Alfild walked with Hvitserk a fair distance towards Harald and Ivar before she decided they should part. He would soon be traded as a hostage with another on Lagertha's side, Alfild assumed they would choose Halfdan, and he would have to remain with them.
The Queen wasn't sure why she was afraid, and yet fear coursed through her anyway. She didn't wish to hear that Hvitserk had swapped sides, that she'd be forced to face him on the battlefield.
She knew that he had his doubts about Ivar's leadership. She understood that Hvitserk missed Ubbe, that the pair had always been inseparable. And yet, she selfishly prayed that Hvitserk would remain with them. As it stood, she didn't have many people whom she trusted. And though she loved Ivar, sometimes Hvitserk appeared easier to talk to.
"Come back to us, Hvitserk." She smiled gently towards the boy.
He gave a charming grin and spoke with an air of undisturbed calm that she hadn't seen within him since Ubbe left, "How could I leave you?"
She chuckled, hitting his arm and hugging him tightly. It was odd for her, to behave in such a way. She'd never really had friends and the concept of even shaking people's hands made her scoff. Usually, she would avoid any and all social interaction and the human contact that came with it. And yet, as the Prince held her tightly, she didn't exactly wish to let him go.
"I will see you when you return." She said simply.
"And I'll see you when we win." He answered her, pushing aside her earlier talk of death upon the battlefield.
Alfild watched as her friend walked away, unaware of the glare that seemed to shoot from Ivar like an arrow towards his brother. Or should one say, like an axe?
She stepped away with an oblivious gaze centered on the ground and then decided it would be best if she returned to the camp. She had swords to sharpen before battle, after all.
As the remaining two brothers rode towards their enemies, there seemed to be an awkward atmosphere that permeated the surroundings. Ivar seemed furious, though nothing was new there. Meanwhile, Hvitserk seemed far too pensive to care. Harald simply looked between them, wondering what was happening.
When Harald and Ivar returned with Halfdan, Alfild was nowhere to be seen. She didn't exactly care about the hostage situation. She had her crown and her home, the events within Kattegat mattered little to her. She was there to fight, not to take part in petty quarrels and politics. Though, these were things that she would've never told Ivar.
Instead, the Queen decided to venture towards the forest to pray. She needed strength and unity, and she hoped that the gods could provide it.
As she had allowed herself to grow and show vulnerability towards others, she found herself struggling to know the balance. Now that she wasn't suppressing her every feeling, they all seemed to bubble towards the surface as though she were sixteen again and trapped in her nightmares. To lead, she had to be strong and stable. To love, she had to allow herself weakness. And yet finding the balance between Queen and woman seemed so hard. In all honesty, she couldn't quite recall who the woman beneath her crown even was. For so many years, she merely played the part of Alfild The Merciless. But who was that? Who was she? What were all these crazy emotions that she was feeling?
Slowly, she bent down onto her knee. Her head bowed to the hilt of her sword and she closed her eyes.
"Freyja give me strength." She began. "Give me strength to know myself again. Help me win the battle within me as well as the battle for Kattegat. Let me be strong like a Valkyrie and wise like a Volva. Let me be all that I need to be. Guide me."