DIVINE [HVITSERK RAGNARSSON]

34: CLOSE

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR— 'CLOSE'

Asta's horse trotted along slowly at the front of the party, soft snow dancing downwards from grey skies and settling itself on the top of her hair. She'd hardly spoken a word to Hvitserk since they'd left Halsarby, no matter what he'd done since arriving she couldn't just forgive him that easily.
"Do your parents like Halsarby?" Hvitserk spoke up from his own horse, that was wandering just behind Asta's on the snow filled path.
"Yes." She replied bluntly, not bothering to turn around and look at him.
"Don't they miss Kattegat?"
"I suppose."
"Come on, Asta. Is it going to be like that now?" Hvitserk scoffed and Asta knew that there would be a smirk plastered across his face. She stopped her horse suddenly, making the other warriors around them also come to a halt.
"You do not get to decide how I am with you." She whipped her head around and sneered at him.
Hvitserk wanted to smile, impressed at how strong she was, but he said nothing.

Their party continued walking for several hours until the sun began to lower from the sky and the snow drops floated down even heavier.
"We should camp here for the night." Hvitserk announced, signalling to a small clearing in the forest that stood to the side of the snowy path. "We should arrive in Ringerike tomorrow."

Ringerike was covered in snow, it's small cabins puffing smoke from warming fires and it's citizens wrapping up warm in furs.

The previous night had been a cold one too — Asta had shared a tent with the two shield-maidens that accompanied Hvitserk's party after refusing his offer to share his own tent. He'd pleaded with her but she was still punishing him. The small, remaining part of their journey this morning had again been a silent one as Asta chose to charge ahead on her own horse.

When they'd arrived in Ringerike, their horses had walked slowly towards the longhouse in the distance, listening to the joy and bustle that came from within. Hvitserk dismounted first, Asta and the rest of his warriors doing the same and standing cautiously behind him. He led them, walking forward and pushing open the longhouse doors. The festivities stopped instantly, the longhouse's occupants turning their heads to gawk at the strangers that had just burst through the door.
"Who are you?" A small man stepped forward from the feasting crowd and peered up at Hvitserk. The temperature had dropped so low that snow had settled on his face and atop of the furs that were draped around his shoulders.
"We are from Kattegat, here to see King Olaf." Hvitserk announced, shivering as he did so.
The man chuckled, looking around as others chuckled with him.
"You can tell me who you are first." He smirked at Hvitserk.
"I am Hvitserk," he paused as many of the people in the longhouse looked at each other and gasped, "son of Ragnar Lothbrok."