The Death of The Gods

Prologue

Lo, There do I see my Father

Lo, There do I see my Mother and

My Brothers and my Sisters

Lo, There do I see the line of my people back to the beginning

Lo, They call to me

They bid me to take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla

Where thine enemies have been vanquished

Where the brave shall live Forever

No more shall we mourn, but rejoice for those that have died a glorious death.

Prologue

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C. 700 AD, Norway

The freezing, damp, forest floor made Astrid's boots soggy, causing them to rub against her feet, creating painful blisters that shot waves of pain up her ankles with every agonising step.

The cold would get bitter once winter arrived, but that didn't make autumn any sweeter. Raindrops, the size of the sheep-bladder balls village children played with, rocketed down from the dark, grey clouds. It was midday, but it could easily have been mistaken for midnight. Astrid's long, grey, apron-dress became a heavy burden, as she began her climb up the last hill.

Astrid was a servant to the infamous king Erik Ironblade of Norway. Though, she only saw him a few times throughout her stay. She got the weekends off; so she left every Frigg's-day to check on her mother and little sister who ruled Tørunnsfёll; her father's village.

Finally, the thatched roof of her double storeyed longhouse came into view. She sighed in relief, as she opened the door to the warm home. Her beautiful, golden-haired mother, was working on her loom; sitting on a small, wooden stool near the oak fireplace. Before her mother had been forced to sell nearly all the furniture and family treasures; the house had been one of the richest of all King Erik's Chief's houses.

Then, her father had been executed.

One, freezing winter's day, the king's men had come to their house. Astrid had only been six winters old at the time; but it had permanently scarred her. Treason? Plot to overthrow Erik? Bah. The mad king was paranoid. Chief Torunn Archerseye was anything but treasonous. He was a cheerful, happy man, who loved everyone and everything. The event had driven Lady Frige Jezebellesdaughter, who was pregnant at the time; insane, and left her daughter, Astrid, with the memory of her father's decapitated body, lying in a crimson puddle, on the snow-dusted scaffolding.

"Good afternoon, mother." Astrid said cheerfully, placing her leftover money in the small jar on the little table and carefully putting away the food she had brought with the rest of the money earlier.

"Hello, Astrid." Her mother muttered under her breath, as she tugged the wool into place.

"Did you remember to take Ragnhild to visit Lady Ingrid in the next village for that job interview? I did tell you that she was looking for a playmate for her little daughter." Astrid pulled off her sopping wet cloak and apron, before sitting next to her mother on the hard, dirt floor.

"I remembered. I sent her off a few days ago. There's her letter, there." She pointed vaguely in the direction of the table and Astrid saw that her mother wasn't hallucinating. She picked up the sheet of paper, before sitting back down and reading it out to her mother; who was Scottish and had never learnt how to read Norse runes.

"Here's what she says:

Dear Family,

I am pleased to inform you that I have been accepted as a playmate to Lady Ingrid's young daughter, Lotte. They are all very kind here; and they will allow me to see you every second weekend; when Ingrid is otherwise occupied with her lessons. She is seven winters to my eight, but she she very adventurous, much like the boy her father had wanted. It's a sad life these courtiers live, I'm ever grateful the gods turned our lives around the way they did; they always have an ulterior motif. I hope to see you next weekend.

Blessed be,

Ragnild."

Astrid smiled as she read out her sister's letter. Frige just nodded her head dismissively. Not many people in the village ever saw their disgraced Chieftess, but they often saw Astrid when she was in town. Astrid tended to get along very well with the village elders and the children; as for people of her own age? They threw stones at her, taunted her, spread false rumours about her... They hated her for her striking hazel eyes, her gold, bronze and silver hair, that fell seamlessly to her waist. They couldn't stand her creamy skin, with lightly flushed cheeks; her long dark lashes, and perfect, rosebud lips. Some of the nicer boys watched her from a distance; trying to be polite, and helping her out when she needed it; the more wicked ones would be aggressive, or nasty.

Astrid placed the letter back on the table, savouring the fact that her sister was safe, at least for now. Since the fall of Astrid's father, Chief Tørunn, there had been many a person that had tried to usurp Lady Frige from the rule of Tørunnsfëll. Astrid always put a stop to it. They earned enough money from her work at the palace, weekend work in the stables, King Erik's compensation, and her mother and Ragnhild's fabric weaving. They could afford a small army to repel any such offenses. Suddenly, Frige looked up from her loom. Her eyes were sharp and focused, not in their usual: hazy, distracted state.

"Mother?" Astrid arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"A mysterious stranger arrived today." Frige spoke up, her voice clear and strong. "A dark haired Lord from Sweden." Astrid wondered suddenly why this was so important that it had jerked her mother out of her madness.

"What of him?"

"I believe he could be a potential suitor for you." Astrid nearly choked.

                                                                                             <**>

Hey guys! You'll eventually understand who Astrid is, but I think you'll find her story is quite significant and ties in with the modern side of the story (which you'll be reading in the next chapter). Astrid's POV's will be scattered throughout the story, and will sometimes be reffered to in the Modern chapters.

Hope you enjoyed, and please vote, comment and recomend things; I always love a bit of constructive critizism. But if you are going to inquire about my historical accuracy, please check that your facts are correct first ;-) I have done my research (I even visited a place that served as my inspiration for Astrid's village) so I should hope  that theres no mistakes there.