King Ivar spends much of his time with his infertile first wife: neglecting his second wife, the mother of his children, a Freyjasdottir. Eventually, it catches up to him when a foreign King Sverri invades his lands.
tw: abuse, character death, etc.
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Most often, if you could get away with not seeing the seer, you would not go to him. But things were changing. They weren't for the better. Your relationship with Ivar began to get more and more heated. He would try and sleep with you, you would reject him, he would promise you that you would end up back in his bed. You sit with your hands folded in your lap as the seer's melded eyes gazed straight through you like no man's ever had. Even Sverri– who waited outside for you. You sit there with the seer's dwindling patience.
Ask or get out. You can hear it beating along in your skull.
"Ivar has called me his womb. He's disgraced me. What sort of husband says that of their wife? Should... I go home?" You finally ask.
The seer looks at you– as if it highly amused him. Before you can elaborate, his puffy purple lips spread into a smile. One that runs a hot chill like a smoldering blade down your spine. He did not even have to speak, even without those eyes, the expressions of his lips is all the answer you need.
"You can try."
Descriptiveness was never his strong suit. You remember why you hate to come to the seer when his lips spread once more, a rare venture. You edge your ass toward the end of the seat. As a woman, you wanted retribution for the words your husband told you. No self respecting Norse woman would let her husband speak to her in such a way as if you were no more than legs to lay between for children, a womb for him to lay his seed in and hands to bring them up.
"Then the gods want me to stay. Even though I will never be his Queen?" You ask. Again, there is no answer from the seer, but a rippling chuckle that ends in a scoff. His spindly fingers play with bone and rune, placing them on the small table by his bed.
"How little you know! Go away, princess (Y/N). Leave me."
Despite his harsh command, you challenge him for one last question. "Answer me this. Will I have more Ivar's children?" You ask.
"I see more young ones between this world and the next. The Bride of the Vanir has decided your fate in many ways. Now go."
His hand uncurls-- and you lean forward, taking his hand and leaning down your head. As your tongue runs down the digits of his palm, you lament bitterly. There was your answer.
The moment you stepped out of the Seer's hut, you met Sverri crouched down over the floor. His fingers were dark with ash but before you can answer, he snakes his hand around your waist. Bizarrely affectionate for a Viking, you think.
"What did he have to say?" Sverri asks.
"That Freyja already has in store for me what she wills." You answer quickly. If Freyja had chosen– so it would be. The Norns would carve their runes on Yggradsil's roots and you would account for what was to come.
"Verdandi and Skuld will give you room to shape your destiny." Sverri steps in place with you as you walked through Kattegat's many dusty roads. Of course you knew what he said was true but– you knew that you would not have as much leeway as a common person.
