By The Gods - Vikings

Chapter 23

My eyes darted open, my breathing heavy and shallow as I panted in some attempt to regain my breath. I had the dream again. This time it felt so real. It felt so much worse. I could feel the blood soak into my skin, I could feel the axe hitting my chest. It wasn't me I was dreaming of, though. I knew it wasn't me. So who? The crown. It was so vivid in my vision that I could almost touch it. It gleamed with a peculiar iridescence and dripped blood as thorns and fire began to surround it.
Something was going to happen. That much I knew.
I would not call myself gifted, I was not a Volva. However, I was granted small glimpses into times that had not yet passed. The Gods would allow me to dream vividly of events that would not happen for years to come. This was different. This was real. This was soon. Whatever this was, it wasn't trivial. That's why the Gods were so vague in their warning. It was just enough to prepare me for what was to come, not enough to let me prevent it from coming to pass.
That's when I heard Ivar shouting.

I pulled on my clothes, boots, and cloak, before walking outside. I stormed through the muddy streets, a neutral look of rage plastered onto my face to form a mildly terrifying scowl. My signature look. I kept charging forwards until I reached the main square where everyone was sat. Ubbe did not look pleased, none of them did. The only person looking pleased was, of course, Ivar. He wore a sly smug grin, his own signature look. I walked over to Bjorn.
"What is going on?" I whispered.
"Ivar wants to continue raiding England as oppose to setting farms up on the ground we have already been granted." Bjorn explained.
"Shit." I nurtured under my breath before walking up to where the brothers sat, up on their little platform.

"Ah, Aneira, so nice of you to join us finally. I was just telling my brothers of our plan." Ivar grinned, his brothers all looking at me with shock.

"You're helping him?!" Sigurd looked to me in disbelief.

"Of course." Ubbe sighed, his head falling into his hands.
Hvitserk just stared at me. He didn't stop staring at me.

"That's what you two were doing the other night?" Hvitserk said finally.

"Of course that's what they were doing. It is not like Ivar can actually satisfy a woman." Sigurd yelled. We all winced. Everyone. We knew what was coming. Ivar looked at his brother, smothering his rage with bashful comebacks.

The two verbally sparred, increasing the ferocity and viciousness in which they spoke. I stepped back a little. Something was about to happen, I could feel it.

"Both of you stop." Ubbe tried to calm them down.
It was too late for peacemaking. The brothers were at war. My eyes darted between them as they shot eachother vicious words. Ivar looked amused to begin with but his amusement was quickly fading as Sigurd shot worse at him. Then Sigurd took it too far. He mentioned Aslaug. Their mother. The one person that Ivar had ever truly loved, bar Floki.
Without a second thought, Ivar reached for his axe and threw it at his brother. This was not just a spat on the training grounds though. This was not a little cut on the head or a near miss. This time, the axe lodged in Sigurd's chest. Blood oozed through his white shirt, staining it red.
"Sigurd," I whispered under my breath, my voice shaky. Everyone looked at the young Prince in horror. I could barely tear my eyes away from him to look at Ivar. Ivar was no longer smirking, he did not look smug. He looked even more horrified than the rest of us. His jaw was agape as he stared at his brother, his face displaying a mad mixture if thoughts and emotions. He looked heartbroken. I turned back to Sigurd, my eyes wide. Slowly, the Prince tore the axe from his chest. He began stumbling towards his brother, his steps uneven and disjointed. He carried the axe in his hand, wishing to attack the youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Before he reached Ivar, he fell to the ground.
Ubbe and I rushed over to him, Ubbe trying to check to see whether he was alive. No pulse. He'd stopped breathing. I looked up at Ubbe, praying to the Gods that Sigurd was okay. Ubbe merely shook his head in response. I looked down at Sigurd, small tears forming in my eyes as I hugged his still warm corpse. Every Viking in Wessex stared at the dead Prince.
How could a man kill his own brother? His own blood!

I gently shook Sigurd, trying desperately to wake him, refusing to accept that he was dead. He couldn't be. The Gods would never allow it. Would they?
I looked at Ubbe, following his gaze up to the murderer. Ivar. He looked down at his brother, grief written all over his face. He looked pale, he looked weak, he looked vulnerable. Things that Ivar would never let show.

Before another word was said, I stood up. I didn't know how to react, I didn't know what to do. I just walked away. I walked off the platform, down the stone steps at the side. The crowd parted like an ocean as I walked through, drenched in Sigurd's blood.

What were we to do now?

The funeral came soon. Sigurd looked so peaceful as he lay down on the ground before us. His possessions were strewn around him. Ivar sat beside him as the other brothers and I stood as far from Ivar as we could and as close to the poor dead Sigurd as we could. I noticed as Bjorn, Hvitserk and Ubbe all shot Ivar death glares. Did they hate him?
I did not glare at Ivar. I couldn't look at him. I knew that he did not mean to kill his brother. I'm sure that everyone did. To anyone that knew Ivar, something such of this should not have been that surprising. Like when he was a young boy and he had been teased by the children in the street. His friend stole his toy and so little Ivar buried a hatchet in the young girls skull. He had an uncontrollable temper. A rage that burned within him. This would never change. We all knew that something like this would happen. I just don't think anyone thought it would be so extreme. I didn't think Ivar would actually do it.
I walked away once more. I could not take seeing Sigurd lay dead. So cold. So lifeless. It was like a nightmare from which I could not wake. I kept walking until I found somewhere to sit, heaving heavily as I let tears fall down my cheeks.
That's when I heard him.
The familiar sound of Ivar shuffling to meet me. I did not wish to see him. I couldn't. I wasn't sure if I could forgive him. I wasn't sure if I wanted to even try.

"Why do you not talk to me?" I heard him ask as he approached. He tried to make his voice sound strong but a lingering sense of fear was held in what he said.

"Ivar, I can't even look at you." I sighed, staring at the ground as I wiped away my tears.

"I did not mean to kill him." Ivar pleaded.

"I know." I sighed once more. I did know. I knew he had a temper. I knew that he could not always control his actions. Being around Ivar was often like waiting for an explosion. It could happen at any time. This time, it was far greater than I had anticipated. "I saw it in my dream." I spoke again after a moments silence. "The blood... The axe... I saw it. I didn't know what would happen. I just knew something was coming. I didn't think the Gods would take him so soon."

"It's hard to know what the Gods want." Ivar said, his voice sounding small and afraid like a young child. It was rare to hear Ivar like this.

"But it wasn't the Gods who took him, was it Ivar?" I turned to him, looking at him for the first time since it had happened. I stared right into his deep blue eyes, my own eyes red from tears. "It was you."

Ivar looked at me like I had just thrown an axe into his chest. He looked as though he could breakdown at any moment. I shook my head and left, going straight to my hut.

I could not take much more of this.