Valkyrie

Chapter Eight: Season Three

Kattegat grows fearful every new day. Today, all of Kattegat was force to stay home. Shops were closed. People boarded up their homes and they sat possibly by the door with something to defend themselves with. This is because someone destroyed the idol of Ivar in the square. He has now killed at least two families. Including the children. I was utterly ashamed of him at this point. I was disappointed in him when he killed his only son, but now I was ashamed.

Ivar wants respect as a King, at least, but this is not how to do it. I'm afraid if I were to confront him about it, he would have my head. I found it best to stay hidden away. I have not seen much of him since our last meeting. If I was wanted by him, he would send it to me. Other than that, Thora and I keep to ourselves. We dare not to speak of rebellion. We fear ears will be opened through the small holes that the mice have made for themselves. We figured it is best to wait for Hvitserk to return. I hope he returns.

Once the lockdown was over and the town felt safe, Kattegat resumed normal life and tried to catch up to their daily lives from previous days. I remained hopeful of Hvitserk's return and knitted him a new shirt. It was beautiful. A fresh cotton shirt with threads of gold going through it. A shirt fit for a Prince. I know he would love it. Thora was busy preparing dried meat for him.

The other night, during a cheery meal together, we discussed her marriage to Hvitserk. We giggled and laughed about the marriage games she wanted to play and the music that would be played. Mostly, the guests who will be invited. She was not afraid to mention one guest that will not be invited.

Without nasty King Ivar.

"Sigrun! Sigrun!" Thora cried, running into the house. She closed the door behind her, she gasped for air, her basket full of meat hanging out on the edge, and the color from her rosy cheeks had faded.

"Thora!" I cried, taking her from the door and sitting her down.

"What has happened?"

She swallowed, catching her breath, she then opened her mouth and let out a breath of air.

"I...was..." she huffed. "I was..." "I was at Madam Astrida's house getting some fresh duck and chickens to cut..." She talked fast, as I hung onto every word.

"Yes?" I asked, calmly.

"She had told me during a small gathering in the Great Hall, Ivar is planning another series of killings..." "He is coming for you!" She cried.

I gasped, quickly standing from my chair, as it knocked over. My hearing suddenly faded as she watched me daze from my existence. Anger quickly replaced my fear and my shock. The little boy who I carried and held in my arms, who I fed, and held when he ached. I felt insulted and disrespected. I gave him my love and he stepped on it. Yet, I was afraid for my life and a sense of doom came over me. Darkness clouded my mind. Although, I quickly became rational. Madam Astrida is an old hag who still assumes I'm still physically a child. She was always fearful of Ivar even when he was a child. I would like to believe it, but I know Ivar would never hurt me. He has never indicated that he wanted to hurt me.

"Thora, I would like to believe this, but-" I sighed, "I loved him as a little boy, a tender child..."

"When was Ivar ever a tender child?" She sighed, sadly. "He is mad!"

"Ivar had his moments..." I gulped.

"Sigrun, you must believe me!"

"I believe you, Thora, I believe you!" I said.

She got up and came close to me, "You must rebel against him!" She whispered.

"No, no, we've been through this, not without Hvitserk!" I whispered back, my mind began to spiral.