Chapter 77 Solveig
The two males entered from the back not a moment before she managed to slip through the opening of the tent flap. Hopefully they hadn’t seen her. But if she was hoping for anything, it would be to turn back time just a few minutes and unlearn that Laeknir was working with Ragnvald.
And if she turned back time, maybe she could make sure none of this had ever happened.
She thought over the decades with this new knowledge as her world shattered around her. She couldn’t breathe, the pain of betrayal working through her body like poison. The last of her ability to trust died with the sound of Laeknir’s voice.
As quietly as she could, she made her way through the remnants of camp, trying to find survivors—there were none. No signs of any living beings. But her heart leapt when she discovered a poorly hidden trail of muddy footprints leading towards the back entrance of the camp near the stables.
There weren’t many, but she hoped some of her people had survived.
She took off towards the stables, praying the prince had moved on to search elsewhere so she could follow the trail. Just as the half-burned building came into view, a cool familiar hand grabbed her arm, his scent surrounding her.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She didn’t know what her face looked like, but she didn’t have the energy to hide her absolute devastation. “What is it?” he asked, alarm clear in his tone.
“Let go of me.” She yanked her arm from his grasp and he released her.
His dark brows furrowed. “What happened?”
“Like Hel you don’t know. You’ve been one step ahead of me since the beginning,” she spat, hating that she couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice.
“Solveig, what are you talking about?”
“You can’t be serious,” she said, gesturing to the ruination around her.
Disbelief skewed his perfect features. “You think I knew about this? You think I would do this?”
“You yourself said you’ve done horrendous things for your people, you can add this one to the ever-growing list.”
His jaw clamped shut. Good, her accusation hit home.
“I need to leave for Asgard.” She made to move around him, but he stepped in her path.
“You can’t leave yet,” he said forcefully.
“Like Hel I can’t.” She tried to leave, but he stepped in her way again. She flashed him a warning, a death threat on the tip of her tongue that she would follow through on this time.
“I swear to the dead gods, Prince, if you don’t get out of my way right now I’ll—”
“King Ragnvald requested another audience.”
“Ragnvald can suck my dick.”
Despite himself and the situation around them, the prince laughed. “What I wouldn’t give to see you tell him that.”
“I’m sure I can make that happen. Too bad I won’t be granting that audience.”
“It’s not a request, General.” His voice was serious now, and she could see he was set on this course. Maybe she could use this opportunity to wipe out half the Idavoll royal family and be done with it. The thought should’ve been more enticing.
“Please, let me go check for Helle.”
“I already did. She’s fine. She and Njord are safe.” Relief overwhelmed her so much that she didn’t protest again when he insisted they head back to the council tent. As soon as she stepped through the entrance, she regretted it immediately.
They sat around the council table in almost the same arrangement she’d been greeted with earlier that afternoon. With one exception.
The prince pulled up short, staring at the healer. “What is the meaning of this?”
Solveig sensed the surprise and anger that coated his tongue, feeling it wash over her. Her gaze snapped to his face, reading the genuine shock at seeing Laeknir, not Latham, beside his grandfather.
“Sit down, lad,” the King of Hel barked at him.
The prince didn’t move. “What’s going on?”
If Solveig didn’t know better, she would’ve sworn he wasn’t aware of Laeknir’s involvement. But she did know better.
Ragnvald laughed without humour. “You are not privy to the workings of the gods. Now sit down.”
The prince moved slowly to his seat and sat, clearing his face of emotions.
“Westley, whatever is the matter?” his mother whispered. He just shook his head. Conflict swirled under her skin, her resolve faltering at the unexpected turn of events. The prince was not reacting how she expected, and a niggling feeling at the back of her mind would not go away.
“His cock is what’s wrong with him. He’s got it so far up this witch’s cunt he can’t see straight,” Ragnvald said harshly.
Westley dove towards his grandfather, but before he could get there, his father blocked his path, holding him back and forcing him to sit. The prince seethed. Solveig was beyond hearing any of it as she stared at Laeknir.
“Father, maybe it would be best to—” Erik started, but Ragnvald put up his hand.
“You may be the Prince of War, Westley, but you have no mind for power. Information and knowledge are key. I will not grant that power to anyone who cannot separate their two heads from each other.”
The prince stared hard at his grandfather as if he’d truly never understood how cruel the king could be. Solveig vibrated with barely restrained emotion beside him.
“How could you do this?” she asked, ignoring the family unravelling around her, her voice cracking.
Laeknir sat on Ragnvald’s right side, his eyes pleading, though for what she didn’t know. When he said nothing, she reached for her hammer, heart aching, ready to take matters into her own hands.
Two guards gripped her arms before she could act, and she was forcefully shoved into the chair across from the old healer. The prince held the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“I understand you are in a bit of a hurry, but I couldn’t let you leave just yet, not after you saw my dear friend with me,” Ragnvald said, patting Laeknir on the shoulder.
“You’re not going to kill me?” Solveig asked plainly. The prince stiffened.
“Gods no, Solveig. The queens would never forgive me. I just don’t want you running off to Asgard with half-truths and assumptions,” Ragnvald said calmly.
Solveig said nothing, her attention returning to Laeknir, who refused to look away from her.
“Maybe you’d like to go first,” the King of Hel nudged when she said nothing.
Solveig let out an irreverent snort.
“Come now, there must be something you’d like to share,” Ragnvald insisted.
“You told me the story of the love you found in Hel,” Solveig said, speaking only to Laeknir. “Is she the reason thousands of Vanir gave their lives? She’s why their blood now soaks the ground of our home?”
“Yes,” came his quiet reply.
“Since when is one life worth those of an entire people?”
He did not answer.
“You truly value her soul at the cost of countless others?”
“Yes,” Laeknir whispered again, head bowed.
“How romantic,” Ragnvald drawled.
“Selfish,” Solveig corrected, and Laeknir’s eyes snapped to hers.
“She’s my Hjarta. You don’t get to judge me for that which you do not understand.”
Solveig shook her head, trying and failing to wrap her head around this. This was Laeknir. “She’s dead.”
“She’s in Hel,” he whispered, and understanding dawned. He’d made a deal with Ragnvald. The King of Helheim had exiled him from his love and this was how he was getting back to her.
“I understand that one life, regardless of whose it is, is not worth betraying an entire world for.”
“That is because you are not capable of the kind of bond it takes to love someone with your entire soul,” he accused. Solveig flinched at the venom and disgust in his tone. “You could have, with Latham, but you turned your back on him.” This didn’t make any sense, Laeknir had never liked Latham.
“You turned your back on us!” Solveig cried. “I gave up my very soul to protect you, him, our people!”
“And look where that got you,” he replied sadly. Solveig shook her head again, tearing her gaze away from Laeknir, meeting Ragnvald’s amused but questioning stare.
What else did she have to lose?
“Idavoll Fae tortured me for months, though I’m sure you already know that since it was you who gave the order to capture my people looking for traitors. A pretence for what purpose, Ragnvald?”
The prince whipped his head to her, but she kept her focus on the pretender king. He only smiled, not an ounce of remorse found anywhere in his expression.
“I’m quite impressed with the resilience of your people. Well, most of your people,” he said with a sidelong glance at Laeknir.
Pride swelled in her chest as she thought through each of the one hundred soldiers who’d given their lives protecting their people. The emotion was quickly followed by a wave of rage as she registered how useless it had all been with Laeknir feeding the information they were after anyway.
“Your puppet here didn’t give you everything you needed? You had to take our lives too?” she snapped, head jerking to the healer.
“Ah, you see, it was a delicate balancing act. I couldn’t let your legion grow stronger, and I couldn’t draw suspicion to my spy. I couldn’t let you gain power and momentum. I already had the information I needed—you only needed to remain weak and out of Asgard.
“You were never meant to be captured, that was all your doing. Though it’s been entertaining, especially after your return. Hearing how you cried like a weak mortal gave me quite a sense of accomplishment. I finally broke you.” Solveig froze as Ragnvald went on.
“It did get dreadfully boring, after a while, to hear how you cowered in the cave and waited for—what did you call them again? Oh yes, Water, Thick, and Stick. Terribly unclever if you ask me. Am I forgetting one? Ah yes, Fear.” Ragnvald’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“How you went on and on about the figure who haunts your nightmares. It’s sad, really, that you let yourself be so caught up in this version of a male that you couldn’t see what was right in front of you.”
He tsked his tongue, switching his focus to his grandson, leaving Solveig to wrap her mind around the depth of Laeknir’s betrayal.
Three betrayals. One ends in death, one in Valhalla, and the other in Hel.
Solveig couldn’t breathe as Sten’s prophecy danced in her mind. She stared at Laeknir, resolve filling her heart, her magic whirling. Ragnvald’s drawling voice became background noise as she gathered the will she needed to break through the barrier on her magic, as she had with the stone.
A rising pulse of electricity filled the air, silencing whatever was about to come out of Ragnvald’s poisoned mouth.
“Solveig,” the prince pleaded, but she was past listening.
She heard his hiss of pain as he reached out to touch her, only to be struck by her magic.
Solveig slowly rose to her feet. “I will give you one chance, Ragnvald, and one chance only, to crawl back to Hel and never return.” Her voice was deadly quiet.
She saw the prince wince from the corner of her eye as Ragnvald laughed at her. “You are one female. I do not care how powerful you are—do not threaten me,” he warned.
The prince got to his feet and tried to tug on her arm again, ignoring the shocks she sent towards him. “Don’t do this, Solveig,” he pleaded.
“Sit down, lad, and stop grovelling like a mortal. It’s beneath you. She’s beneath you.”
Solveig ignored the prince, ignored the king, speaking only to Laeknir. “You’re coming with me,” she said. A second before she unleashed her magic, Ragnvald’s eyes flared with surprise.
Light flashed out around her, blasting everyone but Laeknir out of their seats with a loud crack.
He sat in disbelief as the room descended into silence, the Fae’s bodies lining the floor where they fell, still breathing but unconscious.
“How did you do that?” he asked, fear clipping his words.
She didn’t answer, and he balked in his chair when she stalked towards him.
She gripped his arm, a shock zapping from her hand, forcing Laeknir to move with her.
He tried to fight it, but her magic held him in place, controlling the currents of his body as she led him outside.
Solveig wasted no time, unsure how long the Fae would remain unconscious. Her body shook with exhaustion from the blast of magic, sapping almost all her strength. She pushed Laeknir onto his knees and stood behind him.
“For your crimes against Vanaheim and Asgard, I, Solveig Tordottir, General of Asgard, sentence you, Laeknir Balderson, healer of Vanaheim, to death. Do you deny your treason?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“No,” came his strong reply. Solveig’s heart broke at the word and then shattered into pieces as she brought her sword down to rest on his neck. The only movement he made was a flinch at the touch of cold steel.
“May your love welcome you in Hel. I hope it was worth it,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. She swung her sword back and brought it down hard, not hesitating even as every cell in her body rejected the action.
Laeknir’s head rolled away from his slumped body.
Solveig lifted her head up to the violent sky and roared at the looming storm. Thunder swallowed the sound whole.