's face, eyebrows raised in question. Giving an apathetic shrug to Ubbe, Rúna turned and nodded to Astrid before leading the way out of the hall. Despite everything that had happened the day Lagertha killed Aslaug, Rúna doubted heavily that the new queen had any designs on her life. The two girls fell in line beside each other, shoulders brushing in their proximity. Their walk was silent, Rúna leading the way through the edge of Kattegat to the stretch of beach Floki had always claimed as his own.
When Rúna turned to Astrid to tell her good-bye, the obvious conflict on the older girl's face gave her pause. Dark brows were drawn together over black-rimmed eyes, and as Rúna watched the internal struggle play out over Astrid's features, she realized her eyes were just as bright and strikingly blue as Ragnar's. Suddenly, Astrid drew close to her, holding Rúna still by the shoulder so she could whisper in her ear, "Meet me at the waterfall at sunup."
Rúna nodded her agreement before giving it a fraction of a thought. She watched Astrid steal away into the night, her dark hair and clothing allowing her to easily bleed into the shadows.
Every night since Kattegat had come under Lagertha's rule, Rúna's dreams had replayed the fateful day for her. Perhaps it was a trick of her mind, a misremembered memory, but in each of the dreams, Astrid had stood behind Lagertha with the same expression on her strong, fine face. The same expression Rúna had seen that very night. Slipping inside the cabin, Rúna slid the lock in place behind her before retreating to her bedroom. She lit a few candles to see by before undressing.
It was hard for her to be in the total dark, now. She left the candles burning as she pulled her bedcovers over herself and turned to her side. Her dreams brought the events of Aslaug's death back to her, but all her thoughts before falling into sleep were focused on the vision revealed to her beforehand.
It was Ivar I saw on the throne all those years ago, with you beside him.
She could ask the Seer, she knew. He could confirm or deny this fate for her and end the anxious torture of waiting each day to see if Ivar returned from England. But the thought of going to the Seer made her blood run cold in fear. While she was furious at Lagertha's usurpation of Kattegat, Rúna had no wish in her heart to wear a crown, herself. She wanted only to know if her prayers to Freya had been enough to alter the course of Aslaug's horrid vision of Ivar's death.
Sighing, Rúna reached under her pillow to retrieve her well-worn doll. She pulled it close to her chest and scrunched her eyes tightly shut, choosing to re-witness Aslaug's death over her self-conflict with facing the Seer.
The morning was misty and overcast, keeping the forest in muted tones as Rúna moved through it. Her hood kept her vision pigeonholed to what lay before her, but she was so consumed with her own thoughts that she didn't notice. Rúna knew the path to the waterfall by heart; she didn't need her entire field of vision to reach the place.
Astrid was sitting beside the bank of the river the waterfall fed into, tying a long blade of grass into knots as she waited. "Won't Lagertha miss you in her bed?"
Rúna hadn't meant it as a quip, but the words left her mouth carrying a decided amount of venom. The dark-haired girl sitting before her was Lagertha's lover, after all.
"I always wake before her," Astrid answered mildly. "It won't be unusual for me to be gone so early."
As Astrid made no move to stand, Rúna sighed and took a seat beside her on the riverbank. They sat silently side by side, watching the water tumble over the edge of the cliff face rising tall and proud before them. The morning sun was rising, diffusing the heavy clouds with muted light. After much length, Astrid said, "I am thankful Lagertha saw the sense in leaving Ubbe and Sigurd be."
Rúna turned to her, brow furrowed. "She intended to kill them, then?"
"She called Aslaug a witch and named the princes sons of a witch. As if that made them all… less."
They fell into silence again. This time, Rúna was the one to break it. "I think King Ragnar was very clear in his choice when he did not denounce Aslaug's claim to hold Kattegat in her own right before he sailed away."
Birds had begun to sing over their heads, heralding and welcoming the new day. Rúna very nearly missed Astrid's next words amongst the chirping and cooing. "I agree." Then she held out the blade of grass she had been fiddling with, placing it in Rúna's palm. It had been twisted into the yr rune. "Askr Yggdrasil."
Yggdrasil. The Tree of Life, from which Odin hung for nine days and nine nights as a self-sacrifice so that he might learn the knowledge of the nine worlds and bring the very rune—and all the others—Astrid had formed into understanding. It was from Odin's knowledge that any educated Viking was able to understand these runes.
"Yggdrasil is a yew tree," Rúna mused. She spun the rune between her fingertips. "You can throw a yew branch anywhere, and it will take root. Some see it as endurance, others as infection."
"And yews can kill or heal. It is all in how you use them."
A breeze whispered through the trees around them. Rúna let go of Astrid's rune, letting the wind spirit it away. Then she pushed herself to her feet, deciding she had spent enough of her morning neglecting her chores. "I hope only that Lagertha will not poison Kattegat as she heals herself."
Astrid brooked no argument as Rúna walked away. As she drew closer to home, a familiar song filtered to her through the trees. The sight of Sigurd lounging atop the fence, strumming his oud, met her once she left the forest's edge.
"Þat mælti mín móðir, at mér skyldi kaupa fley ok fagrar árar, fara á brott með víkingum, standa upp í stafni, stýra dýrum knerri, halda svá til halfnar hǫggva mann ok annan, hǫggva mann ok annan." She sang along to Sigurd's tune as she went about her work. Interesting that he would be playing Þat mælti mín móðir, known to all Viking children, telling of a mother describing the life a Viking leads. My mother told me…
Perhaps he was mourning more than Rúna thought he would, given his tumultuous relationship with Aslaug. Chores finished, she met him where he reclined in the corner where fence met cabin. "Have you seen Margrethe since…?"
A thickness in her throat kept her from finishing the sentence. Sigurd shook his head, sending his braids swinging around his face. "Nor do I want to."
"Good." She offered her hand to help him down from his perch. "I've something to tell you about that."
"Can you tell me over breakfast?" Ah, so that was Sigurd's motive in coming here. Where was Ubbe getting his meals now, without Margrethe to wait on them and Aslaug gone? She suspected Torvi may be the answer. Easier to forgive your brother's wife for her role in your brother's mother usurping the crown from your own, she supposed. Rúna waved her hand for him to follow her inside. She cooked sausage and warmed bread, offering Sigurd butter and cheese as well. There was fresh milk from her morning work to wash it all down.
"So?" Sigurd asked around a mouthful of bread. "What'd you want to tell me?"
"About Margrethe…" she picked her words carefully, "I do not think it was the coincidence of you and Ubbe both taking her into your beds that led her to being a pawn in Lagertha's attack."
"I didn't sleep with her that night," Sigurd said, taking a long pull of milk. "Ubbe was going first, and then we were ambushed."
"Yes, but I mean that Torvi did not choose Margrethe as the ploy. I suspect Margrethe was not only willing but complicit."
Realization came to Sigurd as he chewed a bite of sausage. Rúna watched his jaw slow and stop, his throat bob as he swallowed, his face becoming more contrite by the second. When Sigurd was mad, the snake in his eye always seemed to writhe about his iris, giving life to his ire. It did so now, and Rúna imagined it might leap from his eye to strike as Sigurd's mouth twisted in disgust.
Not one of Aslaug's sons was a fool, she had to admit.
"That whore!" The young man in front of her exploded, hitting the table with his open palm so that their breakfast rattled before them.
"Sigurd!" She chided on reflex. He waved her away.
"I know you do not like the use of that word, but it is fitting here. That stupid whore. Having Mother killed opens the opportunity for her to improve her station? Mother might have freed her for marriage, but she went straight to that usurping bitch Lagertha." Rúna flinched at his derogatory language, though it wasn't directed at her. Swallowing, she tried to make her voice soft and gentle.
"Queen Aslaug might have freed Margrethe to marry you, Sigurd. A third son. But never a first son. Never an heir."
The fight went out of Sigurd, then, shoulders hunching forward as she deflated in on herself. "Is that what she wants?"
Reaching across the table between them, Rúna placed her hand on top of his. She squeezed his fingers, nodding. After all the heartbreak she had suffered in the past few days, she hated the idea of inflicting the same on someone else. "She thinks she might one day be queen, Sigurd."
Beneath her palm, his hand shifted, gripping her fingers tightly in his. So tightly Rúna felt her bones grind together in his grasp, but she didn't mind. "I hope the gods never let her see the day."
It was Ivar I saw on the throne all those years ago, with you beside him.
Aslaug's voice was in her head again. Watching Sigurd's face crumple as he blinked back tears, Rúna found her resolve. She felt her back straighten, lifting her chin and clinging to his hand.
"I don't believe they will."
The hovel was shoddy at best, a mishmash of old, worn wood and leather and fabric. It was not dissimilar to Floki's workspace at home, honestly. Rúna was still trying to discern where the door was when the gravelly voice of the Seer filtered through the mess to her. "Rúna Flokisdottir. I have been waiting for you to visit me."
Her heart began to race in her chest. She swallowed her fear, rising like bile in her throat, and pushed aside a length of fabric to duck under. Inside, the air was hazy with a fragrant smoke that burned her eyes and lungs alike. Stepping carefully over a collection of animal bones, Rúna made her way through the clutter to kneel before the mystic.
"Seidmadhr," she greeted him, her formality making his thick, blackened lips quirk into a smirk. Though she had never visited the Seer herself, Rúna had heard the tales of others. Trepidation, but no surprise, filled her when he held his hand out to her. His skin was spongy, like a mushroom's, when she took his wrist. The taste, though, reminded her of dirt and decay. Her price paid, she rocked back and tilted her head up to take in the sight of the Seer with his blinded face above her.
"I cannot reveal the fate of another to you, Rúna. That is your heart's greatest wish, but you will not see it to fruition."
"There is only one part of my fate I am interested in, Seidmadhr."
Again, his lips quirked into that almost-smile. "Flokisdottir indeed."
Around the Seer's neck hung a length of rope, from which a chicken's foot hung. He lifted this foot, using its talon to cut into his finger. Dark, thick blood pooled from the tip. Leaning forward, the Seer used his bloodied finger to draw the approximation of a circlet crown across Rúna's forehead.
A sigh of relief rattled through her chest, a single tear escaping her eye to run down her cheek. Her grotesque crown the Seer had given her made her heart sore with its confirmation.
Ivar was alive.
"Thank you."
But the Seer was not quite done with her. He turned where he sat, plucking something leafy and green from behind him before tucking the piece of foliage into her belt, so that it sat just over her stomach. "Cling to our gods, Rúna, and they shall cling to you."
With her bloody crown and her gift, Rúna left the Seer's hovel both relieved and perplexed. Plucking the plant from her belt, she held it up to the afternoon sun. Mistletoe.
But it was spring, decidedly not the season for the branch to be so vibrant and alive, bearing the red berries that reminded her of Yule. Pursing her lips, she twirled it the branch between her fingers much the same way she had Astrid's rune just that morning. Rather than sacrifice the Seer's gift to the wind, as she had Astrid's, she tucked the branch into her pocket before turning toward home.
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to: Nightwingstress, taylor115, and mickypants for reviews on the last chapter! I don't know about all my lovely readers, but I am getting very, very excited for what is to come. Then again, I know what is coming. ;)
I hope Rúna's feelings make sense here. She has a very clear idea of right and wrong, very much influenced by Floki and Helga's raising of her and her understanding of Viking culture. So, yes, while Rúna was never fond of Aslaug, I do think she would view Lagertha's conquest in a very negative light.
Also, I'm going to try not to use too much direct scenes from the show. I'm sure you can tell that I took some of this chapter from Aslaug's death episode, for continuity's sake. But beyond major scenes, I'm going to try to avoid that.
Also also: as we draw closer to Freydis being introduced, please share your ideas with me. I'm not quite sure what to do with her, yet. I have a plan for Tanaruz, though, and I am super excited for all the scenes I have planned between Rúna and Tanaruz. Freydis, however, has me at a loss. Do I keep her in and rework her? Just cut her character out? Very conflicted over this.
Oh, and mickypants: don't worry, I have too much planned for Ivar and Rúna to disrupt that with a baby at the moment!