It had been written that the daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok was taken to Valhalla as a young girl.
But what if the gods didn't take her? What if the gods spared her?
Gyda Ironside, the only daughter of Ragnar and Lagertha rejoins her family as a train...
I'm out of my tent at the words and so are many others as they step into the early morning sunshine to see the arrival of a lone rider.
The makeshift barricades of the camp are parted and our leaders walk to meet this rider, my father the fastest of them all, as he stands ahead of the crowd, only a few paces before the steed. From the distance I can make out his exchanging of words with the visitor, most eagerly.
One of our warriors takes the reins and holds them still as the rider steps off, his black robes hitting the ground with a thud.
It wasn't long before all crowd around, staring at this man. There is nothing but silence as I make my way towards the front, only then do I hear the rider speak.
"Hello Bjorn. Do you remember me?"
"Of course I remember you. I wanted to kill you when I was a child and then I loved you."
I make my way to Bjorn, I look up at him puzzled, then to the dark haired Saxon before us. I almost doubled over in shock at the thought that the man in front of me was really who I thought it was. Bjorn smiles down to me as his hand is placed on the small of my back, nudging me forward.
"My sister." He presents me.
The man blinks once—twice. His lips part with an unsure smile as his hand raised to point toward me.
"This is...Gyda?"
This time there is no denying who was standing in front of me. His voice always so strong and true, I'd know it anywhere, no matter how many years had past since I last heard it.
My mouth parts as I lock eyes with him. Yes, blue, they were blue. His black hair was longer, tied roughly behind his head, his face was older yet he had not lost that youthful look that made him stand out. Beautiful. He had always been beautiful.
"Athelstan?"
He only nods his head as he looks me up and down in disbelief. I run from Bjorn's side and into the arm of Athelstans. I see warriors reach for their weapons but release them as they realise I was not in danger.
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We are both gasping with laughter and surprise as we hold each other. He was more than my dearest friend, he was family. His unyielding loyalty and love for my family had, in the years, been a warm memory that I held close to my heart.
My eyes close with content as he holds me tightly. He exhales a relaxed breath as I stroke my cheek tenderly into his exposed neck, that thumped with the racing of his heart. He was so warm, even in this cold place, it radiated from him. My smile widens as I lay my temple into his shoulder, savouring the feel of his hand tucking my head closer.
