A Call For Help

"Hagen! Hagen!" Bjorn called out in front of the house, but all they could hear was moaning from within. The brothers exchanged glances and said simultaneously,

"They're playing!"

They both burst out laughing, but their laughter abruptly stopped as the moaning ceased. Moments later, Hagen stepped out.

"If it isn't the sons of Ragnar. Did your father send you?" Hagen asked, glancing around, trying to ascertain if they were alone. They were, but they left him to figure that out for himself.

"Bjorn, what are they feeding you? At this rate, you will be able to bring down Jörmungandr with a single hand!" Hagen teased. Bjorn smiled sheepishly with Hagen's gaze shifting and settling on Tyr.

Tyr knew he owed Hagen his life. Although unaware of the circumstances, the fact that he woke up under Hagen's care made it clear who had saved him. The events leading up to it, including Ulf's actions, remained a mystery to him.

"Tyr, the one named after the true god of war. I expect great things from you!" Hagen said with a gentle smile that inadvertently made Tyr smile back in return.

"Hagen, who is that?" A woman's voice called out as she emerged to see who Hagen was talking to.

She was a brunette with a gentle, soft appearance, making it hard to believe such lewd sounds had been coming from her moments earlier. She had a blanket wrapped around her to cover her nudity.

Her name was Sif, Hagen's wife, whom he had married a few months earlier. Sif was a strikingly voluptuous woman with a curvaceous figure.

She looked at Bjorn and then Tyr, but her eyes lingered a bit longer on Tyr, cracking a smile before whispering something into the ear of Hagen's ear.

Hagen chuckled in response to this, before shaking his head and saying.

"They aren't man enough yet to handle her, Sif," Said Hagen while laughing.

"HANDLE WHO? I CAN HANDLE ANYONE!" Tyr exclaimed, jumping into the conversation without understanding its context but thinking it was a challenge.

"HEY! ME TOO!" Bjorn shouted, there was no way he was going to let his rival hug all the fun.

"You are right, Hagen. They are not ready," Sif said, laughing before retreating inside. She had been referring to her eldest child as a potential bride for one of the brothers when they came of age.

Sif had two children from her previous marriage, her youngest child Floki, who was 6, and her daughter Ursa, who was 10.

The sons of Ragnar, however, had battle on their minds; love was the last thing they cared about. Unlike their father, they were still children, far from understanding matters of the heart.

"What brings you two here?" Hagen asked, shutting the door behind him as he walked towards the boys.

"We want to raid!" Both boys said in unison and Hagen smiled, they were of age but Ragnar feared for their safety and that is exactly why they haven't become 'men' yet.

They needed to taste battle, but Hagen could not do anything about it without the permission of their father.

"That is impossible, I am afraid." Hagen said in a stern tone, he made the boys understand that this was Ragnar's decision but if Ragnar was not willing to lead them into battle where he could keep an eye on them, the chances of them entering the battle on their own without his protection grew increasingly high each day he refused them their rite of passage.

Hagen knew this, and this would be a tragic fate for the children of Ragnar, but he offered a solution.

"Let me talk to your father, I will convince him to let you guys go. We can't have two of our best warriors on shore after all." Hagen said, inflating the ego of both Bjorn and Tyr.

"Damn right you can't!" Both said in unison, but Still, Hagen hesitated. He didn't understand Ragnar's reluctance; what father wouldn't want to see his sons become men?

"Thank you, Hagen!" Tyr said, bowing to show his gratitude with Bjorn following suit.

-

"Egil Iversen," a man called out in a dark prison cell. It was Arvid. Over the year, Arvid hadn't changed. He looked the same, right down to his hairstyle.

Egil had been imprisoned and tortured for a year. Despite this, he refused to betray his king, even though his king had abandoned him. He understood war's harsh realities; strategically, the decision made sense. But why hadn't his captors killed him outright?

"It looks like this is your new home," Arvid mocked. But he didn't like the look on Egil's face. It wasn't the look of defeat. Egil's mind and will remained unbroken.

A year of torture did not dent his resolve. He was malnourished, his ribs were poking out of his flesh and his lips were dried up and bleeding. He was in the worst condition possible.

"That's enough, Arvid," A voice called out behind the Viking, it was the voice of Asger.

"Asger," Arvid said before shutting up. What he was doing was not wrong, so there was no reason nor cause for Asger to reprimand him but Asger wanted to talk to the fallen warrior alone and Arvid obeyed his superior's wishes.

"A-Asger," Egil muttered with a weak smile, he was glad to see a familiar face that did not wish for his head to hang, but there was little to nothing Asger could do.

"Why do you keep me alive?" Egil asked, his voice weak. Asger's expression softened with sadness.

"Not for long my friend, the King has ordered your execution," Asger said with Egil smiling broadly.

"At last, I can go to Valhalla," Egil said with his chapped lips bleeding.

"Egil, King Askild has denied you Valhalla, you won't be given a warrior's death. I am sorry my friend." Asger said and for the first time, the look of hopelessness dawned on the face of Egil.