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It was one of those mornings that hardly felt real. The mist gently swaying through the trees, curling around them and slipping through each tiny crack and crevice of old caverns and tower walls. It was dark, the sun barely rising over the horizon behind the deep grey clouds that smothered it. And the cold winter air swept through the valley, electrifying to the touch. There is nothing like the bitter bash of the cold against your skin to make you feel alive.
"You will look after my kingdom, won't you?" I asked Elin gently, but I already knew the answer. As she took my hand in hers, a gentle smile reassured me and a soft nod gave me strength. When I turned, the Ragnarssons were already preparing their men to leave. I supposed they were still not so fond of my company, although for that I couldn't blame them. Few bad ever wanted me near, trusted me, welcomed me. And why would they be different? They were men, after all. And I was not one to take part in the fickle feelings of the presently ruling gender. But once, women had ruled my people. Women had ruled theirs also, and the Saxons. And with the return of magic, women would rule oncemore.
As I walked closer to the ships, I couldn't help but grimace. Each wave was a reminder, washing up to torment me further.
"Please! Father, I beg!" I screamed, my voice shrill with tears and agony as men tied rope around my waist.
"If you sink," He explained. "Then you may return to us."
"If I sink, I'll drown!" I yelled back. But before I could receive an answer, I was dunked into the river to be damned. I screamed and screamed, the water filling my lungs as I thrashed about, finally floating to the surface.
"Burn the witch!" The crowd roared over and over as I tried to catch my breath. "Burn the witch!"
"Are you alright?" Hvitserk's voice made me jolt, staring at him blankly. I hadn't realised how vacantly I'd been staring at the water, or how my face had contorted into a look of pain. I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. My pride wouldn't allow me to admit weakness to a stranger. No matter how alone I felt. But for some reason, that didn't bother him. These people were unlike any that I'd met before, and while many around me would've loathed my silence, I believe that he understood. "Ivar doesn't like water either." He spoke with a small smile, a glimmer in his eye that sparked even the smallest amount of hope. "You'll be fine."
For some reason, it was exactly the reassurance that I needed to hear, and embarked without any further fear.
As the mist rolled over the ships, I took note of Hvitserk's words. On the opposite end of the boat, Ivar sat staring into the cold black abyss of the ocean with a grimace akin to my own. Although, it made sense that he would feel that way about sailing. After all, if we sunk, he certainly couldn't swim.
"I'm doing this for your own good, Gwenllian." My father informed, his voice harsh as he tossed my broken body to the ground. My shackles clashed against the stone floor, my limbs like twigs that were ready to snap. "I just want you to repent, so that your death will be swift."
"And if I do not?" I croaked, my once bright eyes now cold and bitter.
"Then you will burn." He responded.
"Afraid of water?" I asked, sitting beside the crippled prince with my eyes focused on him like daggers. All I received was a surly grunt as reply before he turned his sights back to the pit below. "We won't sink." I told him. "I will make sure of it."
"And why should I trust you? Hm?" He responded sharply.
A smiled at the question. The Ragnarssons had clearly taken after their father, who I'd heard was an intelligent man. But even I had limits. "Because I have magic," I answered. "Not immortality."
Again he huffed, folding his arms and looking back out into the distance. And though some part of me wanted to gut the arrogant boy, another part of me understood his anger. I had felt that way many times as well, using rage as a defence against emotion. But now I feared that even the rage was not the same. Now it had become something far darker, far more sinister. And as much as I disliked him, I could see Ivar heading in the very same direction.
"Your brother is a pain in the ass." I said finally as Hvitserk and Ubbe approached, standing to return to my previous spot upon the boat. Both seemed rather confused, but clearly understood the sentiment.
As I walked by, Hvitserk turned to watch me leave before finally returning to face his little brother - who watched me go as if he still had something he wanted to say. "She's not wrong." Hvitserk told him, earning a glare.
And as I sat, alone on that ship as it rocked through the deep chasm of sea, I couldn't help but glance back at the two brothers consistently. Ivar was around Elin's age, and just as with her I saw myself in him. Some part of me that had stayed alive through all my torment still wished to help tortured souls such as his. And for some foolish reason, I was always ready to throw myself into pain just to give others a life that I could never have.
And as for Hvitserk? He was another story entirely. Meeting him was something that I could not explain to those who didn't experience it, but it was as though I already knew him. I had no trust left to give within me, and yet this man that I hardly knew seemed to instill this odd sense of trust. And it made no sense to me.
