2 book of the series
Irvina was always a religious woman. So far North, people believed more than down South. Every one of her decisions was first at least twice consulted with her Seeress. So when the lost raven-haired woman sailed to her shores, i...
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Irvina was always a religious woman. So far North, people believed more than down South. Every one of her decisions was first at least twice consulted with her Seeress. So when the lost raven-haired woman sailed to her shores, it made her question the way of Fate. Of course, she had heard of Ragnar Lothbrok and all of his sons. But what she could hardly imagine was Ronja bringing almost all of them under her roof. And what she could barely imagine was Ronja loving one of them. Ronja barely liked herself, and it was solely Gods who obtained someone to cherish her. But what surprised her the most was the kneeling brother of the man she despised. She loathed Harald, she wanted him dead and definitely not a warrior death so she would never have to see him in Valhalla. The only reason she imprisoned the man with soul chattering brown eyes was because of his blood relation to his brother. He was not even there that night, then why should he suffer?
A growl emitted from her chest. It echoed around the big hall as she sat on her throne. The room was cold as it was in the middle of the night, and no one was awake. Whenever she needed to think, she crawled in the middle of the night from her bed and sat on her throne thinking. She didn't mind the freezing cold that surrounded the place. Because she liked the quiet and emptiness in the room as her teeth tried to keep from chattering. She awoke when most were sleeping in the time when Moon swings away to be replaced by the Sun.
Her brows furrowed he embedded inside her mind, and she couldn't shake him off. He wasn't a man that talked too much, and that was even more terrifying. She hated talkers. He seemed to be everything she liked. Then there was the matter with Kattegat. She promised help but was it really worth it. Irvina knew better than anyone how it felt having your home taken from you, but Kattegat was a place that held no interest to her. Helping Ronja would be another friendly gesture, and that woman owned her enough already. The thought of revenge was the only thing that persuaded her. But was it worth it? She was a patient woman, and she could wait for her revenge. The sense of bloodlust was too strong, she wanted Harald, to drown in his own blood.
Her eyes squinted onto the doors as she gripped the armchairs. She heard the coughing of her father in the next room. She was the only stability her people had. While her older brother cried for the woman he lost, she fought for her people. While her younger brother drunk himself to sleep, she bled for her people. And all while her father could barely stand on his feet, she carried the burden of the Fate of her people on her shoulders. Irvina was a proud woman, sometimes too proud to see a reason, and she could not pardon the males from her family for grieving. Because she had no time to grieve, she had no time to cry nor drink her sorrows. While every single person turned their backs on her family, she collected the pieces of her broken heart. There was no time to mend it, so she threw them away and charged headfirst into vengeance on everyone who wronged her family. Her sword delivered bloodied justice, and she rose from the screams of her enemies.
Nobody deserves to sit on the throne of Trondheim more than her. Samely as she had no time to cry, she barely had time to find the pieces of her heart. Another coughing fit resounded, and Irvina's fists tightened. The silver crown was sitting at the steps before her. She had heard the saying from Sigrún too many times: heavy is the head that carries the crown. The silent steps of bare feet spiked her senses. One thought of the woman, and she appeared.
"What are you thinking of, my Queen?" Irvina's eyes did not stray from the crown. Why were Gods cruel to her when all she did was try to please them. "If I should kill the man or not." Sigrún started laughing. One thing the blond woman before her knew was when she lied. A harsh breath passed her nostrils. What was she even thinking about? Her mind jumbled with so many thoughts that she couldn't concentrate on one task.
"What should I do with him?!" Irvina raised her head, her eyes trying to search for the eyes of the blond woman. The black orbs weren't able to be seen in the darkroom. She hated how unsure she was. What was foretold was already happening. She was questioning every single thing about what she should do.
"You should try and read those lines. Open your mind, and the answers will come." A scoff left her lips. Prophesies were hard to follow. Her eyes betrayed her and reached the crown again. Harald was the most desired kill she wanted. Standing from the throne her steps were sure. She never had time to be unsure only precise. Heavy is the burden of the ruler. As she stood before the crown, her heart sped up. She invariably doubted if she was worthy of the silvery crown. Bending, her fingers traced over the small stone on the front side. Picking it up, her face cleared. Then as she placed the crown onto her head all doubts disappeared. She was the Queen.
