Chapter Text
Magnis' fortress is as cold as it looks. It had been occupied by Picts for such a long time that they have left their marks everywhere, some of which still remain even after we took it over for Halfdan. I do not want to remember anything about Faradin and how our last encounter ended, I've buried it into the deepest container that lies in my mind. Halfdan is the hardest Ragnarsson to please.
No matter how merry the room currently is with the abundance of drinks and people dancing drunkenly around, I don't like it here. Sigurd's been in a sour mood since I’ve arrived, and it feels like I'm the only one who is thoroughly affected by it. Ubba is sharing stories of glory with Halfdan, Ivarr is wherever he is and my brother is sitting across the room with his remaining arm resting on his knee, scrutinizing me. I try holding his gaze for more than a few heartbeats but he's poisoning me through it– so I avert mine; to the brute who is sitting next to me. His armour is made of bearskin and quality steel, adorned with foreign jewellery that shine under the candle lights. He's looking directly at me with those bead-like eyes; a grin which makes my stomach turn is stuck on his lopsided face. This is the same bacraut who kept making derogatory comments about me when we first arrived at the fortress, since he overheard what I had done.
"If you are so easily blind to betrayal... No wonder Faradin came as far as he did." was one of them.
Normally who cares when a half-wit voices his unwanted opinion like this? Honestly who cares? But I was in such a bad mood- because of Sigurd's overall attitude towards me, or lack thereof- that I had to calm myself down; for the next move I made, would be a mistake I'd regret later. Ubba had told the guy to stop in a stern but not vicious enough tone, apparently he was an important head around here, but it had done the job. He was silent for the better part of the evening. Now he's sitting next to me as if to test my limits to see how far we can play this game. I really don't like it here.
My eyes follow Sigurd as he finally moves to stand up from the other side of the room. His posture is predatory, unbending as he walks towards me. "We need to talk." He says curtly, then sits down opposite of me. I know what he's going to say, had known it since the moment I set foot inside the fortress to meet with him and the Ragnarssons. While I was traveling here, I had made "the mistake" of trusting a bishop and it caused me four nights of irreversible delay. The guy was looking for an alliance for his shore-side village or so he had said, and I had decided this could be a good idea. Thought I could do it without making Sigurd wait much, that it could end up with a profitable outcome for our clan. But the bishop turned out to be a victim who was forced to make a deal with those crazy forest people and he had led me to their base, where they had attacked me, caged me and starved me. I survived, barely, ran away with the blood of most of them on my hands but lost time. An additional four nights of Sigurd and the Ragnarssons waiting for me. Nonetheless, I'm sure he's mainly troubled by me because I used my autonomy and decided for the clan without consulting him first. That's been on his mind a lot lately.
I can't look at Sigurd's face, fuck. I know he's right, but I thought I had done the right thing. It was the right thing for me. Ubba even backed me up when I arrived in a bad shape and told them the whole story.
I realise I haven't answered him and he's looking at me like I'm holding some kind of a strange artefact between my eyes, so I say, of course, more like breathe out, of course. Before the... the incident, whenever we got into a disagreement with my brother, we would talk through it, make up our minds with both sides pleased. Lately though, our complications have been unresolvable because it's impossible to talk to him, get to him in any shape or form. He doesn't listen to me and disregards whatever I've got to say. Because of that, I dread getting into an any kind of disagreement that will lead to us arguing, where I have to shut my disapprovals up, thereby lose sight of my own self. I know where he's coming from and I've told him countless times before that I'd follow him to Helheim if need be, yet lately.. He's been making it difficult.
He looks sideways and gives a furious sigh, as if he's holding himself back. I look at one of the wooden plates on the table separating us, which is a safer choice than looking into the cursed ocean that are his eyes. I feel the guy next to me shifting, he's leaning in to listen, probably. I pointedly do not look his way, yet blink several times; a pointless attempt to get him out of my side vision. Sigurd looks at the guy, nods his head curtly. The guy reluctantly stands up with a loud sigh and walks away. I tense more, now that there's no distraction between us, his gaze is upon me.
"I remember we had talked about this. How I was to make the decisions for our clan and you were to follow them." He speaks with the usual nods he does to emphasize the important words. He's always known how to get his point across, through the even thickest skull. I'm not good at that, I have to bend my words, make them dance and use threats to get people to listen to me. He's got the natural charm for it.
"Yes, brother." I say, with a nod of submission. His cold stare stills for a moment, unconvinced, then he says "If that is so, I have trouble understanding your actions during your journey here." His eyes hold mine hostage with their intensity, filled with expectation and unavoidable accusation.
"I explained this to you, I did what I thought was to be right. I failed miserably but.." I answer while shifting in my seat, a futile attempt to escape the clutches his eyes have on me. He shakes his head and tsks. I hate it when he does that, it's as if I'm back to being six and he's scolding me for making his knife blunt by trying to carve our initials onto rocks. But this is nothing like that, is it?
"I saw what you did as patronising, not constructive in any kind of way. You took my authority, my trust in you from me and twisted them into a game of supremacy, fully aware that we had a mission ahead with our alliance here." with each word that spills out his poisonous mouth, he shakes his head; with his fingertips pressed together, he taps the table. With each word, I sink one yard underground.
This isn't just about what happened in my journey any more. "I did not mean..." I start, just to make a sound but he cuts me off.
"I know what you mean, Eivor. I think I have known what you mean for a while now." he scowls with knowing eyes, he doesn't know dritt. I honestly do not understand the base of how he came to this conclusion at all. He just pushed me into the sea with a heavy rock tied to my ankle; it feels like I'm drowning and he's just watching.
Amidst of it all, the bacraut is back in my side vision, standing next to Sigurd. I'm too distraught that everything has a sound now. I can hear him smirking, without focusing on his face. Sigurd makes a move to stand up but with a quick shift of his head, slams his hand firmly on the table, rocking it with the pressure, "and if I see you play this game one more time..." I don't want to look at his eyes but I am drawn to them, I follow them like a deer desperately follows the wolf as it prowls. "This will be over." his voice commands, I feel as if he took out his axe and smashed my face right in. Nothing makes sense, everything is blurry. I feel more than see him leave.
There's a chuckle next to where he stood moments ago, and I lose it.
I don't remember how I did it, when I did it, but I'm straddling the bacraut on the ground, repeatedly punching his face with such force that my fists leave blood trails in the air, making a mess everywhere but who cares? Who cares? He throws a few punches which land just right, and they make me lose my mind even more. I feel myself shouting and gurgling just from the vibration in my chest, I don't understand a dritt coming from my mouth, I don't hear the guy sobbing under me either, just pure rage spilling out of me and I will-
Someone grabs me from behind, a pair of thick arms pull me back roughly. Nothing can take me off of this guy. I struggle with all my might, landing a fist on the guy's armoured chest and gods it hurt, I try to catch him from his beard with my other hand as I'm hauled into the air by the person holding me. Turning my whole body rightwards, I try to throw my restrainer off balance but they're immovable. My legs give up under me and I somehow send myself straight to ground instead, where my handler twists my arms behind my back and smashes me down. My head cracks as it hits the ground, my vision darkens, but it also makes me come back to my senses a bit. The constant buzzing of adrenaline fade away, leaving its place to the surrounding sounds. I first hear a small "sorry" from behind, and make out hushed whispers all around. And footsteps approaching. Person above me put a knee on my back to keep me in place as he also roughly held my arms. I feel the pressure of his whole body-weight slowly dulling my heightened senses; feels almost reassuring to give up the control that I've messed up. Or maybe it's the fact that my head is cracked open, and where my cheek is smacked lies a wet pool of pouring blood.
"What are you doing?" someone shouts. It's still a bit dull but I can make it out to be Sigurd's. My whole body shivers.
The person above me jerks me up which makes me open my eyes, I try to struggle but I'm drowning. Still drowning in my mind where Sigurd pushed me off.
Hauled to stand on my knees, I try to keep my head straight but it rolls down with half a skippund of pressure on it. I feel blood flowing down my nose, into my gaping mouth. I spit it out without aiming, and it lands on someone's boots. Following the figure up, I see Sigurd's incredulous expression, his eyes moving from his boots to glare at me. He wears the face of a man who's been betrayed and shocked to the brim. There's disappointment too, if I squint a bit. And faen am I squinting; the left side of my skull throbs with every expeditious heartbeat.
"What's wrong with you?" Sigurd demands again, and I want to spit out another flow of blood, out of all the questions he could have asked... With all my might I spit to the side and someone lets out an impressed whistle from somewhere behind me. Cannot be anyone other than Ivarr.
Sigurd inhales to speak, to shout, to belittle but I cut him off, "You know how the bacraut's been acting," trying hard to focus on his face but it's impossible when my head is floating,
"He's been a little bitch.." I scrunch my face as nausea hits, turn my head to clear it a bit but all the action does is to enrage me more; I don't want to feel wrong in this, I don't want to act like nothing happened,
"You can say what he has said!" it comes out as a shout and I don't want to act like I'm sorry,
"Ubba can say what he has said!" desperation fills my lungs and my voice cracks as I shout again,
"Ivarr can say-whatever the fuck!" last words get out with such raw power that my brother blinks several times,
"I know all of you! don't I?" it's a plea of reassurance I wonder whether he caught or not,
"You all can say whatever you want but him?" I tilt my head up to the passed out, mess of a figure behind Sigurd, "who the fuck is he? he can't say dritt to me," I don't know why I'm saying all these, he wouldn't be convinced I snapped this bad solely because of what one dirty drittsekk said, and he makes it painfully apparent that he didn't get it by pointing at the guy and shouting, "Do not lie Eivor, you wish that were me!"
I'm honestly taken aback by that. His voice rings in my head, meaning behind his words shapeshifts into prickles on my skin. What happened between the time he was gone and the time he came back that he sees me as a stranger now? Do I really deserve this? Every limb in my body is shaking, it feels like something will come out of my chest and burst so brutally that it will swallow the whole room with its curse.
I look up to meet his gaze, "What do you take me for?" I ask between my teeth, "When did you start regarding me as your enemy, brother?" and his eyes widen a bit, shining like two melting ice shards, "I've got a heart too" I try to clutch my hurting chest with my hand to show where it lays, to remind him that it still beats, but my arms are still held tightly by the person behind me. Struggling to go free, I shift my weight forcefully so that the guy is caught off guard and lets one of my hands go. I look up briefly to meet Ubba's sad eyes looking down at me.
I can't take it.
I fist my chest, hit it with all that's left because words do not want to come out, I'll make them come the fuck out "I've got a heart too!" I'm choking on the lump in my throat, "and it's shattered. Into pieces. Pieces, Sigurd!"
There is no air here. I have to go, I have to go. With what's left of my strength, I stand up. it makes me sway a bit, makes Ubba step up to support me but I twist my other arm out of his hold and push him back. He doesn't resist. I turn around to leave, but not before catching a glimpse of Sigurd looking like a deer hit by a dozen arrows. Hopeless. In pain.
I don't know how that makes me feel, it just makes me want to scream all the curses out of my damaged lungs, but I can't. Only choked sobs come out, like a little bitch. Instead I make my way towards the exit and hear an "Eivor, don't go!" from Ubba.
Should've been Sigurd.
Should've always been Sigurd.
I march straight out, cold air hits my face and open wounds. They burn and stretch as I get my horse, Llamrei where I bound her next to the entrance and try to unbind her. It doesn't work, my hands don't work, they're shaking like a longship during a devastating storm. I take out my dagger and start cutting the rope with unstable focus.
There's the sound of footsteps close to me, someone approaching. They're not frantic, instead measured and the person moves with surety. It's a wonder, really. They stay there for a moment, I purposely don't look up.
"Did it feel good?" asks Ivarr, the last person I expected.
Ivarr… I never really understood him, but that calm, grounding voice and attitude, is to be grateful for. His presence doesn’t radiate demand as my brother's does, or disappointment as Ubba’s does. Instead, he’s just there.
I let out a sigh when the rope finally gives up. No emotion other than the need to burn everything is alive in me now, so I need to go, go away. But reason is somehow still there, covered with dirt but there. I know I have responsibilities to take care of, I know I'm still bound to our mission. I cannot just stray away like this. I don't have an answer to his question, not yet, but I have to at least reassure him that I won't abandon them.
"I need some time, man. I'll catch up with you soon." I say and cringe at how raspy my voice sounds. A few moments pass and he doesn't answer. Not that it matters, I will go no matter what he says, yet… It's unlike him to be silent, so I turn my head towards where he's standing.
He's leaning on the doorway with his arms loosely crossed on his chest. There's a small smile on his face, only a hint of it but it sticks out even through my blurry vision. It looks deceivingly sad for a moment, then fades. He unwinds and takes a deep breath before answering.
"Alright, go." with a nod towards the scenery behind me, "The road is yours."
I don't know what he means by that and I won't stick around to ask and listen to his answer. I mount my horse, almost fall to the other side while doing so but manage to sit still. I lead the animal towards the road then let it lead me away.
From behind, I can hear the wet sounds Ivarr's boots make on the mud. Soon, the sounds Llamrei make as she gallops through the snowy road drown out everything else.