He was the conqueror. She was the sacrifice.
He was powerful. She was unexpected.
He was certain. She was uncertainty.
He formed a nation. She formed his world.
Together they would make history.
▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
xli. Sweet Sorrow
Harald's heart broke when his eyes fell upon his brother's unmoving corpse.
There he was. Halfdan. His brother and companion for many years. He was now dead by his own brother's hand. Guilt overwhelmed his being as blood trickled down his face, the combined blood of all he had slain, both familiar and strange.
Being a warrior made one accustomed to the scent of blood but being faced with it time and time again, no one could ever be ready for what it meant. It may take on the guise of maroon liquid but it was a corruption that took over a person's soul.
Closing his eyes, he thought he could hear the distant shouts of celebration from the decorated halls of Valhalla. It was almost as if he could hear ale being poured and songs being sung but opening his eyes brought him back to the harsh reality that he no longer had a brother.
His jaw clenched as he tried to suppress his emotions, raising his sword above his brother's body and internally apologizing for what he had done. He could only pray to the gods that they give him the chance to reconcile with his brother once he himself enters Valhalla.
The roars of celebration caught his attention as the Frankish soldiers raced across the battlefield, their lances and spears raised as they chased after those who were still alive from Bjorn's army, soldiers who were running back to Kattegat.
Forcing himself to stand up, he raced after them, trying to immerse himself in the victory they had achieved. In fact, he needed to find Kari. She would know what to say, how to make him understand what he had done. She could remind him of everything that mattered to them.
She had always been his calming force. His anchor for when his own thoughts threatened to drive him away into the dangerous waves. As he ran, his legs burning with exertion, he tried to spot the familiar golden-haired girl only to come across more and more corpses.
Running alongside the soldiers, he began to worry as they came across piles and piles of dead soldiers, both their allies and those from the other side. Everyone lay unmoving, the battlefield resembling a massacre instead of a battleground for the kingdom of Kattegat.
Harald's heart had been pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything. The adrenaline combined with exertion had caused him to block out most anything else. Dread began to creep in when he covered more distance.
All of a sudden, his heart froze in his chest as his eyes fell upon a sight that he had not prepared himself for. It was a sight that should have belonged in his nightmares, not at all meant to happen in real life. His hands shook before he was even able to register the sight.
Even at that moment, he had a hard time believing that what he was seeing was real and not just a figment conjured up by his own guilt to punish him. He faltered in his steps, refusing to move forward even as countless bodies ran past him, oblivious to the internal tempest surging inside him.
