Petulant ✔︎

12

Gunnar peaked over the hill. The nervous pit in his stomach widened. Weirdly he was more afraid of his sister than Erik. Gorm pulled him up by his cape, almost suffocating him in the process. Gunnar turned to scoff at him.

"We're coming through the front gate, no point in hiding," he announced. Gunnar gave him a look. Wouldn't it be safer if they hid? And he much preferred sneaking in.

Hvitserk nodded, "Erik has spies everywhere. He probably already knows we are here." Gorm patted Hvitserk's back. What surprised him was that Gorm reached for him and started pulling him along by his arm. The people they passed greeted them, mostly Gorm, and some that still recognized him gaped. Not that he changed much to not to be recognized.

Once they reached the Great hall there were a few things he noticed. The warmth was first. He remembered the years after his mother and Alfhild died. The cold in the hall, no fire burning. Only one throne sitting ahead, because there was no need for a second. The loneliness it emitted. Just one throne for a lonely ruler. And he did not want to be a ruler, he had enough loneliness.

But now there was a fire burning in the middle of the room. And across him sat two chairs. Irvina was glaring at the man that sat across her, his back was to him, but Gunnar recognized him. Erik. Irvina's eyes snapped to them when the commotion in the room soothed. Her eyes bulged, and she jumped to her feet.

Her arms wrapped around Gorm, and he had to ignore the tightening in his stomach. What did he expect? For the sister that he ignored to hug him first? Irvina held Gorm at arm's length and gave him a grin. She kissed Gorm's forehead, and he noticed how he relaxed. It brought a small smile to his lips that Gorm felt connected to at least someone on this earth. His sister turned to Hvitserk with a beaming smile. She patted his arm, thanking him. Then she turned to him with that smile and in that moment he could see his mother.

Smiling, picking him when he almost stabbed himself on his very own sword as a child. That same gentle smile. Irvina opened her arms. His stomach once again tightened with nerves. Instead of stepping into them as he wanted, he kneeled. Better get this over with. He could see Irvina's eyes widen, and the room quieted down more.

"I'm sorry, my Queen." His father must be turning in his bed. After all, it was his father who trained him, led him to be a King. Now here he was, bowing to a woman. Not something his father would approve of, but what could he do. Their rule was about who was the strongest and his sister was deserving of the throne way more. His father was laying in bed, barely moving from what Frode told him.

His eyes moved behind his sister to King Erik. His eyes were squinted, not quite in anger, more like mischievous. The room was drop-dead silent until Irivina spoke, "Stand up, it's fine!" His sister soon enveloped him in a warm hug. When she pulled back, the man that sat next to her on the throne was patting Gorm's shoulder.

This must be Harald's brother, Halfdan the Black. Halfdan gave him a small grateful smile. Soon Frode was giving him a disapproving glare before reaching for him. The hug was cut short by the King coming forward.

"King Erik." He greeted just for pleasantries. Gorm didn't even try. He gave the man a nod before starting a conversation with Halfdan. Completely disrespectful of a guard, but Irvina didn't reprimand him.

Erik pulled him out of his thoughts, "Prince Gunnar." He could hear the bitterness behind the words. What did this old fart hope for? That he would stand against his sister. Did Erik really think he was naive to help him usurp the throne from him once he stole it from his sister?

"Please warm by the fire. We can have a feast tonight!" The people around cheered, and Gunnar raised a brow at Gorm. Gorm gave him a smirk before he let himself be pulled by the crowd.