Tattered

Chapter 17

I grit my teeth but continued to follow her. I'd come to like Helga over the past weeks, even hoped that she could be a friend. Perhaps I'd misjudged her.

The halls soon became wider, the floors cleaner. Large tapestries covered the walls and candelabras hung from the ceiling. Helga stopped in front of a large oaken door. She moved her hand to knock but hesitated. Instead she turned around to face me.

"Be careful," She mouthed without making a sound. Before I had any time to react, she turned back around and gave two hard knocks on the door.

"Come in," A voice called from inside.

She opened the door, revealing Queen Freydis reclining on a chair in her chambers. The rooms were beautiful, certainly more ornate than the royal chambers back in Geatland. Gorgeous works of art hung upon the walls, edged in gilded frames. A circular table boasted various pretty things- brushes, powders, rings, and more. Ingrid would have just about fainted at the site of it.

"Thank you, Helga," Freydis said, nodding to the thrall girl. Helga bowed her head, not giving any indication that she even recognized me. She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Please, sit," Freydis said sweetly, gesturing to the chair next to hers. I stood there in uncertainty for a moment, but eventually gathered my wits enough to sit down. I awkwardly tried to shift my large frame on the delicate wooden chair.

"I was very impressed with your skills in the holmgang," Freydis said, still smiling benignly. "I can't imagine how you can fight like that."

"Yes, well," I said, clearing my throat. "It takes practice." I began to fidget with the edge of my tunic. Small talk was not my forte, and the queen clearly did not summon me hear just to praise my fighting. It was times like these that made me miss father's blunt way of speaking.

Freydis tucked a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear. Her hair was intricately braided into a knot behind her head, the stray locks tumbling down to her back. Her dress was simple, a beige fabric designed with a pattern of flowers and ferns. Around her neck, however, glittered a beautiful golden torque. It glinted when the metal caught the sun.

"Well, I think it's just wonderful," She said. "I've always thought that there should be more women in our troops. It makes me proud to see you fight, my dear. I wanted to thank you, personally, for all you do."

I blinked at her. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. I opened my mouth to say something, though none of the thoughts running through my head were coherent yet.

A sharp noise suddenly sounded from nearby, making me jump in my chair. Freydis chuckled at my reaction and walked over to a bassinet in the back of the room, one that I had not bothered to notice before. She picked up a whimpering baby swaddling in fine cloth and returned to sit next to me. The baby's face was wrinkled and blotchy from the crying. It couldn't have been more than a few months old.

"I'm sorry," Freydis apologized, slowly rocking the baby from side to side. "He's usually not so fussy."

"It's alright," I assured her, still gathering my wits. The baby slowly stopped crying and peeked its head around to look at me. It squinted its tiny eyes and made a small gurgling sound.

"What's his name?"

"Valdar." Freydis rocked the infant back and forth in her arms. "Doesn't he look like his father?"

For the moment, the little thing looked more like a gremlin than anything else, but I told the queen that he indeed looked just like a little Hrothgar.

I'd seen Hrothgar's two older sons around in the mead hall, but I hadn't heard of Hrothgar's son by Freydis. They were most likely postponing the official announcement until the child survived infanthood- a common practice, especially among royals.

Haldor, Hrothgar's oldest son, only resembled his father in his long curly hair, from what I'd seen of him. Otherwise, I could only assume he took after his mother, the late Queen Ylva. Rorik, Hrothgar's second oldest, however, was a carbon copy of the old man. Or at least, what old king Hrothgar must have looked like when he was in his prime.

Queen Ylva had been dead for some years now. Hrothgar, of course, had remarried not long after. Freydis was much younger than the Danish king, from a respectable line of thanes. Now Freydis was the Lady of Heorot. It suited her well, from what I could see.

I pictured Helga's stiffness, her wordless warning: Be careful. There was more to this woman than I was seeing.

"If I may ask, my lady," I said slowly. I took a deep breath to gather my courage. "Why did you really wish to see me?"

Freydis raised her gaze from her son to me, piercing me with her gold-green eyes.

"Have you met my lord's other sons, Lady Brynhildr?" She asked.

I frowned at the sudden intensity in her voice.

"No, your highness," I replied. "I haven't had the opportunity."

Freydis nodded as if this was the answer she'd expected.

"My stepsons are incompetent fools," Freydis stated casually, as if this was a simple fact and not a scathing insult directed at her husband's heirs. "They would prefer to spend their time drinking and whoring rather than preparing for the great burden of kingship that will fall onto one of their shoulders."

I leaned back, affronted by her words. "My lady, I don't think-"

"Hrothgar is an old man," Freydis continued undaunted. "Nearly fifty and nine years old. What will happen to this nation when he dies, and Haldor the Oaf becomes the new King of Denmark?" She didn't give me a chance to respond before answering her own question. "Ruin! The great lineage of the Danish kings destroyed by a single weakling." Valdar began to cry again as Freydis raised her voice, and she rocked him back and forth to quiet him. "Who would your father have Geatland support, Lady Brynhildr?" Freydis asked, her gaze intense and threatening. "A weak king like to destroy this country or the wise prince who will forge an alliance between our kingdoms, stronger than ever before?"

Valdar twisted his tiny head to look up at me, his wide eyes seeming to ask for my choice.

I stood up loudly, accidentally knocking back the table with my knees. "Geatland does not support usurpations of rightful heirs!" I told her vehemently. "If lord Hrothgar knew-"

"Sit down, girl," Freydis said, her voice growing noticeably colder. "Hrothgar is well aware of my and his sons' actions."

I blinked. "He is?"

"It is a sort of game to him, watching his wife and children outmaneuvering each other to gain an advantage for his succession," She said with a roll of her eyes. "Like all men, his arrogance far outmatches his wits. It pleases him greatly to think that a grand civil war will be fought in his name, that bards will write grand songs about his bloody legacy."

I did not sit back down. Valdar gurgled, his chubby hands grasping at the air.

"Geatland will support the rightful heir to the Danish throne according to the laws of the gods," I said, my voice just as icy as hers. "I thank you for your time, your grace." I turned to leave the room.

"Your father may not agree with such a rash decision, princess," Freydis's voice drifted after me. "You still have much to learn about how this world works."

I slammed the door as hard as I could behind me.