In the burning ruins of an ancient city, Ragnar Lothbrok's eldest son with his second wife Aslaug, Ubbe, found one lone survivor. A young girl. A girl with deep and dark and red eyes, and hair black as night with a single streak of white.
"Aila." Ha...
The Seer's breathing grew heavier with each breath. "As I foresaw, as I fore suffered." He wheezed. "Ragnar's death would lead to calamities and horrors beyond measure, beyond imagining. Pity the sons of Ragnar watching these events, even the Gods weep."
"I came to ask you-"
The Seer snapped at her, cutting the former slave off. "I know what you came for, Margrethe, slave woman."
She gulped. "Will my husband Ubbe rule Kattegat?"
"No."
"Will I be Queen?"
"No."
"You don't know everything!" She cried.
"No."
"I have Björn's two children in my care. If I killed them, Ubbe would be closer to the crown."
"Yes, it's true." The Seer said.
"Then why do you say that Ubbe will not be King?"
"I said he would not be King of Kattegat."
"Then what?" Margrethe asked impatiently.
The Seer exhaled heavily. "I don't want to be dug up from the wet earth anymore, especially by mad people."
"You think I'm mad?"
"I don't think anything. I know." Said the ancient being."
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"And what is the problem with that?"
"Perhaps the mad will inherit the Earth."
Margrethe laughed . . .
*
Sitting alone in the forest . . . Halfdan the Black sang softly.
Not too far away, patrolling the forest grounds with a clutch of his men, King Harald Finehair heard his brother's voice.
He froze, tears welling in his eyes.
They always sang together, during every feast, every sacrifice, and before every battle. They always sang as children.
Harald listened carefully, hearing Halfdan's words, and he sang with his brother one final time.
