Chapter 17

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Since I'm writing this before 6b aired I'm no longer gonna be sticking to the storyline but tbf this book wasn't meant to follow the actual plot of Vikings anyway, I just couldn't help myself lmao

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Since I'm writing this before 6b aired I'm no longer gonna be sticking to the storyline but tbf this book wasn't meant to follow the actual plot of Vikings anyway, I just couldn't help myself lmao. Anyway enjoy.
-Rhi

Some years had passed, time moving on in its endless stream that never seemed to pause for even a second. Ivar was still young, but in his time he had already lost so much on this cruel earth.

His mother, his father, Signy, Sigurd, the love of his brother's and people, his beloved wife, his kingdom. But he hadn't lost everything, and that was the small hope that he clung to. For, when he looked at the young girl, training with her sword for battles yet to come, he could see everyone in her. And as her long red hair glistened in the sunlight, like a firey trail behind her, he could see Ailbe as clear as day. She wasn't there, but he knew that she'd be proud. And every day he made it his mission to ensure that little Aslaug would not forget her beautiful mother.

He told her stories of the gentle woman, and every night Aslaug said the same thing with a sad sigh. "I wish that I had known mother," She'd say. "I wish I'd had a mother like that."

But Ivar always held her close, reminding the child that Ailbe would forever be there in the girl's heart - explaining that she was watching them from the fields of Folkvangr with a soft smile.

There was no doubt that Freyja had chosen her, she was certainly the most virtuous woman in all of the world. And Ivar prayed everyday that one day he would see her again. One day.

"Father?" Aslaug asked quietly. "Why did the Gods take her?"

In honesty, what could he say to her? That the Gods didn't take her, that she died because he'd broken her heart? How could he tell her that? It was an agony that he must live with until the end of days, the guilt and pain that followed him everywhere of knowing that he was the one who caused her death. It was his fault.

"Because," He answered with a gentle smile, pushing away his previous thoughts. "Your mother was special, and I think the Gods were jealous that we had her and they didn't."

The girl nodded, satisfied with the answer, hugging him tightly. "I love you." She whispered tiredly, a small tear in her eye.

"I love you too." He assured her, holding on to the precious child - more precious than any gold or silver.

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