Ingrid Jorvikdatter's Story

"Long enough to admire your form... And to see that you rival our new king. It's best you don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't want to wound his ego."

Ingrid let out a small laugh. "Oh, I don't know, might do him some good."

"I actually prefer the bow. My father used to say it was the thinking man's weapon. A man could defend his city without opening the gate." Ingrid could sense that Lelinus's thoughts were wandering. She remained silent, not wanting to interrupt him. She knew from experience that distractions, no matter how well intended, were rarely welcome when someone was grieving. Her own thoughts turned to Tyr. Like Lelinus, he favoured the bow. Not that she had ever thought it to be a thinking man's weapon while it had been in Tyr's hands. A deadly weapon, yes. Tyr had rarely missed his mark. Still, Tyr was the wisest of the three, well two now, of them. Perhaps Lelinus was right. "He was as wise as he was strong. He didn't arrange my marriage poorly."

Ingrid smiled down at the ground. "Both nations need peace and it seems the gods chose us younger children are destined to be the symbol of it. I can think of worse people to be a symbol with."

---

Tyr kept his head down as he made his way back to the guest house that the Fjellborgans had been granted as a living quarters while they were in Byrdain. How gracious of them, Tyr had thought at the time. Then he realised that half the rooms were in disrepair. The slights were coming thick and fast. First they married Ingrid to a man who would be lucky to survive to thirty, and then housed her family in a building that was falling apart.

Tyr felt the gaze of the men on him as he crossed the hall to Jorvik's room. He knocked twice and let himself in. Jorvik was sat at the desk and barely noticed Tyr enter the room. Tyr quietly closed the door behind him. He took a moment to study his father. King Jorvik was a man who was rapidly approaching his twilight years, if he had not already embraced them. His face was lined with wisdom, age, war and grief. His hair was peppered with grey.

"Father," he cleared his voice, announcing his presence.

Jorvik looked up, startled as he saw his eldest child. His eyes were a watery blue, sparkling as Jorvik's face crinkled into a smile. "Tyr, what brings you here my boy? You should be out, seeing all that Byrdain has to offer."

"I saw Ingrid earlier. The bells mean that Artos has passed. Prince Brynjar will no doubt be king by the end of the month."

Jorvik nodded slowly. "It is as I feared. I had hoped that Artos would live a little longer. Alas, we are both old. Our lives are in the hands of gods now more than ever."

Tyr folded his arms. "Ingrid fears that the mood may turn against us. She says many of those in the courts believe we had a hand in his death."

Jorvik laughed. "As if we would kill an old man! The Byrdains might be a mighty people, but they are lead by half-wits." Jorvik calmed himself. "And what else does Ingrid say?"

"Ingrid believes it prudent that I leave Byrdain after the coronation."

Jorvik shook his head. "No. You will stay." Tyr frowned,, ready to protest. "I don't know what Brynjar's intentions are towards our people. If I die here, it will be dismissed as the death of an old man, nothing of great consequence beyond the passing of a king. If you are to die on Byrdainian land, it can only be an act of war. Killing the heir apparent can only be an act of war. You will stay." Jorvik said with an air of finality that left no room for any argument that Tyr might have constructed.

Tyr nodded his head. "Yes father."

Ingrid sat at the foot of Tyr's bed as he finished dressing himself. Ingrid idly traced the pattern on her gauntlets. Tyr would be leaving tomorrow. Most of the Fjellborgans would be leaving tomorrow. The rest would no doubt leave after the funeral. Then she would be on her own. That was not a thought that Ingrid enjoyed dwelling on. She had Lelinus, true, but her allies were few and far between in Byrdain. It would take one word from Brynjar and she would be an outcast in the court.

Ingrid shifted in her corset. She was grateful that it was styled to at least look like armour, but it lacked any of the comfort of armour. The gauntlets were her own. She was still Fjellborgan, though she would humour the Byrdainians their one day of pomp. The corset was uncomfortably tight around her waist. She reached back, trying to loosen the ties with limited success. And she hadn't realised just how much breast she had until she had been tied into the infernal contraption. They were high and proudly declaring her as a woman.

"Swap," she grumbled. "Let me wear your tunic and you can wear this ridiculous thing."

Tyr chuckled. "I'm not sure I would look nearly as lovely as you do. Lelinus must be pleased."

Ingrid frowned at the edge in her brother's voice. "He's hasn't seen me today."

Tyr turned to look at her, "No?"

Ingrid shook her head. "He had business to attend to and I was left to the mercy of a small army of handmaidens. I'm half afraid to do anything in case I undo their work."

Tyr offered his hand to his sister, helping her to her feet. "And yet you made it here." He said, leading Ingrid across the room. "Is Lelinus treating you well?"

Brief flickers of their nights together, of bare skin and gentle touches; of the days they spent together, their hands brushing against each other, words said and unsaid. "He is. You have nothing to worry about."

Light footsteps came down the hallway towards them. The siblings looked up to see Elska running towards them. Ingrid untangled her arm from Tyr's. "I'll see you at the coronation." She said and headed back to the keep, leaving her brother alone with Elska.

Tyr watched his sister leave as Elska came toward him.

"Tell me-" she stopped and sucked in a breath. "Tell me it isn't true." She shook her head. "Tyr, I heard that your father has asked you to stay here after the funeral and coronation of Prince Brynjar have taken place. Please Tyr, this place is full of people who would love nothing more than to watch you and your people fall. We need you to come home."

Elska's concern was palpable. Even if they hadn't grown up together, Tyr fancied he would still have been able to sense it. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It won't be forever, Elska. Just until Ingrid is properly settled, or father calls me back, whichever comes first. Besides, King Brynjar wouldn't raise a hand against me if he was wise. It would mean another war soon after peace had been brokered. No new king worth his weight would take that risk. I will be perfectly safe."

Ingrid idly wandered the corridors of the keep. She did her best to ignore some of the lingering stares from the nobles filing back and forth. Surely they had seen a woman before. Didn't they have wives? Daughters? Why were their gazes lingering on her? Ingrid stood a little straighter as she carried on. They would not get to her.

As she came by the courtyard, she spotted Leo in the middle of a small group. She spotted Brother Beorn and Evangelina. She was about to join them when she saw Katinka join them. She lingered behind the pillar and watched from a distance. Leo seemed happy enough to see Katinka. Ingrid hadn't had a chance to get to know Katinka well enough, she hadn't exactly been welcoming to the Fjellborgans who had come to Byrdain. Still, she supposed Leo knew her better than Ingrid did. There was probably a good reason for Leo to be happy to see her. Katinka was probably a perfectly nice young lady.

Ingrid rested her head against the cold stone. She was being ridiculous. She was a warrior, The Wolf of Fjellborg for crying out loud, and here she was staying away from a girl who had done nothing more than cast a disapproving glance her way on a few occasions. Ingrid gathered her skirt and headed down. It was hardly Katinka's fault that Brynjar had her ear; he had the ears of most of the court.

Ingrid smiled as she stepped out onto the courtyard and approached the group. She pressed a kiss to Lelinus's cheek. "Good morning." she said quietly before linking her fingers with his.

"Forgive me, Milady, they still seemed to be under the impression that I do not have a choice in my employment." Evangelina said to Katinka. Ingrid was under no doubt that Evangelina was a formidable woman in her own way. There were few people Ingrid could think of that would willingly deal with Brynjar outside of the court. For doing just that, Evangelina had Ingrid's respect.




"I do not think it will be that easy Tyr." Elska said quietly. "There's something-" she stopped for a moment. Confusion passed over her face for a second before she started speaking again. "There's something more to Brynjar. I can't explain it, but he unsettles me."

Tyr stood up a little straighter and crossed his arms and waited for Elska to continue. "Why would he marry Ingrid to the sick prince? He has no shame and does not hide he desires for her. It was his duty to marry first, and to marry Ingrid, but he pushes it off onto his sick brother who will likely not see another five summers?"

Tyr would be a liar if he said similar thoughts had not crossed his mind, although from what he had seen of Brynjar and what Ingrid had told him about Lelinus, he was grateful that Ingrid had been married to the younger brother. So far, all he had come up with was that the marriage was supposed to be a slight against Fjellborg. The news that Brynjar was trying to implicate Fjellborg in King Artos's death only made Tyr surer of his suspicions.

"I fear leaving you here is putting you right where he wants you. Of course he would never raise his hand to you in an open show, but he controls the court here. Ingrid is already doomed to her fate here." She sighed. "I can't lose you too Tyr," her eyes watered and she quickly swiped at them.

Tyr dropped his arms, debating whether or not to comfort Elska. Besides Ingrid, and she barely cried, Elska was the last person Tyr wanted to see cry. "If Ingrid is doomed, then I cannot abandon her, not yet. As fierce as she is in battle, she is still my sister." Tyr said, his voice level. He wiped the corner of Elska's eye. "You will not lose me Elska. I promise you I will see Fjellborg's shores again. I'll be back before you know it and you can get sick of seeing me again."

"It's not that we think you're forced... It's just that..." Beorn began, trying to explain his unease before Lelinus interrupted him.

"My brother is unpredictable. Now that Father is dead, no one can check him. Not by force anyway."

He was about to continue when he felt a familiar presence beside him. He blinked in surprise at the brief kiss on his cheek before turning to see Ingrid. Smiling, he squeezed her hand. He could get used to this. He turned to face her. The corset that the handmaidens no doubt made her wear accentuated her already generous bosom, most likely to her discomfort. He had no doubt someone would make a fool of himself around her in the celebrations after the coronation. After all, she was only wed to a half-dead prince.

"Princess Ingrid," Beorn greeted with a bow.

"Good morning, wife," Leo told her with a slight grin, "I suppose you think we're being overly chivalrous as well."

"I just hope he will listen to you," Beorn told Evangelina, "He could learn some restraint. Do you still want me to show you where the kitchens are?"

"It's not that we think you're forced... It's just that..." Beorn began "My brother is unpredictable. Now that Father is dead, no one can check him. Not by force anyway."Prince Lelinus finished for him and Evangelina merely shrugged. "That's what I'm here for." She said with a smile, though she could understand their worry, she could handle it and so long as she did the dance she'd done before, she'll survive this place and him.

She found the Princess making her way toward the group and she smiled and curtsied. "Princess." She greeted.
"Princess Ingrid," Beorn greeted as well.

"Good morning, wife," The Prince greeted her with a smile and a squeeze of the hand. She was under the impression that the Princess was from a rival kingdom, and their marriage was arranged, but it seemed that love had found it's way, regardless, atleast as far as the prince was concerned. "I suppose you think we're being overly chivalrous as well."

"I just hope he will listen to you," Beorn told Evangelina, calling her attention from the two. "He could learn some restraint. Do you still want me to show you where the kitchens are?"

Evangelina's eyes went wide. "Oh, By the Gods, Yes, we must make haste." She said and turned to the others. She could not afford to be late. A hungry man was a frustrated man, and she didn't have the general patience for such a thing, especially her first day.

"It is nice meeting you, Lady Katinka, and it is nice to see you all again, Prince and Princess, I must take my leave, all this talk of him ,yet I forgot to I need to feed him." She joked before taking Beorn's arm and leading him away from the group so that they might not get caught up in another conversation. "Which way?" She asked, her hand still linger on his arm in her haste.

"Good morning, wife," Leo told her with a slight grin, "I suppose you think we're being overly chivalrous as well."

"I think Miss Evangelina knows the risks of her employment well enough. And I think that you are worrying too much. Again."

"I just hope he will listen to you," Beorn told Evangelina. "He could learn some restraint. Do you still want me to show you where the kitchens are?"

Evangelina's eyes went wide. "Oh, By the Gods, Yes, we must make haste." She said and turned to the others. Ingrid raised an eyebrow at Evangelina's distress, momentarily wondering if she should do anything to help Evangelina. Not that there was much she could do. Ingrid still didn't know where half the rooms in the keep were.

"It is nice meeting you, Lady Katinka, and it is nice to see you all again, Prince and Princess, I must take my leave, all this talk of him ,yet I forgot to I need to feed him." Evangelina turned to Beorn."Which way?" She asked and Beorn led her to the kitchens.

Ingrid watched the two leave. "Good morning to you too, Lady Katinka. I trust you've been well?" Ingrid asked. There was no need to be mean to Katinka. Cattiness had never been Ingrid's preferred means of dealing with people and she wasn't about to hit Katinka about the head with a sword.




"My only hope is that Ingrid will get along with her new husband even if he is sickly. Does she like him, do you know? Do you think Ingrid can be happy here?"

Tyr stood back. "From what she's told me, Lelinus is treating her well. She doesn't seem especially unhappy, beyond a touch of homesickness. I do think, in time, she could be happy here with Lelinus."

He knew as well Elska that Brynjar was the only major problem at this moment in time. He hadn't exactly hidden his want for Ingrid, even at the wedding. Tyr was grateful that he was staying behind for a time, if only to keep an eye on Brynjar. He didn't doubt that Ingrid could take care of herself, and anyone else who came along, it was Brynjar he didn't trust.

"Will you be attending the funeral? I have no idea what to expect. Their weddings are different to ours, it stands that their funerals would be different as well."

Ingrid had once again been subjected to the handmaidens' handiwork. Black was still the order of the day, and she was being tied in to yet another corseted dress. How she longed for this period to be over so she could dress herself again. She never had much black in her wardrobe. Someone, Ingrid suspected Jorvik, had put coin aside to make sure Ingrid was properly dressed during this time of mourning. Ingrid sat patiently while they finished pinning her hair back. While they were working, Ingrid silently counted the days in her head. She counted the days she had been here, and the days she had traveled and the days before that.

Ingrid rose from the seat. "Thank you." She said to the girls. The girls curtsied and left. She was still getting used to that. Back home, people hadn't curtsied or bowed to her. They had treated her with respect yes, which was more than could be said for most of the people here, but there was none of this false subservience. Ingrid watched the girls leave and waited a moment. She made the short and increasingly familiar walk to the room she shared with Lelinus.

Ingrid quietly closed the door behind her. She looked up and saw Lelinus stood by the window. A storm was rolling in. Fitting, she thought. Lelinus's face was briefly illuminated by a crash of lightning. He looked distant, deep in troubled thought. Ingrid wrapped her arms around Lelinus. If she was honest, she was concerned about the future too. Brynjar would be king by the time the day was through, and no one truly knew what that would bring with it. "Whatever it is, we can face it together."

"Thank you Patriarch, you never cease to fulfill your obligations." Brynjar said in a smooth tone as he was ignoring Evangelina at this point. "There is a great deal that needs to be done, and I would like to meet with the council as soon as possible," he paused. "However, I think at the moment everyone needs this time for mourning. We will mourn the loss of my father today, and tonight we will celebrate my coronation. Tomorrow we will turn our attention to important matters of state."

The mention of Duke Aethwulf caused Brynjar's jaw to clench. There were very few in the court that were brave enough to stand up to him. Brynjar knew the words that were whispered behind his back, but Duke Aethwulf was one that was not afraid to stand up to him. Brynjar disliked the duke even more for the kinship he seemed to share with Lelinus. He was one of the last men that Brynjar wanted to see come into more power or prestige. "Certainly, but let us not speak of these matters now." His eyes wandered to Evangelina who had been smart enough to stay silent during this whole exchange.

Trust was not something that Brynjar gave out willingly. He enjoyed the games they played behind closed doors and the dance they seemed to always be spinning around, but that seemed to be as far as Brynjar would interact with her. She was a woman, and his servant nonetheless.

There was a great tolling in the distance from the bell tower. "It's time." Brynjar's eyes seemed to grow more cold and distant. He strapped his sword to his side before he swept from his room.

The funeral procession was a truly somber occasion. It didn't matter what caste of life you found yourself in. Everyone had come to honor the great king. Of course the commoners and servants were not permitted into the great church where his body lay. They had to stay in the streets, but they would have a chance to get one last glimpse of their king when he was taken from the church towards the great cemetery where all the great kings and queens were laid to rest.

Brynjar was at the front of the church where Lelinus and Ingrid were expected to be. The church was full of every important person within the kingdom, as well as the nobility that had come from Fjellborg. The very front was reserved only for those with the bluest blood and highest pedigrees. Brynjar stood with a stone face and gazed upon the well preserved body of his father. He could still feel the slow burn of anger deep in his blood from all the choice Artos had made that Brynjar believed to be the wrong ones. He was ready to exact justice.

His eyes wandered over to Tyr and Jorvikson. There was a woman standing close to Tyr. He watched them for a moment as the memorial service began. There was something between them. He recognized that look. It didn't seem they were fully aware of their own feelings, but a truly pernicious and devilish idea had come to his mind.

Word had filtered around that Tyr would be staying for a time. Now he had the crown prince of Fjellborg within his clutches and a great idea had hatched.

Elska felt cold the morning of the funeral. The storm did not help the sense of foreboding she felt. Artos the Great would be laid to rest, and the evening would follow with the coronation of the crown prince Brynjar to King Brynjar. The uneasiness she felt had not abated even when Tyr had reassured her everything would be well. She could feel it in her bones how wrong it was for Tyr to stay, or even Ingrid--though Ingrid had no choice in returning home.

It was unfair and unjust. Elska balled up her fists and for a moment wished she had the prowess and skill of a warrior as Ingrid did. Part of her wanted to hunt Brynjar down and give him a piece of her mind. She wanted to put fear in his soul if he dared try to harm Ingrid or Tyr.

"My lady, are you all right?" her handmaiden asked as she was fixing a dark veil over Elska's elaborate braid crown.

"I'm fine Miriel," her voice sounded tired. Miriel put the finishing touches on Elska before departing. Elska viewed herself in the vanity mirror. She was dressed from head to toe in black. The veil did a good job concealing her face and the only white of her skin exposed were her hands.

She had been shuttled along to the great church where Artos lay with the royalty of Fjellborg. She was surprised to find how well loved Artos had been to his people. She felt a pang in her heart as she remembered Ull and her father's funerals. Many of their slain had not been granted more than an unmarked grave.

She had kept her eyes trained on Brynjar when he had arrived. He exuded confidence and an intimidating strength. He was no man to be trifled with and she suddenly felt foolish for her previous thoughts. She doubted a man such as he could ever feel fear.

There was a dark shadow in his eyes. Elska could not deny that he was a handsome man, and the brooding atmosphere he held only added to his allure.

She shook the thoughts away.

She turned her attention to Tyr who stood to her left. She placed a comforting hand to his arm in a discreet fashion, unaware that Brynjar was eyeing them at this point.

Lelinus smiled slightly as he felt Ingrid's touch. It was strange how close they had grown to one another over such a short time. It was a weakness and one he knew that his brother would exploit mercilessly, but he couldn't bring himself to harden his heart in that respect. She was not at all what he had been expecting. He had been expecting a cold marriage of convenience and that was if he was lucky. Yet, she was strong, kind, and saw beyond his weak body. He could not put into words how much he appreciated that.

"I fear that whatever lies ahead will not be what either of us are prepared for."

It was storming outside the Cahedral when they entered. The Patriarch was in the center of the room as the nobles shifted about, each preparing for their role. Leo gazed at his father's body as he took his place beside Brynjar, Ingrid's hand in his. This would be the last time he would see him in this life. Artemesia, how could he have died so quickly. He attempted to suppress the tears. It would not do to look weak here.

"We are gathered here," Julius began, "To return the body of our most gracious sovereign, King Artos, to the earth from which he was made..."

Ingrid stayed close to Lelinus as they made their way to the cathedral. It was a grand building, Ingrid realised, more grand than anything they had in Fjellborg. It loomed over them, quietly dominating the horizon. Had the sky been clear, and the air pleasant, Ingrid might have said it was awe inspiring building that welcomed a person to its walls. But in the dark gloom of the storm that churned the seas, it was imposing, foreboding even. Nothing good could happen in a place like this.

It had rained the day Ull was returned to them, Ingrid remembered with a sharp pang. She remembered when she realised that Ull was not among those who returned, and Tyr's silent withdrawal from her questions. She knew then that Ull had died, but a fragile hope still bloomed that he was merely injured and that the gods would return him to them. Ingrid had never been a crier, her tears did not fall fast or free, but she wept the night Ull was returned to them. Tyr held her close that night. She couldn't remember if she had fallen asleep in his arms or not, but she woke in her bed and found Tyr on the floor in a makeshift bed.

Ingrid scanned the crowd for her brother, suddenly wishing to see him, but he was lost among the crowd of nobility, both Byrdainian and Fjellborgan. Ingrid took her place beside Lelinus, her hand in his as Patriarch Julius began the ceremony. She sensed that Brynjar's attention was not fully on the ceremony. She casually looked over and followed the line of his gaze, all the way over to Tyr. She frowned slightly. Why on earth would Brynjar be that interested in Tyr? She cast the thought to the back of her mind and turned her attention to Lelinus. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes glassy. She knew that look. Ingrid ran her thumb along Lelinus's hand, her attention on the Patriarch.



Tyr stood at the front of the cathedral, Jorvik on one side, Elska on the other. As a sign respect, they were all dressed in black. In any other situation, Tyr would have laughed at it all. Two enemy nations gathered to mark the passing of the king of one nation. The world had apparently been turned upside down. Whether that be for better or worse remained to be seen.

Tyr was lost in thought when he felt Elska's hand on his arm. He smiled softly at her. At least, he thought, at least no one else would lose loved ones to a petty war. Gudbrand had been a good man. Another needless casualty of war. Tyr sighed. By nightfall, Brynjar would be king and judging by his refusal to have Ingrid as his bride, he was not seeking to be Fjellborg's ally. The work Jorvik and Artos had done to bring peace to the continent stood to be undone in a matter of weeks.

"...You were husband to Evila Mormont. You were father to Brynjar Augustus. You were father to Lelinus Augustus. Now we leave you to rest in the embrace of our Triune God. May Artemesia give you rest," Julius finished, raising his hands as the coffin was close and carried down the passageway below behind the altar and down to the crips. It was finished. The previous king had been laid to rest.

Lelinus felt cold as the procession made its way down the streets. Servants trailed behind noblemen and ladies with umbrellas lest their fine clothes were ruined by the rain. He felt Ingrid's hand gripped in his and he squeezed it as much to comfort himself as to feel something warm in the cold. He watched his brother beside him. What was he thinking? Had it truly dawned on him that their father was dead. He knew his brother. He hadn't been sad today. It was an act.

When they reached the palace, the crown already sat upon it and with a flourish, Julius picked it up to crown the new king as he sat there.

"Now, we are to crown the new king," the Patriarch stated solemnly before proceeding to speak directly to Brynjar, "Do you vow to rule with justice? To never act with selfish motive? Do you vow to defend your people? To fight until your last blood? Do you vow to love the people? To see them as the flesh of your flesh?"

When they finished, Brynjar would make a speech and they would be expected to pledge their allegiance to him. Leo wasn't looking forward to it.

Brynjar stared at his father's body as Julius finished the ceremony for their dead king. The body was taken away and would never be brought to light again. His mind was full of a great many thoughts that were running into each other. He couldn't make sense of them and he didn't try. He felt angry and bitter with his father for becoming so weak. He still couldn't understand the reasoning Artos had for submitting to a truce. They could've stamped the whole lot of Fjellborgan's out if they had only fought a little longer. Never again would they have to deal with raids or unjust deaths.

He left the church alongside Lelinus and Ingrid. The nobility of both countries were following behind the last two members of the house of Augustus.

The palace was hushed as the procession arrived and came into the thrown room. Brynjar strode forward with confidence and pride in his step as he moved to accept the crown he had been born to bear.

Julius' words were clear and carried through the quiet room. Brynjar bowed his head. "I vow with my body and spirit to fulfill all that is expected of me, and to fulfill the tasks laid at my feet." He spoke the traditional words before the crown was set upon his head.

The metal wasn't an ornamental piece. It was neither large or heavy. It was a thin and sturdy crown, but as Brynjar felt the weight upon his head, he felt an even greater weight fall to his shoulders. This was it. He was here. After years of disagreeing with his father's choices it was now Brynjar's turn to rule.

"Today belongs to the people." He turned from Julius and looked into the crowd of nobles that were assembled to witness his kingship. "We have laid our beloved king to return to Artemesia and bask in the glory of our ancestors." His voice was strong. "We bring in a new age of peace and it is my duty to protect you. I will guard my people with my life and protect their liberties." He glanced over to the Fjellborg party and then brought his eyes to where Lelinus and Ingrid stood.

"Tonight we feast in honor of all of our dead and their sacrifices. Tomorrow will be a new dawn and a new day." He ended his speech and the crowd bowed low in acknowledgement of his new title.

Brynjar reveled in the moment even though it felt more hollow than he had expected it to. He stepped down from the throne dias and came towards the crowd. Some of the Byrdain courtiers approached to give their condolences for his father's death and others came to pay respect to their new king. Once the pleasantries were over they would move to the great hall where they would feast, drink, and dance into the early hours of the morning.

Lelinus listened to his brother's speech thoughtfully, his eyes upon his brother's. He did not fail to notice the way his brother looked at the Fjellborgans. It was as he suspected, his brother was not the type to let go of a grudge and he always hated the Northmen. Still, he needed cause to break the treaty and he doubted Brynjar would find it today. Still, he needed to keep his eye on him.

He followed after his brother as protocol dictated. Few greeted him. The rivalry between himself and Brynjar was well-known and no one wanted to risk the future king's wrath. As they walked, he turned to Brynjar with a smile.

"That was a lovely speech, brother. I am sure with my union with Ingrid, peace will be assured for our time. Father would have wanted to see the kingdom rebuild."

Of course, he knew that it would irk him, but he knew that his brother couldn't exactly contradict his wish. Even kings had limits on their power.

Truthfully, Beorn did not feel comfortable in a great hall with feasting lords and tittering ladies. He was not Julius. He did not seek to use his talents to amass power and influence as the good Patriarch had. Many Royal Herbalists may have become courtiers in the past and gained titles and land through friendship with the king, but somehow, Beorn doubted that Brynjar would be as kindly disposed towards him. He understood why Leo placed him here. It was one of the few ways he could get under his brother's skin now that his word was law and it did show Beorn how much the prince valued him. Still, he wasn't comfortable in this environment.

As he sat near a corner and piled his plate with potatoes, roast boar, and, of course, leafy vegetables from his own garden, Beorn watched Julius entertain pleasantries with courtiers who hated him. He could never understand why the older man enjoyed such interactions. Did the old man ever think about God outside of brief prayers and invocations?

As he ate, he spotted a familiar face and his face flushed. Evangelina still stood out among the servants and even the ladies of the court. He motioned her, though the fine courtly gesture of a courtier was morphed into the sloppy wave of a peasant. When he came face to face with her, he tried to smile.

"By Artemesia, it is good to see a friendly face here. I have no idea how to conduct myself at these feasts," he whispered before asking loudly, "What vintage and flavor is this wine?"

His eyes darted around the room and was grateful few people were paying attention to him.

"I hope that His Grace has not been a troublesome employer."

Brynjar was all too aware of the jibe Lelinus was laying against him in an attempt to get under his skin. Brynjar would not lose composure today, not with so many eyes on him. While the rivalry he felt with Lelinus ran deep, it had been years he had dreamed for this day and it would not be soured by his sickly brother.

"Indeed it has and we must thank Artemesia for this peace." The response might not have been what Lelinus expected as Brynjar had never been a particularly religious man--though he did respect the divine. "Your union seems to have suited you quite well. I think perhaps I shall turn my eye towards the Fjellborg's for my own bride." This certainly could not have been a response that Lelinus would ever conceived he'd hear from his older brother.

The seed of an idea that had settled in Brynjar's mind had taken root. He wasn't sure how far it would go, but he knew it would stir the pot and set blood boiling. For now, that was all Brynjar could do until he could rekindle the flame of war and set his sword against the northmen once more.

They arrived into the hall and Brynjar gestured to one of the servants before he sat at the center of the high table--the king's chair.

Elska watched as Brynjar approached the king's chair at the high table. While Tyr and Jorvik would be sitting at the high table, along with the other nobility of Byrdain, Elska was not highly ranked enough to sit up there. She was quite surprised when a servant approached her and bowed deeply at his waist.

"His Majesty, King Brynjar, has requested your presence at his side during the feast." The servant sounded nervous and eyed her wearily.

Elska's jaw dropped. She had not exchanged any words of substance with the fearsome king and her stomach knotted tightly to be requested at his side. She could see that Brynjar was as talented with schemes as he was with the sword. The left side of Brynjar was reserved for Jorvik as a foreign dignitary and a guest of honor. The right side was one that Elska was shaken to her bones to be invited to. It was breaking from tradition as the place was usually held for the heir, or the very least the next in line.

Brynjar was a man not afraid to break protocol or go against century old traditions. Elska knew that to refuse him would be politically dangerous and could plant a seed for dissent between the countries shaky peace. Yet she was more terrified to be at his side through the whole feast. What did he want with her?

“My lady?” the servant broke through her haze of thoughts and she realized she had been hesitating with her answer.

“Certainly, lead the way.”

The servant guided her through the various tables and mass of people trying to locate their correct seat and soon came to stand still as the servant pulled the chair out for her and she took her place next to Brynjar.

“You do me great honor, Elska of Agir, to seat next to me on such a night.” Brynjar’s voice was a smooth baritone and his dark eyes were blocked off to her giving no hint to the emotions or thoughts that were striking up behind their guard.

“It is a great honor to be requested to your presence during your coronation feast, Your Majesty.” Elska’s voice reflected the years of training she had in court affairs and did not betray the quaking sensation she felt rattling her soul.

Elska felt as though she had stepped into a viper’s den and was waiting for the moment it would strike and take her down.

Her eyes scanned passed Brynjar and passed Jorvik to Jorvik’s side where Tyr was seated and she was saying a silent prayer that there was nothing foul hiding in the shadows.

What motive did Brynjar have in seating a Fjellborg noble at his right hand? He had dismissed Ingrid and given her to a lesser man in marriage. Ingrid was by far the best match that could have come from Fjellborg. It made no sense that he would treat Elska.

“How have you found Byrdain?” the conversation that sprung from Brynjar’s mouth was casual and no different from what she would expect with any other man. This wasn’t any other man. Elska knew she had to be on her toes. She had witnessed his escapades with the poor servant girl at Ingrid’s wedding feast. Was that his plan? To despoil Elska and then turn her aside? The insult would be paramount. Elska was on her guard. She would not fall for such machinations.

“The climate is far warmer than our own in Fjellborg. I have rather enjoyed the weather. I’ve had the chance to go riding once and I was impressed with your land. You are certainly blessed here, Your Majesty.” She kept her calm facade in place as the food was served now that everyone was situated where they needed to be.

“I am pleased to hear it is to your liking.” Brynjar pulled his goblet to his mouth and savored the sweet wine that had been poured.

“I am grateful I have had the chance to visit. I was excited to be invited into Jorvik’s party to witness my dear friend Ingrid marry your brother.” The only indication he was listening as he ate was the sudden tension in his jawline as he chewed his food. “It was a beautiful ceremony. I was greatly ill at ease when I was informed of your father’s death. I am sorry I did not have the chance to extend my condolences to you before now.” Her voice lowered with her eyes out of respect.

“Thank you Elska,” she was startled to feet his fingertips brush against the back of her hand. She removed it quickly and placed it in her lap as if she had been burned. There was no doubt in her mind now about what Brynjar’s motives might be tonight.

“I only met your father briefly on our arrival. He seemed kind.” She plodded on as if nothing had happened.

“He was.” Brynjar’s short response.

“I have heard that Tyr is to stay for an amount of time.” Brynjar broke the silence that had settled between them.

“He told me as much. I believe it is Jorvik’s wish for Tyr to see that his sister is settled into her new life. I can’t imagine how it must be to adjust to a foreign land knowing you will never return home.” She hadn’t meant to say as much, but the wine seemed to have loosened her tongue a little.

“I am sure Ingrid will find friends among her new people. It seems her and Lelinus had come to some sort of mutual understanding, and I daresay they might even consider the other a friend despite such a short time in their acquaintance.” There was no malice in his voice as Elska had thought he would have displayed speaking on such topics. She was a foreigner to this land, but the animosity between the brother’s was legendary.

The main course was brought out and halted conversation between them for the moment. Elska breathed a sigh of relief as she could gather her wits about her again. She reached for her goblet only to shrink back. She needed to keep her mind tonight and she could already feel the wine she had previously drunk swim warmly through her veins.

Evangelina wanted very much to pitch herself from the highest tower for wanting to be elsewhere at the moment. If it weren't the dirty looks, it was the hateful words. Clearly she was not from here, that fact was made painful obvious with how the others treated her, and some of them thought she was spreading her legs the old king for the new king's favor and then did the same for him, so that she may work for him.

In his dreams, she thought as she waited to serve. She wished this dreadful service was over so at least she would only have to deal with him as needed. Not the eyes of the lords and ladies. She was a foreigner among foreigners. Beorn, bless his sweet heart, had been teaching her much, one being about the once feud between the two lands that were now unite due to the Prince's marriage to their princess.

The timing of the king's death brought much this peace into uneasy truce territory but that wasn't her place to think about such things, since apparently him being her friend meant more to the old king then it did to anyone in this place. She couldn't even see him being sent off. She would visit him if she could in his final rest, and give a drink in his name as was tradition in her land. She felt so unbelievably alone in this place, even more so now, she was glad for the bright eyed man who was clearly taken with her but said not a word of it, -not that the poor lad could manage it, which honestly she appreciated. She wasn't in the proper space for such a thing now, though the comfort would probably be nice.

As if called by her thoughts, Beron captured her attention with an almost child-like wave. She could only smile softly as he approached.

"By Artemesia, it is good to see a friendly face here. I have no idea how to conduct myself at these feasts," He said and her smile grew then though her brows shot high when he suddenly shouted, "What vintage and flavor is this wine?"

"I hope that His Grace has not been a troublesome employer."
"Glad to see you as well, I was just thinking of you." She told him and then mused his statement. "Hm, Troublesome yes, but nothing I can't manage." She told him honestly. "He is...tolerable." She said and with that she looked back at the new king, having called a woman to him, who looked impossibly uncomfortable. The way she was seated by him but leaning the opposite way, looking at her cup as if it held her recuse. Evangelina rolled her eyes.

"I thought I was merely a handmaiden, but no, clearly I've become a governess..." She sighed, and it was then that the main course was ready to serve as so, as was her duty, she grabbed the King's meal and nodded to Beorn. "Un moment s'il vous plait" She said before carrying his dish to the high dais where the king and his latest prey was sat. She looked at her, gave her a small smile, before setting down his dish in front of him. She was still cross with him and she didn't care if he knew it, not that he cared one way or the other and it seemed he was well into his wine.

"Would the lady like anything" She asked her, gathering a pitcher, and raising it for her. She wanted to find a way to help the woman but she had to know if she wanted to be saved, her body language told her as much but she had to be sure. Some women liked being the victim, Evangelina wasn't one of them.

Brynjar was watching Elska from the corner of his eye as they were eating. She was doing a remarkable job keeping her composure together even though he could see the strained tension in her shoulders. It was a highly amusing situation for Brynjar and he was content to let her thoughts swim around alarming topics. He was sure that her opinion of him was low, but propriety prevented her from displaying any recourse against him.

Brynjar turned his attention away from her when Evangelina approached. He was still feeling rather moody against her as she set his plate down. Brynjar turned his goblet in his hand before allowing one of the other servants to refill with the sweet liquid. She was upset with him, it was obvious. Brynjar could give a rats ass if Evangelina was upset with him. The only issue was that Brynjar knew she had a bold streak in her. She wasn't afraid to stand up to him. So far it had amused him when she'd step up to his challenge in private. Now he was king, and Brynjar knew she'd dare to defy him in public if she thought she was in the right.

It was a dangerous game of chess between them. Brynjar did not want to put up with any of Evangelina's antics tonight and he wanted her to know that. He put his hand out in front and waved her away.

"She is fine, there's nothing more she needs." The amount of self-importance that exuded from him was enhanced heavily from the wine.

Elska looked to the woman who had approached their table. It was evident from her attire and physical features that she wasn't from around here. Briefly Elska wondered if this woman was a slave as it was not secret the Byrdain's kept them. She had a nice accent as she asked Elska if there was something she would like.

To sit next to the newly crowned king was a terrifying ambition. She wasn't sure what to do, but was interrupted by Brynjar who was dismissing the servant. Elska's eyes flashed indignantly and with a bit of anger to have Brynjar dismiss the woman so casually. He wasn't even giving her a chance to refuse the woman herself.

Elska bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn't say anything against the king's orders. She still had to keep in mind that Tyr was staying and she didn't want to be the cause of any unpleasant behavior between Brynjar and Tyr.

"I would be more than happy to show you around the palace." Brynjar turned his full attention back to her and he leaned in close to her. Elska sat rigid in her chair and had her eyes set dead straight. "We have very beautiful and quiet gardens, I'm sure you would enjoy seeing some of our local fauna."

So you can get me in a reclusive corner and take advantage of me? the question shot through her mind and she gritted her teeth.

"It would be an honor." She said stiffly and still refused to look at him.

"Your union seems to have suited you quite well. I think perhaps I shall turn my eye towards the Fjellborg's for my own bride."
"I do not think a better match could be found. I feel quite fortunate," Lelinus told his brother, his words falsely sweetened as he gripped Ingrid's hand in his. He did not like how he looked at her. He didn't like how he looked at any woman. Years ago, his manner had changed. He was always cruel, but his manner with woman reminded him of predator. Something had changed in him, but he wasn't sure what.

He said nothing as he was displaced for Brynjar's new target. He knew that many in the room would feel insulted on his behalf. There were those who held to tradition tightly and for the current heir to be sidelined for a strange woman would not go well. Nor would the Fjellborgans take kindly to Brynjar's treatment of their countrywoman. Yet, his brother had to be counting on setting people off. He knew he wanted to sabotage the peace and this was one way to do it.

He looked around the room, trying to catch Tyr's eye. It wouldn't do for him to play into Brynjar's hands. Under the table, he gripped his wife's hand before speaking.

"You are most hospitable, brother. Some would say that it bordered on impropriety. It is unfortunate that you do not have a clergyman near you who would hold fast to righteousness," he snarked, aiming a jab at Julius who sat not two feet away from the king.

"Hospitality is commended numerous times in the sacred texts, my prince," Julius remarked dryly ignoring the smirks of those who despised him either because of his actions or his low blood.

"Is that what they call it now? It's creative of them, I'd give them that."

This drew a few laughs from among those listening and Leo suppressed a small grin of satisfaction

Go on, Brynjar. Lose your temper or play your vicious games. Scandal is can fell a king as easily as a glad. He thought.



"Hm, Troublesome yes, but nothing I can't manage." She responded to him. She looked exhausted and Beorn couldn't blame her. He was lucky that he had seldom been called to serve Brynjar often in the past. The man had good health where Lelinus lacked it. Leo kept him busy, true, but the prince respected him and he desired to uncover the truth behind King Artos' death almost as much as Leo did. Alas, he ran into frustration after frustration. Still, he had treasured the moments he was able to spend with Evangelina when neither of them were consumed by their duties or obligations.

Soon enough, the new king beckoned her over, but not before he had yet another poor woman in his sights. He grimaced and nodded in agreement with her words, though he could not keep himself from voicing his thoughts.

"A governess can discipline little boys who play too rough with others. I fear no one may stop him now that his father is gone."

"Un moment s'il vous plait"

"Restez vigilants," he advised. It was as much help as he could. He frowned as as he eyed the high table. The fact that Lelinus was displaced from his seat as next in line for the throne did not go unnoticed. It was a deliberate snub and the nobles around the room were already talking about it.

Evangelina frowned, pulling back the pitcher, as the king waved her away.
She is fine, there's nothing more she needs." He told her and Evaneglina felt annoyance bubble up within her. The woman was clearly trying to hold it back but she clearly did not want to be here, and she looked like a woman who was doing this not for her sake but for the sake of someone else, as if she was protecting someone.

The King turned to her then, leaning in, much like he'd done with her when they first met, only instead of not showing fear, this poor woman radiated it, the way she tried to look at him but couldn't.


"Pardon, You're Grace." She said called, hoping to take the pressure off of the woman. "If I may, I was asking the Lady if she'd like anything," She said, and smiled at the woman, almost reassuringly and the moment she said it, she regretted it, fear shot through her. She'd never openly defy him in public and while she was very subtle about it, she didn't like the way the woman seemed completely terrified and it wasn't like he wasn't beneath him to take advantage of a scared woman, Beron while he meant to warn her, he told her the King's behavior before, how the woman had been left shivering by the end of it. She didn't know what would happen, what he would do to her for this but she felt then that it would be better if Brynjar was anger with her, perhaps he would be less inclined to torment this poor woman. "We have a lovely honeyed mead." She offered, to the both of them, almost wishing she'd stayed over with Beron instead of doing her job.