Chapter 8

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"Axe or sword?" Hvitserk continued, still trying to make conversation as we walked - even if talking to me was like talking to a rock

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"Axe or sword?" Hvitserk continued, still trying to make conversation as we walked - even if talking to me was like talking to a rock.

"Sword." I answered monosyllabicly, quickly realising that I was probably expected to say more. But after so many years on my own, I still hadn't quite gotten a grasp on how to be a good conversationalist. "I was never trained to use an axe."

"Well, maybe we should train you." He suggested. "But between us, I prefer swords as well."

"I know." I answered, making him look at me rather rapidly in confusion. "I saw you and your brothers training back in Gwynedd." I explained, subduing the concern that had quickly spread across his face. "You're a strong fighter."

"Thank yo-"

"But you leave yourself open when you swing with your right arm." I continued.

"Maybe you should teach me then." He spoke with a small grin, that I ignored as I kept walking.

"Perhaps." I nodded, before continuing forwards and away. As Ivar and Ubbe caught up, I could still hear their voices behind me.

"She's out of your league, brother." Ivar said with a scoff, earning what sounded like a sigh and likely an eye-roll to accompany it.

"I was just being nice." He corrected his brother calmly. "You know, not everyone is our enemy."

"It looked like you were enjoying the conversation more than her." Ivar spoke again, his smug smirk evident in his voice.

It was true, I was brash and dismissive. But the conversations that I'd had with Hvitserk, however brief, were comforting to say the least. It was nice to speak to someone who didn't wish me dead or hate me for how I was born.

"We should make camp." I returned to the conversation, stopping in my tracks. "It's getting dark."

"What a brilliant idea," Ivar began sarcastically. "That I didn't already think of."

I'd found my coping mechanism for his obnoxious retorts had become rolling my eyes and walking away, so I decided that I would search for a more secluded area that I could sleep in. As the trees began to hide me from the others, I made camp beneath the stars. The distant sounds of warriors laughing and drinking was quieter here, and I took peace under the dark skies. A deep sigh, exhaling my every emotion, ran through me as I lent back against a tree. And, instead of eating, I decided that I should get some sleep. It had been a long walk and I was exhausted, I could always eat tomorrow.

As my eyes closed, the distant sounds silenced and I began to drift away into another world. A different place entirely.

My mother lay upon the ground, drenched in her own blood. She was cold, lifeless, unmoving. And I couldn't move either. I was still, petrified. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared at her.

Her eyes jolted open, black orbs staring up at me. Her once kind blue eyes were gone, replaced with death and decay. "You killed me, Gwen." She said, her voice vengeful and cold.

"I didn't mean to!" I cried. "I'm so sorry!"

"You killed me." She repeated. "Like you kill everyone." Her hand grasped the collar of my dress so that I couldn't escape. "Everyone you love dies because of you. You're poison."

I wept, struggling against her violently. My screams echoed, yelling cries. And suddenly I fell back, my dress ripped, and I was no longer beside the corpse of my mother. I was locked away in that cold dark cell, 11 years old and broken. My dress was bloody and ripped, but this time it was my own blood.

The guard that had been watching over me stood up from my bed, had around my throat. "Remember what will happen if you say a word." He spoke harshly, slamming me back down. I hadn't eaten in days, hadn't slept due to nightmares. I'd been beaten and bruised and tortured.

"Yes." I spoke timidly, wishing with all my heart to get away from this monster. I had no control over my abilities yet, and though I wished all night that I could've thrown him across the room as I had to my innocent mother, nothing had happened. I couldn't fight back. I was too weak.

"Yes what?" He snarled.

"Yes, my love." I spoke through gritted teeth, feeling sick as the words left me.

The nightmare continued, as I found myself being thrown onto the pire, the fire beneath me rising higher with each second. I screamed and screamed and screamed.

"Gwen!" A voice in the dark made me jolt awake, someone's hand on my shoulder shaking me. As my eyes adjusted, I quickly realised who it was. Hvitserk. "You're okay, it was just a nightmare." He told me, making me jolt back into reality.

"What-" I began, feeling tears welling in my eyes.

"I thought you'd be hungry." He gestured to the bowl of food beside my bed, making me smile weakly. "But I heard you screaming and- I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you, Hvitserk." I smiled gently. Unable to hold back my army of tears. As I began to sob uncontrollably, he slowly pulled me into a hug. The only person who's ever hugged me before that day was my mother. And for the first time since her death, I felt safe. I didn't feel alone. Before I could stop myself, words began to spill out. "I killed her." I sobbed into his shoulder. "It was my fault."

"You killed who?" He furrowed his brows, looking down at me as I shook with grief.

"My mother." My voice cracked in agony. "I was ten." I began explaining. "I had a nightmare, and she heard me scream. She came to help me and I killed her. I didn't know that I had magic, I didn't mean to. But everyone around me dies."

He could clearly see the utter grief in my eyes, and I could see the sympathy in his. My heartbreaking tale, making even strong Viking warriors feel sorrow. "That's not your fault." He spoke calmly, something that I'd always needed to hear but was never told. "You can't blame yourself for things that happened when you were a child."

"Gwen, darling, what's wrong?" My mother's sweet voice called out, making me jump up. I was crying, a dead snail in my hand as I wept.

"I killed it, mother." I said with such grief. "I was walking and I stood on it and- and it's all my fault."

My mother chuckled, not at the death of the snail but at the golden heart that I possessed. Slowly, she knelt down to my eye height, pulling me into a hug. "That's not your fault, Gwen." She spoke gently. I refused to listen, shaking my head and blaming myself again. "You can't blame yourself forever, darling." She responded, a small smile on her lips.

Images flashed through my mind, my mother lying on the ground with glass around her. I killed her too. I'd killed many friends as well. Everyone close to me died. I was a curse. And why would Hvitserk be any different?

Sharply I pulled away, brushing away my tears and staring anywhere but at him. "I'm sorry, I was being stupid. Ignore me."

"Gwen-" He began.

"You can go. Thank you for the food." And before he could say another word, I turned my back on him. As I listened to him leave, I wanted nothing more than to run out and speak to him again. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. So I stayed in the dark, alone again. In silence and solitude forever.

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