DIVINE [HVITSERK RAGNARSSON]

6: SHIELD-MAIDEN

CHAPTER SIX — 'SHIELD-MAIDEN'

Hvitserk Ragnarsson stared at Asta Stensdottir and chuckled. "You, a shield maiden? You must be joking."
"You shouldn't be so rude. My brothers have been training me, I can fight."
"Well there you go, you don't need me." Hvitserk grumbled as he sheathed his sword.
"You're different to them. You're the son of Ragnar. I've seen the way you handle a sword and a shield. You're passionate."
"Why would I train you?"
Asta sighed and looked at Hvitserk with honest eyes. "Honestly, I know you don't particularly like me. But I want this. I want to be a shield maiden more than anything. If you do this for me, I will forever be in your debt."
She walked closer to Hvitserk and he raised his eyebrows again, knowing that she really would be in his debt.
"If you agree, I shall pledge my service to you. From this moment, I will do whatever you need of me." She said.
"I don't need your service. My family have servants for that."
Asta sighed, shrugging her shoulders and shooting Hvitserk a pleading look. "Please. It's all I have to offer. I need this."

Hvitserk looked the girl up and down for a few seconds, taking in her frame and her build. If she trained hard enough, of course she could be a shield maiden. And the girl wasn't as bad as he kept telling himself she was, so why not use her as extra training for himself.
"Come on then," he drew his sword and handed it to her, signalling to the training sacks, "show me what you've got."

————

Asta huffed as she dropped the sword to the floor and used her forefinger to wipe a bead of sweat from her pale forehead. Hvitserk chuckled as he picked the sword from the ground, and it seemed like a genuine one to Asta.
"I am surprised. You are better than I thought."
"I have been practicing."
"You have fought someone else?" Hvitserk's deep brow furrowed as he asked the question.
"Uh, not really," Asta mumbled, looking at the dirty ground as she spoke. "My brothers will throw commands at me, but they get too wrapped up, and fight each other."
"Your brothers?" Hvitserk walked away from the girl and slashed a small tree in front of him. "Why am I here if those fools can train you?" There it was. Asta felt that she knew Hvitserk's mood swings better than she Hvitserk himself. Although, she did hardly know him. She was surprised she'd even got him to agree to their deal so easily.
"I told you," Asta sighed, walking back towards him and using her hand to turn his shoulder around. "You are passionate. They are not warriors as much as you." Perhaps she was trying to sweet talk him, but her words were true nonetheless.

Hvitserk grunted in response, kicking the ground's dust with his feet. He threw his sword on the ground and looked at Asta moodily.
"From now, you train with wooden staffs-"
"But, why? I-"
"You must know what it is to be hit, properly. For now, we must focus on your footwork, it will help you to dodge better."

The sun had set and heavy clouds pushed themselves through a grey sky, bringing a gloominess to Kattegat. The gloominess settled on the ground too, for Kattegat held a strange atmosphere since Ragnar Lothbrok had returned. Some people were overjoyed - their greatest ever King back to lead them to yet more glory. But they were the minority. The majority, they still held anger. Anger that their king had left them without a word after all the glory they had achieved with him.

"There is food on the table. Where have you been?" Signe spoke bluntly as Asta entered their home, shutting the cold out behind her.
"Don't fear, Mother. I only went for a walk." She lied as she moved toward the table and began picking at the food. It appeared that she would be walking a lot now, for really she had been training with Hvitserk again.
When they trained, he barely spoke a word to Asta. He threw out commands, criticised her and maybe praised her once or twice, but he didn't want to sit and chat about life, it seemed. He was reserved, however Asta couldn't quite understand if it was just the way he was or if he just simply didn't like her.
"Is there any news on Ragnar?" Signe looked at her husband as Sten walked slowly over to their small wooden table, throwing himself onto a frail chair and kicking both of his legs up onto the table lazily.
"They're saying he wants to take people to England." Erik answered before his father could, almost excitedly.
"What for?" Asta questioned.
"I do not know. But nobody wants to go with him, they feel betrayed by him."

Signe ruffled her son's hair as she walked behind him and looked at her husband.
"Will you go with him?" She asked him. Sten cleared his throat pulling his legs off of the table and leaning forward onto his knees.

"No," he sighed, "I will not." He still held the same emotionless look on his face that he always did. His injuries in Paris had weakened him and made him so much more reserved and he often tried to hide the pain that he was dealing with.

"But why?" Signe questioned him, however she would always support her husband's decisions.

"Not even his sons want to go with him." Arvid spoke up from across the room, looking like he was preparing himself to leave the cabin. "Bjorn Ironside wants to go to the Mediterranean."

"I don't blame him," Sten rubbed at his face as he spoke, "but I'm not going with him either. I fear my days of glory and battle are over. Plus, the Seer told me something big is happening in Kattegat. And I think I know exactly what." He got up and disappeared from the main room, probably towards his bed.

Hvitserk Ragnarsson spooned the food into his mouth before washing it down with the strong ale that sat in his curved drinking horn. A scowl was on his face as he listened to Ivar talking arrogantly about how he would travel to England with their father.

"He chose me. Me, to travel with him." Ivar held a proud smirk on his face as he spoke, and Aslaug smiled lovingly too. It was all she ever did with Ivar; act lovingly. More so than any of her other sons, and everybody noticed it. Hvitserk, Ubbe and Sigurd raised their eyebrows at their brother, laughing at him as they shoved their spoons into their mouths.

"Do not mock him." Aslaug glared at the rest of her sons. "He will find glory with his father. What can the rest of you say?"
Internally, Hvitserk rolled his eyes. He loved his mother, of course, but did she have to make it so glaringly obvious that her love for Ivar was superior?

"Bjorn wants to go to the Mediterranean." Hvitserk spoke up as he took another sip of ale. "I'm going with him."
Aslaug smiled, placing her hands on the table as she concealed perhaps a small sigh.
"That's wonderful." She said to her second-eldest. Nobody was quite sure on her opinion of Lagertha's son.

"Sigurd and I will stay here with you, Mother." Ubbe said, smiling across the table at Aslaug. "To care for you."
"My son, that is so sweet. All of you are so wonderful." She took hold of Ivar and Sigurd's hands as she spoke.
"Oh yes, so wonderful." Ivar rolled his eyes and his brothers sighed. "But Father still asked me to go to England, remember that."
Hvitserk chuckled slightly - at him, not with him.
"Yeah, asked you after the rest of us said no."

Ivar's face morphed into a scowl as his Mother's hand appeared on his back.
"Ignore them, my love." She fussed over him. "We should have a feast." Aslaug changed her tune suddenly and beamed a smile around the table.
"A feast?" Ubbe questioned.
"Yes." Aslaug said as she stood up from the table. "A feast to celebrate all of my son's ventures. And we will make a sacrifice, too."