In honor of the anniversary of @patricia-von-arundel‘s incredible Shardsverse, here is a preview of a commission done by the amazing @comickergirl for my (hopefully) upcoming multi-chapter the Beowulf Saga, based on Shardsverse. I’ll be dropping more as TDOE comes up!
“I know hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay?” Elsarik? :D
This... this one got long. Of course, I have to have all the angst happen to poor Alarik. Sorry, buddy.
Alarik, of course, belongs to @patricia-von-arundel. @couragedontdesertme gets the blame for all the damned promts.
This happens in my Beowulf! AU. Rating is T, some mentions of blood.
Stay Awake
They had no warning.
Alarik and Beowulf were crossing the plains, returning to the forest after meeting a supply wagon as the sun dipped low in the sky. What he'd assumed to be another boulder dotting the landscape rose suddenly and began lumbering towards them.
Bear!
Its mangy coat hung loose on its frame, and Alarik could see its ribs. It was clearly starving, and its beady eyes were fixed on Beowulf, who pressed against Alarik's leg, her own eyes wide and white-rimmed in terror.
"Make yourself big. Big and noisy." Alarik muttered Honeymaren's advice, but his body refused to move any closer to the massive beast. He tried to force himself to step forward, to make some sound.
The bear broke into a gallop, and fear overran sense.
Alarik dropped his parcel and scooped Beowulf up, sprinting down the path, his mind screaming at him to run, to escape, the heavy footfalls of the bear closing in with each stride.
He made it to the four monoliths when a paw struck his back, knocking his head against one of the stones. Pain exploded through his skull as bursts of light obscured his vision, and hot blood ran into his eyes. He had just enough sense to tuck Beowulf close to his body and roll into a ball.
A roar, and lancing pain shot across his back as the bear's claws dug in. Alarik would have screamed, but the blow drove the air from his lungs, reducing the sound to a whimpering gasp. He clutched Beowulf close, his ears assaulted with a cacophony of her terrified bawling and the bear's enraged roars.
Another strike, and another, his back aflame. Alarik could feel his strength sapping away as rivers of blood streamed down his back, his hold on Beowulf slipping. He didn't want to let go, didn't want to lose the calf that had brought him and Elsa together, but his arms would no longer cooperate.
Another roar- but this one was different, familiar. Heat at his back, and the raking claws were gone. He heard a panicked sound from the bear, followed by its clear retreat.
"Bruni…"
Bruni scurried up to Alarik's face, his back still pink, eyes wide. He peeped, nudging Alarik's cheek. Then his head shot up.
"ALARIK!"
…………
Elsa didn't think much of Alarik going to meet the supply wagon- it was a routine visit, and a path he'd taken many times before.
Elsa had to stop in the middle of the path, clutching her head in her hands as she fought to make sense of the cacophony of emotions and images Bruni conveyed. Elsa was vaguely aware of several Northuldra approaching her with concern. She shook her head, waving them off.
Then she realized what Bruni was trying to convey.
"NØKK!"
The water in the stream beside the path exploded at her scream, and Nøkk erupted forth with a roar. Elsa was at their side in seconds, pressing her palms into them and releasing the magic roiling just below the surface of her skin. Once the ice covered Nøkk's body, she swung astride.
"The monoliths, Nøkk, hurry!"
Nøkk dropped their head and surged forward, far outpacing any mortal horse. What would have taken ten minutes on foot took Nøkk less than a minute to cover. When the standing stones came into view, Nøkk reared and screamed, and Elsa was greeted with a horrific sight.
Illuminated as the scene was with Bruni's flames, no detail was spared. Alarik lay still on the ground, curled around a trembling Beowulf. Bruni stood by his head, nudging him with his nose. Alarik's back was torn to shreds, ribbons of flesh hanging down and rivulets of blood streaming to the ground. He made no movement, gave no signs of life.
"ALARIK!"
The scream that left Elsa was harsh, animalistic. She leapt from Nøkk's back, rushing to his side and pressing her fingers to his neck. Up close, she could see he had a gash on his head, and there was blood on one of the monoliths. Beowulf squirmed free and jammed into Elsa's side, bawling.
Alarik groaned, a watery, weak sound, and his eyelids parted. Elsa nearly sobbed with relief- he was alive.
For now.
"Det är okej... mamma...gråt inte…" Alarik's eyes were glazed and unfocused, and while Elsa spoke little Swedish, she recognized that he spoke to his mother. He blinked, and his eyes began to close.
"Stay awake, Alarik! I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay? I'm going to get you back to the village. You're going to be alright, just stay awake." Elsa spread her fingers and loosed a thin coating of ice across Alarik's back to stem the bleeding.
If Alarik heard her, he gave no indication. His head dropped, and his breathing grew shallow. Next to him, Bruni whined and patted Alarik's cheek with his paw.
"Try to keep him awake, Bruni." Elsa let out another burst of ice, creating a rough sledge directly beneath her, Alarik and Beowulf. Glimmering strands wrapped about Nøkk's body, and at Elsa's nod, they took off, galloping back to the village.
Elsa wrapped her arms around Alarik and Beowulf, rested her forehead against Alarik's, and quietly begged him to live.
……………
"I am so sorry, Lady Geatland, but there is nothing left that I can do, short of ending his pain now. Otherwise, you will simply have to make him as comfortable as possible and wait."
A broken cry could be heard from the hallway, and Alarik struggled to rise from his bed.
It's alright... Mama...don't cry...
But his body felt as if it were made of lead; the mere task of keeping his eyes open taxed the rest of his strength.
"Stay awake, Alarik! I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay? I'm going to get you back to the village. You're going to be alright, just stay awake."
Village? What village? He was already in his bedroom- why would he need to go to a village?
Cold spread across his back, and he struggled to open his eyes. The scene before him swam, colors shifting, changing from the stone walls of his manor bedroom to the multitudinous shades of green of a forest. A beautiful voice, soft, yet insistent, begged him to hold on, to live. Not his mother's voice, but one just as beloved.
Elsa?
He wanted to call her name, ask her what was happening, but his voice would not work. He felt as if he were floating, incorporeal, his tether to the world weakening. In some part of his dazed mind he could recall a bear- snarling maw and slashing claws laying open his flesh as easily as a sharp knife skinned prey.
Something jostled him, and he slipped back into his bedroom, staring at the ceiling, sweat clinging to his skin as the fever within raged unchecked. Pain everywhere, each breath made it feel as if glass shards tore at his insides.
Soft footfalls- Mama's- and he heard the soft splash of water. She wiped his forehead with the wet cloth, then his face and neck, but the relief it provided was temporary.
"Mama, I don't want to d…" his throat closed on the word 'die'. Mama's sharp intake of breath made him wish he'd never spoken. She dropped the cloth and took his hand in hers.
"Shhhhh, shhhh, now Alarik. You will not die. You will fight, and you will live." Her words were firm, unyielding.
Pain flared across his back, and he arched, crying out. The scene changed again, and he was lying on his stomach, his back aflame. Someone took his hands, squeezing them.
"Stay with me, Alarik, stay with me."
Who spoke? His mother, or Elsa? He blinked, and could just make out a figure in front of him, one cool hand lifting to smooth his hair.
Another flare of pain, and it became too much. Darkness surged up to meet him, and Alarik gratefully surrendered to it.
………………
At first, it was easy for Elsa to keep her mind occupied.
When Nøkk stopped at the healer's lavvu, Ráfi was already waiting, helping Elsa carry Alarik inside. Once he was prone on one of the cots, Elsa's world condensed to dissipating and forming ice while Ráfi began working at a feverish pace. The two of them worked to stem the near-constant flow of blood and close the horrid wounds, some cut so deep they exposed bone.
Several hours, poultices and stitches later, when night had long past fallen, Alarik lay prone, his torso swathed in bandages and another wrapped around his forehead. His skin was sweaty and fever-hot, his breathing shallow.
And without anything left to do but wait, Elsa found herself at the mercy of her thoughts.
Thoughts that would not let her forget the warm stickiness of far too much blood covering her and Ráfi's hands, Alarik's back, and the copious bandages and clothes they used in a desperate attempt to stem the flow. She could not forget his eyes, glazed and unfeeling, staring through her as he muttered incomprehensible words. Or the one sentence she did understand, spoken in an almost child-like voice.
"Mama, I don't want to d…"
She knew what the last word was.
Die.
Anna, five years old, barely breathing in her arms. The creeping cold, destroying her tiny body… it merged into her ice, webbing across Alarik's back, tinged red.
"Oh, Elsa."
Her head jerked up, eyes widening when she saw Anna pulling the lavvu's cover shut behind her. Anna wasn't looking at her, but rather Alarik. Elsa could feel frost spreading beneath her palms, and pulled her hands to her chest, fighting the lingering cold. Anna took a deep breath before crossing over and sitting down next to Elsa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.
And Elsa could hold back no longer. She sobbed- messy, uncontrollable crying that shook her body. She knew her skin must be frigid, but Anna made no move to release her. Instead, she rubbed Elsa's back and murmured soothingly, encouraging her to release.
The hardest thing for Elsa- trusting herself to release.
But she had no energy left to fight her tremulous emotions, and- selfishly, she knew- it felt good to let everything out. To rail against the unfairness of it all, even though she wasn't the one fighting for her life.
Eventually her tears subsided, and Anna offered a handkerchief, which she used to clean her face. Anna's arm remained wrapped around her shoulder the entire time.
"I'm here, Elsa. I'm here."
"Arendelle…"
"Will survive without me. I'm here, as long as it takes."
………….
Kristoff and Neta arrived the morning after Anna- she'd been brought in by Nøkk, while they took the slower wagon. Kristoff joined Anna and several Northuldra in the rotating vigil that kept watch over Alarik and allowed Elsa to take some time to care for herself.
Rather, they forced her to. Save for the times she needed to relieve or clean herself, Elsa refused to leave Alarik's side. Many times she had to be reminded to eat, and slept in short bursts, often waking in a panic, convinced Alarik had passed.
Water and broth were dripped down Alarik's throat, and besides swallowing, his only other movement, the only indication he still lived, were the short, shallow breaths he took. Ráfi seemed content with Alarik's healing, but Elsa couldn't shake the fear he would not wake again.
Honeymaren, leading a group of hunters, found the bear by the second day. They returned to the village, grim-faced and bloody. They carried no meat or pelt.
"Desperate." Honeymaren's report to the elders was curt and quick. "It was desperate, starving and possibly sick. We burned the body to be sure."
The injured hunters came to Ráfi's to have their wounds tended. Most left shortly afterwards, some had to stay the night.
But eventually, they too left. Only Alarik remained.
……………
Alarik drifted in a void after the dreams- were they dreams?- only occasionally aware of unintelligible voices and an ever-present, yet distant, pain. It was easy, just to drift and not have to think, just observe, and be. He could have stayed like that for a long time, especially since doing any more seemed to increase the pain. Best to leave things be, then.
But there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. That he pulled away from the quiet and calm, for someone waited for him, needed him. Alarik resisted at first, not wishing to leave the comfortable state he was in, but the feeling grew, sending flashes of images and sensations through his mind.
Bewolf. A bear. A snarling maw. Running, lungs burning, too slow! His head striking stone, and the pain of claws flaying his body. Blood, hot and sticky, fire, then a voice, familiar and sweet...
ELSA!
His eyes snapped open, and almost immediately he shut them, the sudden introduction of light intolerable. He made to cover his face, but stopped when the movement ignited a fire across his back, agony so incredible he nearly lost consciousness. He cried out.
"Alarik, no, stay still. Shhhhh, shhhh, stay still."
"El...sa?" His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been screaming for hours. He slitted his eyes, and a shadow moved across his vision, easing the painful light.
"I'm here." She did not touch him, and he could hear the tremor in her voice. Alarik forced his eyes open the rest of the way, blinking away the blurriness. Elsa sat on a cot next to his, and a quick glance around confirmed that he rested in the healer's lavvu.
"How… how long have I…?"
Elsa looked down, her hands balling into fists. "Three days. It's… it's been three days." She trembled, and Alarik's heart sank. "I thought you might… I didn't think…" Her hands dropped to the furs, and he could see frost crawling out between her fingers.
"I am so sorry, Elsa."
"No, it's not your fault, it's just…" Her jaw clenched, and he could see tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "I didn't know if I would see you alive again."
Alarik felt a burning in his own eyes, and he extended a hand, palm up, towards Elsa, silently begging her to take it. She remained still for several seconds, the only movement coming from her heaving chest and the tears that tracked down her cheeks. Then, slowly, she let her shaking hand rest on his. Elsa's skin was cold- almost painfully so-, but Alarik twined his fingers with hers, hoping she would feel the warmth he had to offer.
"I'm here, Elsa." Alarik repeated. He tried to bring his other hand over to stroke her knuckles, but the movement sent another spike of pain down his muscles. He settled for squeezing her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she squeezed back.
The short exchange was proving exhausting, however, and Alarik struggled to keep his eyes open. Ever perceptive, Elsa freed her hand and pulled the blanket higher over his shoulders.
"Sleep, Alarik." She took his hand once more. "I'll be right here."
"So will I," he murmured as he began to drift off.
"So will I."
The last sensation he had was the feel of her lips brushing across his forehead.
Happy Birthday to His Royal Majesty, Dag Harald Thorir Geatland! Glad I got this finished on time! Set in my Beowulf!AU.
Dag, Alarik and Jenny belong to @patricia-von-arundel. This is very much influenced by her original Dag story Make Weep the Eyes of Day. Go read.
Margú and Ráfi are my own OCs.
You Have a Son
"Here. You have a new son."
Those were Anna's first words to her when she awoke, her sister's arms tilting to allow Elsa to see the tiny baby. So tiny, he could fit between Anna's outstretched hands.
Elsa used what little energy her broken body had to offer to stroke her son's cheek, to reassure herself he was real. The feel of his soft, warm downy skin under her finger brought moisture to her eyes, but she lacked the strength to truly cry.
Then she sank back into the furs, too exhausted to fight the clinging darkness.
Days passed- or, at least, Elsa assumed they did. For her, time was measured in the brief moments of lucidity she was able to maintain before succumbing to unconsciousness. It was difficult enough to hold her son long enough for him to nurse- most often she was supported by Alarik.
She refused to consider a wet nurse. If she could not carry her son to term, she would at least provide him with the nourishment he needed to survive. She could give him that much, even though he deserved so much more.
So much more than his failure of a mother.
Save for the few hours he would leave to see Jenny- who remained with Honeymaren and Ráfi- Alarik remained by her side. He always smiled when she woke- brushing her hair back with callused fingers and kissing her forehead- but Elsa could see the tension in his face and the sadness that never left his eyes. She could remember little of the actual birth- mostly just pain, endless pain, and her mental prayer for it all to end, even if it meant her own life was forfeit. She could see that same pain reflected in Alarik's eyes.
She knew he blamed himself.
But it was she who was the monster.
Anna remained with them, taking care of their son and helping mollify Jenny. Even with the arrival of Neta, and the constant presence of Margú, Jenny would still come to the cabin door each evening, calling out a greeting and reminding them how long it had been.
"One day, Mama."
Jenny wanted to see her new brother. Wanted to be back with her mother, in her cabin, to have life go back to normal.
And Elsa couldn't give her that. Couldn’t allow Jenny to see her in her current state. She couldn’t let Jenny see her mother weak and exhausted, dancing with death.
Sometimes, Elsa dreamed. They were terrible dreams- dreams filled with agony, and death. Sometimes she died. Those dreams, she could handle. But in some dreams, she beheld Alarik's tear-stained face, his eyes accusing, holding a limp, lifeless bundle.
"You killed him." The dream-Alarik would say in a voice that was as cracked and broken as she felt. "He was innocent, and perfect, and you killed him!"
She woke from those dreams with a scream on her lips, thrashing weakly, ignoring the pain it brought. She deserved that pain. Alarik, or Anna, or Honeymaren, or Ráfi- whomever watched her- would have to hold her down, talk to her, bring her son over so she could see that he was alive. Maybe not healthy, but alive. Those were the hardest times, when her panic would tax her strength to the limit, where her consciousness would ebb almost immediately, and she would sink back into the frightening darkness, desperately clinging to the feeling of her son's warm skin to keep her going.
"Two days, Mama."
The spirits remained close to the cabin, close to her.
Bruni and Gale were constant companions in the cabin itself.
Bruni had taken up residence on the top of the cradle, watching both Elsa and her son. If the baby complained even the slightest- he never cried, but he could whimper and mewl- Bruni was up in an instant, hopping down to nuzzle the baby's cheek and peep. Whenever the baby nursed, Bruni curled up in the crook of Elsa’s neck, watching with wide eyes. From the mental images Bruni sent, Elsa understood he was worried. Jenny had been strong and fierce, as fiery as the little spirit. Bruni didn’t see that in Elsa’s son. He didn’t want to stray too far from her son- Elsa understood.
Gale spent her time in the cabin as well, often blowing across Elsa’s heated skin- they needed to keep the cabin warm for the baby. Other times, she stayed as a small gust that spun between the bed and cradle, ruffling the hairs on the furs and worrying over the baby.
Without Elsa's ice, Nøkk remained confined to the waterways- most often standing in the stream beside their cabin where they could at least see her through the doorway, and she could see them. They also played with Jenny, keeping her blissfully unaware, at least for some time, of the sorrow within her home.
The size and number of Earth Giants meant there was little they could do, save for remaining as near the cabin as they could, forming an enormous stony wall on the horizon. All of them, no matter where, kept their mental connection with Elsa, sending feelings of encouragement, comfort and support.
Elsa wished she could share their confidence.
"Three days, Mama!"
“Thank you, little one.”
Elsa was able to push herself into a sitting position now, and her arms held her son without trembling while he nursed. She looked down into his bright blue eyes, gently smoothing back the wispy tufts of hair with a finger. Alarik sat next to her, looking down at the baby, his own hand coming up to cover hers.
She looked up at him- her love, her strength, and felt warmth bloom- as it always did at the sight of his devoted gaze. His face was lit up, a wide grin in place as he watched their son.
Their son.
"Have you thought of a name?" Alarik pulled his gaze to her, and she could see the hope on his face, hear it in his question. Elsa cast a glance out the window, to where she could see Jenny, Margú and Neta chasing one another.
"Jenny did. Or, at least she helped."
"She did?"
Elsa looked down at the baby, now detached from her breast, asleep. She wiped a bit of milk from the corner of his mouth and let the warmth in her chest grow. Let herself hope, just a bit.
