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...
The sun had only just peaked above Kattegat by the time I had snuck Nels out of the house. It could have been done sooner but neither of us could restrain ourselves. We had to have the other again. I don't believe we would have stopped all day if I had not insisted. The last thing I needed was for us to be caught by father.
After a trip to the bathhouse, I make my way back into the great hall. My attention is pulled to the main room where a slave exchanges conversation with an exhausted Aslaug who nurses a whimpering Ivar.
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My poor brother, he doesn't sleep very much, he is incapable of doing many things— the pain in his twisted legs too great for a child to bear.
As the slave sees me coming, she bows her head to Aslaug and me and leaves the room.
"Gyda, sweet girl you are awake so early."
While her voice was pleasant, it was forced—the darkness under her eyes made known her troubles. I offer my hands out, silently asking for my brother. A breath is pushed out in relief as she slides the restless boy in my arms.
"I didn't sleep well." My eyes don't leave Ivar's as I allow my lie to roll off my tongue. Well, a half lie.
Aslaug sits upon a wooden stool, falling in a heap. "Let me say that you were not the only one." She stares to the bundle in my grasp.
"He still cannot rest. Have you spoken with anyone who could help?"
She smirks in a defeated way, "They all seem to recommend the same thing. These people are all heartless." she spits.
I fall silent as I relay in my head what people had been throwing in our faces since Ivar was born— even father.
"They wish for me to discard him. They preach the best thing for him is a quick death—like he were an animal." She mutters.
His pale blue eyes hold my gaze as he squeezes my finger and in this moment all I could think was how could anyone wish death on this sweet boy?
He should not have survived his birth but he did. He is a miracle from the gods and I would protect him with everything I am. He is my brother, he shares my blood. I would burn in Hel before I let anything harm any of my brothers.
"Do not lose hope. Ivar was born for a reason Aslaug. He will prove everyone wrong—the gods will see to it."
I smile down to his quiet face that seems very comfortable in my arms. His eyes closing slowly.
"Trust the gods." I whisper. She blinks in surprise as she stands and walks over to the two of us, her long body standing tall. She drapes a hand to my cheek as she kisses my head. When she pulls back, she looks to be almost brought to tears.
"Thank you. It gladdens me to know that my boys have you." It was the most genuine I had ever seen her be. She then takes the sleeping boy from my arms and places him in a cot in the room.
