serpentine ➢ sigurd snake in the eye

⇀ Harbard's Prophecy

Sigurd's small feet thumped against the ground as he ran out of town, to the outskirts of town. His shoulder length strawberry blonde hair flowing in the crisp breeze as he ran like the wind towards the small figure of a girl, two years younger than himself, clutching a huge shovel that was almost two times her size. He was approaching fast, the young orange haired girl looked up at him in confusion, dirt and mud smudged around her face. though she kept on plowing the fields as she had always been a good daughter.

"Æsa! Æsa, stop what you are doing this instant and listen to me!"

The boy prince demanded, taking the shovel from her small muddy hands, promptly dropping it in the moist, fertile ground. Æsa rolled her sharp blue eyes in frustration and crossed her arms over her muddy farming apron. Sigurd's nose scrunched in disgust as he looked her up and down, her once dark blue apron was now smeared in dried and wet mud, her hip length long orange hair was now pinned up messily, fiery strands hung down at random points, the yellow dress under the blue apron was trailed with mud up to her knees and the sleeves of it were also smothered in mud.

"What in Odin's name have you done to yourself? Look at you! You are so dirty!"

Sigurd's remarked rudely, Æsa rolled her eyes again and pushed his chest making him stumble but only just barely.

"I have been doing work, something you, as a prince of Kattegat, will never understand! Now what do you want? I am busy and I do not want my father thinking I am not working."

Æsa said matter of factly, Sigurd groaned and grabbed the little girl's hand, pulling her away with him quickly. Little Æsa could hardly keep up with him, she struggled to stay upright.

"Slow down, Sigurd! You are going to make me fall!"

Æsa hollered in frustration, Sigurd rolled his eyes and turned around, scooping her up and throwing her child body over his shoulder, his hand resting on her bottom. Æsa flushed in the face, but still frustrated, starting to ramble angrily but Sigurd just kept running through the village. Adults turned and adored the two children as Sigurd hurried by with her. Somewhere along the ride, Æsa has shut up and settled in on his shoulder. Sigurd stopped finally, gently setting Æsa down, she opened her mouth to protest but Sigurd covered her mouth, bringing his finger up to his lips before guiding her to a dark oak house. Noises were heard from in and Sigurd motioned for her to peak through and hole in the wall, Æsa did so. There was Harbard, the mystical stranger from worlds away, with two women, neither of which were Queen Aslaug. The three were doing such adult things to one another, Æsa thought it must have been painful for the women, they made such loud noises.

Æsa gasped softly, turned to Sigurd who looked angry and upset. Æsa leaned in and hugged him tightly, Sigurd was baffled. He had never really been hugged, he slowly reached up and hugged her back. The two stayed in their embrace quietly, Sigurd's eyes had closed and a small smile made it way onto his face. Soon, Æsa pulled away just enough to look up at him.

"You cannot tell her, Siggy. Queen Aslaug will have a broken heart if she knows. Please do not tell her."

Æsa begged worriedly, Sigurd shook his head and let go of her with a scowl, his peridot eyes rolling in there sockets.

"And what do you know? What do you know about anything? You are just a farmer and I am a prince, I should not even waste my time with you."

The rosy haired blonde boy turned away from his beloved friend, running off down the dirt path away from her, leaving her both stunned and hurt by his words.

┊┊┊

Sigurd and Æsa stood still, speechless with shock. They simply could not believe what they were seeing. There, in the Great Hall, sat the wanderer himself. Harbard sat playing the same tune he had played years prior, telling everyone of his stories. Æsa clutched Sigurd's hand tightly, looking up to him. She knew very well what that expression was. His blonde eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled as a very familiar scowl dances on his lips. As if sensing the two, Harbard turned to them.

"Ah, is that little Sigurd, I see? You have certainly grown, haven't you?"

Sigurd puffed angrily, going to step forward but was stopped by Æsa's delicate hand against his chest. Harbard's hypnotic eyes fell on the blossomed form beside Sigurd. His eyes seemed to brighten as he focused on Æsa.

"Is that you, sweet Æsa? I hardly recognized you. My, you have grown into quite a beautiful woman. The last time I saw you, you looked like a little boy, plowing the field with your father."

Harbard said with a small chuckle, the folks around him laughed loudly and Æsa gulped as her large misty eyes watered with embarrassment, reaching a shaky hand up to touch her barely swelling stomach for comfort. Sigurd was already fired up enough and opened his mouth to fire back but was cut short when Harbard's eyes found a little boy standing beside Æsa, holding her hand.

"Ah? Is this your son? And what do they call you, little one?"

Harbard asked, his eyes piercing the small blonde boy that stood, clutching his mother's hand. He slowly stepped forward, looking to his mother for permission before answering the wanderer.

"My name is Tyr, son of Sigurd Ragnarsson. My grandfather, Ragnar Lothbrok, was descended from the Allfather himself."

Tyr stated proudly to the mystic man, Harbard smiled and laughed to himself before beckoning the little boy forward. Tyr let go of his mother's hand and ran over to Harbard's side. Æsa's motherly instinct went into over drive in that moment, as she felt her son would be stolen away from her. She called out for him desperately, reaching to grab his hand before he slipped out of reach but she was too late.

"Tyr! Come back here this instant!"

But the young boy did not listen as he had already reached Harbard and stood beside him with a small smile. Sigurd had taken more than enough by this point and his rage had overflowed like a boiling pot. He stormed over to the mystic, Æsa close in tow. Sigurd grabbed Tyr'a wrist and guided him back the Æsa where she scooped him up in her arms, kissing his soft cheeks, much to the little boy's confusion.

"That is enough! You call my son over like a loyal dog? He is not another person for you to manipulate. Do not talk to my son, do not talk to my woman, do not talk to any of us! I do not care if you are a god, you are deceitful and you will not split my family like you did before."

Sigurd fumed angrily, Æsa, though slightly offended at being called his woman, put her hand on his bicep, trying to calm him. He looked back at her and took her hand gently, ready to leave but not before grabbing Æsa's skirts, stopping her. He placed a calloused hand over her slightly swollen belly, she turned to him, frightful blue clouds in her eyes.

"Your son will have hair as ashen red as the burning flames of the sun and the ash of a smoldering forest. He will have the image of a waned moon in his eye, eyes of silver and gold, his face taken by plague."

Harbard spoke simply, his ever present smile on his lips. Æsa shook in fear before collapsing to the ground. Tyr started to sob at the sight of his fallen mother while he tried to pick himself up off of her limp body. Sigurd dropped to his knees to help her, fearing the worst for her and their unborn child.

to be continued