Prodigal Son 37
Astrid awoke to find her toes poking out the bottom of the bed. They were quite cold, and she immediately drew her knees up, tucked the blanket underneath, and rubbed some life back into them. As she did so, something slid off of her bed and hit the floor with a thud. It sounded like her axe.
She opened her eyes and squinted against the sunlight which poured in through the open window. It was far brighter than it had any right to be. She felt a sharp pain lance through her forehead, and groaned. She hadn't drank that much last night. One, maybe two. Okay, three or four... Everyone had kept toasting everything. Irresponsible; there could have been a dragon raid.
The ceiling above her looked unfamiliar. Wooden boards in place of thatched roof. Astrid sat up and groaned again as the room spun around her. Directly opposite her was a wall of sketches, faded by the sunlight. Machinery and diagrams. Right in the center was the heart-wreathed drawing of a younger Astrid Hofferson.
Right. Hiccup's room.
…Hiccup…
Head spinning, Astrid smiled mischievously as she wondered how far down his jaw would drop if she told him she had spent the night in his bed.
Oh gods! Where had that thought come from? How much had she had to drink last night?
Astrid groaned a second time and planted her head in her hands. She had vague memories of circles of singing and dancing Berkians. Of a crackling bonfire, with sparks rising up high to brush the stars. Groups of warriors, her blood brothers, together singing tales of the heroes of old and toasting again and again and again…
She rose gingerly to her feet, wincing with every motion. The room spun slowly around her as she shivered in the cold, late autumn air. Swaying magnificently, she retrieved her clothing from where she had dumped it the night before, and picked her axe up off the floor. She began her daily ablutions, using a wide, shallow clay pot full of water to clean herself, and wash out her mouth, which smelled and tasted foul. She crouched over the chamber pot kept underneath Hiccup's bed, and dumped the results out the window, resolving to bury it all later.
As she worked, she gradually became aware of heavy footfalls on the floor below. Stoick was up.
She opened Hiccup's door and wandered down the creaking stairs. Stoick was dressed as well, and had been up for some time. He was working the hearthfire up to a roaring, crackling merry blaze – thank the gods- and had a pot of stew bubbling away. He was sitting by the fire, feeding logs in, and tearing a loaf of bread into chunks.
Astrid drew to a halt halfway down the stairs as she met the Chief's gaze. He smiled at her and raised a hand in salute. "SKALD!"
Astrid grimaced. "Quieter, please sir."
Stoick burst out laughing. A hearty noise which filled the hall with warmth. He was sporting a magnificent purple bruise around his right eye, curtesy of Sirnir, with whom he had brawled the night before. He wore the colors with pride. He nodded towards her hands and said, "You ought to trade that axe in for a harp…"
Astrid glanced down and realized that she had brought her axe down with her, though she didn't remember picking it up. She looked back up at him and shrugged helplessly, feeling thoroughly ill, "I didn't sing, did I?"
"Aye. Excerpts from the Volsung saga. At least... we think that's what it was supposed to be..."
More images flashed through her mind: the Karson brothers on either side, all three of them belting out… something.
"Ugh." Astrid continued down the stairs and joined him at the fire pit. Stoick spooned her out a bowl of fatty stew and passed across a chunk of bread. Astrid ate, despite the nausea. Stoick retrieved a horn of water for her. They both knew nothing beat a hangover like a hearty meal and lots of water. His bench groaned as he settled back on it, his bulk taking up a whole side of the fire by himself. He grinned happily. "By Thor's beard, we needed that! The whole Village needed that. When was the last time we drank?" he clenched his fist in the air, "Really celebrated something?"
"Fishlegs' wedding, I think…" Astrid said, mopping up the stew with her bread. She felt torn: on the one hand, she was incredibly hungry and on the other, she wasn't convinced she would be able to keep anything down.
"Aye…" Stoick's eyes crinkled as his gaze grew distant. Lost in some sunny memory, he began to quietly hum a little dancing tune. "…I'll swim and sail on savage seas / With ne'er a fear of drowning / And gladly ride the waves… of life…"
Even as Astrid watched, the colour seemed to drain from his cheeks, and his eyes grew dim and hollow. His bitter scowl returned, and he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. He sniffed and angrily tossed another log onto the fire. "It was long overdue, at any rate… it's good for the Village. Burn off steam and all that bollocks…"
They sat in silence for a time, letting the fire crackle away.
"The Rider is coming at midday." Astrid said.
"Aye," Stoick said sourly.
Something in his tone sounded off. She said, "You're not going to be there?"
"No."
"But yesterday you told the village-"
"They killed my son." Stoick glared into the fire. "They took my wife and they killed my son."
He looked so forlorn…
"We never actually found the body, sir." Astrid pointed out.
"This is Berk, Astrid… you're a smart lass. What do you think happened to him?"
Astrid's mouth snapped shut. She glanced at the tiny horned helmet, glinting in the firelight.
"This is Berk, and he went out into the woods… alone."
She stared down at her feet, gripping her drinking horn tightly. She realized she had no earthly idea what to say to him.
Stoick growled. "How could he have been so stupid?" he buried his head in his hands. "How could I have been so stupid…?"
Astrid licked her lips and stared across the fire at him. By the gods it hurt to see him that way. Astrid had watched Stoick in battle, head held high and proud as he swung his mighty hammer back and forth to keep his people safe, and the dragons at bay. Astrid remembered watching him tackle a nadder, deadly spines and all. He had snapped the beast's neck with a mighty roar, scaring off a zippleback with the sound alone. Every inch a warrior. Every inch a king, worthy of drinking at Odin's table.
Yet there he sat, hunched over, hair tangled in his fingers, shoulders slumped, palms pressed into his eyes.
"Hiccup wasn't stupid and you weren't either, sir. It's just… the war."
"Aye."
"And I want to stop it. I want to protect Berk."
"I know that, Shield Maiden." The Chief said quietly, looking up at her, "that's why I gave you permission. But I cannot face this man. I cannot watch him befriend the beasts. I cannot watch him treat them like dogs or horses after all they have done."
"But you said-"
"I gave you permission to do what I cannot. Go do what you have to for our Tribe."
Midday arrived all too quickly. The day was grey and overcast, and the wind cold and biting. Frost clung to the tips of the blades of grass well into the morning. Astrid wrapped her sheepskin cloak a little tighter around herself. It had been one of her favorite 'wedding' gifts, given by the Ragason clan. Not a decorative item, but the Ragasons were farmers; decoration came second to function and this cloak was all about function. Sown with thick thread, and treated to keep out the wind, it was a workman's cloak. Toasty warm, and durable as a mountain. It felt strange to be wearing the wedding gift, considering the dead man she had 'married' was only a few minutes away, likely prepping his night fury for the flight over.
She hadn't yet spared much thought to the demented legal situation between herself, Hiccup, and Stoick. It was technically an adoption, culturally a wedding, and legally… legally she was widowed, but without ever having traded in her kransen for a bridal crown. No animals had been sacrificed. No swords or rings exchanged. Nothing. Just a speech, a contract, and a new last name which everyone, including Astrid herself only seemed to use when they remembered to. More important to Berk was the story. The new mythology, as Fishlegs had predicted. Young love tragically cut short… Astrid suspected she would never get used to people thinking of her that way.
Thank the gods Stoick had not yet asked her to regale him with any tales of her fictitious adventures with Hiccup Haddock. He did not seem to like talking about his son. Therein lay her saving grace. Astrid made a mental note to rehearse something for him, just in case.
She thought briefly of her kransen, a headband symbolizing her maidenhood… It had been months and months since she had thought about it. She had outgrown hers several times before finally flat-out losing the last one in a mad scramble with a pair of changewings at the cliffs three years ago. They had taken a chunk of her scalp, too. Hair and all, and left her with a nasty acid scar on her shoulder. The kransen was somewhere at the bottom of the ocean. So were the changewings, minus a head or two. Astrid missed her knife more. The kransen hardly mattered next to the knife. It had been a gift from her uncle Finn, with a beautifully carved handle and one of the best blades Gobber had ever forged. She had put it to good use, sinking it into the changewing's heart even as its teeth sank into her shoulder.
Now around her tightly braided hair, where hopeful young maidens like Lifa Thorston wore beautifully decorated headbands with beads and sparkling stones, Astrid wore an old, stained, patched strip of leather. Not much more than a nod to tradition. She didn't mind, and no one commented. She liked it because it kept the sweat and hair out of her eyes in the heat of battle.
But so much for maidenhood. So much for marriage… In Berk, practicality ruled, and the strongest traditions were those of war.
Astrid hoped today's meeting would do something to change that. She did not know whether the crowd around her was a good sign or a bad one. It was thirty strong. Warriors, mostly. Sirnir the giant was there, standing with Hundolfr Hrolfson and the Karson brothers. Several Jorgenson warriors were there. A half-dozen at most, looking grim. The Thorston twins stood nearby as well as Fishlegs. Others were there as well. Familiar faces to Astrid, always turned skywards as a warrior's should be.
Yet more than a few were watching her.
Astrid cleared her throat and stepped forwards. "Alright," She barked, "Listen up!"
The crowd drew to something approaching a proper formation. She said, "The rider is going to land here. I don't want any of you to attack him, or call him out or anything. He is here as our guest, and you're going to treat him and his beast with respect." She eyed the Jorgenson contingent. "All of you are, or you'll answer to me."
Above them they heard the cry of the night fury. Many members of the crowd twitched uncomfortably. A murmur spread through the ranks as the night fury burst through a cloud and descended quickly, flitting like a bat through the hole in the training ring's cage roof and landing neatly on all fours, rider seated regally in his saddle.
The crowd backed away, leaving Astrid alone and exposed before the rider and his dragon. Hiccup had once again slipped on his facemask and hood, leaving a pair of bright, gleaming green eyes peeking merrily out from the darkness of his cowl. There were two baskets of fish hanging from his saddle, and his majestic entrance was somewhat undermined when his dragon suddenly decided to try and eat one of them, spinning in a wild circle like a small dog until the rider could get him back under control, hissing and barking exasperated orders in a foreign language. Then he sat back up in his saddle and nodded at the crowd again, and at Astrid.
"Hofferson."
Astrid nodded back. "It's Haddock now, Prometheus." She couldn't help but smirk at him as his eyes widened in shock as she reminded him of her last name. Speaking of names, she had spent an hour in the woods rehearsing 'Prometheus', saying the strange name again and again and again until it rolled easily off of her tongue.
"Of course… yes. Right." He said, so obviously flustered that for a moment she feared they had broken their cover.
All the same, if he was going to insist on that ridiculous mask and ridiculous name, she was going to have some fun at his expense. He unclipped himself and slipped from the saddle, grabbing both sacks of fish and kicking his nosy dragon away from them. The Night Fury let out a yelp and – Astrid hadn't realized a dragon could scowl, but there was no better word for the venomous look the dragon shot his rider.
She heard movement from behind her, and a Jorgenson named Jerrick stepped out of the line of warriors and pointed his sword at the dragon rider, who stopped dead in his tracks, fish buckets hanging limp from each arm as he stared down the length of the blade.
Jerrick said, "You. I'm calling you out."
"Oh-kay…" Prometheus glanced uncertainly at Astrid, and she could see Hiccup's worried green eyes shining beneath his hood and facemask. Behind Prometheus, the Night Fury's entire bearing had changed. He sank low to the ground and began a long, low, ominous growl, teeth bared and eyes slitted. In the crowd, the Jorgenson warriors banged on their shields in support.
"Jerrick, step back in line." She ordered, turning furiously back towards the crowd.
"No." the impetuous Jorgenson took another goading step towards the rider. "Holmgang. I challenge you, Rider. You're a disgrace to everything that being a Viking stands for and I'm calling you out. Form the square."
"A duel?" Prometheus exclaimed in disbelief, "Whoa now hold on a second- You're supposed to wait three days for a Holmgang challenge."
"I say now!" Jerrick declared. The Jorgensons in the small crowd cheered.
Prometheus stared at them, and dropped his baskets of fish. "…well this is off to a fantastic start."
"Form the square." Astrid ordered, stepping between Jerrick and Prometheus.
The crowd murmured in surprise. Prometheus was watching her carefully, unsure of her intentions.
Jerrick was staring at Astrid in shock. Then he smiled, "Finally, Hofferson – I'm glad you remember what being a Viking really means!"
"Hofferson- Astrid… Haddock…" Prometheus managed with great difficulty, "I didn't come here to fight…"
"You're not fighting this idiot, Prometheus." Astrid said idly, waving her axe back and forth as a warmup. She stopped and looked directly at Jerrick, "I am."
The young Jorgenson warrior's eyes widened as further murmurs spread through the crowd. The grins on the Jorgenson faces vanished.
She stood nose to nose with the Viking warrior, glaring into his eyes. In her right hand she held her axe, its weight reassuring. Her shield was tight and snug against her left forearm. "Prometheus is my guest as it honors the gods. You insult me. My chief. My tribe, and Odin's law. You challenge the rider, you challenge me."
This pronouncement was met with dead silence.
"Now hold on a second." Jerrick said, raising his hands.
"Sirnir," she ordered, not taking her eyes off the impetuous warrior, "fetch some skins. Form the square."
The giant warrior sighed and shook his head, but he waded through the crowd to the small storage alcove which had been built into the arena wall.
"I don't want to fight you."
"Why? Are you a coward, Jerrick?"
"…Three days?" he tried.
"I say now!" Astrid barked, using his own words against him. The warrior flinched.
Sirnir arrived, with several skins over his shoulder. He began to lay them on the ground, forming a square. "You all know the rules," he recounted in his deep voice, "Fight until you can fight no more. If one of you dies on the skins it is not murder. Your family will not be compensated. There will be no punishment for your killer. Let he who backs down from the fight now and forevermore be known as a yellow-bellied coward with no home, no clan, no tribe, and no honor."
"This is ridiculous!" Prometheus exclaimed. "Everyone just calm down a minute…"
"You shut up." Astrid ordered.
"We're supposed to sacrifice to the gods first… the Duel requires ceremony." Jerrick pointed out.
"If that didn't matter to you a minute ago, it doesn't matter to me now." Astrid replied loudly, shrugging her shield off of her back.
"But… Tradition…"
"Didn't matter five seconds ago. Take up your sword." She said quietly. The Berkian warriors watched the three figures in shocked silence.
"I…" Jerrick hesitated, "I'm challenging him. Not you, Hofferson."
"Haddock." Astrid corrected. Behind her, Prometheus coughed. She added, "You don't have a choice. Call's been made, Jerrick. Are you a coward?"
The Jorgenson glowered at her. She stepped onto the furs and banged her axe against her shield. The warrior reluctantly did the same.
It had been a long time since Astrid had faced off against a human opponent. She had helped some fisherwomen fend off a ship of pirates once two years beforehand. Human flesh did not turn blades aside. Humans could not fly, breath fire, nor could they move with such immense speed and power as the dragons possessed. The pirates had been an easy fight. Over in minutes. Astrid intended to resolve this one in seconds.
She kept her eyes on Jerrick's, falling easily into a fighting stance and watching where his eyes traveled, as they offered hints as to where his strikes would fall. Her opponent shuffled nervously, unsure of what to do with himself outside of a shield wall, and clearly less experienced than she was at fighting actual people.
Behind her, the night fury had settled back on its haunches. Prometheus was leaning casually against it, watching the fight play out. His easy confidence in her victory was an inspiring source of warmth and comfort for her.
Astrid took a goading step forward, and Jerrick reacted by taking a step back. She took another, as did he, but he suddenly found himself at the edge of the furs. A step outside the square would be defeat.
Realizing this, the Jorgenson reacted by charging forward. But Astrid had sunk low in her stance, and the impact shook her teeth but did not move her an inch. His sword came hissing over the top of her shield, but she was ready with her axe. His blade bounced off the wooden haft several inches above her hand, leaving a deep gouge in the handle. Astrid followed through, twisting her axe around and over his blade and stabbing forwards so that the tip of her weapon bit into his shoulder. At the same point, she brought the flat head of her axe down on his fingers, pinching them between her blade and his shield. The edge of her axe cut into the top of his fingers, drawing bright red blood.
Jerrick cried out and dropped his weapon. She followed through with a shield bash which left him flat on his back and winded. See his legs open before her, Astrid wound up and kicked him in the balls as hard as she possibly could. Every male warrior in the audience instinctively clenched their legs together, including Prometheus. Jerrick squealed as she brought her heel down on his scrotum in a second strike. Then she planted her foot on his shoulder and rolled him over and out of the square.
Most of the crowd broke out in applause. Some of the Jorgenson warriors groaned. Most looked very relieved, understanding that Jerrick had crossed a line, and that the vicious kicks which Astrid had subjected him to were actually mercy: she could have easily killed him and walked away if she wanted to.
Hiccup was clapping as well, though slowly, and with a certain sarcastic flair.
"Walk it off, you yellow-bellied swine-bride." Astrid barked down to Jerrick. The warriors all laughed. Prometheus didn't. She turned back to the rider, "Sorry for that interruption. Please continue."
"I uh…" the Rider shifted uncomfortably as a few Jorgenson warriors retrieved their whimpering cousin and dragged him away. Prometheus said, "is that going to happen every time?"
"I hope so," Astrid said, a little honesty sneaking through in her tone. She spoke loudly for the sake of the Jorgenson warriors, some of whom had broken ranks to help Jerrick to his feet. The Viking was in the corner on wobbly knees, vomiting into a pile of straw.
She added, "I like kicking idiots in the balls."
"Plenty of opportunities on this island, no doubt." Prometheus said dryly.
The crowd glared at him, but Astrid cracked a smile. She couldn't help it. There was a strange feeling in her stomach, but it was probably the hangover.
"Alright…" Prometheus stepped forward, retrieving the bags of fish. It took him a moment or two to convince his dragon to hang back. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself was ravenously hungry, and it became clear very quickly that Prometheus' relationship with his dragon was not one of horse and rider, of beast and master, but rather of squabbling siblings.
"Back off! Toothless I swear on Odin's codpiece you will never eat fish again if you don't back! Off!" The rider barked, giving his dragon and gentle but firm boot in the nose. The night fury sat back on his haunches but stayed put as his rider laid the fish in front of the line of Vikings.
Astrid pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes screwed shut.
"Alright then…" the mysterious rider straightened, attempting to salvage some of his shattered dignity and mystique, "first things first, drop your weapons. All of them."
The Vikings immediately sounded off in a grand chorus of protests.
"Hey!" Astrid barked. The column fell silent.
Prometheus said, "look, this is an exercise building trust with a dragon. You need to know this beast isn't going to hurt you. He doesn't want to… not unless you do something to set him off. Consider it a lesson in the Civility of Dragons."
Everyone glared at him.
"Dragons aren't civil, friend." One of the Oddgeirson warriors said.
"They can be!" Prometheus exclaimed enthusiastically, "They can be friendly but it starts with trust. It's about building relationships…"
The group's enthusiasm was dropping by the second – Astrid could see it on their faces. On Prometheus' last word, every single warrior in the circle was ready to walk away. She said, "I have a different test. A test of courage: Stand in the centre and spread your legs. How many seconds can you last with a Dragon sniffing your balls? I'll go first."
The atmosphere changed immediately; suddenly the Rider's lesson was a Manly Challenge, and all the warriors were looking to prove themselves.
"What do you mean you'll go first?" Tuffnut Thorston demanded, "I'd just like to point out for the record – you have no dangly bits to lose if the dragon gets-" he wiggled his fingers at her, "-…nibbly."
"Neither do you if your singing last night was any measure, Tuff." Astrid shot back, grinning, "Anyone ever mistake you for a man?"
The warriors all jeered. Ruffnut laughed loudest of all.
Tuffnut crossed his arms and scowled at her.
"He's not wrong, Miss Hofferson." Hermund Hallason said. At seventeen winters, he was the youngest of the gathered warriors. He also harbored a healthy crush on the shield maiden. Something the other warriors teased him about relentlessly during the witching hours of the night guard. Not that Astrid was interested at all of course. She had always kept her eyes skyward, searching for flickering starlight; the telltale sign of Dragon wings.
Astrid strode to the center of the circle. She said, "Hermund I've killed eight-count as many dragons as you this season. If I bedded you we both know who would be spreading their legs." Even as she spoke, a vision flashed through Astrid's head, searing across her mind like a lightning strike: auburn hair, green eyes, lean muscle and long, long legs.
"Oh… gods above…" she heard Prometheus groan. She grinned, wondering how red Hiccup's cheeks were underneath his mask.
"She keeps her axe handle well-polished, boy, have no fear." Sirnir said jovially, clapping the youngest warrior on the shoulder. Another round of laughter, even louder than the first. The young warrior Hermund went bright red and stared down at his feet.
Prometheus tapped her on the shoulder and she flinched, trying to fight down the sudden heat rushing to her cheeks. He said, "Astrid – Umm… Hoffers - addock? Gods… are you ready?"
"Do it." She grunted, unable to meet his eyes. Her shoulder tingled where he had touched it.
"Weapons away." He prompted. His own eyes were invisible, the cowl having somehow deepened: she was talking to a shadow.
Astrid glanced at the crowd, who was watching her with a mixture of worry and amusement. The night fury had settled like a cat, its hind feet tucked under itself, and front feet out, head up and watching with enormous, inquisitive eyes.
Hiccup – Prometheus – snatched a fish from the basket and handed it to her. "Hold the fish down your front I guess? And uhh… spread your… your… you know…muhh…" he silently pleaded with her to understand.
Astrid stared at him for a moment, trying to understand what was so difficult about saying 'legs'. He was as uncomfortable as she had ever seen him. Then the images slashed across her mind again and she looked away. With an exasperated sigh, she showed mercy and grabbed the fish.
"Okay, dragon." she said loudly, speaking directly to Toothless as she held the foul-smelling fish down her front, "you bite me and I'll bite you right back."
The crowd fell silent as the dragon approached. Toothless waddled up to her, displaying a little more care and caution than usual. He kept glancing aside at the crowd of onlookers.
Astrid gave the fish a shake to catch the dragon's attention again.
Toothless approached enthusiastically, sniffing at the fish, his enormous mouth getting altogether waaaay too close to her unmentionables.
There was a murmur from the crowd as the dragon's mouth – wide and full of teeth, slipped open, a line of drool dripping onto the floor of the arena.
Astrid raised her eyes skyward and tried to remind herself of all the moments she had seen the dragon looking friendly and cute, wrapped around Hiccup. She tried to remind herself that she trusted Hiccup, and knew nothing was going to go wrong. Neither thought worked, and in the end she found herself silently praying to Odin and Thor that the dragon did not bite her instead of the fish. She remembered how Hiccup had called Odin's gaze to the Gothi's shack.
Yes… Hiccup had the Gods on his side. They wouldn't let Toothless maim her.
The dragon's mouth widened, and snapped shut over the fish, less than an inch from her crotch. Astrid flinched, but did not step back. Instead, Toothless dragged the fish away, leaving a chunk of tail in Astrid's tight grip.
"Hey Ruffnut," Tuffnut exclaimed loudly, "if that were you, you wouldn't need the fish! I can smell you from here!"
Immediately the crowd broke out in a chorus of jeers and laughter.
Ruffnut responded by immediately pouncing on her brother and punching every inch of him she could reach. Toothless responded to the excitement by hopping up and down and had to be calmed and restrained by Hiccup – Prometheus.
Astrid grinned and turned back to the crowd and grinned, "Alright Hermund, you're next!"
The young viking hesitated and Sirnir the giant said, "it's this or the axe handle, boy! What's it going to be?"
As the Vikings lined up, each with a fish in hand, Astrid shared a sidelong glance with Hiccup, his wide green eyes visible within the depths of his cowl. There was something in his gaze – gratitude or… something softer at any rate. She couldn't tell with his face covered, so she gave him a grim nod and turned her attention to keeping their new "class" in line.
Hi all!
This first training session will be a two-parter.
So it's been a while if you want to know why, I've got an explanation below.
When I started writing this story I was a much younger man, sitting in a hostel, backpacking across Australia. I had not a care in the world, and all the time I could ever need to give How To Train Your Dragon the treatment I felt it deserved. It was a different chapter in my life.
Now things have changed quite a bit. There is never enough time, and my travels have taken me to other places. I ended up hunting through eastern Europe, tracing my own family history.
My search ended on a set of train tracks beyond the gatehouse of Auschwitz II Birkenau.
The world in general took a darker turn as well. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to supply you with chapters of this story to help everyone get through the trials of Covid and the insanity of recent years, but it is a difficult thing to throw a lifeline to a drowning man when you're in the water with him.
A lot of what fueled this story was my own personal positivity about the Human Species, and our ability to embrace rationality and science, to study and agree on basic facts about reality, our ability to learn and grow beyond prejudice…
To say that perspective took a bit of a hit is an understatement, and without that positivity, writing this story became so much harder than it once was.
When I read this story I am proud of what I've done, but I'm not going to front: the early Alexandria chapters and all of Artemisia's aspirational speeches read to me like the dreams of a naive child. It stuns me, how innocent I was.
Regardless, we learn. We grow. We change.
I want to continue this story. More than that, I want back what I lost. I want to believe, so I'm going to try to resume writing and finish this.