"Let us hope that if the men die, and the ships are crushed under the mighty power of Thor's hammer, that the woman you bedded once doesn't cost them their seat in Valhalla."

It had been weeks since the fleets left the safe port at Kattegat to sail against the god-cursed sea to the east. The men had rationed meat and vegetables for months and prepared mead and water for twice the time, but despite the eager and precise preparations, there was only a small portion of it left. Waves darker than the sky overhead crash over the ships leaving a white foam across the deck. If that alone was seen, Ivar would have thought it seemed innocent, or even beautiful but living inside the raging sea made him fear every white capped wave in sight.

He had told himself it would all be worth it, all the pain, the hunger, the sickness, all the fear...it would allbe worth it, if he could see her, one last time. Ivar's hands remained firmly tightened against the railing of the bow, eyes trained on the horizon or at least where he thought the horizon lied. Sheets of opaque rain pulled a veil over the path ahead. The sun was hidden from them for weeks, it was hard for him to remember what it felt like on his skin. Was it warm? Skies. Were they any other colour but thick harsh grey? Time...did it exist still?

Screams and cries of men commanding orders competed against the crash of the waves and the crashes of thunder. Ivar's ears were so filled by the sound surrounding him that he barely heard the footsteps of his brother approaching.

"The men grow restless, brother!" Hvitserk calls against the waves. "They are weak...hungry! We have not seen stars to guide our way. The waters tell us nothing of their paths. If we continue on this course, we will surely die or kill each other, whichever comes sooner."

"Tell them to keep rowing!" Ivar commands, his eyes firm and trained ahead. "If we survive this, we will be the first Viking fleet to successfully defy the gods curse after the Firesyghs. There will be spoils beyond what we can carry brother, I can feel it. We will feast for years and our neck will tire from the amount of gold upon it. But we cannot - we will  not. Give. Up."

Hvitserk wanted to feel comforted by his words, but the cramping of his stomach and the weakness of his muscles overpowered the hope of riches. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Placing a hand onto his brother's shoulder, he turned to return to his fleet. But before taking a step, he leans down, pressing his lips against Ivar's ear. "Let us hope that if the men die, and the ships are crushed under the mighty power of Thor's hammer, that the woman you bedded once doesn't cost them their seat in Valhalla. And if it does...you alone will bear the weight of Odin's consequence."

Hvitserk stumbled his way from mast to mast, delivering orders while the storm sends waves to throw him from side to side. Ivar shook Hvitserk's words away and forced his eyes back to the path in front. In Ivar's mind, he had told himself to not do something out of impulse. If it was to be a raid this large, it was to be legendary - a historic raid that would hold their names in history for generations to come. But he had no just "bedded" Torhyl as his brother's had done with so many girls in the past. He loved her. Madness was a quality he preferred over love. Madness isn't weak, madness generates fear...power. But love?

He feared she made him weak, and that others thought that too. But in those moments they stole, all he felt was power. So, he waited. He waited months. He waited and cleared his head from the euphoric blindfold of her touch. He trained until his hands were tender with blisters and he strategized until his plan was solid.

She was...is his first love. But a weakness, in whatever form, is still a weakness and so, for preservation of stature, from the tethers of its origin, the weak must be cut away.

"What is that?!" A man called from the mast post, his eyes clearly set on something in front of them. Ivar followed the man's gaze. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sharp impacts from the rain above.

A small brown sliver hovered in the waves, like a dull golden coin peaking through the shore. Ivar pulled himself upright, his stomach tightening in a feeling that he couldn't distinguish between hunger or excitement. When the blur of colours eventually blended into a clear image, the sound of Ivar's heart beat and the feeling of it pounding against his cold ribcage tuned out the sound of the men rushing to the deck to catch a glance at the discovery. Gods...could it be?

"LAND!"