4Chapter 2: The Cornerstones; Part 2
"Helga? Where is her cell?!"
Herrick queried one of the armed sentinels who stood at the entrance of the brick-walled dungeon, built concretely to contain prisoners. He had never been here, knowing that his mother spent a month in a cell after his birth before she was exiled. It was not a place he wanted to visit knowing that she had spent weeks there, preparing for the execution after being condemned by the same council that was about to take the life of Helga.
"This way your highness." The sentinel led him towards Helga's cell where he noticed her curled up at a corner of the diminutive room, her hair down and apparel scruffed like she'd been in a brawl before thrown in. The old woman sat there, dominated by a profound sadness, fatigue engraved on her worn face. He rushed towards her, gripping the bars of the iron doors, ordering for it to be open.
"Your highness, the chief instructed to keep the doors shut till her execution."
"I am here to talk to her, keep it open till the end of my visit!" Herrick yelled, drawing the attention of Helga, who noticed his presence immediately.
"I'm sorry your highness. Orders strictly from your father compel us to keep the bars shut upon your arrival." The sentinel insisted, igniting Herrick's rage.
"Do you want your head on a silver platter?!"
"Herrick, stop!" Helga obviated him from striking at the sentinel in vexation. "It is alright. The bars can be shut, it's not an obstruction to your visit. I am here, I can see and hear you."
Herrick turned back to Helga, his face buried in shame. "I am sorry. I am sorry, mother."
"Son, you should not be apologetic for a crime you are innocent of."
"I failed you, mother. I failed to get you out of this mess. I failed to prove your innocence. Please forgive me, mother."
"But I am not innocent, son. I was the reason for your grandfather's defeat. Those were my people, I had to do something to stop the raid."
"So why did you return to Berk?! You knew you would be executed if you were caught!"
"I returned to see you, Herrick. I needed to give you something."
"You returned to Berk because of me?! How would you get out of your trial mother?! Now that I failed to convince father to set you free, how would you elude the execution?!"
"I wouldn't. I would face the penalty. It's my burden, I would carry it."
"What about me, mother? Do you think I would bear watching you slaughtered before me?! When you chose death for my sake?!" Herrick gripped her hand, almost whispering into her ears to disclose his words from the sentinels. "I would get you out of here. I would prepare a ship after my father leaves for war, you would live mother, I promise you."
"No." She insisted, pulling her hand from his grip. "If you help me escape, everyone would know you are responsible for it. You would be punished and lose the throne."
"I do not want the throne! Let us leave Berk, flee to mother's home town, far away from this life. I do not belong here, mother."
"You belong here, Herrick. You are the first son of your father. Legitimate or not, you are the heir to the throne. I can not take that away from you, because I promised your mother to let you know of your identity and help you fight for your place."
"I have no interest in the throne! The people of Berk despise me, the chieftess and my brother would go lengths to get rid of me. I am the filthy beam in the eyes of my grandfather and my father lives in fear, not able to stand up for me."
"You do not need them on your side, Herrick, because you are not alone. The spirit of your mother, of her Deity, is with you. I would be with you."
"With your blood on my father's spear?!"
"I would still be with you, son, even in death. Jarl Surtr is your father, and he loves you so much. He is just as miserable as you are, and you are the only one keeping the memory of your mother. You can't take that away from him"
"Am I supposed to suffer and pay for a misery he brought upon himself? It is so difficult to love him. Whenever I look at him, all I see is pain and regret. Why should I be blamed for a crime I did not commit?"
Helga held the sides of his face with her hands. "It is not regret, but shame. He avoids your presence because he is ashamed. He is ashamed that he has been bound by the selfish and greedy nature of his father, he does not regret having you, Herrick."
"What should I do?" Tears streamed down his eyes, holding on to her hands like his life depended on it. "You are all I have, I can't lose you, mother. Life would mean nothing without you. I would be a walking corpse, desolate and vacuous, is that what you want for me? Is that the kind of life you want for me?"
"Herrick, I'm sorry." She reached out to wipe the tears beneath his eyes like she'd been doing his whole life. "I want to be beside you every single day. I want to watch you grow into the man your mother always said you would become. She wanted you to be the chief that would make the change, the one to end the violence and raids. It's the reason why you are so different."
"It is hard. It is going to be even harder without you."
"But not impossible. I have taught you true strength and bravery. I believe in the man you have become, I believe in the chief you would become, but I have to let you find your path to your destiny on your own. I have confidence in your knowledge of right from wrong, and I know you would choose the right path."
"What if I don't? What if I let hate and the anger from losing you, subdue me like my father? People change, I could change."
"I am sure that you would always choose the right path, for the sake of your mother." She gently pulled away and crawled further into the cell, Herrick watching her as she picked up a small wooden box at the right corner, and moved back to her spot. He held the bars, wishing there was no barrier between them.
"Here."
"Is this another souvenir from your voyage back home?" He tried to lighten the mood and for a while lift the heavy burden of her execution. "I have a trunk full of items, mother. Are these scrolls from the new testament you talked about?"
"It's something different." She opened the box and pulled out a little sheet scrolled up in a fabric that matched the colour of his mother's shawl. "It is a letter from your mother to you."
Herrick's eyes widened, ecstatic as he'd been in desperate need of any form of communication with his mother. "You met her?"
"No. I don't know where she is, if I did, I wouldn't fail to tell you about it." She slipped the scroll into his hand, closing his fist around it. "She wrote this before she left and asked me to give it to you when you turned twenty when leading the raids would become your sole responsibility. I hoped I would live long enough until the right time, but…"
He gripped her hands, the pain igniting at the fact that he always seemed to be helpless when he was to lose the people he loved. "How can I lead the whole of Berk, when I can't save the lives of the people I love the most?"
"You have a heart of gold, empathy, wisdom and bravery. Those are all you need to lead the people of Berk down the right path."
"What if I don't become Chief? What if the reigns are given to my brother, Sigmund?"
"It's your birthright, not your brother's."
"He is the legitimate son, born from both royal blood. Berk knows that and does not accept me as heir. What would be the purpose of sacrificing your life when we can escape your trial?!"
"You are the heir and the future chief after your father. Jarl Surtr is willing to fight till his last breath to make sure you succeed him, it's why he intercedes every single day to his father on your behalf, being a slave to his expectations and orders, just so you would be accepted in the royal line."
"How do you know of this, mother?"
"Because it was your mother's last wish when she birthed you. It's the only way he hopes to erase his guilt and shame, for the pain he caused you both."
Herrick shook his head in disbelief. "He really has a lot to learn."
"You can teach him." Helga gave a faint tired smile, signalling her current starvation and ill-treatment since her conviction. "If his pride wouldn't get in the way."
"Are you starving, mother? I would have some food ordered from the maids right now."
"I am a prisoner, Herrick. I am beneath the position of the maids to request for their service, just let me be, I would be strong."
"Well, I am Jarl and the heir, and you are my mother. You would be granted their immediate service upon my orders."
Helga smiled again, this time with full strength and glee, running her fingers through his long auburn locks. He caught her gaze after giving orders to the guard on her frequent meal service, even as a prisoner, but unable to return the smile, knowing his time on earth with her was gravely shortened.
"What makes you so happy, even in the face of death?"
"You called yourself Jarl and the heir." Her smile never faded, even upon the knoledge of her close contact with death.
"I did."
"You have accepted your identity, Herrick, now never forget it. In the midst of trials and pain caused by those around you, always remember who you are, stand for what is right, and always remember that you are never alone."
"Whatever happens to me, please forgive your father. Do not harbour hate and anger, because you would make erratic decisions that could affect your future."
"You might lose me, but you would find love again, a different kind of love. Whoever she is, whatever her background might be, learn from your father's mistakes and fight for her. Do not make her go through the same pain and misery your father caused your mother."
"My father would never even let me close to a temple maiden or a non-Viking girl."
"He has no control over fate, and neither do you."
Herrick leaned into her hand, another stream of tears rolling down his eyes. This time she didn't stop him or wipe them off, instead, she held on and wept with him.
"I love you, Mother."
"I love you too, Son."
June 8, 793AD
"Your visit to the monastery took longer than notionally theorized, you were absent for Ansgar's official induction as a fyrd. Your presence was requested by him, but you were nowhere to be found."
"I apologise, my lord, but I was not apprised of the sudden induction. Was it not settled to be in a month? why then was he inducted today?"
Astrid watched her mother, Queen Amora sit at his feet, next to the footstool of the throne. Right from her childhood, she'd always wondered why she always left the throne of the queen, her rightful place to sit at the foot of her father, stroking his feet in a way that revolted anger on the pretence between the relationship of her parents.
Eavesdropping on the members of her family brought her to the realization of the hidden secrets beneath all the facade, especially with her parents. She knew of her father's constant affairs with the chambermaids of the palace and the fact that her mother was aware of it, but chose to be silent. She'd once watched him force himself on her personal maid, at the fragile age of sixteen. Her mother silenced her cry with a threat that drove her out of the palace.
"Your frequent visits to the monastery creates an interest in the reason behind them. Is your relationship with your father mended? How is he faring with the other monks?"
He stroked her hair with his right hand, holding his sceptre with his left.
"He is faring well, blessed by his Deity. He sends his greetings and blessings."
Lies.
Admira Ida had been assigned to be the queen's body sentinel for protection on her visits to the monastery. Queen Amora was a descendant of Monk Aidan, the german monk, appointed by King Oswald to commence the monastery at Lindisfarne. Her grandfather, Monk Altfrid served as the next in line after a long effort of fighting the tradition of their lineage. Her grandfather had intended to live a normal life with the woman he loved but conformed to the monastery after her death while giving birth to Queen Amora. The lineage of Aidan was the most venerated monks in the whole of Northumbrian kingdoms, and marrying into the lineage would give him a higher label, and pedestal than other Northumbrian kings. It was the only reason for the arranged marriage between her parents.
Although they claimed to be in love, with evidence of twenty-one years in marriage and four children, Astrid was aware of the concealed truth. Queen Amora had been in a relationship with Admiral Ida before she was brought to the king and into royalty. They both grew up in Lindisfarne monastery, with his ambition to be a scribe in the past. His love for her mother cost him his position at the monastery before moving to the palace to train as a fyrd.
They couldn't fight back the weight of the king's proposal, but at the same time could not hold back their love for each other. Ida still stood in the sidelines as a protector, loving her children like they were his, and being more of a father to Astrid than the king himself. Ida and her mother had kept up a secret affair for so long, to the extent that she doubted her paternity being the last and unwanted child of her mother.
Her frequent visits to the Lindisfarne monastery was her excuse for meeting up privately with Ida, more so after his appointment as her personal sentinel. Her mother told numerous lies to cover their tracks, making the king completely oblivious to the happenings behind him. He was not a saint either, his affairs served as a justification to her mother's betrayal and their endless pretence was infuriating.
"He is ready. Northumbrian kings have produced heirs, warlords and valiant successors. Bamburgh awaited it's produce, so I offered it to them."
"What plans do you have for his siblings?"
"An order has been sent to the Admiral to intensify the weight of training on Annar and Arick. Annar has made credible advancements, but Arick is going on the path that could put this family to shame."
Blasphemy. Arick was the wisest of all the members of the royal household. He had an admirable passion for knowledge, learning more about history of the Northumbrian kingdoms and virtues of the Christianity religion. He knew a lot about the human mind and was fully invested in his decision to be a scribe at the monastery, but that was completely against the wishes of the king, tagging him the weak link in the royal line.
Arick and Astrid were on the rebel side, and seemed to be the only ones that understood their differences, and also faced rejection and discrimination on the basis of their preferences. She was usually the next subject of their discussion after Arick, so she hid in the shadows of the hall to listen to their complaints about her.
"I humbly request that you give him another chance, your majesty. He would soon come to understand his responsibility, I would talk to him again."
"Meanwhile Astrid would be betrothed to Prince Eardwulf upon their visit tomorrow at noon. She would be married into the Mælmin kingdom once she turns sixteen, they are the wealthiest and greatest allies and our best chance."
"Sixteen? You promised you wouldn't give her away till she turned eighteen. Don't you think she needs to learn more about being a queen? Please give her a few more years."
Astrid's hands curled in a fist, fuming with rage at the one thing she'd dreaded the most her whole life. A large fraction of the pain was from the fact that her mother had no guts to stand up for her. She didn't want to be married into another kingdom, she didn't want to be queen, to be like her mother. She wanted to be a fyrd and her mother was aware of it but chose to do nothing about it. Her mother just kept going in circles and bringing up excuses to push her father's plans of marrying her off at such a young age.
"It's time to put her beauty to good use, she's better off ruling a kingdom than wasting away in this palace."
Was that all her father saw in her? Was that all she was worth to Bamburgh? Why should her brothers be trained to be leaders, while she's sent to live the kind of life her mother lived in the palace? There had been news of suspicious and unusual raids throughout the south coast of the baltic sea, and strong defence was vigorously needed at those times. She wanted to be there for her kingdom, to be at the frontline, fighting for the safety of her people, why should she be denied that for the reason of being a woman?
"Please, give her two more years with us, with me. I don't want to lose my daughter too soon. It would serve as time to groom her to be a queen that Mælmin would be proud of."
"Alright, my queen, but the betrothal still stands. She would be married to Prince Eardwulf after her eighteenth birthday."
Tears rolled down the corner of her eyes once she made eye contact with her mother. This was another chance to use her position as the queen to fight for the sake and choices of her children, but she continued to be silent, secretive and submissive to every order of her father, even when she completely objected to it.
Astrid left the royal hall and raced towards her bedroom in the castle, dragging the end of her robe trailing behind, tears blurring her vision. If being a man was all it took to convince her father that she could be just as good as her brothers in the war, she was willing to do it.
Bursting into her bedroom, she sat at the mirror, the place she was forced to spend most of her time at and stared at her reflection, her tears rolling down to her rosy cheeks. She was beautiful. Her mother always told her that her beauty would be the source of her happiness, but it seemed to be the source of her pain. Picking up the razor in her drawer, she held the end of her beautiful golden locks and slashed through it, a sizably voluminous chunk sliding down her shoulders to the ground. For every tear that fell, she cut another handful, struggling to elude the pain and cage of her comeliness.
"Astrid! What are you doing to yourself?!" Her mother, who seemed to have followed her, rushed in screaming at the sight of 'the crown of her beauty' thrown to the ground. "Astrid! Stop it!"
"Unhand me, mother! You have chosen the same path that father has! Then you come to me like a saint and pretend to be on my side?!"
"I am on your side, you are my daughter!"
"And you are my mother! You should fight for me! You should not sell me into a life that you dread yourself! And you are my mother!"
"My child, please calm down, hand me the razor."
"What are you more concerned about?! My future?! or my hair?!"
"I am concerned about you!"
"I don't want to be like you, mother!"
"And I don't want you to be like me! You can never be like me because you are different! You are so much stronger and braver, Astrid! You do not need to cut your hair or be a man to prove that." Her mother broke down into tears, the only persuasion to release the razor to her.
"You told father I could get married at eighteen."
"Because I am weak Astrid, it's the only way I know how to fight for you, the only way to protect you. I stopped him from marrying you off at sixteen, do you not think I have a plan when you are eighteen?"
"I have never halted your training session with Ida, and have deviated your father countless times from any suspicions he's had about it. It's because I do support you, but this is not a fight I can win, it's not a fight I can win by being like you."
"What is father's worst verdict if he learns about my personal training with Ida?"
"You would be married in a month, right after Ida's execution." Her mother placed both hands on the sides of her face, wiping the tears beneath her eyes with her thumb. "Everything I do, I do it for you, Astrid. I do it for your freedom, so don't think for a day that you have to change who you are to be who you want to be. You are beautiful, but beauty doesn't mean weakness, it doesn't mean silence and it doesn't mean submission. If you can't learn that from my actions, please, learn it from my words."
"Please forgive me, mother, forgive me for doubting your love for me." Astrid buried her face into her mother's shoulders, wrapping her hands around her waist. "I didn't understand your intentions, I'm so sorry."
"Whatever emotions or anger you have towards me or anyone, don't take it out by hurting yourself or cutting your hair." She ran her fingers through the short locks that looked shaggy from the unplanned haircut. "This does not make you any less of a woman or more of a man."
"Father would not be pleased with it, but that was my intention, to hurt him like he keeps hurting me."
"Justice is not hurting yourself in hopes of hurting someone else. One day, your father is going to see in you what Ida and I see, something more than being sold to some kingdom for wealth."
"And Arick."
"Arick?"
"He's known about it for three years now."
"I would not pretend to be in awe of it. Arick is wise beyond his years, he could make a better leader than Ansgar if your father saw through valiancy. I also support his passion, just like I do to yours."
"I love you, mother. I know I do not let out my emotions too often, but I really do."
Queen Amora smiled and held her tighter, placing a kiss in her hair. " I love you too, my little warrior."
Their rare emotional moment was interrupted by the panicked entrance of Admiral Ida, who never entered Astrid's bedroom without the permission of the princess.
"Queen Amora, bad news has spread throughout the palace, your father might be in danger!"
Her mother broke away from the hug immediately, also switching to a tensed state at Ida's words. "What happened to my father?!"
"The monastery at Lindisfarne is under siege. The monks sent a letter to the palace pleading for help, your father might be in danger."
"We must leave the palace at once! I have to see my father!"
"But your majesty, I have rounded up men and set them on a ship to the coast, it would be dangerous if you visit the monastery at this time."
"I am going to see my father! You have the option of going with me, or watching me go set assail alone!"
Astrid immediately gripped her mother's arm. "Let me go with you, mother. I could serve as extra protection for your safety."
"You stay back in the palace, alright? I have Ida with me, I would be fine, and return once I get my father. Let's hurry Ida."
"Mother!" Astrid exclaimed, succeeding in capturing her mother's attention right before she vacated the room. "Be safe!"
"I would protect her, don't you worry." Ida's assurance eased her fear and tension, but also gave her too much hope, as she put all her trust in him.
"I would be back, Astrid, I promise."
Upon the deadly edge of a cliff that rose sheer from the jungle, towering ramparts of stone that glinted jade-blue and dull crimson in the rising sun, and curved away and away to east and west above the baltic sea. Herrick stood as still as the trees, not totally frozen, for just as their budded twigs moved so did his long hair. His eyes were closed. Tousled auburn locks whipped about his face; blown by air as fresh as any after a rainstorm.
After several deep breaths, he took in the view, from here the deep blue sea laid out like one of Helga's quilts. This was his favourite spot on the island, miles away from the village, a place that still possessed the natural scenery being untouched by the Vikings. He watched the sea breathe, her surface rising and falling with rhythmic ease. The waves became her pulse that day, the echo of the souls she kept safe in her cradle of long walks in nature were his treasure, his own hope for sanity from life in Berk.
It had been almost three days since his father's departure and he had spent most of it at Helga's cell. Spending nights sleeping like a prisoner meant nothing as long as he got to be with her. Helga's execution had not left his mind even for a second. It was a burden that was too heavy to bear. The failure or success of Jarl Surtr's raid would determine the span of her life and as much as he didn't want to lose Helga at a successful raid, he also did not want to lose his father to the failure of the raid either.
He glanced at the line where the sky met the sea, knowing that somewhere beyond the reef, his mother was alive, probably living with a new family, possibly thinking about him, and hopefully less miserable than he and his father. The ache of longing to be with her echoed through the very marrow of his bones. It was a chill wind trapped in the chambers of his heart. With every spare moment, his mind would rehearse a new letter to her. If she were here, Helga's life would definitely be spared, as even her absence still had a strong effect on his father.
The gruelling sound of the Gjallarhorn induced instant fear as his eyes widened and jaw dropped. His father was back from the war, and the horn was customarily the signal of victory. "Helga!"
He sprinted down the slope of the cliff and into the forest, towards the village, hoping that she hadn't been taken off to the square before his arrival to the dungeon. Why had he wandered off while expecting news on his father's raid? He was so distant from the usual arrival of ships at the dock and the horn also meant that his father was at the ring, calling for the presence of the people of Berk to celebrate their victory. Pure terror surged through his veins, icy daggers straight to the heart as he ran, even when his legs failed him, still holding onto the slightest hope of a change in the council's decision towards Helga.
His arrival to the dungeon was futile when he was informed of her absence. She'd been dragged off from her cell towards the ring, right at the sound of the horn, as instructed by his grandfather. He rushed down towards the battle ring but got slowed down by the crowd of Vikings with the same destination.
He moved slowly with the crowd, still panicking, scanning through the crowd for any sight of Helga, ignoring the murmurs of greetings and side comments from the villagers who noticed his presence amongst them.
"Brother!" The very last voice he'd expected or had an interest in paying his attention to, echoed behind him, a hard slap on his back followed. There was nothing he detested more than his half-brother's presence, most especially now that a burden was still hovering over him. Sigmund's words were the least of his problems and his concerns.
"Grandfather has requested our presence at the centre of the ring. I do hope you do not intend to wander towards the royal court, you shouldn't do any more damage to keep getting on his nerves."
"Where is Helga?!"
"Father did not tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Sigmund smirked, breaking through the shield of self-control that held Herrick back. He immediately grabbed his tunic, catching the attention of the villagers surrounding them. "Answer me! What is father hiding from me?!"
His smile faded into laughter, sorely for the purpose of triggering him to stain his attitude and the perception of the villagers towards him. The problem was, Helga was far more important than those misconceptions. "Tell me!"
"First let's obey grandfather's wishes, then I would tell you, or you get rid of me before our people. Maybe your punishment would reunite you with your mother!"
Sigmund was manipulative, his offensive words and deeds were all sent as bait to retrieve a reaction to paint him as the victim in the eyes of the people. Fighting him before them would not give him the information he so desperately needed so playing to his deceptive tune meant nothing as long as he found Helga.
Herrick followed him to the ring, both making an entrance that sent the crowd wild, making Herrick quiver in fear about the reason for the sudden summon into the same place where Helga was to be executed. He spotted his father seated beside the throne and his grandfather on it. The queen was next to his father, with his half-sister, Haleigh, rested on her mother's lap. All gazes towards their position in the ring, but without clarification of the purpose of their presence in the ring.
He returned his attention to Sigmund. "Now tell me, where is Helga?!"
"Patience, brother, in due time."
The gate opened and the crowd went wild again, igniting the level of Herrick's confusion towards the happenings around him. It all came to him at the sight preceding from the gates, Helga was dragged further into the ring by a sentinel, a dark bearded Viking dragged by another. His breath eluded him once he understood what it was all about. Helga was to be executed, but Jarl Surtr had conveniently excluded the fact that Herrick was the one chosen to execute her. It was the decision from his grandfather, one that his father was too cowardly to contradict or object.
"Do you understand now, brother?"
He ignored Sigmund, watching Helga tied to a log a few meters away from him, but at the same linear point, tears filling up his eyes immediately as they stared at each other, mother and son set apart as enemies. His grandfather knew that Herrick was different, he despised the fact Herrick was tagged the weak link in the family and had the intention to harden his heart by accumulating hate within him. Helga had made him promise not to let her death change him, but being assigned to take the life of his mother was grief too hard to bear.
A bow and arrow were handed to Herrick and Sigmund, each for the purpose of executing their assigned prisoner. His trembling hands unable to take hold of the bow, he noticed Sigmund point his arrow at his target without hesitation, eager to once again prove himself as the better son.
"Aim at your target!"
Herrick raised his weapon towards Helga, his hands visibly quivering as a result the searing pain that welled up within him, tears streaming down his cheeks as he did not for a second, move his glance from her. She looked almost lifeless but was still able to hold up a smile, making it even harder to attack her.
'Whatever happens to me, please forgive your father. Do not harbour hate and anger..'
"Attack!"
He wasn't strong enough to fight the pain, hatred, and grief. He just couldn't understand the cruelty of his family, and of his people. Was it fun watching Helga suffer? Did it fill their cups with cold malice? Did they get a buzz of power when she cried and begged for common human decency? It was unforgivable how they painted cruelty to be alright with twisted logic. All Helga gave was her undying love and loyalty and they abused it.
Was he angry? No. He was bitter, and that's worse. Anger lasts for a short span, but bitterness was a permanent scar.
Sigmund had already taken down his target with a strike and he watched the arrow pierce through the heart of the victim, raising a roar of praises from the watching crowd. Herrick stood there, still unable to take away the life of the one he loved the most.
"Do you intend to make a fool of yourself before Berk?" Sigmund scolded, more concerned with their grandfather's reaction to Herrick's hesitation.
"Herrick!"
Right before his decision to disobey his grandfather's orders and give up the test, Sigmund grabbed the weapon in a split second, and shot the arrow straight towards Helga, nailing her to the log she was attached to.
Herrick's eyes widened, gasping in shock as he watched Helga's blood spill through the hole engraved by the arrow, her breath leaving her by each second. He could feel it unravelling, the threads of every happy memory he could ever once recall, all but disarray of strings scattered about his feet.
The soreness of his heart, the numbness pounding his brain, the salty tears that flowed unchecked from his eyes, the sheer nothingness that now took hold of his soul threatened to engulf him entirely. His legs buckled, knees sinking into the sodden earth as he watched the smile fade, with her lids shutting slowly.
He cried until there was nothing left inside but a raw emptiness that nibbled at his insides like a hungry rat. His irises were threaded scarlet and his eyeballs hung heavy in their sockets. His whole body hung limp like each limb weighed twice as much as it had before and just moving it about was a slow, painful effort.
The sun still shone in the sky, but not for him, the birds sang in bursts of melody, but not for him, for him there was no beauty left in the world.
He gave one last glance at his father who didn't seem to care about his distress or the loss of Helga's life. Jarl Surtr just knelt before his father, ready to be crowned the new chief of Berk.
Thanks for reading the second part. I might not continue this story as I have lost inspiration or the will to go on, I hope you enjoyed it so far.