In which Freya Ylvasdottir has been prophecied by the Seer to be destined to betray her mother, Queen Ylva the Dread and Bjorn Ironside, her mother's husband, and no matter what she does to try to avoid her fate, all roads lead back to the betrayal...
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In the Great Hall of Kattegat, at a celebration, Hvitserk was sitting at a table, gulping down his mead when he turned to look at Ivar, who was sitting on his throne beside Freya's.
Hvitserk couldn't help but feel jealous as he saw Ivar holding Freya's hand. It wasn't long before Freya turned to lock eyes with him. She sent him a small smile, but Hvitserk was quick to look away.
"King Harald!" Ivar spoke loudly as he raised his drinking horn, "I will think of you in York. I left some good men in charge there."
"I will be glad to meet them," Harald replied, a smile forming on his lips, "But York will only be a staging post for us."
"Good," Ivar replied, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he smiled, "I still consider it part of my new kingdom."
"I think it is a good thing that I'm leaving," Harald admitted in a calm tone.
"Yes, I agree. I think it's a good thing," Ivar answered with a bit of an attitude.
"But don't worry. With my ships filled with treasure and slaves, I will come back," Harald assured him and Freya tilted her head as she stared at the man, "Skol."
There was a long moment of silence between the duo as they stared at each other. Finally, Ivar looked away and wiped his mouth. He turned, his eyes becoming fixed on Hvitserk.
Hvitserk was sitting across from Harald, staring down at the table in front of him. He was downing his mug of ale, trying to contain his boiling anger.
Ivar sighed, exchanging an annoyed look with Freya before standing up. "What's the matter with you, huh, little brother?" He asked jokingly as he tossed a small chicken bone at his brother.
Hvitserk laughed humorlessly as he lifted his head. "I'm not your little brother!" He argued in a stern tone, but continued to smile, "And you know exactly what's wrong with me. Margrethe is dead!"
"I know," Ivar replied calmly as he leaned forward in his seat and exchanged a look with Freya, who looked uneasy.
"Of course you know! You ordered the killing!" Hvitserk roared angrily as he repeatedly slammed his cup down on the table.
Ivar turned his head slightly and exchanged a look with Freya, seeing as though it had been her idea in the first place to kill Margrethe.
He turned his head again and looked directly at Hvitserk. "Why would I do that?" He asked innocently.
"Because she knew that you could never get a woman pregnant," Hvitserk informed Ivar, and Freya's face fell.
Hvitserk was drunk and it made her feel worried. He was bound to say something that would risk both of their lives.
