Chapter 16 - A Delicate Weapon

We are cloaked in hooded white robes, our eyes painted in kohl, carrying torches as we form a procession from Skuld's home. I wear nothing underneath but my pendant. For a reason unclear to me, Skuld insisted, but I firmly told her the cloak was not coming off. Iona beats the drum in that heartbeat-like rhythm as we make our way to a bonfire set up in the woods neighboring Tír Tairngire, the clansmen and women already forming a circle around it. Sorcha was instructed to stay in Skuld's home since she is not old enough, and Muninn stayed behind to watch her.

Skuld leads the way, a white fur mantle draped over her shoulders, kohl covering the top half of her face, and a headdress of antlers resting atop her white blonde tresses. As she peers to look back at us, checking in on the procession, the flickering light of her torch gives her the illusion she is a creature from another realm.

Once we join the circle, I can see that there is a pattern etched into the earth at our feet. It looks like...a labyrinth...no, it's a tree, etched in the form of a winding labyrinth within the circle. At the head stands a stone altar, constructed with tall rectangular slabs of stone and a circular one placed atop it. Upon it rests the skull of what appears to be a wolf, carved totems of a one-eyed older man, Odin perhaps, a drinking tankard, a wooden bowl and various stones with runes carved on them. They are surrounded by lit candles. Beside the altar rests a large twig with many small branches.

The clan is quiet, watching us enter and form an inner circle around the tree. I hear a horse whinny nearby, and turn to see a brown mare held by a rope by Gunnar. I don't see Froðe yet, and wonder when he'll make his grand entrance. Skuld told me the Siedr portion of the ritual would be more focused on the future of his new settlement and the pursuit of a kingdom, but she did warn me that as the Norns were interested in me, that they might also speak of my future again. Great.

Skuld suddenly blows a long horn, pulling me from my thoughts. The note is long and steady, grounding us, and even the horse quiets. The crowd near the altar parts, and Froðe strides into view. He is shirtless, the diagonal scars on his pecs reflecting in the firelight. His wolf mantle is draped over his shoulders and behind him more like a cape, held together with his silver chain and half moon clasps. Despite us women all wearing hoods over our heads, his eyes find mine immediately, and an strange energy crackles between us. I feel this unusual pull to stand beside him, but I remain where I am. A whisper sounds at my ear and I turn to see who it is, but Iona faces forward next to me with a serious expression, her lips sealed. Must have been my imagination.

Skuld steps closer to the altar, her staff stabbing the earth, but carefully avoiding the winding path of the tree. She places something on the altar, but it's small enough that I cannot see from my viewpoint. Froðe's eyes narrow on it, then shoot to me again, but he says nothing.

"Hail Odin the Allfather!" Skuld's voice booms.

"Hail Odin!" The others repeat around us. Alright, sure. I join in too. When in a Viking world....

"Praise him for his mighty strength and courage, and his great wisdom!"

The others shout in agreement and raise their torches. I timidly raise mine along with them.

"He has guided us here, to this lush land rich in resources and treasures. He has granted us success in many battles." The nodding of heads follow this proclamation.

"Oh Gangleri, always curious and seeking knowledge, we ask that you continue to guide us in our journey for a new kingdom. Help us find the path that brings our Jarl to continued success in battle, and glory befit him entrance to Valhalla someday to feast amongst you and the Æsir. We ask that you show us if our path remains steady, if what was promised to our Jarl is still true."

Gangleri...wanderer?

"We bring you these offerings..." Skuld says, motioning to one of the girls, who holds a pitcher of mead. The girl quietly steps forward and hands Skuld the pitcher. Skuld makes a dramatic pour, pulling the tankard far away as the mead pours out. She places it upon the altar, then motions to Gunnar, who brings the mare forward, and my stomach lurches for what happens next.

Even though she prepared me, I want to turn my head away. But Skuld warned me not to, and so I force myself to watch as she pulls out what appears to be a ceremonial dagger, the hilt carved from bone and inlaid with red stones that sparkle in the firelight. She approaches the horse, stroking her muzzle and speaking quietly to her, and a calm settles over the creature. Then, in a swift motion, Skuld slices open the throat of the animal and I fail to hide my wince. But I don't look away. The mare stumbles, her forelegs crumbling beneath her as she falls, and Skuld grabs the bowl from the altar, collecting her blood. Meanwhile, Froðe's eyes never leave me, an intensity starting to grow in them.

Once the bowl is full of blood, Skuld stands, taking the twig near the altar. She begins pacing through the labyrinth, the bowl in hand, occasionally dipping the twig's branches into the blood and flecking it on the etchings of the tree around her, chanting under her breath. When she completes the labyrinth, she returns the altar and dips the twig once again before slapping it onto the stone slabs, sprinkling more blood onto the items. When she then moves to step in front of Froðe, I finally see the item she placed on the altar. It's a wooden carving of a cat. My brows furrow in confusion, as it doesn't seem in place with the other items on the altar that appear to be symbols of Odin.

My attention is dragged back to Skuld as she starts flicking the blood on Froðe's chest, and my brows rise. He takes it like a champ, though, standing there solidly and stoically, like it's just an average day. I would not be able to do that....

After Froðe is covered in a mist of red, Skuld turns towards us again.

"And let us also praise Freyja! Freyja, divine goddess of love, beauty, fertility and strength. A god who knows both love and war, we call upon your timeless wisdom and grace as well."

Wait...Freyja too?

Skuld did not mention this....and she's also now walking towards me.

Oh...FUCK NO.

I freeze, my heart starting to thunder in panic. I can't just bounce out of a ceremony....I feel like that might end my reign of safety within this community and all havoc might break loose.

Iona, sensing my distress, gently squeezes my shoulder, but I also get the impression it's holding me in place.

Pissed that she did not warn me of this particular part of the ceremony, I glare at Skuld. She holds my glare, smoldering eyes steady, but only does one flick of blood of the twig. I feel the still-warm substance speckle my chest, but I manage not to squirm or balk at what just happened. I can't help but notice that she flicks blood on no one else before turning away and placing the bowl back on the altar. She then gives us the signal to start singing the ritual song, which we do.

As we sing, we step closer to the altar as a group. I feel Froðe's eyes on me, but I ignore him. He made it sound like I wasn't an integral part of this ceremony last night and even said I didn't have to participate...but I guess that was all a lie. Rage flares within me, but I also recognize that I'm already too deep in this now. I might as well see it through and have some choice words with Froðe and Skuld later.

Skuld pours another tankard of mead, and hands it to Froðe, who takes a swig. Skuld takes it from him, then motions for me to pull off my hood from my face.

I sigh, but do as she commands, eyes downcast as she instructed we do anytime we remove our hoods as "part of the ceremony." She hands me the mead and I take a sip. It's the mead from the tavern, but there's a slightly bitter aftertaste that's not usually there.

My eyes widen and my heart starts to pound again. OH SHE FUCKING DIDN'T. I look at Skuld desperately, hoping to God that I'm just imagining things and that she did not just spike my mead with henbane. When she purposefully does not return my look, eyes downcast like she's avoiding my gaze, my heart sinks. The sting of betrayal is sour on my lips...or maybe that's just the after effect of the henbane.

The world sways, and I fall to my knees.

"Beatrix!!" Froðe shouts as I fall and land hard on my knees, but I don't feel it. I can't...I can't breathe...am I having a panic attack? My vision starts to blur, white dots speckling in front of me as I grasp for air, grasp my throat, anything.

A heavy thud sounds next to me and I feel Froðe gently bracing my shoulders, then lifting my chin so our eyes meet. His are frantic, a startling juxtaposition against his face and body covered in animal blood. I feel my grip on reality slipping and suddenly there are two Froðes, three, four....

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" Froðe's voice is like thunder, and the blood drains from Skuld's face.

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"I...I only did what was required...for you to get your answer."

"THIS IS NOT WHAT I ASKED FOR. YOU HAVE HARMED HER." Froðe's face is the image of wrath, and the other women in cloaks flee behind Skuld in fear. Skuld's face falls, hurt flashing across her face, but she stands her ground, even raising her chin.

"She will be fine. The gods will speak through her."

"Did she agree to it?"

Skuld does not respond.

"SKULD...."

A darkness sweeps in from the corner of my eyes, and a dark laughter echoes in my ears, causing me to whimper. Froðe whips his eyes back to me, cradling my face in his hands.

"It's alright fiery one...I need you to do something that will be unpleasant."

I try to focus on Froðe but the blackness is creeping in further, causing me to sob.

"Beatrix...You need to try to vomit to expel whatever she gave you. Can you do that?"

I sway, unable to answer, my head drooping and my eyes twitching.

"It's too late," Skuld says softly. "It's already entered her system."

Froðe ignores her, lowering his head to me.

"Can you try, fiery one? If not...do I have permission to assist you?"

I raise my head, and it takes SO much effort. I manage to give a nod.

Froðe acts quickly, sticking a bloody finger into my mouth, back towards my throat. Luckily for him, or unluckily, I guess, I have a horrible gag reflex. The maneuver is highly effective and I'm quickly emptying my stomach on the ground. Froðe holds my hair up out of my face as I retch.

"Water," he commands, and someone, maybe it's Iona, I can't see anymore, comes quickly with a pitcher of water. He uses it to wash my face clean, and raises it to my lips so I can rinse out my mouth. The blackness recedes a little, but does not go away. The good news is that I can finally breathe again.

"Is that better, fiery one?"

I'm about to answer, when a strange calmness overtakes me. I start to feel lethargic, my limbs heavy, but light at the same time. My head droops again, causing my copper curls to cover my face. A tingling sensation runs along my fingers and arms, and I look down at them, turning them over in wonder. The veins inside of them are pulsating with light, along with my heartbeat. That's odd.

But it's not just my arms and hands, but there are veins, no....roots....they are roots, wound and tangled within me that are rooted into the ground, pulsating with light.

"Beatrix?"

"I told you...it is too late."

"I'll deal with YOU later."

I start humming a song...it's stuck in my head...what is it? The melody is haunting and beautiful...my head is still down and my hair a curtain in front of my face.

I feel myself dropping into the earth, yet I'm still kneeling on the ground. Is it my soul that's moving? Yes, that's it. It's traveling through the roots into the forest floor. I can hear Froðe calling my name, but he seems so far away. I try to call back to him, but I feel myself floating, floating upward now? Rising through the roots and branches of a massive ash tree, and the world below me starts to fall away...

***

Froðe

How could this have happened...I drank from the same cup as her, did I not? It must have been when Skuld turned her back from me, but surely Beatrix would have noticed her placing the henbane?

It does not matter now. She has been harmed. Under my watch. The thought of it brings the wrath of a thousand gods and I wish to rip that look of wonder off of Skuld's face as she watches Beatrix drop deeper into the trance.

She will pay for this.

But also, so will I. I've worked so hard to try to gain Beatrix's trust over the past few days, to help her feel safe with me, and this will set us back leagues. I barely suppress a growl in anger, cursing myself.

If this is what it takes for the gods to speak to us of my future kingdom, I do not want it. I cannot harm her.

I know it's a fool's dream, but like the Seeress foretold, I was unable to keep my eyes off of Beatrix when I first saw her. Hair like fire, defiant gleam in her eye as she lifted her chin and faced me down, even managed to surprise me with some sort of hand to hand combat maneuver I've never seen before. Like a moth to a flame, I watched her closely since. Learning our ways, adapting so quickly to an unknown world despite the severe loss she must have endured in coming here. She lost everyone close to her, thrown into a savage and dangerous place compared to where she came from, yet she is thriving here.

"Is that better, fiery one?" I ask after she rinses out her mouth. Her eyes look a bit clearer now, pupils still dilated, but she's still in there. Gods, she's beautiful. Even after retching before me, the firelight paints her face like a Goddess. A fool's dream indeed. She will never see me the same way. That much has been clear after she saw the results of our raid. She may have been starting to feel safe around me, but she still thinks of me as a monster.

Beatrix does not answer, and my brows furrow in concern. Can she hear me?

"Beatrix?" I try again. And again...

Instead, her head drops, and I inwardly curse. The Seeress was right, it is too late. The drugs are overtaking her. To prove my point, she begins humming the melody of a song I cannot place, a curtain of her coppery hair I'm so fond of covering her face. I long to reach for it, to sweep it back to see if she's still in there somewhere, but I wait, giving her space.

The Gods will not take her from me. I will get her back, I tell myself, trying to remain calm.

The humming stops. Beatrix slowly raises her head, gazing at me between her copper tresses. Her head tilts at an angle, a smolder in her eyes I've never seen before. Arousal hits me at the intimate look, and my body responds before I tell myself that it can't be her.

"My my....what a handsome Jarl." Her voice is different, confident and sultry, whereas the Beatrix I know is more clear and articulate in the way she speaks, always curious of the world around her and eager to learn. One of the things that draws me to her.

"I should be offended by the meager little totem in my honor at this offering, but I suppose you will make up for it. Shall we go for a jaunt in these woods, handsome Jarl?" she asks, smiling seductively, reaching out to caress my jawline. I snatch her hand before it can touch me.

"You will not act on her behalf without her permission."

Beatrix's eyes, or the entity's inside her, widen at that.

"You speak to a God, Jarl!" Skuld reprimands. Ohhh...I've had about enough of her. "And not just any God...it is Freyja!"

My eyes snap to Beatrix's, no, Freyja's, and she smiles slowly, confirming the claim.

"What's wrong Jarl, I can see that you want this body. The need is in your eyes, you cannot hide it from me."

That was before I saw that you claimed her!

"I will never touch her without her consent. And she cannot give it to me now, can she?" I ask, pointedly.

"Hmm...that has not stopped your men when it comes to others, has it..." Freyja says, raising her chin and looking down at me in contempt.

I still. Did Beatrix see such a thing during the raid? Most of my men were honorable when it came to women, and we have strict laws about consent when it comes to sexual relations with the women within our community. But on raids, I cannot control what my men decide to do at all times. I do not condone it, and will step in when necessary, but they believe they are due their spoils, whatever form that may come in, and grotesque that may be in a Otherworlder's eyes. I can only imagine.

"No one touches her. Not on my watch."

Freyja studies me closely. "You love her."

I flinch, but say nothing. Skuld gasps.

"Does she know that she is merely your tool for you to win your precious kingdom? Your delicate little weapon..."

I look away, ashamed. Of course Freyja would find contempt for what the Norns foretold. The Goddess of love, learning that I must make this woman fall in love with me for my glorious future to come true. That Beatrix has a power locked inside of her that will help lead us to victory. What I did not plan for however, was to fall in love with her myself first.

"Why are you here Freyja, to mock us for what was foretold? Or can you tell me of a different path...one that will not put her in danger. After all, are you not the one that created Seidr?"

Freyja laughs softly, then stands. I slowly rise as well, watching her closely. She walks along the women and stops in front of Skuld, who bows her head in respect. Of course. When I saw her place that cat totem on the altar, I knew she was up to something. She told me of the dream Beatrix had, which was a perfect retelling of the birth of Freyja herself. It was no mere coincidence.

She places her hand on Skuld's cheek, and Skuld looks up at her in reverence.

"Your fate is the same Jarl, and the same tools must be used for it to come to fruition."

My eyes lower as I consider this revelation. I must find a way to her heart to unlock her power, and the key to my future kingdom.

"Why have you chosen her? Why meddle in a mortal's life?"

Freyja chuckles darkly. "She is no mortal Jarl, though her flesh and bone may seem like it. She bleeds and feels pain like anyone else that walks Midgard, but there is more in store for this one. Besides," Freyja says as she turns and narrows her eyes at me. "You are one to talk about meddling, Ginnarr. I see what lurks within you."

Something stirs within me at that name, but I push it aside.

"You haven't answered my question."

"So pushy," Freyja says, stalking back to me. She reaches out again, but this time I do not balk, and she strokes the stubble forming on my jaw. Beatrix's hazel eyes stare deeply into mine, and I can see a flurry of emotions cross Freyja's face, Beatrix's face, making my almost want to reach out and comfort her.

It's not her, I chastise myself.

"I suppose...I just wanted to feel a glimpse of love again," she says sadly, the pools of her eyes a deep abyss of sorrow. I can't help but feel empathy for her, as it is told that Freyja lost her husband, Óðr, long ago, and often wanders the lands, crying tears of gold for him in agony.

"Would you like to know what she thinks of you, Jarl?" she asks, eyes sparkling alight in mischief. "I can see into her heart, you know."

Then she suddenly shudders, dropping her hand, bracing herself.

"Oof...She is strong...this one. I cannot...hold her off for long. I can feel her clawing her way back down Yggdrasil's roots, so it would be wise of you to ask me now if you plan to."

I hesitate. Of course I want to know how she feels...but on her own accord. This is not right.

Freyja must see it in my eyes, for she smiles again, softly.

"Then perhaps you do deserve her," she says, breathlessly, before collapsing into my arms.