Valley of Kings — Chapter One
Vali | The Middleman
Universe: Vikings Pairing(s): None yet (there will be several later on, mainly Ivar x fem!OC and much later on, Harald x fem!OC) Word Count: 3,160 Warnings: Bad writing ig? Author’s Note: I don't really love this lol, but I decided I'm just going to publish the chapters on here when I'm done and have slightly edited them and hope for some feedback, etc. Sorry if it's not great! Anyway, lemme know if you wanna be on a taglist and I’ll add you! Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated ❤️
read the prologue here
I remember the smell of the air — as spring was leaving, with summer slowly taking its place, the wind was gentle and sweet with the scent of wildflowers. The hunting cabin which belonged to the royal family of Kattegat rested in the foothills just east of the town; to the south surrounded by trees, and to the north, mountains. The smell of pine and woodbine lingered in the air, too, though all of the sweet scents of the wilderness were drowned out with that of the meat we roasted over the fire each night we stayed there.
I remember the way the grass tickled the back of my neck as my friends and I watched the clouds. I had never understood why Sigyn insisted on being barefoot every moment that we were out there, but in midday, the dew had only just faded and the greenery was soft underfoot. The clear blue sky gave us a false sense of security.
It was the last truly peaceful day I would have in a long, long time. I must have been fifteen or sixteen, but I had always looked and acted older. My friends were all older, too — I was the same age as the youngest son of Ragnar, Ivar, but I only spent time with him when his brothers were around. I had been inseparable from Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd since I was small. We all figured we would stay that way forever.
We had been at the cabin for many days, and planned to head back into town at the end of the upcoming week. That day, Hvitserk and I had both killed a deer, Sigurd had caught many rabbits in his traps, and Ubbe had tracked a boar, though he was still waiting for the right time to shoot it without the probability of getting attacked. (He was much wiser than Hvitserk and I; had it been either of ours to kill, we would have gone after it with no hesitation or regard for our safety at all.)
My sister had come with us — Ivar went, too, and wherever Ivar was, Sigyn was never far behind — but had never enjoyed hunting. Instead, she chose to spend the trip in and around the cabin, cooking and cleaning. When the chores were all done, she spent the rest of her time alone out in the yard, lost in her own head. She was, it seemed, daydreaming at nearly every waking moment of her life.
When we reached the cabin that day, we found her in her usual spot on the grass, staring off at the clouds even as we reached her. Ivar crawled toward her, but instead of trying to grab her attention, he only laid down next to her.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked, staring up at the sky. As the other princes and I walked into the cabin, I heard Sigyn begin to tell a most detailed story, as she always did when Ivar asked that question.
"I am dreaming of a far away kingdom on the edge of the world..."
When we had resurfaced from the entrance of the cabin, Ivar and Sigyn were still laying in the same spot. Hvitserk had flashed me a grin as he nudged my arm before strutting over and laying down on the vacant side of Sigyn. Knowing he wished for me to follow, I laid down next to him.
"You know, Sigyn," Hvitserk said. "If you come with us to the Mediterranean, you will get to see a far away kingdom."
"Yes, Hvitserk, I know." She responded simply. "But it would not be as magnificent as the ones I dream about. Besides, I love Kattegat and I have no wish to leave. We have been over this."
Sigyn had always been straightforward. She was very honest about everything, and often didn't understand the difference between our jests or when we meant what we said. I suppose that my sweet sister assumed that everyone would be as charmingly frank about their feelings as her.
Sigyn had the softest, steadiest voice I had ever heard. She often kept a calm tone which made her seem as if she had the most level head in Norway. Only when she was in great distress or feeling something very strong did her tone ever noticeably change. Not to say she was emotionless by any means — she felt a great deal more than I could ever wrap my head around — but she was always calm. At least, she always was when she was around us.
"Are you going to be okay here while Mother and Father and I are gone, Sigyn?" I asked gently, leaning upwards just slightly to look over at her past Hvitserk. Hvitserk's brows furrowed slightly, and he looked over at her too as she gazed thoughtfully at the clouds. She nodded slowly, turning her head to meet our gazes.
"I think so. You will not be gone very long. I will have Ivar and Muninn." I smiled at her sweet tone, but had to keep myself from grimacing.
"We may be gone all summer," I reminded her.
"Or longer," added Hvitserk. She nodded again and looked back at the clouds.
"Perhaps you will. And I will miss you everyday. But you'll come back." Hvitserk and I looked at each other, and I shrugged as I laid back down. I knew she understood — she was always the more intelligent twin — but I just didn't want her to be hit with the emotions all at once when I would not be there to talk over them with her. We may not have spent every waking moment together, but we had never been separated in our lives.
We stayed there for a long time, quietly and sparsely conversing amongst ourselves. When Ubbe and Sigurd had finished skinning the meat for dinner, they called us over. Sigyn and Ubbe were the best cooks among us, so they were the ones to prepare our meal while the rest of us sat around them and talked. It was not long until we heard the sound of hooves coming up the path to the cabin, and Hvitserk and I stood and craned our necks to see who the incoming rider could be.
"It's Bjorn!" I called the others. Sigyn and Ubbe looked up then, put down the food, and quickly joined the rest of us as we all watched the eldest prince of Kattegat approach.
His expression was grim — though he was usually serious, I wasn't used to him looking so discouraged or unhappy. He dismounted his horse once he reached the cabin, tying the reins to a fence post.
"Hello, Bjorn," Sigyn said, walking up to him with a smile. She turned towards the tall horse, stroking his head gently, her attention now completely focused on the stallion. Bjorn smiled faintly as he gave her a nod.
"Hello, Sigyn," As he passed her, he patted her shoulder. Tearing his eyes away from my sister, he looked towards the rest of us, and his expression darkened again. "I come with news. You will all want to sit down."
By the time Bjorn had finished his story, all of our faces looked just as grim as his. Sigyn, who was sat on a bench behind Ivar, was the only one of us who didn't look angry in the slightest — her downcast eyes made it seem as if she was on the verge of tears as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through Ivar's hair. She had always had a habit of soothing herself with soft textures when anxious or upset; usually, one of us lent our hand or hair for her to play with, if there was no small animal close enough for her to pet.
We were all quiet and contemplative for a while, all of us stuck in our own thoughts. I wondered what Hvitserk was thinking.
"You think our father never knew?" Ubbe brought his gaze up from the table to the sky, which had turned to grey. I saw in his eyes a calculating worry. He was trying to find reason in something where there likely wasn't anything that was good enough to justify it.
"It's possible," Bjorn mused, watching the knife in his hands as he turned it over slowly. "In those early days, it wasn't easy to navigate the sea."
"He knew. He had to." Hvitserk spoke from beside me. I glanced at him and nodded in agreement.
"If he did, he should have told the people," Sigurd decided aloud. "Everyone lost relatives; fathers and uncles, sons and daughters. They would have demanded revenge."
"That is why he didn't tell them," Ivar shot back, glaring at Sigurd.
"What do you mean?" Ubbe asked as his brows furrowed. Ivar rolled his eyes.
"It was a waste of time." He said simply.
"Ivar..." Sigyn's voice trailed off. Her face made it clear that she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to approach her volatile best friend.
"They were dead, Sigyn! Ragnar wanted to sail to Paris. He wanted to be famous. Isn't that more important?" He turned to look at her, and she drew her hands back from his hair and into her lap. "Hmm?"
Sigyn looked at the ground.
"I don't think so," She said solemnly.
"You can say that." Bjorn replied, shrugging. Ivar turned again, back to facing his brothers and I.
"I can say that? What does that mean?"
"Here's what it means —" Hvitserk interjected. "— at least to me. Our father abandoned us. We were just kids, and he ran off. Only the Gods know if he's still alive. And now, we hear he kept this big secret from everyone. That he was not truthful or honest."
"This makes me feel sick," Sigurd shook his head again. "How could our father not tell the people what had happened?"
"Maybe if he had told them, they would have killed him." Bjorn replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"If it's true..." Ubbe began. "If it's true that our father lied to his people and abandoned them, then I hope he never comes back."
"He betrayed our name. If he ever came back, I would kill him." Hvitserk snarled, ripping Sigyn out of her mind and back into the present. Her head shot up to look at Hvitserk.
"Me too." Sigurd agreed. Sigyn looked back and forth between the two of them, her expression somewhere between alarm and betrayal.
"Screw you!" Ivar exclaimed. Hvitserk scoffed and looked down, shaking his head. "All of you. He never did anything wrong. He is our father. And that is the end of it. You all sound like a bunch of Christians."
"I love our father as much as you do—" Ubbe said, but was interrupted by Ivar.
"Who said I loved him, Ubbe? I said I admired him. He's Viking. And you are soft." Ivar's voice was defensive, challenging, angry; as he usually was.
"I am not soft! None of us—" Ubbe gestured to his other brothers and to me. "— are soft. But we want to understand what our father did, and what he was."
He crouched down in front of Ivar, glancing up at Sigyn before making eye contact with Ivar. "As his son, his fame does not interest me. What he used his power for—" Ubbe pressed a finger to his temple. "— now that would interest me."
"By now, my brothers, there will be a lot of anger in Kattegat. Now they know the truth. Our father betrayed a whole generation of people," Hvitserk said.
"So if he ever came back—" Sigurd started to say, causing Bjorn to sit up straighter and stare at his brother.
"I don't think he is ever going to come back!" Bjorn exclaimed, frustrated. "I think what happened in Paris finally broke him. You all can say whatever you want, but he was a human. People started to talk as if he was a God — he was not a God! He was a man! A man with many dreams and many failings. I've learned that in the years since he went away. If I was him, I wouldn't come back."
I glanced at my sister now, who was watching Bjorn sadly.
"Despite all his failings, he is still the greatest man in the world to me," Bjorn looked down at the ground again as finished his sentence.
"He cared for you — he cared for all of you," Sigyn said, looking to each prince in turn. "He made mistakes, but as Bjorn said, he is only human." Bjorn and Ivar nodded, but Hvitserk and Ubbe shook their heads.
"Sigyn, we were not lucky as you were to have a father that was there for us. If he truly cared enough, he would have stayed." Ubbe told her. His voice was gentle, as it always was when he spoke to her, but I could hear the frustration behind his words. "You should learn that about love now; love means loyalty. Dedication. You don't abandon those you love."
I watched my sister grapple with finding the right thing to say. Ivar reached a hand behind him, blindly reaching for Sigyn's own. Once he had grabbed it, he guided it to his shoulder before letting it go. Her fingers traced shapes onto his shirt.
"I must go to your home now, Vali, Sigyn," Bjorn looked towards each of us in turn. "I have more preparations for the voyage to discuss with you father, and now I should talk to him about this as well." I nodded at him.
"I will go with you," I replied, and looked towards Sigyn, who met my gaze.
"I should stay here, then. There is no need for both of us to go," She decided.
"Perhaps we should head back to Kattegat early," Ubbe suggested, looking to his brothers. "See the reactions of the people."
"We already know how the people will react, Ubbe," Hvitserk said. "But yes, we should go and see what we can do."
The journey to my home was longer than usual; we had gone around Kattegat instead of cutting through it, which was the quickest way there, but didn't seem appropriate. A silence hung between Bjorn and I for most of the journey.
"You did not speak," Bjorn said finally, just before we had reached my home. "You did not speak when we were discussing my father."
I nodded at him. "It was not my turn to speak. Not my conversation to have." Bjorn let out a short hum of amusement.
"I think you discount your wisdom. Or maybe your importance," Bjorn decided. I didn't have an answer to that.
We dismounted our horses as we reached out family's land. Bjorn walked ahead of me, but stopped slowly and leaned against one of my father's many souvenirs from past raids. I stopped beside him, and he glanced at me before nodding his head over to the water. When I followed his gaze, I was met with my parents wading in the shallows with the little model ships I had helped him make.
My father must have noticed our presence somehow, because he turned to look at us before he walked over. Bjorn drew close to him, then spoke in a low voice.
"Did you know Ragnar lied to us all? The settlement in Wessex was destroyed as soon as we left." My father looked from Bjorn to me, then to the ground as he thought for a moment. He nodded, glancing back to me before looking Bjorn in the eyes again.
"I knew," He said. "A farmer who had escaped the slaughter told you father and I what had happened. Then, Ragnar killed him, so no one else would find out."
"You were a good friend to my father," Bjorn replied simply.
"Bjorn? Vali?" My mother's voice reached my ears, and I turned from the men to her, smiling.
"Helga," Bjorn answered, immediately walking towards her.
"Hello, Mamma," I called to her, following Bjorn again.
"What brings you back so soon, Vali? I thought you were going to be gone hunting for another week," My mother questioned as she walked out of the water and met us on the sand, embracing me.
"I decided to come back early. We caught plenty of game," I lied, but she nodded and smiled as she drew away from me. She turned to Bjorn.
"And what brings you here, Bjorn?"
"I was just coming to see how the boats were progressing," Bjorn explained.
"What do you say, Helga? What shall we tell him?" My father asked, walking along the docks.
"We think that it won't be long before you have boats ready and able to take you to the Mediterranean Sea," My mother told Bjorn happily.
"If it exists," My father muttered.
"Of course it exists," Bjorn insisted, looking up from the model boat my mother had placed in his hands.
"It's just a map, Bjorn; marks on a paper. A child could have drawn it! How can we know it's real?" My father asked. Bjorn studied the boat more as he thought over his words carefully.
"I learned from my father. The only way to tell if something is real..." Bjorn knelt down, gently pushing the model back into the sea. "...is to sail there."
I would like to think I can remember everything of that day — of most days spent at the hunting cabin, in Kattegat; with my friends, with my sister; the days that bled into each other and the nights that ended with sunrise instead of slumber; that phase in my life where I was preparing for the rest of it, learning the arts and trades and traditions of my people.
Indeed, I would certainly like to think that nothing of those days has escaped my memory. But as I write this, and as I try to recall every moment of every day & night spent in the sweet comfort of home, of youth, of camaraderie with those whom I still love most in the world, I recognize that the mind is never so sharp as to be able to recall every last detail or feeling from many years prior. My mind is not as sharp as it once was, either — I have accepted that soon, if it hasn't already, it will begin to fail me.
Perhaps not all of this story happened in the way I remember it — who is to say, when so few of us are left and still able to recount our adventures? — but the stories of my people & my past deserve to be told. Otherwise, who will remember the Norsemen? The Vikings are gone. I am one of the last to be able to remember the Golden Age. This story is mine to tell.
tags // @peachyboneless @youbloodymadgenius sorry y’all probably forgot about this fic its been so long lmaoo i’ll unadd you if you want
