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Legends Never Die: Parental Love (ch. 118)
🕑 Added 2025-06-11 15:02:45 +0000 UTCIt didn’t feel real. Not really. Not even as a look of crushing defeat filled Horrik’s eyes as he understood all too well what this meant for him. A moment that he had been dreading as much as I had anticipated it for years by this point. His defeat was more real to him than it was to me, I think. And, as much as I would like to pretend that I didn’t know the reason why… I did.
Three years in Rome. A year in Saxony and Norway. Four years of my life I had been preparing for this moment and it was just so very… easy. Simple. There was no great upheaval as all of my carefully laid plans were suddenly worthless. There was no trick of Loki that gave Horrik an edge that he might not have otherwise to make the story suit the trickster’s tastes. I had braced myself for it. I’d anticipated it -- for something that I hadn’t foreseen to appear that I would only realize was a threat too late, but now it seemed I had braced myself for a blow that never came.
I looked down at Horrik, who looked away from me, his expression bloodless and as weak as I’ve ever seen him. I had built this moment up so much in my head, and now that it was finally here… It didn’t match my expectations. Horrik didn’t match my expectations. He couldn’t. It was impossible.
Because, in the end, Horrik was a Jarl with a crown in a very small sliver of the world. He was no great Caliph. Nor Emperor.
“Have you anything left to say?” I asked him, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. I saw his jaw clench and how the frustration welled up inside of him. Yet, his silence was damning, even as his hands clenched into fists. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw two men approach with a pair of manacles.
Disappointing. I gave the two men a small nod, and they approached. They half-tackled Horrik, but he didn’t put up any resistance as his hands were forced into the manacles, his arms bound before him. He was lifted to his feet, his head cast low. I watched him, expecting… something from him. But there was nothing. He went limp, unable to even stand on his own too legs, leaving him to be dragged.
And it was then that he spoke in a low whisper. “Please… spare my sons…” He said, not even having the will to look me in the eye as he was carried away.
“... How was it that my father and brothers were killed by a small man like you?” I asked him, not even sure what I felt in that moment. It was something bitter that took the edge off my satisfaction. I spat the taste of it out of my mouth, and it was then that my gaze was brought to the crown that had fallen. It gleamed in the afternoon light -- a crown of solid gold, with small precious stones embedded into the thin band.
Picking it up, I looked to Thorfinn, who was putting up far more of a fight than his father. He thrashed in the grip of Halfdan and Haldur, who was punching down at him with heavy blows that bloodied the former prince’s face. His nose was flattened, his lone eye was swollen shut, but he still thrashed. I could see it in Haldur’s face that he fully intended to beat Thorfinn to death then and there.
And he turned that hateful expression to me when I caught his fist from falling once more. “Enough, brother. He doesn’t get to die so easily,” I cautioned him. “None of them do.”
Haldur forced himself to take a steadying breath before his head jerked in a nod and stood up. Another guard pressed down on Thorfinn, forcing his hands into another pair of mantacles. He, and many others around him as the fight left the Jarls and Thegns that remained. The battle was won, and it had been won before the first arrow was fired. They were only realizing that fact now.
I looked down at Thorfinn, who still lashed out, completely blind from his missing eye and the other swollen shut. That wouldn’t do. He needed to be able to see what was coming to him. Meaning that he had a few more days to live while that eye healed up. I crouched next to him, and he seemed to still at that, squinting up at me. I struggled to put how I felt into words as I looked down at the murderer of my kin. My brothers. The man who put me on the path that I walked.
“I didn’t realize it until now, Thorfinn… but I’ve outgrown you. You, and your father,” I told him in a soft, almost gentle voice. He seemed to know exactly who was speaking to him. “I thought that this battle, this moment, would define my life. But, the truth of it is…it doesn’t. It’s just another moment, like all the moments that came before it. Defeating you here, and every horrible thing that you will endure for the remainder of your life, however long or short I deem to make it… it’s just another thing that I had to do to move on with my life. To the things that truly matter.”
That’s what bothered me. There was catharsis, certainly. As off as the moment felt from what I imagined, it still felt good to see them like this. Defeated and at my mercy. But the core of what I was saying was true.
I had utterly outgrown Horrik and Thorfinn. They were small men who had cast too long of a shadow over my life as it was. I was more than ready to be done with them. To put the spirits of my kin to rest, and bury them deep. And simply move on to the real challenges that would dominate the rest of my years.
Of all the things that I could have said to him, I think that got under his skin the most. Throfinn recoiled from my words before he spat on me. “You’re father squealed like a stuck pig when we killed him! Your brother begged to be spared! You- I’ll make sure you suffer for this. I hear you have bastard daughters whelped on a whore- I’ll split them in two with my-”
I struck him. Not out of anger, though I wouldn’t deny it’s existence. But mostly so I wouldn’t have to hear him run his mouth any longer.
Shaking my head, I helped Halfdan up as Thorfinn went limp. Halfdan spat on him and caught his breath, offering me a small nod. “Now what?” He asked me, and he sounded a bit… lost. Listless. He sounded like how I imagined I would feel at this moment.
I turned my attention to the gathered Jarls and Thegns, all of whom were put under guard and forced to surrender their arms. They were gathered up, and there was fear shining in all of their eyes. But, it wasn’t them that I paid any mind to. The army was surrendering, realizing that they were surrounded and defeated. The fleet was chased off with my fire ships.
And, because of it, Thorkell brought a guest. A man with a familiar mane of black hair and blue eyes. He tossed the bound and defeated traitor at my feet with a grunt. He offered me a lopsided smile, “Everything go well?”
“As perfectly as it could have. So perfectly I fear that I missed something,” I admitted to him, looking down at the bound man at my feet. His forced himself into a sitting position, and I saw that his face was covered in blood. It didn’t seem to be his own, however.
He looked up before spitting out a mouth full of blood to the side. “When did you figure it out?”
“I knew from the very beginning,” I told him, reaching to the armband at my elbow. I pulled it free, feeling strangely naked as I looked at the coiled metal band with jeweled eyes at the end. I tossed it to him, and he caught it in his hands. “Though, I was surprised that Horrik sent one of his sons to infiltrate my army.”
Rolf, the youngest son of Horrik, looked over the armband that was meant to be his with a disinterested expression. “The first time I saw you with this, I planned to kill you that very night. I was furious that my father gave this to you. It was meant to be mine, and he gave it to some boy.” Then he snorted, placing the armband on his wrist. “Well… better late than never, I guess.”
“Is that it?” I asked him, looking for something a little… more.
“Why wouldn’t it be, Wolfkissed? My father had a plan, and it didn’t work. And given how things are… I doubt some pretty words would be enough to convince you to change your mind. So… this is it,” Rolf uttered with a sense of resigned acceptance. Not quite free of bitterness, but with a sense of acceptance.
I sighed and gestured for him to be taken away to join his family, and it was only then that I turned to the Jarls and Thegns. They were grouped up and forced to their knees. I was familiar with a few of them -- some, I had seen during the war of Saxony. I rolled the crown in my fingers as I approached them. I didn’t say anything to them, but I walked by the Jarls and not a single one of them looked up at me.
But, then, one that trailed behind, shouted out, “Hail King Siegfried! Hail the Wolfkissed!” That was a crack in the dam, causing the others to follow. Without pause or hesitation, the others began to pick up the cry. Hailing me as their king. I’m guessing in a bid of mercy.
I took in a slow breath as the gods whispered in my ear.
Title Gained!
King of Denmark
Status: Uncontested
Reward:
All controlled territories will be viewable upon the Map. All cities with City Planner perk will be accessible within your controlled territory. Resources and production of territories will be revealed and listed.
Royal Court now available
You may now assign followers to positions within your Court to gain benefits and bonuses.
You may now display found and created artifacts in your Court to gain benefit from items that are not equipped.
And just like that… I was the King of Denmark. I had a crown in my hands, but I felt no compulsion to wear it. Instead, I took a moment to savor the accomplishment… and accepted that this was merely the start.
…
The surrender was organized quickly. Horrik’s army barely needed the encouragement. They had been demoralized to begin with, so the moment that things looked bleak it was a race amongst them to surrender first. They threw down their weapons and surrendered en masse. From there, they were divided up as they still outnumbered us three to one, but no one expected any true trouble from them by that point.
Which left me free to approach Alabu with a portion of my army. Horrik, Thorfinn, and Rolf were dragged behind us, their hands bound and attached to a horse that wouldn’t let them rest. And it was there that we found the gates opened for us.
“King Siegfried!” A man that I didn’t know said, greeting us at the gate. “I am Jarl Alf,” he introduced himself, and he was Jarl of Hedeby. The one who abandoned it to me. “I open Alabu’s gates to you, my king. And I present to you a gift -- your vengeance!” He proclaimed, before making a gesture before a number of people were brought forth.
I had absolutely no idea who they were. I had never seen any of them before -- not the sobbing mothers and daughters, not the boys who were too young to hold a sword, and not a beaten and bound man. Yet, I knew exactly who they were even if I had never seen them before.
The bloodline of Horrik.
“They attempted to flee upon hearing news of the false king’s defeat, but I put an end to that, my king. As soon as they made for a ship, they were surrounded by my men and bound.” He bragged, and my gaze flickered between the faces, all of whom gazed up at me with fear, dread, fury, hatred or some mixture of all four. Among them, I suspected, were Grimar's children. Children of Horrik's daughters.
It was a good thing that they were captured, I knew, but I found myself irritated with the man. “My thanks. Seize them. And Jarl Alf,” I ordered, barely paying the man a moment of thought as I rode through the gates of Alabu.
Jarl Alf sputtered, starting to argue but he barely had the will to resist as he was grabbed by my men. “My king! I-”
“I am not in the habit of rewarding turncloaks,” I answered simply as I rode through the dirt roads of Alabu. Especially when they carried themselves with such pride when presenting babies to the jaws of a wolf. It was not something I could do lightly, however. Nor frequently. But, I intended to wipe the slate clean across Denmark.
I'm sure some Jarls and Thegns would meet my standards, but those like Alf certainly wouldn't.
The streets were deserted as I led my army into the depths of the town. I could see the eyes meeting out at me from every window and crooked board. The town of Alabu was holding its breath in anticipation of my rage. I imagine Horrik had filled their heads with what I would do if the city fell to me.
As for the city itself…
Happiness: 13%
Quality of life: 3/10
Population: 4,895
Population growth: 3.5% increase per year
Wealth: 85,700
Security: 12% per pop
Education: 3% per pop
Religion: 97% Norse Paganism, 2% Norse Christianity, 1% Christianity
Alabu had expanded considerably, but my suspicion was right on the mark that Horrik had emptied the town of able bodied men for his deception. Likewise, the town was rather rich. Partly, I imagine, because of the funds that Charlemagne had sent to repay my humiliation of him. Considering how four years ago the city had barely boasted a population of a thousand… Horrik had made his city the capital of Denmark and it grew appropriately.
My horse approached a familiar longhouse and two guards opened the doors for me, allowing me to step inside after discounting. My gaze swept over the interior, recalling memories -- of receiving the armband that marked me as a man in the eyes of our people. Of speaking to Horrik and looking to him for guidance. Of the celebration that had been cut early as I had been poisoned, with my father and Havi being cut down in the chaos that followed.
I looked at an ornate throne that was carved from a red wood, which was then covered in fine pelts. It was too small of a chair for me. My gaze searched the longhouse, wondering where exactly my father and brother had perished. “Bring Horrik here, but everyone else remain outside,” I ordered, walking up the steps and tearing the arms of the throne off so I could sit on it.
My guards bowed their heads, and Horrik was shoved into the longhouse with the doors slamming shut behind him. There was a very loud silence between us that was only broken by the chains that bound him. I rolled the crown between my fingers, looking down at the man who dominated the past few years of my life.
He wouldn't look up at me. His gaze was affixed to the dirt floor, his fine clothing muddy and the regal bearing he carried himself with gone like smoke in the wind. And I found myself so… irritated with him for it.
“You were the King of Denmark, and you couldn't be bothered to put in wood flooring in your throne room?” I asked him, leaning into what had been his throne with his crown pinched between two fingers as I toyed with it. Horrik, predictably, didn't answer. The will to fight had completely fled the man. He was only a step above being catatonic.
A sigh escaped me, “What was done with the bodies of my father? Of Havi?”
Horrik shrunk into himself, and that was answer enough.
“Say the words, Horrik. Believe me on this -- there is no way for this to end any more worse for you,” I told him, and that was something of a reassurance, I think. It was not as if I could hate him any more than I already did.
Horrik licked his lips, trying to find his voice, and it took him a few tries to find the words. “They… were fed… to the hogs,” Horrik confessed in a voice just barely above a whisper. As if that would lessen the impact of what he said.
My father and brother were reduced to pig shit.
I was unsurprised. Fury still filled me, and I found myself clenching my jaw as I was forced to revise my thoughts -- I could, in fact, hate Horrik more. Yet, I let go of that fury by releasing a small sigh because I had prepared myself to hear such unwelcome news. “That is unfortunate,” I told him.
There was another loud silence between us with Horrik seemingly pretending that if he could not see me then I was not there. The man seemed to visibly age by the second as his fate weighed so heavily on him.
I felt like a fool in that moment. I felt foolish for making this man my enemy. A foe I had spent so much of my hatred on.
He was utterly unworthy of it. He was so pathetic that it felt like wasted effort, even as I continued to hate him.
“Why?” I broke the silence after another long minute, and I didn't elaborate. He knew exactly what I was asking. It was impossible for him not to. Yet, even in the face of such an obvious question, Horrik remained silent. “Why did you do it? Why did your son do it? Is my mother right? Had you seeped so deeply in your paranoia that you saw my father as your enemy and a traitor? Did I outshine you so badly that you thought murder was your only recourse?”
Silence. My anger flared and even as it did, it felt so wasted on him.
“I will not ask again, Horrik,” I growled, and the unspoken threat got a reaction from him. Slowly, meekly, Horrik looked up at me. I hated that Jill inherited his eyes.
“My son Thorfinn…” he started, only to trail off as his lips thinned. “Land is the single most valuable thing a man can possess,” he continued, and there was a sliver of the man that I remembered in his words and tone. “Fertile land all the more so. Thorfinn, with my blessing… began to consolidate farmland for his eventual rule over my lands.”
I didn't react, simply letting the information wash over me and settle.
“He worked with a man named Kalf, one of my largest landowners before becoming King. The deal was a simple one. He would consolidate land in my son's name and in exchange, upon my son's ascension, he would be made a Thegn. Or a Jarl, should Thorfinn become King of Denmark.” Horrik continued in an almost gentle voice. Fragile, even. “Thorfinn… I… I sought to discredit your father. To curtail him. To make him seem weak to curb his influence and to remind him who he still served.”
Horrik closed his eyes for a moment, looking away from me as if he were physically bracing himself for my reaction. “The band that was sent to your home was sent with my permission. You… would have been killed and your mother raped. The house burned and your farm ravaged.”
I breathed in slowly, tempering my reaction as I felt black hatred crawling up my throat. It took everything that I had to not jump to my feet. To not race down the steps and allow my anger to lead me to give him a far more merciful death than he deserved. And the only thing that stopped me was the thought of that being his desire as he would finally know how I intended to make him suffer.
When I didn't grant him a mercy he didn't deserve, Horrik continued. “I was content to allow the plot to die then. You slew a dozen men as just a boy -- I knew then that you were something special. Touched by the gods or not, I didn't care. I wanted to cultivate a relationship with you. Use you as a tool against King Siegfred in my bid to become king.”
Then Horrik seemed to fold into himself, as if he was trying to seem as pathetic as possible. “Thorfinn felt slighted. He was angered by my decision to give you Rolf's armring, but that was not what motivated him to act against you then. He organized another raid on your farm without my blessing or awareness with the intention of betraying Kalf. He would place the blame on Kalf’s feet, and he would then aid you in taking revenge. To solidify your loyalty to him, as I would have made a show of forbidding it.”
It wouldn't have worked, but they had no way of knowing that. While I didn't have True Sight at the time, I already had Tell Spotter, even if I hadn't learned of its weaknesses at that time. But, they didn't know that. As far as they were aware, I would have been a young man filled with vengeance and they would give me a convenient target.
“But during the war, you proved too… much. Even before the battle on that hill, you proved yourself to be a great warrior. One that others were keen to follow. And Thorfinn was… jealous. Envious. He acted foolishly, and I… I covered for him,” Horrik confessed in a low whisper. “He murdered Kirk on the field of battle, and I was wroth. I wanted to strangle the boy for what he did, all the more so when he confessed to what was already happening back home after we left.”
I barely remembered it, but that lined up with something I had all but forgotten. Horrik, in the aftermath of Kirk's murder, had been in a foul mood. Something he had directed at Thorfinn. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, contributing it to some other factor, like the rebellion itself but…
“Why?” I asked him, intent to know. I wanted to know what would possess him to walk this path. Even back then, he must have known what I was capable of. Of the vengeance I would inflict upon him.
Horrik found the courage to look me in the eyes, and they were shining with unshed tears. “He's my son,” Horrik said with a sob in his throat. “He's my eldest son.”
He said it like that was a justifiable reason. It wasn't. It couldn't be.
Yet, I understood. As much as I would prefer not to, I understood. I couldn't have understood it before Ragnar was born. The love that a parent felt for their child wasn't something that could be conveyed through mere words. It was a love so intense that it felt like my heart could burst at times. The pride that I took in Ragnar’s first steps outstripped any pride I possessed for winning battles that would likely etch my name into history.
If it was a choice between a stranger and my son, I would choose my son every time. But I had never thought to contextualize that feeling.
What if Ragnar murdered a man? Not killed in a justifiable duel, but had their throat slit by men he thought were comrades? What if Ragnar committed himself to a foolish and self-destructive path against a man whose ire he would not survive?
Would I still choose his side above all? Would I cover his misdeeds, no matter how vile?
I didn't know. I truly didn't. And I hoped that I would never have to know, that Ragnar and all of my children would grow to be good and honorable.
“I covered for him,” Horrik continued, oblivious to my thoughts. “I had to. You would have killed him if I hadn't, and even then, I knew that there was no hope of besting you in battle. So I wouldn't try. Instead, I had you poisoned and your family killed so there would be no one to take revenge. I would have blamed King Siegfred, as he feared your prowess and because you were too loyal to be swayed by his promises.” He was forcing the words out in a rush, as if he wouldn't finish otherwise. “But you survived. My daughter betrayed me, and you survived. I spent years in fear, knowing what was coming. I thought I had prepared but… I never had a chance, did I?”
That was it, then? The reason so much of my family was murdered? Why the remainders were hunted down?
The petty greed of a spoiled son and the love of a father?
“No, you didn't,” I admitted to him. “The moment you failed to kill me, your fate was sealed. Thorfinn's as well.”
“We have wronged you,” Horrik admitted, shifting his weight and I noticed his trembling hands. “You have just cause for vengeance. I don't deny this. I ask for mercy, all the same -- not for myself. Not for Thorfinn. But for my family who were completely uninvolved in what we did. They were ignorant of everything. Most of them weren't even in the kingdom at the time, and after… after they only knew what we told them.”
He lowered his head to me, bowing so low that his head touched the dirt. “I will make them swear to never seek vengeance upon you or your family. They will forswear any claim to the throne. I swear it to the gods.”
“You swear it, do you?” I echoed, clenching my jaw. I hated that I found his begging almost respectable. He understood his fate was sealed. He could no longer save Thorfinn. Instead, he was trying to focus all of my ire upon him and his eldest. “What worth is your word to me, Horrik? After everything? There was a point it would have been enough, aye. I looked up to you. I trusted you. My brothers hate Thorfinn the most between you two, but what you did was a betrayal. One that I can never forgive.”
“You forgave Gunjill, did you not?” He said, looking up at me with a desperate expression.
“Jill,” I corrected. “My wife prefers to be called Jill. And I forgave her for being your child when she saved my life from your attempt of murder.” I hated him. I hated him even as I knew it was wasted effort. That it was pointless.
I hated him for begging me for the one thing that I was inclined to give him.
The fates of those children rested in the palms of my hands, and even now, I didn't know what to do with them. Do I indulge in mercy and risk problems in the time of my children and grandchildren?
Or did I rip out the threat, root and stem?
“But you forgave her. You had a child with her- Magnus, his name is? A boy. A strong, healthy little boy who is completely free of any wrongdoing despite my blood in his veins,” Horrik tried desperately to reason with me. Hearing my son's name come out of his mouth had my hands trembling with rage. Fury filled me like a cup that he was trying to use my boy against me for his own ends.
“And had you won?” I asked sharply, leaning forward. “Would you have spared Magnus?”
Horrik hesitated and we both had our answer.
“Rolf will become a blood eagle,” I uttered the sentence and Horrik collapsed. “Knud will be blood eagled alongside him. They will die at the hands of my brothers, as I have killed enough of your children. This mercy I grant your sons is the only chance that they will have to enter Valhalla. Should they scream, however, their spirits will walk this plane forever as I will repay what you did to my father and brother to them.”
I'm not sure if Horrik was listening to me. He curled into himself, his hands going to his head and curling up like the news was physical blows that he was trying to protect himself from. I suppose I would know soon depending on if he reacted to what else I had to say.
“I once sent you a message, Horrik, in the aftermath of the raid on my home. Did you receive it?”
“...No,” Horrik breathed, unable to keep the horror out of his voice.
“I told you. I would take your hands. Your feet. Your eyes, nose, and ears. Even your manhood,” I told him, not an ounce of mercy in my voice. “I intended it to kill you, but I have learned much in Rome. For a culture that boasts to be the pinnacle of civilization, they are quite adept at the art of mutilating their enemies. I wonder what that says about the nature of civilization?”
“No. No, you… you can't! Please,” Horrik begged, trembling like a leaf.
“I suspect you and your son will have a long life ahead of you, Horrik,” I told him before I whistled sharply, and the guards entered once more. Horrik was openly weeping as the guards dragged him to his feet, only for him to go limp. They ended up dragging him from the longhouse. “Close the door behind you,” I ordered, turning my attention to the crown in my hand.
They did as bid, and I heard Horrik’s wailing grow distant.
“As I thought,” I muttered to myself. “I have no taste for cruelty.”
A king must be feared as much as he is loved. Any weakness presented would be exploited by those below who wished to climb. My people were a harsh people. We were a cruel people. We were so because the land demanded it of us.
Sparing children and babies was not our way. It was simply too much of an unnecessary risk in a land that was already half out to kill us for living on it. The North was not the Mediterranean, with warm winters and vast stretches of fertile land. And I understood that better than perhaps any other. As well as I understood the depth of love a child could feel for a parent… as well as the depths of the rage they could feel at the loss of that parent.
To spare Horrik’s bloodline would be seen as weak. A crack in an otherwise flawless foundation that I was building my kingship upon.
My mercy needed to be tempered with cruelty.
Horrik and Thorfinn would be living reminders of my ire. Of my capacity for cruelty to my enemies.
I sucked my teeth, finding myself annoyed even on such a joyous day. With a flick of my fingers, I tossed the crown into a brasier, and the gold began to weep at the heat.
Comments
Gtopia44
Can't wait for the reactions.
Christopher the Mothman
You DEFINITELY watched Vikings before writing this, didn't you?
