𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 || ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 - ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴀʏᴇʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴀɴ.

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 –
ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴀʏᴇʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴀɴ.
ᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ – ɢʟᴏʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏʀᴇ

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

Then

SHE TURNED HER HEAD TO THE SIDE,
spitting skin from her teeth – but it was of no use, the blood laid thick, clinging to her like a second skin. It stained her disheveled braids, splattered across her face, gathered most around her mouth and chin, dripping, dripping, dripping, as it ran down the base of her own throat.

She convinced herself that the bewildered silence that surrounded her was due to the deafening ring of her ears and not due to the surprise of her appearance, the devilish glint gleaming in her eyes, or how she had just taken a man's life merely by her teeth.

In their eyes, she became a praying mantis who devoured her opponents – a desperate hunger coiling within her soul. In their eyes, she became the angel of death.

And she stood, turning to face them all, her brothers – Uhtred and Ragnar – sihtric and Finan. Brida, Beocca, even Aethelwold. They all stood around her, weary eyes, pursed lips, looking at her as if she were the monster.

As if she were the killer, the reason for her own family's death – As if she were Kjartan.

Then her eyes found another, a pair of honeyed gold above sleepless shadows.

Leofric stood in the crowd, towering over the rest. His eyes held no expression, as if his very soul had been ripped from his body – but he was the soul that had been ripped and stolen. He was the afterlife of another life.

His lips were the only thing that seemed to move, smiling at her, but not in the way he had done so in the past, not like when he found her comments amusing – no, this one was sharper, darker, more pointed then the others.

And he stood there, behind the rest, smiling at her, watching her as if in waiting.

And that was the last time she ever saw Leofric.

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

now

FREYJA WAS HARDLY EVER ONE
to smile. To her, it was a show of weakness, of joy and happiness that could easily be taken away – like it had done so in the past.

There were only a handful of times where she smiled, actually smiled. Whenever Uhtred was truly in the arms of joy, whenever she was in the presence of her older brother Ragnar, because to her, their family was almost complete – they were almost back together again – but that was a thing that was stolen over and over and over again.

Who knows when the next time would be when they're back together.

Freyja often smiled in the presence of her son, for he was constantly at a joyous, giggling state that seemed to be the centre of all childhood innocence. But the second she was away, in another room, seperated by land and cities, the smile seemed to fall, to find a permanent sneer.

Freyja's happiness was always something that would be temporary, a short-lived, barely lingering moment.

In this moment, she was happy.