Chapter Text
Prologue: Þǫgn
“Alright, ljós.” Erik sets a near-empty bowl of cooled porridge aside and sits in front of a squirming bundle, one arm waving as the other strains to be released as well.
“Yes, it is time, Sam. Sun time. The gyðja says so. And we both know she is smarter than me.” He nods at the bundle, gathering it in his arms and loosing the wool. It was an old cloak he had taken a dagger to, it served its purpose. He nods more, softly, as the child babbles, adding in quiet noises of acknowledgment as he lays the woven wool in the sun and the child on top of it. The weak flames of a fire and the sunlight bite at the winter air.
The babbles turn from him to the sun and the sky, clouds drifting in the distance. With hope, they will not cover the sun quickly.
Erik reaches up, taking a plate of dried fish and fruit from a nearby table, and sits next to the blanket. He looks up, blinking in the winter sun before looking back to the child as he reaches up toward the sun, babbles crescendo into a delighted screech before falling back down.
“You will be a Skald, I would bet my life on it,” Erik mutters, laying next to the blanket. “And I will prefer that for you.” He adds so softly, the words drift before the wind can catch them.