In which Freya Ylvasdottir has been prophecied by the Seer to be destined to betray her mother, Queen Ylva the Dread and Bjorn Ironside, her mother's husband, and no matter what she does to try to avoid her fate, all roads lead back to the betrayal...
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It was morning time and of course, Freya had been forced by Ivar to ride through Kattegat until they made it to where his wooden statue had been broken in half. On top of it, there had been a boar's head, but now, there was a sword driven right through it.
A crowd had formed and Ivar stared at it with wide eyes. From afar, Freya's eyes locked on Halig, who stood within the crowd, hidden. The smallest of smirks were on his face, giving her the idea that it had been his doing.
He turned on his heel, just before leaving without another word said.
"Who could do such a thing?" Ivar asked in a soft whisper and Freya shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know," She replied quietly as she shook her head.
It wasn't long before Ivar had given orders for his men to wreak havoc within the town. Men, women, and children alike were ripped from their homes to be questioned or even tortured.
In the woods, Freya found herself standing alone, her hands placed on her growing belly. She watched as numerous women, men, and children were dragged there. They attempted to fight back, only to have oil poured on them before they were lit on fire.
Freya shifted uncomfortably and believe it or not, she couldn't help but feel guilty as she watched the people burn, knowing it was her own fault it was happening. If she hadn't made Ivar think he was a god, none of this would have happened.
She sighed, trying to hide all emotion as she was forced to watch.
Just then, Freya gasped, feeling a sharp pain in her belly. She pressed a hand against her belly, only to cry out as she felt water trickle down her thighs. Her eyes widened in alarm and she desperately shook her head, realizing what was happening. "No, no, no," She cried softly, unable to come to terms what was about to occur, "Not now, not yet!"
____
Hours later, Freya laid in bed, screaming in agony as she gave birth to her child. A midwife sat in between her leg and across the room, Ivar was sitting alone, drinking all the mead he could get his hands on as he impatiently waited for the birth of his supposed son.
As her screams only became louder, Ivar turned his head and watched, anxiously beginning to bite his nails.
"Push, my Queen! Push!" The midwife encouraged her and Freya weakly nodded her head, screaming out loudly as she continued to push as much as she could.
"The head! One more," She encouraged her in a pleading tone and after one last push, the child was born.
Freya let out a loud breath of relief as she threw her head back and finally got the chance to relax. She gradually began to smile, the sound of her child letting out a loud cry feeling like music to her ears since it meant he was healthy.
