She is the god's fae, condemned to look upon the Viking King Ragnar in silence and watch him as he killed, loved and lost and fall in deep love with him in the process.
Then one day on the cold hill's side, Ragnar battle worn and asking for death t...
"O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing."
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Blood trickled in a thin line against his skin before it dropped into the stream. The water around his cheek turned red as his nose bled. All was still as the sound of water over pebbles rushed into his ears.
He didn't think about what caused it - withdrawal symptoms and the chill in the air - not because he didn't care but because it happened so often he was tired of thinking about it. Blood had never been unusual to him but now it was a daily occurrence.
The taste of the blood mixed with the freshness of the water reminded him of Lagartha. He heard her voice in his head but he couldn't picture her. He hadn't seen any face in six months. His tongue tasted bitter.
Ragnar told himself he liked it that way, he didn't wish to see ghosts haunting his new life.
He just didn't know one particular phantom had been haunting him his whole time on Earth.
The sinister laughter of his sons could not console him, his true wife's face offered no comfort. Floki was a reminder of Paris and the sweet French wine he licked off his lips. His brother was no longer his brother and Aslaug, his beautiful wife was no longer a lover.
The only ghost left in his life flicked in the corner of his vision. A rustle of leaves.
The water rippled as he left his resting place. He had passed out there yesterday morning after he reached down to cup water in his hand to drink. He stayed there even when the water turned to ice and thawed again in the morning.
"Who's there?" His voice cracked under the sudden use as did his back as he stood up.
The air was piercing on his cheek. He stared around like a deer, his eyes wide waiting for danger. The Viking in him was loosing the war against insanity. Nothing had moved. Nothing had moved in a long time.
He cracked his neck in the other direction. Nothing.
He swore he had heard the same sound yesterday but time passed in a daze for the King. No longer was their order, the sun and the moon meant nothing.
Time passed by neither quickly or slowly, it was no longer a entity. It was simply the slow dance the moon played for him and the sun danced for him.
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