by Andromeda -
She came here as a slave, but was now crown princess and mother to the crown princes' children. She smiled to herself as she thought of her husband, Alrik, and how he too had made a name for himself, as a great explorer of faraway lands.
"Hakan?" she called to her other son, who was at the window seat. "Want to help us make the table?"
"Yes, mama," Hakan said as he hopped down from the seat and walked over to help.
On the rug, her twin daughters, Iiona and Isis, sat, playing with their toys. Rashida smiled secretly to herself at the sight of them. She remembered when Alrik had said that he didn't ever want her to go through childbirth ever again, and that lasted…for about a week. He had gotten a bit jealous when he saw the boys nursing on her breasts and knew he couldn't keep his hands to himself. He did wait until they were weaned, but afterward, he pounced on her like a mountain lion on a deer. They tried to be careful, but when the boys were three years old, she found herself with child again and later gave birth to her beautiful little girls.
Motherhood had changed her look on life. She had grown fiercer, Alrik claimed, ready to protect her family at a moment's notice. Her powers seemed to have grown when she was with child, reaching new heights and proclaiming to all that she was a Seiðr.
Tonight, Alrik was coming home with his group of warriors from exploring the Far Lands and she could hardly wait. She wondered if he'd changed, if he had grown out a beard like his father, or kept it more clean cut like his uncle. However he looked, she could hardly wait to have him in her arms. She already knew that he would make love to her; it was their way. Recently, however, she had found a herb that prevented pregnancies and she had taken it the night before.
As she placed the last bowl on the table, she heard the door open and then her love walked in. He shook the light snow from his cloak, and smiled as his children rushed forward and leapt into his arms, all chattering at once to ask about his adventures. He looked up, his eyes caught Rashida’s and he gave her that secret smile she knew all too well.
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Alrik groaned deeply, emptying his seeds into Rashida’s body before he rolled onto his side. Both her sweaty, panting heavily from their passionate lovemaking, but it was what they were known for. He looked at his beautiful wife and trailed his hand down her stomach and kissed her shoulder as he prayed to the gods for another blessing of another child.
"I've missed you, my love," he whispered. His hand slid to her cheek and to her, close enough to kiss.
"I've missed you too," Rashida whispered back. "It's been so long."
"The children behave?" he asked.
"More or less,” she chuckled. “The boys are very protective of us."
"As they should be. But I'm back now. I plan to enroll them in school soon."
"Now? They are only six years old."
"All the better. They need to start young like I did."
"Alright, though I want to be there to watch."
"Of course, my love," he said, as he guided her to mount him.
Their love was a strong one, a rare one that not all could brag about. Who else could say that they started out as a slave, and then married the great King Henrik’s eldest son? Who else could say that they had borne him four beautiful, healthy children that would continue the new royal blood line? None, but Rashida, who was the love of his life.
Alrik groaned, his hands playfully slapped her rear as she began to move. He missed everything about her. Her laugh, her smile, her touch, the feel of her warmth around him. He knew that he would never tire of her. If he had his way, she would be with child every season. However, he respected that she'd taken that herb and he would wait until she was ready for another child. That didn’t mean, though, that he didn’t have to enjoy the pleasures of her body. He gripped her waist and rolled them over so that she was under him, his hips thrust into her with abandon.
The next morning, he ate the morning meal with his family, talking to his sons and daughters before he went out to go and see his town.
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
Safirinnsjø didn’t seem to have changed much since he had left for his quests. It had gotten bigger, with more people, but that was it. He headed to his father's house where he was greeted by his younger half-brothers. The eldest, Knute, who was now almost 18, was sitting in the window seat, paying a little bit of extra attention to Rashida’s younger sister, Auset, who was 17. Alrik watched them a moment before his other brother, Mimir, slapped him on the back in greeting.
"Welcome back home," he said smiling.
"Thank you," Alrik said with a soft laugh. "It's good to be back." He looked to where Knute and Auset sat. "What are they up to?”
Mimir smirked. "He is courting her."
Alrik’s eyebrows shot up. "He is? I didn't think he would be the type…"
"Well, he is," Mimir laughed. “And he is courting her heavily.”
Alrik looked to them again in shock. He watched Auset blush and pull away when Knute tried to caress her cheek. For a moment, he could see he and Rashida right there, and while theirs wasn't a proper courtship, it still was a product of love.
"Alrik…" a familiar voice said behind him. "Hello again."
Alrik turned around and saw Gala glide over to them. He tried to not frown when he saw her. She didn’t seem to have aged much, though, then again, she was known for her seemingly eternal beauty. His feelings for her still hadn’t changed. He still hated her, though he knew he couldn’t openly disrespect her for the sake of his father and brothers. He knew, however, that she knew that his father was quickly nearing the gates of Valhalla, and when he passed, then Alrik would be king with Rashida as his queen. All he had to do was wait.
"Queen Gala," Alrik said, bowing his head in brief respect. "I was looking for my father."
“He is in his study,” Gala said. “However, I would ask you to not tax him.”
“Why would I tax my own father?” Alrik asked.
“Father has not been well,” Mimir explained. “For the last couple of months, he seemed to be…weakening.”
Alrik frowned and left the room to go and find his father. When he located him in his study, his jaw dropped. He could hardly recognize the man that had raised him. Henrik seemed to have aged several years in a couple months. His skin was extremely pale, his hands trembled as he tried to turn a page in his book. His head was bald, but he had a long white beard that reached almost to the middle of his chest.
“A…Alrik,” Henrik said with a soft smile. “Y…you have returned home, my son…”
“Father, what has happened to you?” Alrik asked as he rushed to his father.
“I…I am nearing my time to be finished in this world,” Henrik said, his voice hoarse. “And…I need to tell you something.”
Before he could say anything, fierce coughing racked his body. So much so, that blood began to bubble in Henrik’s throat before he passed out.
“Father!” Alrik cried as he caught him before he could hit his head. “Help! Someone help me! The king is sick!”
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Rashida was gathering herbs when a servant came running to her. She could tell that this was a serious matter as he dropped to his knees before her. Quickly, she left her herbs and rushed to Henrik’s home where his family was gathered around him. At first, she stood in the back, but when Alrik saw her, he pulled her to the front before Gala, which Rashida could clearly see upset the older woman slightly.
“Can you help him?” Alrik asked his wife. “Can you…do anything?”
“No,” Henrik said firmly. “I do not wish to be healed.”
“Father, please…” Alrik pleaded, but Henrik shook his head.
“No, my son, listen to me,” Henrik said, his voice full of authority. “When the rooster crows at sunrise, you will be King of Denmark.”
“But I don’t wish to be King of Denmark!” Alrik protested. “You are the king!”
“And every king must die for his son to
take his place,” Henrik countered as coughs racked his body again.
A servant brought a cloth to wipe the bloody foam from his mouth. Rashida frowned slightly at the sight of it. It was the winter season, and the sick season had already passed. The illness that normally caused bloody foam wasn’t around this time of year.
“Shall I go and fix you the tea that you love?” Gala offered sweetly to her husband.
“Yes,” Henrik said as he waved her away. “It will give me time to talk to my son.”
He dismissed everyone, but told Alrik and Rashida to stay. Rashida was nervous. She didn’t believe that she was worthy to stay for this meeting, but Henrik insisted.
“My son, listen to me,” Henrik wheezed. “As I die, the kingdom will now turn to you as its leader. You will be king, whether you like it or not. I have so many regrets. The primary one was leaving your mother. How I wonder what life would be like if I hadn’t allowed myself to be seduced by a soft kiss, soft thighs and an untouched body. I loved your mother, my son, with all my heart, I still do, and you are a product of that love. Do you know why I allowed you to marry this woman when Gala was pressing me for someone else? Because I saw in you what I felt, what I had, with your mother, Ingrid. In this life, I have lost her, but I pray that the gods allow us to meet again in Valhalla.”
Alrik held his father’s hand tightly in his own, tears streaming down his cheeks. “She never stopped loving you. To this day, she still loved you. You hurt her terribly, and I remember when I would hear her crying, I blamed you. I wished for your death, but I take it back. Do you hear me, gods, I take it all back!!”
Henrik smiled softly, though his breathing was coming slower. “I forgive you, my son, if you can forgive me for all that I’ve done. I can see the gates. I can see Odin’s table…Valkyries are nearing me…”
“Father…” Alrik whispered through his tears.
“In my study…you will find my projects…” Henrik said slowly. “I want you…to do what I couldn’t…France…go to…France…”
His eyes opened as wide as he possibly could, as Henrik looked to his son and his wife, the heirs of his kingdom. With a soft smile, the smile that he was known for, the great Henrik Ironside took his last breath, and then passed through the gates of Valhalla.
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A Norse funeral was never one for sadness. Instead, it was one for joy and celebration. The roads were cleaned as the funeral procession began to get ready. Rashida, painted in white and black paint of a Seiðr, led a line of priests and professional mourners down the roads, headed to the docks. It was here, where Henrik’s body was.
His favorite ship was packed with straw, then a tarp was placed over it, then his body was placed on top of it, and then finally, all his favorite items were placed surrounding him. His sword, weapons, all his favorite foods, food, clothing, and even the head of his favorite horse and the heart of it was placed inside it. This was to give his soul all the items that he would ever need when he sat at Odin’s table, so that when Ragnarök came, he wouldn’t be without.
People sang and danced in the streets as item after item was packed into the ship to get it ready. As Rashida walked forward, behind her, all of Henrik’s family followed. Ingrid was there at her son’s side, as she knew that this was hard for him. With his father’s passing, Alrik was king now, and all the weight of ruling was now upon his shoulders.
When they neared the ship, Rashida said a blessing over it before the men pushed it out onto the open waters. She then looked to Alrik, as the lighting of the ship was his job.
The young man took the sacred bow and knocked an arrow, stuck the end briefly into the fire so that it would catch aflame, took aim and then released the string. The flaming arrow met its mark, and instantly, the tarp that had been lightly coated with tar, caught a flame.
As everyone watched the flames dance upon the water, a young priestess opened her mouth and began to sing the traditional song that was to be sung at all funerals.
We sing to you, o’mighty gods to bless him
We sing to you, o’mighty gods to bless him.
Hear your servants, hear our call and open your gates
He has lived a great life o’mighty gods and is worthy of Valhalla
Now o’mighty gods hear us, accept this man into Valhalla
He has left a wife and sons, the son shall carry his name
We sing to you, o’mighty gods to bless him
We sing to you, o’mighty gods to bless him.
As the priestess sang, Rashida glanced at her husband whose face was as stone. He was king now, and if he was king, then that made her queen. A new dynasty had come to Safirinnsjø, a dynasty that she was a part of. Would Alrik be able to fill his father’s boots, she wondered to herself. Would he be able to handle the stress that came with it? Yes, yes he would. Because he had her. Rashida wasn’t going to let him crumble and fall. She was going to help him to become strong.
Part Three
Queen
Chapter Twenty-Four: The New Dynasty
Rashida nervously ran her hands over her elaborate gown. The rich fabric seemed so foreign to her. She wasn’t supposed to be queen, she wasn't born to be a queen, and yet…the title seemed so right to her. Behind her, dressed also in his official robes, was Alrik. He walked to her and rested his hands on her bare shoulders before he placed a gentle kiss on her neck.
"Are you alright, my love?" he whispered.
"Just a bit nervous," she confessed.
She had every right to be. Today, she and Alrik were going to be crowned king and queen. Jarls and their families from all over were coming to pay their respects as well as give gifts. Alrik also planned to announce his desire to go raiding again, per his father’s plans in taking France.
"As am I," he said with a soft smile. "But we both know that it has to be done. The gods have declared it so."
Rashida nodded and smiled shyly as she gave him a gentle kiss before he took her hand and led her outside. The citizens of Safirinnsjø were lined on either side of the main road. In their hands, they held evergreen branches over their heads as they rose their voices to the gods, proclaiming that they approved of this couple as their king and queen.
Behind them, Alrik and Rashida’s children were also dressed richly, as the family begun its slow progression to the main house. For a moment, Alrik stopped at the door, as he looked up at the large, well-made house. Made of stone, rather than wood, and having gold and silver molded in it, this house had housed several Jarls as well as a couple of kings. Now it was his. Rashida gave him a soft smile of comfort, as they stepped inside.
People reached out to touch their shoulders. Some whispered blessings for them as they knew that this family was highly favored. What family wouldn’t be? They have healthy children, their patriarch was known as the best warrior of his time, and to top it off, they had Nakia, a powerful Seiðr.
In the back of the crowd, Gala watched with smoldering eyes. Since she was no longer queen, her things had been removed from the house and replaced with Rashida’s. As for herself, Gala had been given a well-made, but not as grand, home, not far from her old one.
Normal people would be grateful for her kind of home, as she still had several slaves of her own and her great wealth. But Gala was anything but normal. She absolutely hated to be second place in anything. Such was her case with Ingrid. She knew that she would never be the warrior like she was, so she turned instead to birth Henrik as many sons as possible.
Gala remembered when she used to hope that something would happen to Alrik so that one of her sons would become crown prince. Now, as she watched the young couple walk to the thrones, her eyes were drawn to Rashida’s younger sister Auset and to her son Knute, who looked at her longingly. Instantly, the wheel began to turn in her head. Maybe she shouldn’t give up hope of power just yet…
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Alrik held his breath as the priest held a bowl of fresh blood high in the air. The el
derly man in black had freshly sacrificed two doves before he poured their blood into the sacred white-horn bowl. Magical runes decorated the sides of the bowl and the scent of blood as well as herbs, filled his nostrils.
The priest dipped his fingers into the bowl and began to chant before he reached down. Carefully, he began to draw patterns on Alrik’s forehead in the shape of a raven print: for the symbol of Odin. He then moved to Rashida and did the same thing, but for her, he drew a cat print: for the symbol of Freya.
"Chosen by Odin and blessed by Freya," the priest said loudly. "You both have been called to your duties as king and queen of these people. Do you so solemnly swear to protect the people of Kattegat? To put their needs above your own?"
"We do," Alrik and Rashida said in unison.
"Do you solemnly swear to obey the gods?" the priest asked. "To do their will and not question them?"
"We do," Alrik and Rashida repeated.
The priest then turned to Rashida and bowed his head to her. "My lady, you have been blessed by our Great Mother Freya with great power. She has chosen you as her representative on Earth. Do you promise to use the power gifted to you wisely? Do you swear to not abuse it, but to lead your people?"
"I do," Rashida said, not breaking eye contact.
The priest gestured for them to stand up and then held out a sacred knife. Alrik took a deep breath, then grabbed the knife and slowly drew it across his right palm. Crimson bubbled up from the thin line, and he passed it to Rashida, who did the same thing. The bowl of blood was held out to them and they squeeze their blood into it. Turning to the crowd before them, Alrik took the cup first and took two swallows before he handed it to Rashida.