It had been written that the daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok was taken to Valhalla as a young girl.
But what if the gods didn't take her? What if the gods spared her?
Gyda Ironside, the only daughter of Ragnar and Lagertha rejoins her family as a train...
They scorched my face whether I wanted them to or not. I lean my whole body into father as he cuddles my head to his chest.
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I had to hold onto someone, or I'd simply fall apart. I refused to move from my place on the floor, no matter if the stickiness of blood that coated the ground tightened upon my skin.
Red was the only colour I could see. My thighs and feet was stained with it, my hands scathed with it. Not to mention the surrounding cloths patched with it from Althia's work.
She's crouches beside me as she holds out a small cup of some concoction.
"Drink." She whispers.
I continue to shake as I ignore her request. Still mulling over what just happened only moments ago.
She sighs as she moves the cup to my lips.
"You're body has just gone through a very hard thing. It needs any goodness it can get to bounce back. Gyda, I still want to keep you safe."
I don't react as I part my lips, allowing her to tip the warm liquid through. It was bland and speckled with crumbs of whatever ingredient she blended into it.
She finished by laying the back of her hand over my forehead. Taking it away with a sigh.
"I can't do much for her here. I don't have the right equipment. The sooner we leave to go back to Wessex the better." She speaks to father.
I feel him nod.
Then a blonde head comes into view as he delicately kneels down beside Althia.
"Are you sure it is safe for her to travel now?"
Althia sighs as she packs her things into her bag.
"Honestly no. As she rolled down the mountain her abdomen was hit hard against a boulder, her body isn't fit to take the journey. But the choice is we either stay here so she can rest which could possibly lead to her getting worse or we try to get her back to Wessex where we can treat her properly."
"I don't care what you do to me. I deserve this. Leave me be."
I hardly noticed my lips speak as I did. But I meant every word. I was warned of this happening, yet I went on anyway. If I did get sick, it is what I deserved.
Fathers grip tightens around me as he speaks.
"Do not speak like that. You never meant for this to happen. This was a tragic accident. I don't care if you've given up on yourself, we're going to get you better."
More tears slid down at his stern tone. I know it was because he cared but it still didn't stop the hurt.
