Alfild wakes up in a cell, alone and not actually dead. Without Ivar there, she feels she might not survive after the birth of their child. Nevertheless, she remains loyal to the end. Even if it kills her.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Hope. That is what Ivar had once given her.
Alfild had once thought that strength was the answer to every problem. That, so long as you fought hard enough, you could overcome everything. But it wasn't true. No matter how hard you fought and rallied against it, there was one thing that could never be conquered. Because it already conquered everything else.
Love.
Love was stronger than any iron chains. Love was stronger than any stone walls. And, no matter where she was, Alfild was still spurred on by the fire that dwelled within her soul.
It had been seven months since she had first been locked away. Seven long months. Ivar was nowhere to be found. But she knew he was out there. Somewhere.
The night was pure black, storm clouds rumbling overhead. And Alfild could feel a shift in the air. It was much like the great battle against Lagertha. Something huge was coming. Something that would shake the world. Something catastrophic.
Alfild could feel it, like it was everywhere, heavy in her lungs with every sharp intake of breath. The bright lightning flickered in the distance, illuminating the abyss of night. In the shadows, she could hear the wind howling. Howling a name, a word, something important. As she strained her neck to listen, her heart almost stopped at the rapid realisation.
"Lagertha" The wind whispered, and Alfild gently reached out her shackled hand to touch the rough stone walls. This was the end of a great story. She knew it.
She hadn't known the extent of Hvitserk's breakdown, but she'd never seen him like he was in recent months. Even when Margarethe died, he was never so broken. It was heart wrenching to see, as she cared for him so dearly. She loved him. Even now, even after everything that had happened. He remained a brother to her.
Another clap of thunder startled her. A loud bang with a bright flash of lightning. The rain pelted down like a sea of arrows attacking it's enemies in an endless battle - striking at all that dared to venture out beyond the comfortable walls of their home.
The water dripped down into Alfild's damp cell, making her shiver and sniffle with the aching cold. In truth, she never expected death in such a way. She never expected to die a sickly weakling. She thought she would die in battle, an honourable death. But this was the real world. And most often, it was not an honourable end that great men and women received. Most often, it was sickness that struck down the greats.
In this cold damp cell, rats in the corner and dirt smothering her, Alfild knew that she was far too weak to bare the child. She had to get out. She had to get away.
In one of her long talks with Gunnhild - who seemed to be the only one who treated her with kindness - Alfild had heard her lament over a vote. A vote for King of all Norway.
Whoever won would gain Alfild's lands. They would gain her crown.
And, it seemed from what Gunnhild had said, that Bjorn had not won that power. Instead, it had been King Harald Finehair - who she knew all too well as the traitor who turned his back on his agreement with Ivar, simply because of Alfild's child. But, if all this was true, it would seem that he was no more a friend of Bjorn than he was a friend of her or Ivar.
She couldn't hate him for his decisions. She admired his determination, his ambition. And as she considered all that she had learned, she knew that her best chance would be finding a way to Finehair's kingdom.
When the door slammed open, bashing against the stone wall with rain flying inwards, Alfild froze in shock. As her eyes adjusted, looking over to see who had barged into her cell, she was more than shocked to see Hvitserk. He stood in the doorway, shaking like a leaf in the wind, tears drenching his cheeks... And blood drenching his hands.
The young queen shifted backwards nervously, watching as he stepped inside.
As the door closed behind him, he stared into the distance - as if he wasn't fully there - and slumped to the ground. She could see the shock in his eyes, the utter disbelief.
"Hvitserk?" She whispered, carefully moving closer so as not to startle him. He didn't seem like himself. And though she would never admit fear, she would admit that seeing him in such a state left her anxious. "Hvitserk, what happened?"
He looked up at her, their eyes finally meeting, and Alfild could see the pain and regret in his eyes. But something more than that. She could see fear. "I killed her." His voice was quiet, deathly quiet, and Alfild had an odd feeling in her chest. A part of her knew, the wind still howling Lagertha's name, but she furrowed her brows slightly, lips parting as she contemplated asking. "I killed Lagertha." He answered her silent question finally.
The shieldmaiden sent him a gentle smile, knitted brows in sympathy. She moved as close as she could with the chains holding her back, sitting a foot away from him. "That's quite the achievement." She spoke calmly, trying her best to sooth the situation. "Are you hurt?"
He shook his head, wiping away more tears. In his drunken state, Alfild knew that he wasn't 100% there. And she felt for him, truly she did.
"Okay," She spoke gently, her voice softer than spring. "It's alright. You're going to be alright." She wasn't expecting him to move closer, but when he did, she gently reached out to hug him. His tears drenched her shoulder as she soothed him, softly whispering that everything was going to be alright.
They remained like that for a few moments, before Hvitserk pulled away. He looked at her softly, as if all that had passed between them over the previous months had never happened. And finally, he spoke again.
"Ivar is alive." He spoke without hatred or rage, simply saying these words because he knew how much it would mean to her. Because even after everything, he still cared about her. "He was seen on the silk road."
Alfild could hear her heart stop, her eyes growing glassy as she thought about her husband. He was alive. She'd done it. She'd actually saved him. And her heart filled with warmth, a small tear running down her cheek as she smiled. There was hope.
Without another word, Hvitserk reached for the axe on his belt, raising it. Those same nerves returned to Alfild as she scooted back slightly. If he'd killed Lagertha, he could kill her - especially with the state she was in at the time. Her limbs were weak, her body aching. She'd barely eaten - and what food she had, she was certain all went towards her child. But Hvitserk had no intention of killing her. No intention of hurting her. Because no matter what, they would always be family.
As his axe swung down, breaking Alfild's chains loose, she stared up at him in shock.
"Go and find him." He spoke calmly, watching as she rubbed her sore wrists. When he helped her to her feet, seeing how weak she was, he gently led her outside into the rain, wrapping one of the furs in the corner around her shaking shoulders.
"Come with me." She shouted over the roaring thunder that swallowed all sound. "If Bjorn finds out what happens, you'll be killed. Come with me, Hvitserk. Ivar loves you, I know he does. You'll be safe."
The Ragnarsson gave a shrug, sadly glancing back towards the hall. "Bjorn will do what he has to. I deserve it." As she was about to protest, about to rally against his decision, a noise startled them both - someone outside who was heading their way. Hvitserk passed her the axe, hoping it would be enough to keep her safe. "Go. Now."
As tears mixed with the rain running down her cheeks, she gently gave him one last hug, thanking him for everything, before she finally disappeared into the darkness.
She'd sat rotting in that cell for so long that she wasn't sure what else there was anymore. She'd run out of faith, run out of any will to go on. But news of Ivar? That had given her more than she ever could've dreamed of in that dark dank cell.
