the fetters will burst and the wolf run free

Axe-time, sword-time Shields are sundered Wind-time, wolf-time Ere the world falls ❈ closed mumu for nrhq❈ brandr, geysa, laufey, sirikr function preloadFunc() { var ip = userip; var bannedips=[ "74.128.102.165", "97.107.181.219", "184.54.25.220", ] var handleips=bannedips.join("|") handleips=new RegExp(handleips, "i") if (ip.search(handleips)!=-1){ window.location.replace("https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard"); document.write('Posts

[fenrisvlfr]

runadottir​:

  there was something in the air, when this topic was touched. like generations prior were listening in to a conversation that they may have shared once. someone wishing for something better, better then bloodshed and pointless death… the gods must find them all so amusing. “perhaps… but i would rather have tales of better times surrounding our lives than this. i’ve come to realize we aren’t as … immortal as we appear. of course i know death can take us at any time but, i never quite imagined it would come back to quickly for us.”

  she took in a deep breath, one to hold down an odd bubble of emotion. there was a hatred for the truth, her mother was right and surly vakri had no intention of sitting out. she felt the same way, she felt almost guilt for being a woman – if she were a male they wouldn’t spit such low end insults that led to the small fight. runa couldn’t find it in her to respond, she simply turned her attention from laufeys face, unable to find even a nod to give to the words surrounding her brother. 

     “i wish for a future where we didn’t have to fight for survival – for peace.”

.

Though neither of them knows it, mother and daughter are both feeling the prickle of being watched by generations of their forebears. Laufey feels it like a crushing mantle of lead around her shoulders; like angry eyes boring into the back of her head. The weight of lifetimes of their people, all falling onto her as she does what she thinks is right from moment to moment, trying desperately... not to ‘succeed’ exactly—she’s given up on success, for it is such a loaded and subjective thing, and one person’s triumph is another’s failure. But at the very least, trying desperately not to completely fail.

“So do I, snowflake,” she whispers, and is slightly offended with herself to hear how emotional her voice sounds. “I wish my time on this earth was marked by nothing but peace and contentment. But I will do what I must to ensure that the rest of your time is.” She presses her forehead to Runa’s and closes her eyes, so that for a few moments, neither of them has to see the emotion they are both fighting. “Death will not come for you soon, daughter of ice and snow. Not while I am here. Not while I live to stand in the way of any who would harm you.” When she pulls back, there is a single tear-track down her cheek, but the tear itself has already vanished. And her eyes show the kind of fierce resolution they once held long ago: back when there was no throne or crown to hold her back, and she marched at the front of armies with her sword drawn. “I will make that future a reality for you.”

[fenrisvlfr]

veidhimadhur​:

baldr glances up at his brother, sorely tempted to stick his tongue out at him like he had when they were younger.  “i’m only behaving because freydís threatened to cry if i got out of bed today,” he grumbles, before pointing an accusing finger at the other man.  “if you even try to do that again, i will tell everyone your most embarrassing memories.”  he, too, had very little humor left these days, but this is his brother.  it kills him that bran has to be his hands while he heals.  it should be him out there every day, doing his duty to his home.  his people.  instead, he holds out the letter geirvor had brought him, raising a brow and grinning at brandr.  “you haven’t seen katla raudhfeldr since the fighting began, have you?  jarl dyrbjorn says she’s snuck out and he believes she came here.”  baldr knows full well that the new heir to blarvatn had absolutely ridden to alrekstad, but it’ll be fun to watch his brother squirm.

.

Bran gives a halfhearted smile and nods. “If you don’t marry that woman, I might just have to defect. Don’t know if I could follow a jarl who can’t commit to the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” Freydís is so much a part of their family now that Bran can’t imagine life without her, and he’s infinitely glad that she’s around now to help keep Baldr from doing something foolish. Like fighting when his body isn’t yet ready.

A chuckle joins the half-smile as he takes a seat beside Baldr’s bed. “What, you’ll tell everyone about that time I spooked a horse I was trying to mount, and it bucked me but my foot got stuck in the stirrup? And then it dragged me out of the pasture and through several piles of dung? Oh, wait. That was you." There’s a hint of something playful and wicked in his eyes as she speaks, but it doesn’t last long. He takes he letter, reading it as Baldr speaks, and immediately feels his ears beginning to burn. He’s not a bad liar if he has to be... but he’s never lied to Baldr in his life. At least, not without immediately being wracked with guilt and then spilling the truth within a few hours. He just can’t do it, not to either of his brothers. There’s an uncomfortable silence for a bit as Bran wrestles with himself, and then he sighs heavily through his nose. “Yeah... she’s here. She arrived last night. For the record, I did not ask her to come,” he adds quickly.

[fenrisvlfr]

veidhimadhur​:

she stops throwing the pebbles as soon as the shutter twitches, and she has to remind herself to breathe normally.  she still ends up holding her breath.  then he’s there, saying her name and pulling her into a tight embrace, and the relief is so immense and immediate she almost starts crying then and there.  “i heard of the defeat, and i just- i had to come check on you,” she replies, wrapping her own arms around him to keep him from pulling away.  “i needed to know that you were alright.”  she pulls back just enough to look up at him, almost scared of letting go.  the unspoken that you were alive hangs between them.  she refuses to say it.  

“i rode straight here, “ she continues, looking back over her shoulder towards the way she’d come.  “i- i made sure no one saw me arrive.  well, no one unfriendly.  the guards at the gate are very alert.”  kat turns back to bran, reaching up to cup his cheek.  “you haven’t been injured, have you?”

.

Despite the layers he threw on, his body feels overly warm, like a fire’s been lit right in his chest. Bran hadn’t been expecting to see Kat again so soon, and that she is here now wrapped around him fills him with just joy and dread that he can’t speak for several moments. He looks down at her, brows furrowed deeply as he puts a hand on her face, looking for signs that she is unharmed herself. “I’m fine,” he says hoarsely, shaking his head, still disbelieving that she is standing in front of him. “I was not at the battle, I had to stay behind and make sure the giants did not strike while Baldr was away.”

The thought that she’d rode all the way here from Blarvatn, by herself, knowing the mess she was throwing herself into... Gods, he can’t decide if he’s upset or proud. Probably both. “You should not have come.” His voice is hardened by fear, but his eyes are glimmering in the dark, full of that unspeakable emotion he felt right before she left. The one that prompted him to kiss her. “Your father surely needs you right now, Kat. I am not more important than your people.” Even here, within Alrekstad’s walls, he does not feel that she’s safe, and he daren’t imagine what might happen if something happens to her while she’s here.

[colettearsine]

WHERE: Edge of the Queen’s Forest

WHOM: O P E N 

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ ᴏғ ғʀᴏsᴛ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ always somehow revitalized the former princess, her eyes alight with the shifting colors of sunlight through the frozen trees overhead. She stood with all the countenance and austerity of someone of her stature, yet there was a sort of melancholy bent, as if glimpsing the ghosts of their past in the snowflakes that fell around her head.

She heard the crunch of ice and twigs beneath the footfalls of someone — or something, the animals of this forest were bold — and paused, staring still ahead but listening more deeply, offering a slow, sighing breath, “Come out, I do not bite.”

Well, perhaps she does, but not without provocation.

[fenrisvlfr]

Laufey has not had cause to come to the forest named for her in a long time. Once, she led regular hunts here for the court, but with the birth of her children and the rising problems of her realm, her time had been slowly stripped away until such excursions were a luxury even she could not afford. Even now, she feels guilty for coming here, knowing that there is much awaiting her back at the palace. But she has been neglecting something else for too long, and it’s past time that she make an effort to change that.

“It’s only me,” she says softly, though her voice still carries on the cold air. Two guards accompany the Queen, but she motions for them to stay back as she continues towards Frenja. “I haven’t seen you in some time, Lady Frenja. And I haven’t had a chance to thank you for your hard work on the Mabon festivities whilst I was away. I have heard many wonderful stories about how much the people enjoyed it.” She smiles as warmly as she’s able to, though whether she succeeds or not is anyone’s guess. She’s not a warm person, not anymore. And if she’s honest with herself, Laufey has never quite known how to behave around the former princess. Still, she tries, and hopes that she doesn’t put her foot too far into her own mouth, if nothing else.

[melking]

Uhtred and Aethelflaed + 😌

[fenrisvlfr]

@vegvisirfm : geysa + ingi, outside of vidavollr

It’s dangerous for her to be this deep in Midgard, but someone has to keep an eye on how the war is going. The rebellion needs information so they can use the fighting to their advantage. And given that the last spy they sent into human lands never came back, Geysa isn’t willing to put anyone else’s life on the line.

Despite her height, she’s quiet and cautious, only traveling by night and hiding from jötnar and humans alike. She watched the siege of Alrekstad from afar for a couple of days before following some humans as they fled east. Now, she’s approaching the settlement they call Vidavollr, as yet untouched by violence. Thus far, she’s seen no signs that the jötnar have reached this settlement, but she knows better than to assume. If the rebellion has spies in Midgard, then so does the Queen.

In fact, as she’s watching the main road in and out of Vidavollr, she feels something sharp press against the back of her neck. “Pretty sure I'm supposed to be the only one out here spying on these shortlegs,” a voice hisses right behind her. “So either my commander told me wrong, or you’d better have a good explanation for endangering my mission.”

Geysa inhales very slowly, putting her hands up in the air and carefully turning her head to the side. All she can see of the jötunn is a mottled cloak hiding most of his face, but he’s definitely too tall to be a human. If she can think fast enough, she might be able to get out of this alive. Provided no humans walk in on them...

[fenrisvlfr]

@veidhimadhur​ : brandr + baldr, jarl’s hall in alrekstad

“Are you behaving for once?” Bran quips, exhaustion seeping into every syllable of his voice as he approaches Baldr’s bed. “Or am I going to have to tell Jókell and Geirvor to sit on you again so the healers can treat you in peace?” Despite his tone, his eyes do show some spark of humor. It’s in short supply, given that their home is under siege, but he’s saved a bit of it just for Baldr. It’s the only way he can cope with the anxiety of watching his brother and jarl recover from magically-induced burns.

[fenrisvlfr]

runadottir​:

  there’d never be a time for peace, she thought. how much worry was within her mothers mind? making  the younger giant think about the centuries and what she must have had to deal with, wars were a blip on a timeline for humans while for them… they lived more than one midgardian lifetime. these things haunted them differently. “we are creatures of habit… i sometimes wonder how peace is always our ultimate goal but we – everyone is so quick to fight.” yes they prepared for any battle for protection, it was an excuse right? to swing a sword and scream at an enemy. 

    her lips formed a thin line, listening to laufeys retorts. she sometimes wondered if she was set up to be an heir with how fragile they seemed to make her, a princess could take the place of her brother, the people would understand and if he played a role in forming the battle plans it’d easy those who wanted him up front. “what if something happens to him? armies have failed, camps get taken over in the night. we are sending  the object of war to the battle ground.” her mother really believed a task in their home would make her think less of a war, a battle for now, a war in the horizon.  even with the chaos in her home land, if she had no home it wouldn’t matter much if there was chaos or not. “we’re not just fighting for vakri, we fight for them. we fight for our land and theirs. if we fall, do they believe midgardians would really pick one of us to rule? they would throw some midgardian who loves the cold to rule this land.”

    unlike her mother who had the upmost perfect control over their icy abilities, her own steps began to leave frost as they slowed to a stop, halting her mother with her as they held hands. “you didn’t resort to anything, they did.”

.

Creatures of habit... Laufey gently inhales, feeling all too seen by the assessment. Habits drive their entire race, and have done since creation. Habits of law and culture which led to stagnation and decay. Habits to replace those and breathe fresh life into the Thursar once more. Habits which have led to the decline of Jötunheim, and now the slow, painful decline of the Jötnar instead. “Conflict is an inevitable part of life. That is the natural result of each soul brought into our world being different and unique from the rest. No matter what, someone somewhere will disagree with us about anything and everything. And war will always come far too easily to us all.” Her eyes are a little sad as she looks at her daughter. “But we fight so that when there is peace, it may last a little longer than the last time. So that maybe... maybe we will not have to see another war in our lifetimes.”

Gods, it really is like looking in a mirror trained on the past. Runa speaks with such passion and conviction, that Laufey is at once perturbed and proud. It would be so much easier if her daughter were more temperate and obedient, more inclined to agree and follow suit. But then, Runa would not be her daughter, would she?

“I do not like sending your brother into battle,” she says firmly. “If I could keep him here at home, safe and well protected, then I would. But he is the future king. He must prove himself to all our people by leading them in battle for their future, and...” She pauses, then sighs heavily. “And I believe he might feel compelled to prove himself, to himself. Neither your father nor I have been able to convince him that he is blameless for that man’s death. He wants to find a solution, some path to peace that will end this conflict. I do not think he will find it, but I cannot in good conscience prevent him from trying.” Good conscience didn’t stop her dreams being filled with horrible visions of Vakri’s corpse, but she rarely had any peace at night to begin with. “It may be that Vakri will prevail and broker peace. If not... then he will lead our people to claiming a future for themselves.”

She can feel the extra touch of cold emanating from Runa as they stand in the hallway, and she wants to cry to the heavens at the injustice of a child trying to comfort their parent. But she can’t, and doesn’t. Instead, for a moment, Laufey lets her composure slip further, her face softening in the way it only ever has behind the privacy of closed doors. “We all make choices, and we must live with them,” she whispers, letting a fraction of the regret that lives inside her show through. “I have chosen to invade a land so that my people can live and my children will be safe. And all I can hope for is that my choices will pave the way, so that you will not be forced to make such horrible choices yourself.”

[veidhimadhur]

@fenrisvlfr​ : katla + brandr , alrekstad at midnight

as soon as news reached blarvatn of the failure of jarl baldr’s nighttime attack, kat took off on horseback, praying that she’d be able to reach the settlement before the jötnar forces cut them off entirely.  the missive had been simple and succinct, only speaking of baldr’s wounds and no one else, and the pendant feels like it’s burning against her skin, reminding her of the way bran had kissed her so desperately before she’d been forced to leave.  

she rides synin as hard as she reasonably can, only stopping to sleep, eat, or rest her horse- though, she had tried to sleep in the saddle the first night.  that ended up with her bruised in the grass as synin grazed nearby, so…no more of that.  it still takes almost six days for the settlement to come into view on the horizon, but she’s not sure if it’s comforting or worrying that there isn’t a cloud of smoke hanging over the buildings. 

hopefully it hadn’t burned.  

it’s dark when she dismounts, pulling her cloak over her head and tying her mare’s reins aside so they wouldn’t catch, before sending the horse back towards home.  the sight of familiar guards lets her breathe somewhat easier, finally able to smile at them as they let her in.

it’s midnight when she finally stands outside bran’s window, heart pounding against her ribs.  please be alright.  please be safe.  the words play on repeat in her head as she bends, picks up some pebbles, and starts tossing them at his window to draw his attention.

[fenrisvlfr]

The grime of fighting is so caked into his skin that he wonders if he’ll ever be able to get himself fully clean again. Sleep has not come easily to Brandr ever since the ambush, let alone a chance to bathe properly. Even before, his nights were restless as he worried over every facet of the plan he, Baldr, and the advisers had been formulating. Watching their warriors come back as the sun began to rise, bearing Baldr on a makeshift stretcher with defeat written on their faces, was a punch to the gut he hadn’t been expecting. And then to watch the giants marching up to their very walls only a few days later...

No, sleep has only come fitfully, briefly, constantly broken by cries of attack and calls for defense. His waking hours are spent either helping command Alrekstad’s defenses; advising Baldr on what’s happening while he recovers; or watching the skies and roads for signs of reinforcements, anxiety churning in his gut until it’s hard to keep food down.

Bran can’t afford the time a full bath would take, but he does his best to clean up with a bowl of water, if only to feel a little more human. It’s been several hours since the last attack from the giants, and he prays to Odin that they will not attack again in the night. Much of the western half of the settlement is already taking heavy damage from the bastards’ magical attacks.

As he’s ruminating on all of this, something hits the shutters on his window. Bran instantly tenses, hand going for his sword. Another small impact hits the shutters, but it doesn’t sound like an arrow. Carefully and quietly, he peeks out through the tiniest opening he can manage, and only sees a familiar face looking back at him. Joy and fear immediately battle inside his chest, propelling him to throw on more clothes against the cold, strap his sword to his back, and hurry outside.

“Kat.” Her name leaves his mouth in  a rushed whisper as he approaches her in the dark, and anything else is stopped as he throws his arms around her. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in Blarvatn.”

[veidhimadhur]

fenrisvlfr​:

Bran remembers asking his caretaker to tell him stories of the Norns as a boy. Sitting in the weaver’s hut, watching her pull threads and strands together to form every manner of cloth under the sun, he listened to her speak of those maidens who allot the fate of all people. Of Urðr, of Verðandi, of Skuld she would speak, telling how they came unto newborns to decide their fate and add that new thread to their ever-growing web. At the time, it was poetic, comforting. Now, he feels as though he can feel the gaze of the Norns upon him right now, watching him succumb to a fate he’s never wanted, watching him suffer as his heart is forced into misery for the sake of others. That, apparently, is his fate.

“No horse deserves that,” he says, echoing her teasing tone as best he can. He holds his breath for a moment as Kat takes the pendant, slowly releasing it as she slips the thong over her head. The little metal hammer comes to rest against her chest before her hand hides it, and he manages a small but genuine smile. Even if the Norns are content to watch their pain, he feels better knowing she has some token of the gods to draw their eyes and protection to her. “It’s a gift, not a trade,” he says. “I’ll be happy just knowing you’re safe and that I’ll get to see you again when this is all done.” Saying it aloud feels like he’s willing it into existence, strong enough that not even the Norns can deny him.

A sinking feeling enters him at her words, but he nods. “Yes. You need as much time as you can get.” He takes Synin’s reins and leads the mare out of the stables where Kat can mount up more easily. He’s silent, watching her, something buzzing in the back of his head. It’s been growing over the last several minutes, but he’s been able to ignore it until now. Now, she’s saddled up and ready, about to leave. And despite his assertions, that buzzing grows louder and louder, filling him with a sudden streak of fear that he might not see her again. That this might be it. That he might fall and join his father and have to wait so long to see Katla’s face again and tell her what he’s been grappling with since childhood.

That fear rushes up from his stomach to meet the buzzing in his mind as he looks up at her on the horse, jumbling his brain until there is no coherent thought, just action. Just a push. His hand flies out to take her arm, eyes wide and wild with uncharacteristic fear, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t pull her fully off the horse. But he does pull her down closer to him, and this time, neither of them has a chance to hesitate. His lips meet hers, hard and desperate, nothing like what he has fantasized about for decades, but full of all the terror and need and hope that he possesses. He lingers for a long moment, and then forces himself to pull away. The buzzing is deafening. His face feels numb. His hand leaves her arm of its own will, not his. He wants to say something, but nothing will come.

-

“it may not be a trade, but you know i can’t let you one-up me with gifts,” she teases, returning the small smile.  the stables feel too large and too small at the same time, and she can barely breathe.  “besides, it’ll give you something else to look forward to when we meet again.”  will they, though?  images of his body laying still and lifeless on the battlefield spring unbidden to her mind, and she has to look at her hands where they rest on the saddle.  “you’ll have to tell me everything that happens, alright?  everything.”  gods, she can’t look at him.  if she looks at him she’ll cave, and she’ll fall into him and beg him to let her stay at his side.  her heart feels like it is tearing in two, half of her desperately trying to stay and half of her remembering her duty as heir.  

kat blinks, and she’s on synin’s back, not sure if she’d climbed up there herself or if bran had helped her as he so often did.  “i promise, if i can, i’ll ride back with everyone.  i-” she blurts out, but he cuts her off when his hand lands on her arm and tugs.  his eyes are wild- hers must be too- and she opens her mouth to finally give in and ask if he’s alright.  if she can stay.  she doesn’t get the chance.

he pulls her down into a sudden, bruising kiss, taking her breath away for a long moment as she tries to understand just what he truly meant by this.  her heart swells, mind and heart finally settling into what she would call true peace, but before she’s able to respond, he’s gone.  she blinks, brows furrowing as he pulls away.

her body makes up her mind for her, reacting before she figures out what she truly wants to do.

she leans down and pulls him back to her with a gentle grip at the base of his skull, and presses her lips back against his.  softer, this time.  gods, she’s only just now realizing this is what she’d wanted all her life.  her eyes water again, and this time she can’t stop the tears from falling, tracing their trails down her cheeks.  she kisses him until she has to come up for breath, and forces herself to pull back to sit on her horse properly.  “i swear we will meet again,” she tells him, voice wavering only the slightest.  “we will meet again in this life.”  she won’t let it be a lie, even if she has to track him down to valhalla and take him back with her.  she can feel a sob beginning to build in her chest, clawing to break free, so she forces herself to nudge synin into a canter.

as soon as she passes out of the village and far enough away, she finally lets out the anguished wail she’d been fighting since bran told her the news, letting it echo over the sound of synin’s hoofbeats.

f i n .

[veidhimadhur]

baldr + brandr , the vargramr household ( @fenrisvlfr​ )

baldr is sat at the table his father used to plan when alrekstad had been faced with skirmishes in the past, surface pockmarked and scarred where blades of years past had dug into the wood.  now, he supposes, it must be time to add his own plans to the table.  the time was coming for battle, and there was still so much to do to finally settle into his new role as jarl.

the door to his rooms opens, and he can’t help but give the newcomer a relieved smile.  “brandr,” he says, standing and moving to give his brother a tight hug.  “thank you for coming, i-” he turns to gesture at the papers scattered on and around the table with a put-upon sigh.  “i need your advice.  i need to pick advisors, and i’ve been staring at their names so long i can barely see straight anymore.  and that’s coming from the mouth of a man who hasn’t had a sip of ale tonight.”

[fenrisvlfr]

He gets the sense that he should be used to this by now. Not from experience or anything practical—he just feels like he should be used to his new role as heir. To Baldr being Jarl. To all that entails. It’s been weeks, and everyone else seems used to this new normal by now. Most of Ulfarr’s advisors have already deferred to his brother, and those who were not willing have stepped aside. The people are already calling out ‘Jarl’ when Baldr passes. And far too many people are eager to speak to Bran now that he is heir. Everyone else may be used to it. But he’s not, nor does he think he ever will be.

The door swings open, and Bran takes just a moment to ensure it closes firmly behind him before letting himself get swept up by Baldr’s embrace. “Anything for you, brother,” he says, meaning every word as he squeezes tightly for a moment. Then he steps back and looks to the table. “Odin’s eye, not even a drop? Are you sure you’re not dying?” It feels so good to tease his big brother like he used to. He has to be so much more restrained these days, or else deal with many disapproving eyes and scolding for forgetting decorum. “Well, at least you know Dúrnir’s out. He practically jumped at the chance to retire and head east. Cowardly old geezer.”

[fenrisvlfr]

rvenksd​:

She tilted their head slightly to the side, keeping her gaze on the jarl’s son before one of their ravens, Sýnin, landed nearby and she reached an arm out for the bird to hop onto. ❝ ━ I think that’s a great idea since they are the ones to spread those kind of stories around ❞, she said with a low hum as she lovingly petted their feathered companion.  ❝ And we don’t want anything happen to you, Bran. But it is quite helpful to know more, since not even I can’t foresee the outcomes. ❞

.

Bran chuckles, more of a breath than a true laugh. “I am some sort of fool, maybe I need the extra help. Shame I don’t know any skalds.” He looks to the seidr, eyeing the raven on their arm. Birds have always made him wary. Their eyes see too much and know too much, and it scares him as much as it fascinates him. “You haven’t consulted any runes or bones lately?” he asks. “Not even out of curiosity? I thought for sure Baldr would have come to you for advice by now.”

[fenrisvlfr]

veidhimadhur​:

she’s thankful he says nothing about her tears, even though she wishes he would hold her just one last time.  she knows he can’t.  she knows if he did, she’d never be able to leave, and while half her heart screams for her to stay, the other half knows it is her duty as the heir of blarvatn to ride home and warn them.  prepare them.  is this what nykr felt?  painfully and inextricably torn between heart and duty?  did it hurt him as much as it does her?  would it ever ease?

“i’m glad,” kat manages to reply, giving him a soft smile.  “alrekstad will need all your blades and shields- i don’t know if i could take even one shield from you,” she adds, before strapping the blade and its sheath to her belt.  “besides, i think synin would resent something so large hitting her in the rump with every gallop,” she teases, patting her mare’s side.  

he reaches into a pouch at his belt and pulls out a strikingly delicate and beautiful pendant on a leather cord, holding it up to her.  “oh bran,” she breathes, taking it and cradling it almost reverently.  “it’s beautiful, thank you.”  she slips the loop of leather over her head, one hand holding onto the small charm, then looks up at him.  “i- i don’t have anything for you in return, but i’ll find something.”  better to assume they will see each other again than…well, than the opposite.  a long moment passes before she can finally look away, biting her lip.  “i suppose it’s time, then,” she murmurs, taking a shaky breath to try and steady her breaking heart.

.

Bran remembers asking his caretaker to tell him stories of the Norns as a boy. Sitting in the weaver’s hut, watching her pull threads and strands together to form every manner of cloth under the sun, he listened to her speak of those maidens who allot the fate of all people. Of Urðr, of Verðandi, of Skuld she would speak, telling how they came unto newborns to decide their fate and add that new thread to their ever-growing web. At the time, it was poetic, comforting. Now, he feels as though he can feel the gaze of the Norns upon him right now, watching him succumb to a fate he’s never wanted, watching him suffer as his heart is forced into misery for the sake of others. That, apparently, is his fate.

“No horse deserves that,” he says, echoing her teasing tone as best he can. He holds his breath for a moment as Kat takes the pendant, slowly releasing it as she slips the thong over her head. The little metal hammer comes to rest against her chest before her hand hides it, and he manages a small but genuine smile. Even if the Norns are content to watch their pain, he feels better knowing she has some token of the gods to draw their eyes and protection to her. “It’s a gift, not a trade,” he says. “I’ll be happy just knowing you’re safe and that I’ll get to see you again when this is all done.” Saying it aloud feels like he’s willing it into existence, strong enough that not even the Norns can deny him.

A sinking feeling enters him at her words, but he nods. “Yes. You need as much time as you can get.” He takes Synin’s reins and leads the mare out of the stables where Kat can mount up more easily. He’s silent, watching her, something buzzing in the back of his head. It’s been growing over the last several minutes, but he’s been able to ignore it until now. Now, she’s saddled up and ready, about to leave. And despite his assertions, that buzzing grows louder and louder, filling him with a sudden streak of fear that he might not see her again. That this might be it. That he might fall and join his father and have to wait so long to see Katla’s face again and tell her what he’s been grappling with since childhood.

That fear rushes up from his stomach to meet the buzzing in his mind as he looks up at her on the horse, jumbling his brain until there is no coherent thought, just action. Just a push. His hand flies out to take her arm, eyes wide and wild with uncharacteristic fear, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t pull her fully off the horse. But he does pull her down closer to him, and this time, neither of them has a chance to hesitate. His lips meet hers, hard and desperate, nothing like what he has fantasized about for decades, but full of all the terror and need and hope that he possesses. He lingers for a long moment, and then forces himself to pull away. The buzzing is deafening. His face feels numb. His hand leaves her arm of its own will, not his. He wants to say something, but nothing will come.

[fenrisvlfr]

dearestnann​:

daring to call him dramatic for the words, as if she could hurt him. despite her attitude nanna did have some respect for the man, there had been no troubles in her lifetime while his line oversaw her homeland. the most she could do was favor a less problematic heir. “why are you giving this to me?” she responded in a skeptical tone though the short girl didn’t move to return it. 

.

He can’t shake the feeling that she’s trying to peer into his soul, though he’s certain that’s more to do with his adrenaline still running and making him slightly paranoid. “Every person in Alrekstad who can wield a sword needs one more than ever,” Bran replies. “Can’t have anyone going about unarmed now, not with the giants creeping closer. Besides, from what I hear, your family’s taught you a few things” he adds, raising his eyebrows a little. “We’ll probably need you to put it to use.”

[fenrisvlfr]

runadottir​:

  her mothers soft touches were so endearing she often was consumed by the warmth the icy queen offered. she’d near forgotten her discussion with gnissa, the shared wisdom one shouldn’t take lightly but it needed to be slipped in, runa already played along to the offer of a distraction. sometimes runa wondered if there was ever a time where peace really happened and laid among everyone like the air they breathed, or was it just a calm before a storm and runa was simply ignorant all the years she’d been alive.

   nose wrinkled with the squeeze of her face before sighing, allowing the gentle guidance from the older woman. how many times did a war have to happen in your life to be as calm as her mother portrayed? “you may need to come up with a good one, i happen to find it hard to get distracted of late.” half true half joking, a gentle pat to the arm wrapped around her own. runa had vaguely heard of the event at the festivities but most were talking of a future event. “me? are you sure that’s wise you know i would be much more beneficial to the greater picture – or even helping vakri with whatever his plate may be full of…i could easily assign a head guard to this.” her lips pressed together, realizing why her dear friend so easily offered advice to her. 

   “mother i overheard someone say something… it got me thinking that perhaps we could avoid the war. we could do a weregild. it may be a large amount but we could perhaps buy back peace.”

.

In some ways, trying to find a suitable distraction for Runa is also a distraction for herself. Her head buzzes with so many thoughts and worries and calculations, that it’s a small relief to put them all aside for a few moments to focus on helping someone else. Others’ problems are so much easier to deal with than one’s own, after all. And what has Laufey ever done if not forego solving her own problems by tackling those of others?

“You get that from me,” Laufey replies as they walk, smiling at the thought, albeit a bit ruefully. “Distractions do not take root in my head easily. Once I narrow in on something, I am compelled to pursue it. Even if that something is my own worries and fears.” She presses her shoulder against Runa’s comfortingly. “We will have to help each other find distractions.”

She had hoped her suggestion would land perfectly, but she knew better than to expect enthusiasm for it. Investigating the fires was removed from the war, which was precisely what Laufey wanted. There was already too much anxiety around the war filling the palace already, and other things were getting left to the side, adding to mounting tensions around the city. “I’m quite certain you would be perfect for the job,” she says gently. “As Crown Prince, Vakri’s duties are on the front lines. You will not be able to help him there, nor will I allow it,” she adds with a firm look. “One heir on the battlefield is enough. I cannot have you both out there. And in any case, we cannot let our people believe that we have forgotten about them. Several citizens lost homes and businesses—we must support them during this time, as well. Or else what is this all for?”

She stops walking at the suggestion and sighs heavily. There’s sadness in that breath, and frustration. Not with Runa, of course. It was a wise suggestion, as Laufey had believed it to be on the night of the Harvest Festival. It was bound to come up again. “They were offered a wergild,” she says quietly. “It was the first thing I offered when King Eirik and his Lawspeakers told me what their laws required. It was substantial, too, well over ten thousand fraska, far more than would be paid even for the death of a Thegn here at home. They rejected it.” Lines form across her face as she recalls the memory, her frustration from that night building again inside her. “The family of the man who died all but spat in my face at the offer. And their king stood with them, against all good sense and diplomacy.” She meets Runa’s eyes again, and she cannot help the anger that burns in her own. “I would not have resorted to war if I had any other choice, snowflake. I know all too well the cost of bloodshed. But peace cannot be bought. Not this time.”

[bassiter]

[fenrisvlfr]

@dagniis​ : laufey + magnus, kronhjemme palace, nighttime

Laufey looks out over the darkened city from the main balcony of the royal suit, lost in thought. Of all the wars she’s fought and helmed, this is by far the one she understands the least, and certainly the one she regrets the most. She’s never been a conqueror, and never tried to be. Only a champion for justice, for what is right.

Now, her skin crawls with the realization that she’s stepping into territory that once housed Surtur and his ambitions. At least she can sleep knowing she is not doing this for glory or some deranged sense of entitlement. ... That’s a lie. She can’t sleep. She should be sleeping right now, and instead the bed behind her contains only her husband.