Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

THIRTY-SEVEN

☾

"I'm confused. So you're not mad at them?"

"No, I am but not really angry, just annoyed," I groaned, trying to explain my thought process to Freyja, who I'd sought out in a dream to vent to. "I would have appreciated some patience, you know? This is new to me."

"You are their leader," Freyja mused softly, her voice rustling the leaves on the trees of the creek, "they have expectations of you."

The creek had left winter too now, and although it was as cold as usual, a sun shone down from the sky, and the water rippled more gently. The trees no longer creaked, and flowers coated the side of the water.

I huffed as a rock sticking out of the creek dug into my back while I leaned back against it. "I have made my decision now, and I can not help but fret that Ingemar is furious with me. I need her support."

"I can not tell you what Ingemar thinks," Freyja hummed quietly, "but I know that the loyalty your people have for you is deeper than you think. You have made friends along the way; you do not stand alone."

I mulled over her words in my head, my hands clasped over my stomach, staring up at the blue sky. She couldn't be wrong because Freyja knew everything. I knew that I had friends and that people cared; these people had gone to war for me. I was just simply coming to terms with being in charge. It was not easy taking Jarldom after my father's rule and the example of Ragnar. I had big shoes to fill.

"I think, sweet child," Freyja spoke, amusement lining her words, "that you need to get out of your own head. You can not be loved by everyone, so do your best, and if people leave, let them."

My heart panged dully at the thought of Saga or Uhtred leaving if I could not appease them. Naturally, Sihtric would leave, too. Ingemar, I would not miss as much, but her expertise was irreplaceable, and the warriors respected her immensely.

I would be very alone after that.

"You think too much," Freyja groaned, "I am done with this. Go back to your world."

I jumped up, looking up to the sky, "I was not done asking for your opinion on—"

"Goodbye, Gyda!"

I shot up in my bed, the bear furs falling off me as I glared at the wall across the room.

The afternoon sunlight streaked through the small window in the room, and it hit my hands, warming my skin and bathing the walls in an orange hue.

With a small huff, I dragged my legs off the bed, my long, black nightdress embroidered with silver thread pooling around my feet. It was a small pleasure of being a Jarl; fine clothes of silk and cotton, gifted by many who wished for my favour, meaning I could wear a new dress or new armour every day.

I moved to the small oak table in my room, sitting down on the chair covered by deer hide before reaching for the letter I had left behind upon deciding to speak to Freyja.

It was a letter for Aelfric, Uhtred's uncle, detailing my supposed desire to form alliances with all neighbouring fortresses. This was the only remaining letter of many drafts, I had burned the rest apart from one. That one letter left Dunholm and rode closer to Bebbanburg every second.