Kingmaker
The crew, weary from days of hard travel, had found solace among kin, drinking and feasting beneath the heavy timbered roof. Sigurd, as always, commanded the room with his booming laughter and authoritative presence, his voice cutting through the hum of chatter.
Eivor and Kaya, however, were granted a reprieve. After long talks of politics and alliances with Ubba, Sigurd, and the newly crowned Ceolwulf, Kaya had no appetite for such matters. She had endured the conversation in silence, her patience wearing thin as the men debated strategies and borders, each word dripping with self-importance.
As the night deepened, the camp settled into a restless quiet. Eivor approached Kaya with a begrudging suggestion, his brows furrowed in contemplation.
"We need to share a tent tonight," he stated, his voice devoid of any room for negotiation.
Kaya's eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. "Why can't I sleep alone? I've always managed before."
"We're low on tents, and there's no other option," Eivor replied, his tone firm, though a hint of empathy flickered in his eyes. "It's just for tonight."
Kaya crossed her arms defiantly, her posture rigid. "I don't care. I'd rather sleep under the stars than be crammed into a small space with you."
Eivor sighed, his patience wearing thin. "I understand your discomfort, but it's safer this way. We can't afford to be separated, especially not now."
She scoffed, turning away from him. "I'm used to sharing sleeping areas with men, Eivor. But this—this is different. You take up too much space, and I need my own."
Eivor stepped closer, his presence looming. "Stop being stubborn, Kaya. Do you think I relish the idea of sharing a tent with someone as prickly as you? But we have to make do."
The firelight cast shadows on Kaya's face, highlighting her frustration. "Prickly? That's rich coming from you," she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're the one barging in, making demands without considering how I might feel."
Eivor's eyes softened, though his tone remained resolute. "I'm not doing this to upset you. It's for our safety. You know that."
Kaya glanced around the camp, the realization of their predicament settling in. Her shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of her. "Fine," she muttered, the word heavy with reluctance. "But don't expect me to be happy about it."
Hours later, when sleep finally claimed her, it was anything but peaceful.
…
The dream began the way it always did. The black wolf appeared from the shadows, its eyes glowing like embers. Its teeth bared, saliva dripping from its maw, the beast snarled at her as though it intended to rip her apart. It loomed closer, larger than life, its presence suffocating. Kaya's breath caught in her throat as she felt her scar throb—a searing pain that crawled along her neck like fire.
But this time, it didn't feel like a dream.
Her eyes snapped open, and the wolf was there. Its massive form stood over her, its hot breath brushing against her skin. Its teeth gleamed, sharp and deadly, as saliva pooled and dripped onto her chest. The glow of the moon painted the beast in silver and shadow, its fur rippling like a storm cloud.
The dream shifted, her surroundings melting into the scorching desert she had once called home. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke, each breath a searing reminder of the devastation. Flames licked at the horizon, casting grotesque shadows as the invaders carved a path of destruction through her people. Screams echoed, each one a dagger to her heart.
Kaya ran, her feet pounding against the sand, the grains slipping beneath her as though trying to drag her down. The cries of the fallen filled her ears, haunting her every step. Her lungs burned, but she did not slow. She could not afford to.
She ran until her legs gave out, collapsing into the merciless embrace of the desert. Her fingers clawed at the sand, desperation mingling with grief. She was that child again, the one who had stumbled upon the lifeless bodies of her parents, swaying from the gallows like grotesque puppets. The sight had seared itself into her soul, an unyielding specter of her past.
The weight of her memories bore down upon her, pinning her to the ground. Tears mingled with the sand, turning to mud under the relentless sun. Conflict raged within her, a tumultuous storm of anger, pain, and helplessness. She screamed, the sound raw and guttural, a cry for all that she had lost and all that she could never reclaim.
In the distance, the silhouettes of the invaders loomed, their weapons gleaming with the blood of her kin. Kaya's heart thundered, a primal drumbeat of survival and vengeance. She pushed herself up, her body trembling with the effort.
The dreamscape wavered, the line between reality and nightmare blurring once more. The wolf's eyes glowed in the darkness, a malevolent promise of danger. Kaya's pulse quickened, the scar on her neck throbbing in tandem with her fear.
Kaya's heart thundered in her chest as her instincts took over. Her hidden blade extended with a metallic hiss, the motion sharp and precise.
The wolf lunged—
"Stop!"
A firm grip clamped down on her wrist. Kaya's eyes darted to the side, her breath hitching as she met Eivor's gaze. The weight of the wolf vanished, leaving her sitting upright, the blade trembling in her hand. The room was empty save for the two of them, the echoes of her dream dissipating into the cold night air.
Kaya's breath came in ragged bursts, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to find air. Sweat beaded on her forehead, trickling down the sides of her face and neck. Her wrist trembled under Eivor's unyielding grip, the tension radiating through her entire arm. Each heartbeat was a hammer pounding in her ears, drowning out all other sounds.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Eivor hissed, still gripping Kaya's wrist. His tone was low, wary, as though she feared waking the others.
Eivor's eyes, sharp and vigilant, caught the deadly glint in Kaya's gaze. It was a look that sent shivers down his spine, one that spoke of a past marred by trauma and relentless survival. He had seen that look before, in the eyes of warriors who had faced the abyss and returned, but never without a piece of their soul left behind.
His worry deepened, an undercurrent of concern that mingled with the immediate danger. Eivor's fingers tightened around Kaya's wrist, his mind racing to understand the depth of her turmoil. The blade in her hand, though now still, was a stark reminder of the thin line between consciousness and the nightmarish realms she inhabited.
Kaya blinked, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. "I… I thought—" She stopped, her voice faltering. Her scar burned, the phantom sensation lingering as if it were fresh.
Eivor's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening. "You almost gutted me, Kaya. Explain yourself."
Kaya's chest heaved as she tried to steady her breath, the cold night air biting at her sweat-dampened skin. A single bead of sweat slid down the side of her face, tracing the sharp line of her jaw. Her mind raced. How could she explain this to Eivor? How could she put into words a nightmare that had clawed at her sanity for years?
The black wolf—the beast with eyes like his—was no ordinary nightmare. It had followed her from the past, a specter tethered to her by pain and betrayal. Those eyes, burning with malevolent intent, were a mirror to the one who had scarred her in more ways than one.
Kaya gritted her teeth, refusing to meet his eyes. Her pulse thudded against her throat, and she could feel the scar on her neck pulsating like a fresh wound. Her instincts screamed at her to pull away, to shield herself, but Eivor's hold was resolute.
"Let go," she said through clenched teeth, trying to wrench her wrist free.
"Not until you tell me what just happened," Eivor countered, his tone sharp. "You almost put your blade through me in your sleep. If there's something I need to know, now is the time to speak."
Kaya's jaw tightened. She couldn't. Not yet. Not now.
Her voice, when it came, was as cold as the frost gathering on the edges of the longhouse walls. "It was nothing. Just a dream."
"A dream?" Eivor's brow furrowed, his voice rising ever so slightly. "You were ready to kill, Kaya. That's more than just a dream."
She finally looked at him, her dark eyes flashing with defiance. "I said it's nothing," she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "Leave it."
Kaya's hand trembled as she pulled away from Eivor, her mind still grappling with the shadowy terror that had almost driven her to violence. Without another word, she turned and quickly donned her robes, the fabric enveloping her like a shield against the night's chill and her own turmoil.
She needed to escape—to find a moment of peace away from the suffocating weight of her dream and the haunted gaze of Eivor. Moving with an urgency born of desperation, Kaya slipped out of their sleeping area, her footsteps silent on the cold ground.
The camp lay in a hushed stillness, the only sounds the distant crackle of a dying fire and the soft whispers of the wind. Her breath formed delicate clouds in the air as she walked, each step taking her further from the chaos of her thoughts. She headed towards the edge of the camp, seeking solace in the solitude of the night.
As she reached the outskirts, she paused, her eyes scanning the dark horizon. The quietness here was different—calming, almost sacred. Kaya closed her eyes, letting the tranquil silence wash over her, her heartbeat gradually slowing to a steadier rhythm.
Yet, as she stood there, the weight of her guilt began to settle heavily upon her shoulders, mingling with the chilling imagery of her dreams. The scenes played out vividly in her mind: her blade slicing through the air, Eivor's eyes widening in shock and betrayal, the crimson arc of blood that never came but felt all too real. Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat an echo of her unspoken remorse.
Why had her subconscious conjured such violence? The question gnawed at her, the answer lurking just beyond the reach of her understanding. Every time she closed her eyes, the nightmare returned, more visceral and haunting than before. She could still feel the cold steel in her hands, the desperation in her movements, the sheer terror that had driven her to the brink.
Kaya took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the specters of her dreams clung to her, whispering doubts and fears. She felt as though she was navigating a dark, endless labyrinth, each turn bringing her face-to-face with her darkest fears and deepest regrets. The burden was almost too much to bear, yet she knew she had to endure it—if not for her own sake, then for the safety of those around her.
Kaya woke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the trees. She stretched her stiff limbs, groaning softly as her bones and muscles protested the movement. She hadn't slept much after the incident, her mind refusing to release the grip of her haunting dream. Her stomach growled, a reminder that today was going to be long and trying.
Rising slowly, she made her way back to the camp. The air was crisp and still, the only sounds the gentle murmur of the river nearby and the distant stirrings of the camp as it woke. She secured a large loaf of bread from a warrior who was distributing food. Though the bread was stale, it was enough to stave off her hunger for now.
As Kaya walked through the camp, she kept a careful eye on her surroundings. She caught sight of Eivor in the distance, his imposing figure unmistakable even in the early morning light. He moved with purpose, his attention fixed on something ahead. Kaya hesitated, the weight of last night's tension still heavy in her chest.
She followed Eivor at a distance, her steps careful and measured. She didn't want to confront him, not yet. The memory of her near-violent outburst was too fresh, too raw. She needed time to understand it herself before she could explain it to him.
Eivor stopped near Ubba.
Ubba noticed Kaya from behind Eivor and nodded in acknowledgment. Kaya walked past Eivor without making eye contact. Ubba turned to Eivor, his brow furrowing. "What was that about?"
Eivor shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Nothing."
"Move! Move!," Ivarr commanded, his voice cold and hard with a hint of playfulness.
The boy swallowed hard, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination. Kaya watched the scene unfold, her own conflict momentarily forgotten as she observed the harsh lesson being imparted. The tension in the air was palpable, each word and movement charged with unspoken challenges and silent defiance.
"Calm, Ivarr. The fight's not here," Ubba said, striding towards his brother with an air of authority. Kaya kept her distance, her thoughts tangled, watching the interaction with wary eyes.
"Aye. The fight's nowhere to be found in this boy," Ivarr retorted, casting a disdainful glance at the young boy who stood awkwardly, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. Kaya uncrossed her arms, her gaze sharpening as she caught sight of the boy's features.
He had dirty blonde hair, tousled as if he'd just wrestled with the morning winds. His attire was ill-fitting, suggesting readiness for a battle he clearly wasn't prepared for. His face, marked by youth, made Kaya think he might be even younger than her.
"A boy who happens to be Ceolwulf's son." Ah, there it was. Kaya scoffed at the boy playing warrior. He might not have even held a sword or gone through the woods chasing deer.
"Why is he not in his quarters?" Ubba questioned Ivarr, his tone sharp and accusatory.
The boy's jaw tightened, but he remained silent. Kaya could see the embarrassment and anger warring in his eyes. She felt a pang of pity but quickly dismissed it. This was no place for the weak.
"Our future king wants a battle-hardened heir. Time he proves his worth, don't ya think?" Ivarr stated with a challenging smirk.
Kaya saw that the young boy wanted to prove something. She, Eivor, and Ubba could see a soft and boyish child before them. Compared to them, this boy could hardly swing a sword.
The boy's eyes flickered to Kaya once more, a hint of color rising to his cheeks as if he had never seen a woman, let alone one from a distant land. Eivor noticed the glance but remained silent. Ubba, too, saw the exchange but chose not to comment. Ivarr, on the other hand, chuckled and nudged the boy forward, encouraging him to speak to Kaya.
Kaya's gaze met the boy's, her expression unreadable. She gave him a small nod, acknowledging his presence but offering no encouragement. She would not give the boy any false hope. This world was harsh, and only the strong survived. Her nod was a silent acceptance of his existence, nothing more.
"You sure you are not taking him along just to scare him shitless," Kaya spoke, making Ivarr grin wickedly.
Eivor spoke in a low voice, "do not bring trouble, Kaya. You let them anger you." Kaya ignored Eivor, feeling the pang of guilt from last night's events.
There was a stand off between Kaya and Ivarr. Ubba could not help but shake his head at his brother's brashness.
"Always one to wound me," Ivarr placed a hand over his heart in mock injury.
Kaya scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "Your theatrics don't fool me, Ragnarson. You'd drag him through hell just to watch him squirm."
"Ah, but isn't that the point?" Ivarr's grin widened, eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. "To forge steel, you must first test its limits."
The air between Kaya and Ivarr crackled with a palpable electricity, a brewing storm of defiance and dominance. Kaya stood her ground, unyielding and fierce, her eyes locking onto Ivarr's with a steely resolve. Ivarr's smirk was a mask of provocation, daring Kaya to react, his posture exuding a threatening confidence.
Their exchanges were a dance of power, each movement and word a calculated strike meant to unbalance the other. Kaya's clenched fists and narrowed eyes spoke volumes of her restrained fury, while Ivarr's mocking demeanor was a deliberate attempt to ignite that very fire.
Kaya stepped closer, her face inches from his. "Or break it into pieces."
The height difference between them was noticeable. Even though Kaya was shorter, she could still outmatch an opponent twice her size. Ivarr was nothing to her.
Ivarr leaned in closer, keenly aware of their proximity. "What's the matter, Kaya? Afraid of a little pressure?" His breath was hot against her ear, a deliberate taunt.
Kaya's jaw clenched, her knuckles whitening as she balled her fists. "I fear nothing," she hissed through gritted teeth.
Kaya's breath came in measured, controlled bursts, each exhale a testament to her determination not to let Ivarr's taunts pierce her composure. The space between them was charged, a battlefield of wills where neither was willing to concede. The tension was a living thing, swirling around them as others looked on, the outcome of this silent duel uncertain but undeniably intense.
Ivarr chuckled, his lips curling into a smug grin. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Such fire. Pity it's wasted on—"
His words were cut short as Kaya's hand shot up, gripping his wrist with a force that belied her smaller stature. Her eyes blazed with a fury that made Ivarr's grin falter for just a moment.
She was close to striking him with her blade.
Before the tension could escalate further, Eivor stepped between them, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Enough, both of you. This bickering serves no purpose."
Kaya's jaw tightened, her eyes burning with quiet anger. She could not yet meet Eivor's gaze, knowing that his intervention had saved the boy from critical scrutiny. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the men to their conversation. Her steps were deliberate, each one echoing her thoughts that bringing a boy into battle, an heir to the throne no less, could mean death.
She approached the horses, one of which had been given to her by a camp man who rounded them for the morning journey. Mounting the horse, her movements were smooth and practiced, betraying none of the turmoil within.