VIKINGS || GYDA

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎

Defeated. My first battle and it was a defeat. The blame was on the one man who is suppose to be the wisest of us all.

"So King Horik, do you still think that we should not have talked with them first?" Father sneers as he walks alongside the king. I walk a few feet ahead.

"You always think you can second guess the gods Ragnar. What happened today was fated. It had nothing to do with you or I." Horik spits back.

At the instant of the kings conceited words, flashes of my uncles trampled body and bodies of all the fallen shoulders on both armies fills my vision. I whip around immediately. He would not get away with blaming the gods but I had to choose my words carefully—he was still the king I served.

"My king, morale is low, many have lost loved ones today. Perhaps it is best not to have them believe that the gods wanted to punish them like this."

He considers my words as he walks on, I am surprised that he gestures for me to walk beside him. His guards follow close by as we walk together, "You are Gyda yes?" I nod my head to him.

"Ragnar's daughter. I hear that you are apart of my kings guard, is this true?"

"Yes my king. I have served for the past three years." He smiles at this.

"I can see this. You are an impressive fighter. No doubt you take after commander Valda. You speak wise like her too."

It felt strange to receive a compliment from him. I served him, but I knew that I didn't admire him. His actions have scorned me too much. My father didn't trust him, that was cause enough for me.

My skin jumps as he takes ahold of my arm and laces it through his own. "While I respect what you said back there, you must understand that when you are a leader you must not let defeat spread through the masses. The people look to me for guidance and I look to the gods. Everything we do is fated—today was fated. For what purpose? I don't know yet. But we must always place our trust in them."

I could understand his logic. I knew many who shared it. I did to an extent. But a fool could deduce that it was Horik's impulsive actions that started this fight today.

He gently nudged into me and we near the camp, "I hope you come to understand what I speak of. Maybe one day you will be a queen—I say this because my son, Erlendur, has taken a liking to you."

I had to mask the distaste I felt. Erlendur seemed as conceited as his father. I would die an old maid before I became his queen.

But to show respect I curtly nod my head to the king as I loosen my arm and begin to walk to my tent, "I am honoured to hear this my King. I will take my leave but I am grateful for our talk."

As I make it the tent I am quick to duck out of the way of a bucket that Bjorn sends flying from his foot. He is covered in blood—like all the warriors. His blue eyes are the only distinct color other than the crimson coat that soaks him.

His gaze is crazed and full of rage.

"Be calm Bjorn!" I boldly speak at him my frustration peaking as well from this trying day.

"Calm down? Did you not see? We were defeated! Our uncle was killed!" He spits his words with agony. But I do not shy away. I look him dead on.

"We don't know that! I was beside him and I couldn't be sure if he was dead. We must not forsaken him, we must have hope brother."

I place my two hands on his face and connect our foreheads together. Allowing my eyes to close and find some kind of serenity, hopefully this would calm him too. After a few labored breaths he reciprocates, pulling me into his arms.

No matter how mad we got at each other, we could never stay that way. For a long time while our parents were off sailing the high seas and discovering new lands Bjorn and I only had each other—as well as Athelstan.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I feel him inspect my body. I shake my head against his neck, my eyes still closed. I opened them only to check him over as well.

"And you?" Bjorn only shakes his head.

"No. All this blood is not my own." He smirks.

We pull apart at the arrival of our father and the others who make it over to our tent.

"You two fought well today."

Bjorn and I exchanged a look before I reply back, "My brother and I were fortunate, that is all."

Father shakes his head with a smirk, "You were favoured by the gods." Bjorn scoffs to this.

"Favoured? We were defeated." Father pats him on the shoulder.

"We will live to fight another day." He turns to the rest of the group as he wraps his arms over Bjorn and myself. "Because no sword, axe or arrow was able to touch my two children today in their first battle, let them be known as Bjorn and Gyda Ironside!"

Yells of joy erupt in the camp. Father ruffles the hair atop our heads and walks on. Smiles erupt between my brother and I then to our mother as she approaches us. She grasps both of our shoulders and gives a look of pride.

"Bjorn and Gyda Ironside." she speaks the word with such power. Being deemed an Ironside is a great name to live to, I only hope Bjorn and I prove worthy.

The happy moment fades away fast, as the exhaustion hits everyone as they gather around to discuss plans. Mother than walks under the cover of the tent where the other leaders rest, Bjorn and I follow suit.

"We must make some decisions and we must make them quickly." Mothers words fill the tent as she looks to the ground in defeat. "Do we leave tomorrow and abandon this raid? do we go home? or do we sail up the coast and find some richer, easier pickings elsewhere?"

Bjorn's head peaks at her words and soon so does his voice. "If my uncle is captured and wounded. I want to stay in this place as long as it takes until he is free."

I place my hand on his shoulder as I speak to the others. "As will I."

"Well king," My fathers voice enters the tent, a cup of ale in his hand, "What are we fated to do?" He sarcastically implies with a half-smirk on his lips.

In this moment there was no chance for the king to answer back with talk of the gods and fate.