Ingrid Jorvikdatter's Story

Evangelina sat in the garden, enjoying the sweet fragrances that came from each of the unique and foreign flowers of this land. Of course, they were only foreign to her. As she whispered her fingers over the velvety petals of the red rose, she wondered how long before this place felt like home. She'd been in this part of the world for a year or so now, but the place never felt like home. Even when she had her own little cottage in the small town where the king had found her selling her wares. She'd thought at once, that it was because of her coloring, she would go months without seeing anyone with her shade but that wasn't it, perhaps it had something to do with the fact that her accent was still as strong as it had been when she'd first arrived. She didn't want to give it up nor did she try so that couldn't be it either.

Then she thought back to these last few days in the palace. The place was filled with intrigue and danger, making her feel even more out of place. She had no idea who did what to whose family which caused the feud and why the tension was so high between the families. She made a few friends though, The Prince was kind, though she rarely saw him or his wife, the fearsome Lady Ingrid, who she noted wore her bracelets, as if to say she did have a friend in this place, considering she was just as much of a stranger to this place as she was. She really ought to speak to her more. Then she thought of the sweet Brother Beorn. His interest in her was not in the least bit subtle but it was sweet nonetheless. She had enough to deal with, with the king.

Something stirred within her at the thought of him. She felt a twinge of fear and excitement every time she made her way to his chambers. It was incredibly foolish of her to put herself in danger like that but, and she hated to admit it, it was fun. She could understand why he enjoyed her company, because as far as she could tell, she gave him a similar rush. Surely, not the same, since he wasn't in any danger, but she could see without looking how the women and even some men walked around him like he'd order their death for sneezing. He didn't have anyone to defy him in a way that was just enough that it wasn't disrespectful. She didn't show that she was afraid of him and she wasn't about to.

Just before her thoughts began to drift toward their last encounter and his asking for a kiss and odd smell touched her senses. She had been seated on of the stone plant boxes and stood and sniffed. She frowned. "What is that?" She asked no one before a sharp crack echoed out and flames erupted before her eyes. She jumped back as smoke filled the gardens, the smell of burning wood, and flowers invaded her nostrils. Covering her mouth with a hand, she started for an exit. Wood cracked and embers leaped from all directions and it didn't take long before the entire place was in flames and she was trapped within a wall of fire. She rounded back, hoping to find another way out, but only found flames encroaching on her. Choking on smoke, she watched as a tree snapped, the sound echoing in her ears, She leaped back, her back hitting a wall and to her horror, she found herself pinned in the corner. Flames licked at her skin as they grew closer, so hot it felt like needles.

Smoke-induced tears stung her eyes and stole her breath, as she tried to find a way to get around the burning tree.

"What are you doing here?" called a familiar voice. Evangelina blinked a few times to see Brynjar barreling toward her, anger as hot as the flames themselves, and by the gods was she happy to see him so much so that she started toward the burning tree, toward him in a sprint as he hefted a part of the heavy limb, allowing her to duck under, which she did, the momentum of her sprint caused her to almost run right passed him, before she had time to turn around to thank him,

Another crack sounded, she whipped around as another tree cracked and toppled to the ground, pinning Brynjar beneath it. Evangelina wasted no time, she slid to her knees, and tried to pull his legs from where they'd been trapped, and when that didn't work, she decided the tree would be easier to move, so she anchored herself at his side, and used her shoulder and arms to push the tree that had fallen on his chest. She had to ignore his cries of pain, knowing that this was going to hurt but it was either that or he burned to death trying to save her.

Like an echo, the thought bounced around her head. He was trying to save her. He ran into the fire, to save her.

Strength anew, she dug her feet into the ground, the flames on the tree, curling around her shoulder and arm as she pushed, cried out with the effort, and sure enough the tree moved. Her muscles burned, but she didn't let that stop her, as she bent down, hooking her arms under his and pulling him with great effort backward, freeing his legs as well. She dropped to the ground, her body racked with coughs. "I thought... you were supposed... to be rescuing... me," She offered between breaths. "C'mon, up, I won't let you die for me," She said as she turned, trying to help him up, if his legs were as ruined as her arms, they weren't going to make it out of here alive

Ingrid took the rag from Beorn and gently pressed the cold bundle to Leo’s brow, while Beorn busied himself by the shelves. Ingrid had never been one for herbalism, it was far too delicate a process with far too much riding on it. Too little of an ingredient and nothing would happen, too much and a man might die because of your carelessness. On the battlefield, delicacy was not required.

“You should go and gather some more supplies,” she said quietly. “Better now when he is safe rather than later when it might be vital.”

The smell of acrid smoke drifted down the hallways as Ingrid tended to Lelinus. Beorn had gone and she could hear cries carry down the corridor. Her instincts pulled her in both directions. Run and help douse the flames, or stay with Lelinus. There was something in her that feared leaving Lelinus would be worse, not least if Brynjar was wandering around. Who knew what that bastard would do given free reign over his ill brother. No, for Lelinus’s sake, she would stay with him. “It’s alright love,” she murmured gently, wiping his brow, as she idly counted the days in her head again. She paused and began again, counting the days down on her hands. She must have miscounted, perhaps she had added a day onto their journey, or lost track of how long she had been here. Ingrid pushed the conclusion that was forming in her mind down. It was too soon for that surely? She shook her head and waited by Lelinus for Beorn to return.



Chaos everywhere. Red flames crackled as they grew higher, the smoke swirling, thick and black. The courtyard grew darker as the smoke blocked out whatever sun there had been. Men shouted orders and Tyr realised that he had frozen. He looked around, trying to peer through the flames to see if he could find Ingrid anywhere in the crowd or the courtyard. He saw Brynjar cross the courtyard to a far corner where another figure was obscured by the flame. Seeing no sign of his sister, Tyr grabbed a bucket of water and joined the efforts in getting the fire under control.

He heard a cry as he continued throwing water on the blaze and briefly looked up to see Brynjar and a serving girl being pulled from the flames. She must be the favourite of the month, assuming Brynjar didn’t change his fancy more often than that. The fire was under control now, but the carnage it had left behind was going to take much longer to repair. Where there had once been a garden, there was now little more than ash.

As the crowd thinned, Tyr noticed Elska beating back the flames. He wove through the people who remained until he was by her side. This close, he could see that she was shaking. He put his arm across her shoulders and gently pulled her back. “It’s done Elska, you can stop now. You can stop. Let me look at you,” he said as he turned her to face him. He studied her face as his hands grazed against her arms, his gaze following behind them. He turned her hands over in his and saw the early appearance of burns on her hands. “You need to get these seen to before they blister.”

"You're gentler than you appear," Lelinus murmured. The fever was still there and his body felt warm alnd sluggish, but he could still talk. He smiled when he felt her wipe his brow and he placed a hand on hers, "Don't worry. I am still here."

He glanced out their door, frowning slightly as he heard a dizzying commotion outside Beorn's quarters and then he smelt it. Smoke. He glanced at the shutters keeping the garden from their view, but not the few tendrils of smoke making their way into the room. He looked thoughtful.

"I didn't think my brother was capable of this," he whispered, "To arrange for a fire to be set in the gardens while I was ill... It was either his doing or terrible luck on our part."



Beorn said nothing as they helped the young king to his bed. He was not particularly gentle, but he did not go out of his way to cause him discomfort either. instead, he examined his injuries with thoughtful expression. They looked much worse than they were. All in all, Brynjar was quite fortunate. With time and some salve he had in his stores, the king would recover without a scar. He nodded in satisfaction.

"I will get you medicine and bandages, Your Grace. After a good night's rest, you should be up and about. I wish I could say the same for Prince Lelinus," he told him before glancing at Evangelina and noticing her discomfort.

"I will treat you as well, Evangelina," he told her. Inside his head, however, his thoughts were racing. How could he treat Leo with his supplies running out?

Lelinus had pulled through his fever. While he had been recovering, Ingrid had been obsessively counting the days that had passed. Even allowing for any error, there was no denying at least the possibility that she was carrying a child. It was rare that she was alone, but she was for now. She rested her hand on her stomach, imagining the child that might grow there. There was so much that still had to be done, and the possibility of a child only made her more desperate to see that their plan came to fruition.

She fastened her belt, leaving it a little looser than normal as it hung from her hips. Brynjar had recovered from his injuries as well. She had painted a pretty face when the news had reached her. There was no need to arouse suspicion from anyone just yet. She was certain that Brynjar had had a hand, however indirect, in the fire that had almost cost Lelinus his life. That was a transgression that Ingrid would not let slide. She knocked on the door of Lelinus’s room, announcing her arrival.

The fire was roaring beside Lelinus as she took a seat beside him. “How are you feeling?” she asked, taking his hand. She could talk to Beorn in a moment. For now, Lelinus was her focus.

"I think that your reasoning is sound, Your Grace. Your favor offers her riches and power beyond her wildest dreams, enough to ensure the propagation of her ideas and the continued existence of her order. Not to mention my patronage will ensure her the support of our holy mother church. If she turns against us despite all we can offer her, then she is a fanatic and fanatics are dangerous," he noted.

Julius ignored Evangelina. He had not quite forgiven the girl for her rude words to him upon meeting him. Still, he did not go out of his way to make things miserable for her. He was not the petty tyrant his rivals made him out to be. As he contemplated his next words, a servant arrived.

"Your Grace, Your Immanence, Ser Sarah Morgane has arrived," he reported breathlessly. Julius smiled.

"Ah. Apt timing."



Leo smiled at his wife. It had been pleasant for her to be with him during his time of trial. She had been gentle and attentive, nothing like the way people perceived her. Yet she had seemed distracted. Perhaps she was worried what would happen if his fever killed him. He couldn't blame her. He squeezed her hand.

"I am feeling much better. I think I am well enough to attend court if not today then tomorrow," Leo told her with a smile. Beorn bit his lip.

"You still have a fever."

"But the worst is over. I know my body. I should be as healthy as I ever am in a few days."

Beorn was about to reply when one of Lelinus' servants entered. He bowed to the prince.

"My prince. Ser Sarah has arrived! She is going to meet the king and the Patriarch."

Lelinus frowned.

"I had wanted to meet her first... Go, send her my greetings and invite her to my rooms. We must speak with her."

He glanced at Ingrid. If they were to survive and remove his brother from power, they would need the support of the people. The support this female war priestess commanded.

"It's a gamble... But a holy person would see through the Patriarch's greed and my brother's vanity," he murmured. Beorn looked thoughtful.

"I pray you are right."

“Don’t strain yourself. I don’t want you pushing yourself to exhaustion again,” she said, quietly siding with Beorn on the case of Lelinus’s health. She turned to the holy man to ask him if they might speak in private, but before she form any words, a servant came in. He bowed to Lelinus. Her grip on her husband’s hand momentarily tightened as she turned her gaze to the fire. She was used to the slights from the servants, but that didn’t mean the sting had completely vanished from them. It wasn’t that she thought that she was above them, but she certainly wasn’t deserving of this lack of respect, especially if one such as Brynjar was worthy of their reverence.

"My prince. Ser Sarah has arrived! She is going to meet the king and the Patriarch."

"I had wanted to meet her first... Go, send her my greetings and invite her to my rooms. We must speak with her."

Ingrid perked up at this knowledge. She had known that the warrior priestess was arriving soon, but she hadn’t realised that she was quite this important. “Perhaps I could talk to her? Woman to woman, warrior to warrior. She might be more inclined to listen to someone who has been in a similar position to herself?” Her gaze unwittingly looked over to the servant, whose attention was still on Lelinus. She looked to her husband before looking back to the flames. “Despite everything, I am still an outsider here.”

Leo felt his wife's grip tighten and saw the way she looked away in anger. His gaze fell upon the servant. Ah, He thought. This would need to be rectified. Ingrid was their princess and if they had their way, their future queen. It would not do for her to be slighted like this. He sent a glare the servant's way and he was gratified to see him squirm.

"Protocol please," he murmured before smiling at Ingrid and kissing her hand, "Do not worry, love. I will not exhaust myself. A part of me hopes the rumors that she can perform miracles is not just peasant gossip. I'd love to not deal with this every few months."

He squeezed her hand, "You speaking to her might be better. I do not know how she feels about Northmen, but it's a chance worth taking. If she is inclined to Brynjar's way of thinking, we cannot do anything about it. Take Beorn with you. He can be of some help. She would respect a monk at least."

"But, Lelinus. You are still weak," Beorn objected. Leo smiled mischievously. He gestured the servant who fidgeted nervously.

"Don't worry, I have someone to help me around."

Beorn suppressed a snort. Well, he'd learn not to slight Ingrid at least.



"It is good to see you, Ser Morgane," Julius told the young woman with a slight smile. It was rare to meet someone who showed him respect with no hidden contempt or guile beneath the smile. He walked beside her as they made their way to the throne room, ignoring the king's maid. It was well that Brynjar reminded her of her place.

"I have heard nothing but good things about you, Ser Morgane, but forgive me for having to question you on your doctrine. It is my solemn duty to safeguard the orthodoxy of the Church in His Grace's realm," he noted. It was good that she recognized their authority, he thought, but there was no harm in a subtle reminder of the power of his position. Still, all would be well as long as the knight was not confronted with the king's... faults.

Ingrid pulled her mask down over her face. The wire curled in and around itself, framing her eyes and curling out into something that resembled butterfly wings, while the centre resembled a wolf. It was pretty and delicate, and nothing like her. The wolf had been Tyr’s idea, why let them forget who you are, he had said. She had never been to a masquerade before, although she wasn’t entirely sure that was the only reason for the butterflies in her stomach. She had been tied into another corset which had only further proved her suspicion that these things were torture devices. While the maids had been distracted, Ingrid had loosened the ties around her hips. She really needed to speak to Beorn about this.

Her dress was deep blue with a gold belt around the waist and gold flowers sweeping along the cuffs and the train. Ingrid sighed and pushed a lock of hair back. She felt like a doll. A very pretty doll, but still a doll. As she made her way to the ballroom, she saw Lelinus. She frowned. Surely he and Brynjar hadn’t argued already. She smoothed out her dress. “Are you alright Lelinus? Did something happen?”



Tyr pressed his mask back to his face. Byrdain had some odd customs. What was the point in a party if you couldn’t be sure who you were talking to. This seemed like a massive risk for a man who saw enemies everywhere. Still, the contents of Brynjar’s head were welcome to remain a mystery to Tyr. His mask was simple. Excessive adornment had never been his way of doing things, which was only another way that he differed from Brynjar. The only adornment stretched across the top of the mask in a stylised hawk.

He knocked on the door of Elska’s chambers, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Elska?” he asked through the door. He looked up and down the corridor. Seeing no one, he continued, “I realise we never discussed this, but I was wondering if I might accompany you tonight. To the ball. I understand if you don’t, but I thought I would offer.”

"No, no. I just wanted to check up on you. You've seemed a bit distant lately and I wanted to see you before we dive into the pit of snakes," he told her, gesturing towards the ballroom. He could not help but take in her appearance with a slight smile. Sometimes, he could not believe he was married to such a beautiful woman. She definitely didn't like it and her leathers suited her more, but she was still beautiful, if only in a different way.

"You would be happy to know that the women in there wear dresses three times as ridiculious as yours, but are not a quarter as lovely as you are," he told her honestly.



The masquerade was a silly thing, Beorn thought to himself. Many of the fine lords and ladies here wore garments worth more than his own life. But he was glad that Lelinus pulled some strings to arrange for himself and Evangelina to attend. If he coud only... If he could cast himself in a different light then maybe she might return his interest in her. It was a silly desire in times like these, but he could not help but possess it all the same.

"I hope that you are enjoying the party. I don't think there are many woman who are as lovely tonight as yourself," he tried as he approached Evangelina with a smile on his face when he saw she was alone.

mask
dress

"No, no. I just wanted to check up on you. You've seemed a bit distant lately and I wanted to see you before we dive into the pit of snakes,"

Ingrid frowned. She hadn’t meant to be distant from him. True her...condition had taken up a portion of her mind, but she had not meant to seem like she was pulling away from him or anything like that. “It’s nothing to worry about. I just worried about everything is all. I’ll just speak to Beorn, see if he knows of anything that might alleviate my anxiety.”

"You would be happy to know that the women in there wear dresses three times as ridiculous as yours, but are not a quarter as lovely as you are,” Lelinus said.

Ingrid looked down at her dress. This was a far cry from her usual fare, it was altogether too pretty and soft for her, but she could admire the workmanship in the edging on the gown. And it was pretty. A smile tugged at her lips and brushed a lock of hair back. “I feel ridiculous, no matter how silver your tongue is.” Her smile faltered as she looked down the hall behind Lelinus. “Shall we?”


mask
tunic

Elska opened the door and Tyr felt his mouth go dry. She was a vision before him. He had read of angels, and fancied that one might look like Elska, if such a thing weren’t blasphemy. There was a rather inconvenient conclusion lingering in the distant recesses of his mind. It couldn’t be ignored forever, but for now, it would remain treacherous and hidden. Gods, he wished he were home. Things were much simpler there.

“I would like that.”

Tyr couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at her answer. It was such an innocent string of words and such an innocent desire to be beside her that was being indulged. At her invitation, he followed her into her chambers but waited by the door while he waited for her to finish dressing. Everything she was wearing was incredibly ornate, more than anything she had worn back in Fjellborg. He heard a sigh coming from the bed and looked over, an eyebrow raised in question. “Tyr, would you mind?” she asked, holding up a pair of shoes.

“Of course not,” he said, a laugh mixed in his voice. Tyr took the shoes and gently slid them onto her feet. His fingers brushed against her skin, and he was suddenly conscious of the placing of his hand. It wasn’t too high was it? This wasn’t uncomfortable, was it? He pulled his hand away. “You look beautiful,” he said, hoping it came off flippant and not too eager. He rose from his knees, holding a hand out for her. “Shall we?”

"You speak as if I'd care. You misjudge me," Beorn mock accused with a smile. The way she spoke of dancing made him desire to see her dance even more, "Of course I think of you dancing.... You seem like the dancing type. If you wish, we can dance here or I can show you the garden. It is bare, but life is slowly returning. Or you can show me how to really dance here. Tonight, I do not much care about the opinion of those around me."

He was feeling reckless tonight. It was unnusual for a reserved person like himself, but what was the harm in taking a chance every now and then?



Leo nodded in understanding. Things with his brother had been dull lately, but the danger was still there both for themselves and the people around them, particularly in the course they had decided to take. As of this moment Lelinus was the heir to the throne and one of the few voices that could challenge his brother. Tonight, he would have to find a way to speak to Ser Sarah and convince her to support him or at least oppose his brother.

"I am sure he will be willing to take a little time tonight to help you," he told her before smiling at her words. He took her hand and kissed it.

"We shall, my lovely Fjellborgan wife."

With that said, he entered ballroom with his wife, looking for all the word like he was the happiest he had ever been and to tell the truth, he was. The sting of his father's death had lessened and the feelings that were growing between him and Ingrid were enough to make him feel like he was walking on air. As he entered the room, he spotted a couple dressed in red. He smiled brightly at them.

"Good evening." He greeted, attempting to match their lower facial features with his memories and drawing a blank. He shook his head.

"I cannot guess who you are. If you are the legendary knight and her brother, then it might be providence at work." He jested.

"Seems word gets around..." Sarah said giving her brother a look "I did say masks where a bad idea..."

Marcus chuckled " Careful you may be talking to the king now and just insulted him."

"I don't think so...I know voices..."

"Ah dear sister we are being rude talking amongst ourselves"

Marcus turned to the man that greeted them "Do forgive us good sir and lady I am Marcus Morgane Knight of the Scarlet Order and This.." he gestures toward his sister "is my lovely sister Sarah High Priestess and Commander of the Scarlet order."

Sarah nods then speaks " My brother does love his titles...Now I must ask who it is we have the honor of speaking too?"

"Yes, I suppose you are right. Forgive me." He told her. Though a servant, Beorn was still rather privileged compared to many others in the palace. Thanks to his affiliation with Lelinus and the church, he was shielded from most people who would happily squash him for any perceived slight against them, but Evangelina was both a woman and a foreigner. He sometimes forgot what that meant.

"Our ways are not so bad," he continued, placing a hand around her waist and leading her on to the ballroom floor as the music played. He smiled brightly as new notes joined the melody and in a sudden movement, he brought her into a slight dip before bringing her back up and giving her an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I should have warned you."



"Oh, this is a surprise. I had only been jesting. I am Lelinus Augustus, Prince of Byrdain and this is Princess Ingrid Jorvikdatter, Princess of Fjellborg and Byrdain, my lovely wife," he told them. It was better that he should put her heritage front and center rather than dancing around it. Knights, real knights, appreciated honesty.

"I am happy that you have decided to visit the capital. The court is awash with your legend. I hope that you may see the fruits of your labor in the this time of peace ahead," he told them with a smile. It was a calculated probe. If this priestess was willing to leave the war with Fjellborg in the past, then she could be a valuable ally indeed. She'd have to see Brynjar for what he was, however. A virtuous knight would not brook rebellion. Not without just cause.