#the male sole survivor is not a special good boy who only killed people who deserved it. he was a cog. just like everyone else.

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Prologue

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Next chapter

NORWAY, 857 AD

THE COAST OF RYGJAFYLKE

“We are all bound by the threads of fate,” the clan’s seeress once told Eivor. “Any attempt to deviate from the path will simply be met with what was always destined to be. It is who we are. It is what we must accept. Even the gods are not free from this truth.”

And yet, Eivor couldn’t help but question her.

As he stood on the shore, watching the ocean’s foamy waves slowly pull back and forth into the sea, he wondered if this was truly what the gods intended.

Did the gods really deem it necessary for his father to die? Did they see a use in killing his mother? What could they have gained from tearing a child away from his parents?

The völva of their clan, Ingrida, always insisted that the Nornir had a set path for everyone in this world, and yet... Eivor felt more out of place than ever before.

Bjornheimr wasn’t his home. Arngeir wasn’t his father. Randvi and Thora weren’t his sisters. This wasn’t where he belonged.

His home lay beyond the icy mountains that towered over the distant horizon, buried underneath a tombstone of ash and rubble. His family awaited him in the forsaken depths of Helheim, and remained entangled in the jaws of Nidhogg the serpent.

But despite his parents’ demise, it seemed that the gods had a different plan for Eivor himself. When the rest of his clan fell to Kjotve’s axe, Thora rescued him from the flames. Like a savior sent by the divines, she whisked him away on a horse and brought him to safety, making him the sole survivor of that night’s attack.

He was still here for a reason -- his miraculous recovery was enough to proof that -- but he just didn’t know why.

He only wished the gods would tell him.

“Why did you let Kjotve kill you, father?” Eivor whispered, gazing down at the worn axe in his hands as flakes of snow fluttered onto its cold surface. “We are warriors. We are destined for Valhalla; you said it yourself. So why did you do it...?”

The boy’s grip tightened in anger, and he brought his eyes to the ocean in front of him.

“...You left me.” He muttered, his tone sharp with betrayal. “You died as a coward, and you left me alone. You went against everything you taught me, and let go of your honor when you should’ve been defending it.”

Eivor took one last glance at the axe, preparing to raise it in the air. “...Well, as far as I’m concerned, your axe can join you in Hel.”

Throwing his arm forward, the boy hurled the weapon into the restless embrace of the sea and let out a frustrated shout, only to be interrupted when someone suddenly grabbed his wrist.

He whirled his head towards the intruder with a quick jolt and glared at them in bewilderment, confused as to who would be all the way out here with him.

When his eyes landed on their face though, it all made sense.

“Ulfar...?” Eivor murmured in surprise. He wiggled his arm, attempting to break free. “Let me go...!”

The man only strengthened his hold more, trying to calm the boy down.

“Easy, little drengr.” Ulfar soothed, his voice straining with effort. “You are hurting. But this is not something you want to forget.”

Eivor tore his wrist from the man’s grip and turned away from him, ignoring his previous statement.

Ulfar was a close friend of Arngeir’s and served their clan as both a raider and advisor, resulting in a rather paternal relationship between him and the jarl’s children. He originally roamed Norway’s waters as a Jomsviking, but finally dropped the lifestyle when he fell in love with a woman from their clan.

He bore the look of a weathered warrior, and displayed many scars across his body. One of the man’s eyes had been rendered blind due to a deep sword wound that carved through his brow-bone, and half of his head was bald thanks to a severe burn whose marks still remained branded in his flesh. 

Overall, he was a stoic man weighed down by the burdens of many regrets, but not one to distance himself from compassion.

Eivor only wished he would’ve stayed in Bjornheimr.

“What are you doing here?” The boy asked sharply. “I thought you were at the longhouse with Arngeir.”

“I was,” Ulfar confirmed, “but then your father asked me to find you. He had a feeling you’d be out here, considering it’s... well...”

Eivor already knew what he was going to say. “...The anniversary of my parents’ deaths.”

Ulfar crossed his arms, letting out a sigh. “Everyone mourns in different ways, but your father is not at fault for what happened that night, Eivor. He did what he did because he loved you.”

“He died without honor.” The boy argued.

“Yes,” Ulfar conceded, “because in the end, you were more important to him than anything Valhalla could’ve offered. When you find someone you love, you will understand.”

The man gently grabbed Eivor’s hand and pushed the axe closer to his chest, holding it firmly over the boy’s heart. 

“Do not abandon him, or his memory. You wish to reclaim the honor your father lost? Then you must fight for it.”

Eivor furrowed his brow. “But how? I can’t kill Kjotve. He would only send me to join my family if we fought.”

“Justice like this is not born overnight, Eivor. You must prepare. You must train. You must never lose sight of what matters. If you can manage to do that, then perhaps someday, the Nornir will bless you with a second encounter. Until then, all we can do is wait.”

The boy wasn’t satisfied. “But he needs to die now. He’s already killed so many people. Why not go after him before he can kill more?”

Ulfar knelt on the ground and gripped Eivor’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I share your pain, Eivor. Believe me, I do. I want nothing more than to see Kjotve’s head on a pike after what he did to Linnea... but any attempt to kill him now would only end in disaster. We must bide our time, and we must never let our grief overpower us. Do you understand?”

Eivor picked up on the man’s tone. “...You sound like you’ve done this before.”

Ulfar’s expression sank with remorse. “...I have. I betrayed many people who were close to me in the name of vengeance when I was younger, including my own father. I was banished from my clan as a result, and ended up in Bjornheimr after years of wandering as a stray.” He paused for a moment. “...Trust me, the sacrifice isn’t worth it. You cannot allow yourself to fall prey to these thoughts. It will only worsen the storm.”

Eivor was silent in response, but it was clear to Ulfar that he had calmed down somewhat. A sense of heartache still lingered in the boy’s eyes, but he seemed to be relieved of his aggressiveness from before.

Ulfar stood up from the ground and brought his attention to Bjornheimr, gazing at the fortified village from a distance as the day slowly began to come to an end.

“Come,” he instructed, patting Eivor on the back. “Your father awaits.”

But the boy stayed in place. Despite Ulfar’s insistence to return home, he remained tangled in the countless thoughts that plagued his mind and continued to stare out into the ocean, seemingly getting lost in its ethereal embrace.

“...Eivor?” Ulfar said, beckoning him with a wave. “Come along, boy. The darkness is settling in.”

The child dismissed his commands and simply looked down at the axe, posing one final question before taking his leave.

“Ulfar?” Eivor asked. “If you had a second chance to save Linnea from Kjotve, would you take it?”

The man thought the answer was rather obvious. “Of course. ”

“And if Kjotve asked you lay down your arms like he did my father... would you do it?”

Ulfar fell silent for a second, playing out the scenario in his head. “...I would.”

That only seemed to confuse Eivor more. “Then what makes Valhalla so special? Why spend your life trying to earn a place at the gods’ side if you’re willing to give it up for a human?”

The man hesitated, admittedly at a loss for words. “I... I don’t know, Eivor. That is a question you’ll have to ask Ingrida. I can only tell you how I feel.”

Ulfar stepped closer to Eivor, guiding the boy away from the shoreline. “Come, little cub. We can discuss this later. Let’s get you home first.”

Eivor sighed in defeat, finally deciding to put the matter to rest for now. He didn’t quite understand the meaning behind Ulfar’s words, or why Arngeir insisted on letting more time pass before launching another assault on Kjotve’s people, but he assumed everything would fall into place eventually.

If the stories Ingrida spoke of held any merit to them, then it must’ve meant that the Nornir planned all this from the start. There must’ve been a reason as to why the gods were keeping Kjotve beyond their reach, and denying Bjornheimr any justice for now.

Perhaps it was because they were waiting for Eivor to grow up. He wasn’t much use in a fight in his current state, but with enough training, he imagined he would join his brothers and sisters on the battlefield someday. He would finally have the chance to personally go after Kjotve himself, and take him down for good.

He just prayed that the gods would allow him to deliver the killing blow.

“Alright.” Eivor said quietly. “Let’s go home.”

Ulfar gave the boy an encouraging pat on the shoulder and gently pushed him ahead, guiding him back to the village. 

“Keep your head up, drengr. We are not broken yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~

13 YEARS LATER

BJORNHEIMR

Light.

That was all she could see.

As Synin soared across the wintry meadows surrounding Bjornheimr’s spiked walls, she saw naught but radiant beams of light seeping through the bare trees, dotting the ground with golden blots.

A gentle breeze kissed the ebony feathers rippling on her wings as she brought herself higher in the sky, and in the whistling howl that filled her ears, she heard her owner’s voice calling out to her, beckoning her to the ground.

In one swift movement, Synin angled her body downwards and began gliding towards the lively village, leading her through an abundance of new obstacles. Everywhere around her, men and women of all ages strolled through Bjornheimr’s dirt paths, conversing amongst themselves about recent events.

They were drinking, flyting, playing dice, firing up furnaces, tickling lutes -- and in the midst of all the bustle sat the Wolf-Kissed himself, quietly spending his morning atop a snow-covered hill.

He was currently sitting on a bench with his back leaning against a boulder as he sharpened an axe, repeatedly dragging a stone along the edge of its blade. There wasn’t a care in the world occupying his thoughts at the moment, and considering the agenda for the day, the viking imagined it would be short-lived.

“Synin,” Eivor said with a smile upon noticing her in the sky. “There you are. Find something to eat?”

His companion flew closer to the ground, perching herself on a nearby shrine.

“Good.” He remarked. “You’ll need your energy for today. Apparently, there’s going to be a ‘special’ guest arriving this morning. There’s been lots of preparation involved. I have no idea who it is, though.”

Eivor stood up from the bench and slid his axe back into its handle, strolling up to Synin.

“Just promise me you’ll be on your best behavior, alright? I don’t want to see anyone getting pecked like when Leif came to visit us.”

A second voice joined the scene, diverting Eivor’s attention away from his bird.

“Eivor, who are you talking to?”

The man glanced over his shoulder, only to find himself in the company of his older sister.

“Thora.” Eivor greeted, casually walking up to her. 

Thora was a rather built woman whose flesh was decorated with many tattoos, and had the gaze of a hawk. She had a head of long dark hair that had been braided into a simple ponytail, and was dressed in a traditional outfit consisting of armor and fur.

What really caught Eivor’s attention though, was the irritated expression on her face. 

He chuckled in a lighthearted manner, gesturing to her scowl. “You look happy today.”

The woman let out a sigh. “Well, I’m not. Things have been stressful beyond belief. I’ve been hunting with Eirik all morning preparing for this feast that father wants to hold, and I’ve been trying to find Randvi before King Styrbjorn arrives.”

That took Eivor by surprise. “Wait, King Styrbjorn is the guest father was talking about? But the wedding is a fortnight away.”

“Father wants to give Randvi and her betrothed some time to get acquainted before the marriage takes place,” Thora explained. “He’s also hoping that our clans can become familiar with one another.”

A scoff escaped her lips. “Imagine only being ‘acquainted’ with your future husband. What a joke.”

Eivor picked up on her mood. “I take it you don’t approve of Randvi’s betrothed.”

Thora shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t like him. I don’t know him. Our families are complete strangers, and yet, father expects me to entrust this man with the safety of our own sister. It’s preposterous.”

“Who is her betrothed, anyway?”

“A man named Sigurd,” Thora answered. “According to Ulfar, he’s a man of great ambition and battle-prowess. Others might find that appealing, but in my experience, those are the ones who prove to be the most dangerous. I’m not sure I trust him just yet.”

Eivor let out a laugh. “I’m not sure you trust anyone, Thora.”

“And for good reason. But... I was hoping you could do me a favor, Eivor.”

That piqued his interest. “What’s on your mind?”

Thora stepped towards him, gesturing to the village behind them. “Could you help me find Randvi? She’s supposed to join father at the docks soon, and I’m too busy helping Eirik prepare for this feast. I could really use an extra pair of hands, and I’d rather not keep King Styrbjorn waiting.”

Eivor gave her a quick nod. “Of course. I’ll start asking around.”

His sister sighed in relief. “Thank you, bróðir. I owe you one.” Thora turned on her heel and began making her way down the hill, only to stop in her tracks when a sudden thought crossed her mind.

“Hey, Eivor? If the opportunity arises... could you speak with Sigurd face-to-face? There’s a very small chance he’ll show his true colors around father or Randvi, and I’d sleep better at night if I knew exactly what kind of person we were dealing with.”

The man shrugged. “Why can’t you talk to him?”

“Because you’re the one who’s always been good at reading people. If you see nothing wrong with him, then I’ll know he can be trusted.”

Eivor decided to go along with the plan. “Very well. I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you. I trust your judgement. Let me know what you think of him once you’ve been introduced. I hope that you’ll bring me good news. Otherwise, I don’t fancy the idea of handing Randvi over to someone who could potentially harm her.”

Eivor took on a more serious tone, joining his sister as she descended down the trail.

“We wouldn’t allow it.”

Thora smirked, walking proudly alongside her sibling. “No, we wouldn’t.”

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