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A/N – I do not own the Southern Vampire Mysteries, True Blood or the characters therein. They belong to Charlaine Harris, Alan Ball and HBO. This is a work of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended. I’m sure you all know this or most of it, but here are a few reminders, just in case.
Faðir/Far – father/Dad; Bróðir – brother; Toor – pronounced Thor; Móðir/Mor – mother/Mom; Systir – sister; Dréag – apparition; Kot – cot
Happy Reading!
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The raids were always successful. Together with my faðir and bróðir, Toor, we made it so. They had taught me well how to be an adept soldier and sailor. I had never seen a loss to our family, on the battlefield, nor had I been wounded. Though, we lost many men to the sea and from wounds that could not be healed, we had been fortunate. To be buried, in our tradition, is a great honor as you set sail to Valhalla and the Valkyries come to claim you.
I had been raiding since my thirteenth winter and never grew tired of the battles that gave us spoils providing for my village. When I left for my first incursion, in what would later be known as the year 919 a.d., I was not scared as my móðir had feared, but excited that I was finally seen as a man in faðir’s eyes. Upon our return, I was given a feast for my first success and regarded as a great warrior afterward.
Many seasons later, I was left behind to assist Mor caring for our home and livestock. It was an exceptionally bad winter and there were few men left to help the women, children, and animals survive. As one of the strongest, and the son of the chieftain, it was left to me to defend the village.
That raid would be the final trip for my bróðir. The enemy clan had taken his body as a prize to display as a warning to others. He had been next in line to become the chieftain of our village. Far returned alone and my family grieved together over Toor’s death and the fact that his body had not returned to hold a funeral. Far said he was growing too old to continue the raids, but I believed it was due to our great loss that he chose to remain at our home with Mor. I carried much guilt as I knew, had I been there, I could have saved him, but Mor told me it was likely that I, too, would have been killed.
It was from that guilt and sense of duty that I married my bróðir’s wife, Aude, who bore my children as she had carried three of Toor’s. I refused to miss another raid and became fiercer in my fighting. She died giving birth to our third child while I was away, taking the child with her in death. Aude had been a strong woman and good companion, but I did not love her as my parents loved each other. Still, I grieved my loss. I left the children in the care of her family. It was a good decision.
The final night of my parent’s lives and that of my new infant sibling, I was outside, with a handmaiden, when I heard the screams of Mor and the sound of Far’s sword being unsheathed. Drawing my sword, I entered the Longhouse and saw my móðir and systir, covered in blood, dead. I was too late. My faðir was lying on the floor resisting death and I made a promise to him. I would exact vengeance on those who had now made me chieftain. He died in my arms. I turned to the door to face my enemy. It was then that I saw a lone figure in a cloak, calling to the wolves which killed my family, holding my faðir’s crown.
I returned to the sea once again, this time in fury. Never again would I suffer such loss! Never again would I be so vulnerable and careless! I would be vigilant and ruthless to protect what was MINE!
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It was during one of these journeys that I first saw her. We were traveling in a large ship, able to hold vast amounts of cargo, with space for the men below, when it happened. It was my twentieth winter. It was quiet, the moon was high and alone I stood on the deck. Looking at the sea, planning our next foray, I heard a woman’s voice whispering my name. “Eiríkr,” she sang in the wind. “Eiríkr see me. Look for me, Eiríkr,” My eyes searched the sea, not knowing from which direction the voice came. At last, to my disbelief, I saw a woman standing on the water. She was far away, but I could distinguish the outline of her body. As if sensing I had found her, she came closer. I had not seen her move. She was holding a lantern illuminating long chestnut hair and the white gown she wore. Though, I could not see her face, I knew she was watching me. She was youthful and angelic. I closed my eyes and shook my head to dispel the vision. It was not possible this phantom was real. Months at sea can be brutal to your body and psyche. I knew this to be true. Men had gone mad during our long trips at sea. My stubborn nature did not believe it could happen to me.
“Open your eyes, Viking. Do not doubt what is in front of you,”
Instead, I took a step back turning away. I refused to look again at this insanity that had taken hold of my mind. I felt a huge wave of water crash over the board and was knocked to the deck, hitting my head, rendering me unconscious. I awoke some hours later in the dark, stood on shaky legs, and walked to the board to steady myself. I looked over the water and found nothing.
I did not tell my shipmates what I had seen that night. I did not believe it myself.
One season, and several raids, later I was on the deck again. I had pushed the memory from mind. When it was quiet on the ship, and the moon was high, I saw her again. She appeared much closer than before and again I felt her eyes watching me. She did not speak this time, but seemed to float alongside the ship as we traveled. I watched her for hours until I heard the noise of a sail shifting that took my attention. When I turned back, she was gone. I stood on the deck and watched the water until the sun rose on the horizon.
Again, I could not bring myself to tell my crew. I was clearly hallucinating and did not want to risk anyone knowing for fear that I would be locked below as others had been, in the past, when they began to have visions of things that were not real.
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Another season passed before I felt compelled to stand on the deck again. She appeared as I, somehow, knew she would. She floated alongside the ship watching.
“Do you believe now, Eiríkr?” her whisper sang to me.
“Am I mad?”
“No. You are finally seeing,”
“I see you, but I know you are not real. How do you compel me to be here?”
“I have not compelled you,”
“I am drawn to this place when you are here,”
“I am always here. Always, I am watching. You choose not to see, but your mind has decided it cannot wait any longer to know,”
“What is it that I am to know, dréag? My mind has decided nothing, but that you are haunting me!”
“I am no phantom, this you know,”
“I know nothing of you, siren!”
“Calm yourself young one, you must believe, to be given my gift,”
“I want no gift of yours. I will not entertain your presence any longer!”
“Then you are not ready. I will return only once more. Think on it, childe, you must believe to know. When the moon is high tomorrow night, seek me out…”
She was gone.
My mind struggled throughout the remainder of the night. I stared at the water. I paced along the deck. I willed her to return. I wanted to know of the gift. I wanted to know what was happening to me. Was this magic? Who was this woman? Was she a woman? Was I cursed? Was she a hex sent by my enemy to distract me? Was this real? Was she real? Why does she not show her face? What did she want with me? Did she want to draw me to the water and drown me? How many had she lured this way? So many questions went unanswered. So many questions I had not asked, in my haste.
I lay on my kot of furs and prayed to all the deities to protect me from her bewitching, when exhaustion, finally, called me to sleep. I slept the day and did not dream. My men thought I had taken ill and left me to rest.
I woke when the moon was high. I knew she would be waiting. What would this spirit do to me? She had already taken my sanity. I was afraid. I had never been afraid. I could fight a hundred men, yet now, I was vexed by a woman, if that is what she truly was. I refused to have fear of this creature!
I was feared not fearful!
I donned by sword and climbed from my resting place. I squared my shoulders and rose to my full height. I was tall, very tall. I would not be tormented by her any longer! She would see who I am! She would cower in fear at my strength and my size!
When I reached the deck, she was there, looking to the sea. Her lantern was gone. Lit by the moon, her gown and hair were wafting in the breeze. She was smaller and frailer than I had thought her to be.
“Do you believe now, Eiríkr?” she asked as she had the night before.
“Yes. I believe you are real, though, I do not know how you came to be,”
“All that matters is I am here. Are you ready to know?”
“Yes. I am not afraid,” I stood to my full 6’4” frame.
“Yes, you are,”
I trembled at her words, though, I gave no sign of weakness. This was not supposed to happen. She was trying to take control. That would not pass. I would not allow it. She should be afraid and trembling! I was a warrior! Who was she to speak to me this way? She would be the one to know who was at the helm.
“Tell me what you want of me so we can be done with this!” I bellowed.
“Beware your tongue, childe,” she warned with a voice of authority.
“I am no childe! I have twenty winters! I am the son of a chieftain! You will give me deference!”
She laughed at that. Her laughter was like a trickling brook. It angered me.
“I am not as I appear. You will see,”
“Do not speak in riddles to me,”
“You will hear me, you will see, and you will know,” she sang.
“I will hear the truth!” I yelled.
She turned and grabbed my wrist. Her skin was pale, her hand as cold as ice, and her voice was just as cold. Viciously, she scolded me.
“YOU WILL HEAR ME, VIKING, AND YOU WILL LISTEN WELL!!”
I cowered at that and felt the fear creep up my spine.
“I am sorry.” I said quietly. I was whimpering, but I did not care.
“Are you prepared to receive my gift?”
“I fear it, but I am ready,”
“It is good to, finally, admit your fear. Your barriers have broken. You are ready,”
She continued to hold my wrist and took the other, her grip tightening. As I stared at her, afraid to look away, her hair began to change color until it was gray and white. She lifted her face to mine for the first time. Her eyes were covered in a milky glaze and her face grew deep lines as I watched. She was old, so very old. She had aged 90 winters before my eyes. The sight of her brought me to my knees.
She knelt down to look at me with her white, filmy, frightening, eyes. As if reading my mind, she said,
“I am more than 90 winters, childe. Now you can see. Now you are ready to receive my gift. It does not come without a price,”
I was mesmerized and horrified by what I had seen.
“What is the cost?” I whispered.
“You will meet death and life this day. Choose wisely,”
“You speak more riddles. Gods, I beg you, speak plainly!”
In an instant, faster than I could track, she stood and released my wrists. Her tiny frame towered over mine. She put a hand to each side of my head. Leaning down, an inch from my face, her eyes bore into mine. She spoke slowly, low, and ferociously.
“I am the Ancient Pythoness! I give you a gift of your fate and you dare defy me! It is to me that YOU will give reverence!”
I bowed my head and nodded, but spoke no more.
“No Valkyries will come. There is no Valhalla, not for you, for you will not be welcome. You will be forgotten, as others before and after,”
She stepped back to look at me once more.
I could not believe what I was hearing. Her riddles made no sense. I had fought valiantly. I served and protected my village and my people. I had led them in battles. I had led them in all things. I was respected. Surely, I would be welcomed into Valhalla. I was a warrior. I was a Viking. I would be with my family again. I would NOT be forgotten. She did not know the future. She was the one who was mad.
“I do and I am not. Neither are you, young Eiríkr. There are many futures to be seen. You must choose,”
I dared not speak again. I had no words to answer. I simply looked at her. She gazed at me in kindness then, smiling, and spoke to me as if I understood, yet she was not done.
“When no less than one thousand winters have passed, you will find your soul again. You will know I speak true,”
Then, she was gone. I heard her voice in the wind one last time.
“Farewell, Viking. We will meet again, in my time and in yours. You will pay your boon to me,”
I would prove her wrong.
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The raid turned to battle before we reached the village. The clan we fought had known of Toor’s death, those years ago, and knew I had taken the place of my faðir. They had chosen to believe I was weak and would fall as my bróðir had. They were wrong. I would not be bested, not by them, not by anyone. The she-devil had lied. No one could match me. We lost many men, but I fought fiercely and well. The enemy had been strong, yet in the end, they were defeated. We overtook their forces and gained our victory.
During our celebration that night, I collapsed to the ground. My men rushed to my aid and found I had been pricked by a sword. It was a minor injury, at best. I had not felt it, as I ran my enemy through, in my thirst for victory. He had sliced my arm as he fell. I knew in that moment, his weapon was tainted. This was a coward’s way. In that night, many men succumbed to the poison. Only two remained with me. I grew paler and fought my death as it tried to take me. I begged them to take their leave and return home to tell the tale. They would not leave my side. They carried me from the battlefield and helped me rest on a bed of straw. They said they would stay until I passed into Valhalla. I wondered if I would. She had said I would meet death this day and she was right. It was my last thought as I fell unconscious.
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When I woke, I turned my head and saw them by the fire. My men were dead, their lifeless bodies in pieces. It was then I heard the beast growling in the dark. In an instant, death was on me. It was a boy, no more than sixteen winters old, and he had slain my remaining friends. His mouth was covered in their blood. I looked to him, with blurred vision, and told him I was ready for him to take me to Valhalla.
He laughed heartily and stared into my eyes.
“I could take you. You would go to your Valhalla. I do not believe in such a place, but I watched you fight in the end. You are strong and worthy,”
“I do not understand. If I am worthy, why do you hesitate?”
“You must choose,”
“What choices do I have?”
“Choose death in this life or life in your death,”
By the Gods, even at my point of death, I am spoken to in riddles! I did not comprehend his meaning, but I made my choice.
“Life” I whispered.
“It does not come without a price,”
“What will be my debt?”
“You will walk the night with me. I am Godric the Gaul. You will live in darkness, but you WILL live. This will fulfill your boon to me,”
“I care not how it may pass. I choose life.”
The boy bent to me and opened his mouth, like a snake ready to strike. He pierced my skin, and sucked out my soul, with his massive teeth.
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That is the last I can remember of my human life. I woke three days later to begin a new journey. I could not return to my village and in time, I knew I would be forgotten.
I am Eiríkr the Norseman. In this new life, I will find the Ancient Pythoness. I will avenge my faðir and in not less than a thousand years I will find my soul again.
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