บท 2: 2-Boy In The Woods
January 23rd, 778 AD, Five Years Later
The morning sun barely pierced the iron-gray clouds as Freya trudged through the forest, her arms laden with logs and the catch of the day. Her breath misted in the frigid air, but she was undeterred, her heart light with silent gratitude to the gods for granting them food and warmth in such harsh winter months. The weight on her shoulders was nothing compared to the satisfaction of returning home to her son, who was as curious as he was resilient, wise beyond his years.
The world was silent, save for the crunch of her boots on the hard snow, until a low, familiar sound drifted into earshot, raising every hair on her skin. Wolves. And not just one, she counted at least three distinct howls, their tones blending into a haunting melody that seemed to carry a message. Her heart pounded as she dropped the logs and rabbits to the snow, brandishing her axe as she sprinted toward her cabin, fear clenching her stomach.
The trees blurred past her as she ran, her heart hammering louder with each step. Her mind was wild with worry for him; she had prepared him as best she could for the dangers of the wilderness, but he was still so young. The wolves' howls grew louder, closer, until she broke through the edge of the forest and stumbled into the clearing around their home.
The scene before her stopped her dead in her tracks. Three of the beasts, timber-gray and massive, each larger than she had ever seen, were pacing around Magnus, their heads low, their golden eyes gleaming with a strange intelligence as they circled him. Her son stood in the center, perfectly calm, his hand resting on the thick fur of one of the wolves as though he were greeting an old friend. Freya felt her heart lurch in her chest, her axe raised, prepared to defend her son at any cost.
"Mother!" Magnus beamed, his voice filled with pride and joy. "I told you I had friends in the woods."
A knot of dread twisted in her chest, and she fought to keep her voice steady. "Magnus… come to me… slowly." She held her breath, hoping her tone would reach through to him.
But he only smiled wider, his innocent face lit with the purest of wonder. "They want me to go with them, to live in the woods," he said, patting the largest wolf behind the ear, the creature's intense yellow eyes closing in pleasure.
Freya's breath caught. Here he was, her silver-haired boy, her Magnus, standing as though enchanted among these creatures, wild as the night and twice as dangerous. She watched as he pressed his hand gently to the muzzle of one of the wolves, who nuzzled him back, soft growls escaping its throat like a pleased murmur. She could scarcely believe her eyes.
"Magnus," she pleaded, her tone firmer this time. "Come here. Now!"
The boy hesitated, his brow creasing as if in some silent conversation with the beasts, an understanding passing between them that she couldn't decipher. Finally, he turned, stepping toward her, though he glanced back at the wolves with a lingering sadness in his eyes. She swept him into her arms, pulling him close, as though she could shield him from whatever forces sought to claim him. She backed away slowly, her axe held before her, her eyes fixed on the wolves, silently daring them to advance.
"They speak to you?" she asked, her voice hushed with both awe and disbelief.
He nodded, his small voice bright with excitement. "Yes. I told them they can stay with us, but they don't want to. They said you scare them."
She couldn't help a weary laugh. The gods themselves could not have scared her as much as those wolves did, circling her only child. "Go back to the shadows, you hear me?" she commanded, her voice hard. "He isn't yours...Not yet!"
The wolves stilled, looking back at Magnus, their golden eyes filled with a questioning look that defied everything she had ever known about animals. The little boy simply gave them a gentle wave, they turned, slowly slinking back toward the shadowed trees, their steps soft and reluctant, as though they had not wanted to leave at all. She watched them disappear, their presence lingering in the chill air long after they had gone.
"Claw said he wants to go hunting with us," Magnus said matter-of-factly, his tone so innocent that Freya nearly laughed, though a shiver ran down her spine at the words.
She tightened her arms around him, letting out a long breath. "Promise me, child, you will not speak with them again. Not until you are much older."
He looked up at her, his blue eyes wide with curiosity and something she could only describe as wisdom. "I promise," he said, nodding solemnly. But as his gaze drifted back to the tree line, she saw the tug of longing there, the call of a bond that was still too powerful for him to fully understand.
They turned back toward the cabin, her arms wrapped protectively around him as they stepped through the door. Freya secured the heavy latch, her mind replaying the encounter, heart aching with a mix of pride and fear. She had always known her son was different, blessed, perhaps, or cursed with a gift that set him apart. From the day she had first held him in her arms, a silent, white-haired newborn with a gaze too wise for any infant, she had sensed it, a power deeper than anything she had known.
Later having taken him with her to retrieve their supper and wood, she placed the logs in the hearth and set a fresh fire crackling to life, she found herself lost in thought. His connection to the wolves was no small thing. She had seen many strange events in her life, heard the stories of the gods' favors, legends and gifts, but this... this was something else, something that felt like the touch of an ancient, timeless magic.
Magnus sat beside the fire, his small fingers tracing patterns in the ash, his face calm, but his eyes filled with thoughts too deep for words. She watched him quietly, a deep affection swelling in her heart. Despite everything, despite the power that ran through his veins, he was still her boy, a child who would laugh at the first snowfall, who would listen to her stories of long-ago battles with wide-eyed wonder.
"Magnus," she said softly, pulling a blanket around him. "Remember what you promised. Stay away from the creatures of the woods. They're not like you and me. They might seem like friends, but they're wild, unpredictable."
He nodded, though a faint sadness flickered across his face, as if he understood but disagreed. He looked out the window, his gaze tracing the distant shadows of the trees where the wolves had disappeared to his mothers knowledge, but he could see and hear what she seemingly couldn't. They lingered, not like how they commonly stalked prey, but watchful guardians over something they too saw as a miracle.
Freya wrapped her arms around him, letting the warmth of the fire fill the room. For now, they were safe, but a silent understanding lay between them, a knowledge that they would return, that the wild would always call to Magnus in ways she could never hope to understand. Yet, she would stand guard at the edge of that wilderness, warding off the darkness until the day he could decide his path for himself. And in her heart, she knew that no matter what the gods or fate had in store, she would fight for him, her boy, against any beast or spirit that dared to claim him.
The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the cabin walls, and as the night deepened, Freya held her son close, whispering a prayer to whatever gods might listen, a plea that they might grant her the strength to protect him, her child of the wild.
Two days later.
The path to Kattegat lay under a thick veil of mist, the scent of damp earth and pine sharpening Freya's senses as she approached the place she once called home. Her breath condensed in the cold, her pulse heightened as she crossed the boundary back into the domain of Earl Harroldson, a man she'd long since abandoned due to his arrogant lust and quest for petty self-importance. Her purpose today was not to revisit old wounds but to consult the Seer, the only man whose words had ever brought her both comfort and fear. Today, she needed his counsel more than ever.
Freya strode through the village center, where memories of her youth brushed against her like shadows. She noted the townspeople who cast glances her way, some in recognition, others wary of the warrior woman with silver-accented hair and the child with eyes so blue they seemed to hold the essence of the sea. Her hands wrapped tightly around Magnus as they arrived at the Seer's dimly lit hut, pungent with incense and dried herbs. Totems dangled from the ceiling, and shelves overflowed with bones, stones, and vials of mysterious liquids. It was a place where the living brushed shoulders with the spirits.
"Ah, Freya… daughter of Joramun," came a croaking voice from the darkness. The Seer, his frail form rising from a bed draped in weathered black robes adorned with furs, turned his sealed, scarred-over eyes toward her. "It has been some time," he whispered with a smile.
"Ancient One," Freya's voice softened, but her intent was urgent, "I seek guidance for the boy."
"The boy… I see him already. I have seen him in my dreams for this and many winters past, but only fragments, until now..." the Seer muttered, reaching into a small bowl of mysterious mushrooms at his side that he proceeded to swallow whole, his hands trembling with the ritual. "Yes… a vision so strong it shudders within me." His sightless gaze fixed on her, though it seemed to penetrate further, to a place beyond time.
Freya knelt, her heart pounding. "Tell me, Ancient One, what you see for him."
The Seer's body convulsed slightly as the mushrooms took effect. He was silent for several moments, then spoke in a low, resonant voice, unlike any Freya had heard from him before.
"I see him… atop a great tower of stone, so high it pierces the very heavens," he began, his tone both awe-struck and horrified. "Surrounding him in the distance are many of the same, endless towers that touch the sky. Before him stands a horde, stretching beyond sight. Some amongst them are men, others beasts, but some...creatures trapped, or perhaps free to dwell between both worlds." His voice trembled, but he pushed forward, his words catching like thorns in his throat. "I see… generals at his side. Two men, one tall and fierce, the other a dark shadow. And a woman, her form veiled in mystery. They await his command. They bow to him as he rules over their kind, his kin...their creator."
Freya's mind spun, her grip on Magnus tightening. "A king? You speak of him as a ruler of beasts, a force beyond men. Two days past, three wolves stood before him. They spoke to him… tried to lure him into the forest. I at first feared they meant to devour him, but instead, they watched him like he was… one of them." Her voice cracked, equal parts fear and wonder. "What is he?"
The Seer was silent, as if the very question was too deep to grasp. He looked down to the boy, who gazed back innocently, his sapphire-blue eyes wide with childish curiosity as he had played with a wooden carving of a solider that had kept him distracted until this point.
For a moment, time stood still. The Seer's expression shifted, softened even, as he knelt before the child. Magnus giggled, unperturbed by the man's cryptic stare.
"Did you hurt your face, funny man?" Magnus asked, running a finger down and across his closed eye in mimicry of the Seer's scars.
The Seer let out a shuddering breath, his fingers grazing the boy's silken silver hair. "We are done here," he rasped, his tone shifting to that of a priest bestowing a final blessing. "You must keep him safe, daughter of Jorumen. They demand it so… for as much as he seems not to need it, he will."
The Seer extended his hand to her, fingers spread as if to convey the weight of what he could not fully voice. "One day, under the light of the full moon on a great hunt, you will learn his truth."
Freya nodded, then, with reverence, took his hand and licked it, a traditional show of payment and respect, though it was seldom that she felt such gratitude and dread combined. Magnus clung to her side, curiosity fading into quiet contentment, even as the Seer's final words echoed in her mind.
Leaving the hut, Freya felt the cold air wash over her, a reminder of the dangers she knew, and now, those she did not. As they strode back onto the forest path, she glanced back at the Seer's abode, a final shiver crawling up her spine at the man's haunting vision. She held Magnus close, a hand protectively on his back.
"Mother, will we hunt at nighttime soon?" he asked, sensing the weight that now cloaked her.
"Yes, my son," she murmured, looking into his eyes as though they held her future and her past. "One day soon." And with that, they melted back into the shadows of the trees, a mother shielding her son, and a boy whose fate reached beyond the stars.
September 7th, 781, Three Years Later
In the crisp chill of early autumn, a girl stood knee-deep in a shallow stream, her breath misting as she steadied her hand around her fishing spear. She was no more than ten, slender and determined, her face set with concentration as she watched the water for signs of life. Her spear shot out suddenly, slicing through the water with precision, though it missed the glinting fish that darted away, leaving her frustrated but resolute.
A rustling from behind snapped her to attention. Turning, she felt her heart thud at the sight of a large, gray wolf standing at the edge of the streambank. The creature's lips were drawn back in a low snarl, its muscles coiled in a poised, deadly stance. Swallowing her fear, she gripped her spear, raising it defensively as she stepped back, her gaze locked on the wolf's sharp yellow eyes. If she was to prove herself, this was her chance!
Just as her mind raced for options, a voice broke through the tense silence. "Garm, here, boy!" The young voice cut through the air like a command, calm but firm. Instantly, the wolf's snarl vanished, and it sat obediently, tail sweeping the leaves with a docile enthusiasm as if it were a mere household hound. Out of the trees stepped a boy, silver hair falling to his shoulders, his cheeks flushed from exertion. He couldn't have been much younger then she, something he stature would prove otherwise. He bore a mysterious confidence and ease with the wild that seemed unnatural for a child.
"Is that your wolf?" she asked, unable to mask her amazement.
Magnus nodded, brushing a hand along Garm's thick fur. "Yes. Did he spook you? Sorry, he's very protective…and doesn't like many people," he explained, a bit of a smile playing on his lips. "Not even my mother...though I don't blame him, she can be scary," he added with a sheepish shrug.
Her amazement only grew. "Where did you get him?"
"His mother gave him to me to look after two winters ago," he said. "It was a hard time, even for them, and she already had three other pups to care for. She trusted me." He rubbed Garm's head, and the wolf seemed to preen, leaning into the boy's touch with a surprising gentleness.
"A wild wolf gave you her pup?" She tilted her head, her eyes bright with both skepticism and awe. "But…how?"
Magnus glanced away, almost shyly, before he answered, "I'm...not supposed to say this, but I can speak with animals. They seem to understand me somehow, like you do right now...I hope" He paused, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "Do you have a family?"
The question caught her off guard. "Yes…my mother and father. My mother left me out here for a few days. She says it'll make me stronger, that it's how shield maidens learn to survive on their own." She looked away, her young face holding a stoic resilience, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of loneliness.
"My mother won't let me go anywhere alone," Magnus admitted. "But she's started to if he is with me." He bent down, pulling out a strip of jerky from his pouch and offering it to the wolf. "Maybe I can go with you back to your family. Just in case you…uh, don't want to be alone."
"I'm not scared!" she replied with sharply against his insinuation, though the immediate reaction softened as she noticed Magnus's genuine expression.
"Oh, sorry," he mumbled. "I do, though. Sometimes… I get scared of people. Garm helps, he helps me feel better." He looked at her sheepishly, then handed Garm the treat, watching as the wolf munched on it contentedly.
The girl studied him for a moment, her face softening with a smile. "You're different," she said plainly. "But that's not a bad thing...Do I scare you?" She asked in genuine curiosity as his vibrant blue eyes locked with hers.
"No. You're…you're not scary. I think you're…pretty," he stammered, the words surprising even him.
Her face flushed, but she quickly recovered, lifting her chin with a confident air. "I'm Lagertha," she announced, drawing herself up proudly. "And I'll be a shield maiden one day!"
"My mother wants me to be a warrior, too, but I just like to explore" Magnus said. He gestured back to the path he'd taken to the stream. "She just caught a deer yesterday. We have plenty of food if you're hungry. You could come back with me."
Lagertha's eyes darted around the now-empty stream, her initial purpose of catching fish forgotten. "Fine," she said with a determined smile, brushing her hair back from her face. "I'll go with you. But tell the hairball to behave!"
Magnus chuckled as Garm's ears perked up, sensing the journey to come. "He'll be on his best behavior," he promised, casting one last look at the quiet stream before leading the way, a feeling growing within him that today marked the start of a bond he would carry for many years to come.
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