#Thank you so much for that little push Artemis! It was what I needed. I've been meaning to write this for months. :')

[iamthepulta]

After looking through the evidence, both, but moreso the second.

Ea-Nasir's tablet is dated to 1750 BC, which is coincidentally aligns to the death of Hammurabi. For context, he lived at the end of the Isin-Larsa Period, a time in Babylonia's history where it was a collection of warring city-states. Ur and Larsa were the most powerful of these, since they were farthest south and controlled most of the trade coming up the Persian Gulf. (Isin, near where Hammurabi was from, was in the North and had lost power about 200 years before.)

Right after Hammurabi's death, all the city-states he'd conquered, including Larsa and Ur, decided that they didn't give two squats what the people in the North thought, and started a rebellion.

The tablets in Ea-Nasir's house have been translated. It's very difficult to find them, but the book is called Foreign Trade in the Old Babylonian Period, Leemans 1960, and he makes a series of interpretations that still align with our understanding of the culture today:

Ea-Nasir was hot-headed. 3 tablets note him talking rudely to messengers and traders.

Ea-Nasir sold copper to private merchants AND the temple, which was the government of Ur. The receipt we found is in such a large quantity we can assume the government was likely his primary buyer. The complaint tablets are from notably from private merchants.

Ea-Nasir was an alik-Tilmun; or 'one who travels to Dilmun'.

Where is Dilmun? Good question! Archaeologists spent the next 40 years figuring it out! At this point, they're fairly certain it's in present-day Qatar. The city was used as a midpoint port to bring in copper from Magan and Meluhha (current-day UAE/Oman and India respectively.)

The reason we know this, is because Oman is an old, old copper-producing region. It's an ophiolite (rock from the seafloor that's been uplifted to the surface) that contained a spreading center (think Mid-Atlantic ridge) which forms deposits of copper and other metals as sulfides from the black smoker vents (copper-iron sulfur, lead sulfur, zinc sulfur, etc.)

To produce copper, you have to remove the iron and the sulfur. To remove the iron, you add "flux", which essentially bonds iron to silica, because it likes silica more than copper does. And to remove the sulfur, you add oxygen, which burns off the sulfur as gaseous SO2.

The copper is heavier than the iron and silica, and sinks to the bottom of the furnace. The iron and silica, slag, flow out the side. The resulting ingot looks like the bowl below. And a lot of times, holes remained from gas getting trapped at the bottom.

They measured copper by weight though, so this wasn't too much of a problem. However, if there weren't enough flux, or the fire wasn't hot enough, iron would also get trapped in the copper ingot, making "black copper"; if a merchant wanted the 97% pure copper that could be made using this process, a lot of iron would definitely be considered 'bad copper'.

Switching back to the culture!

Around 1800 BC, the same time as this was going on, the culture of Oman underwent a noticeable decline. Many of their coastal mines stopped producing copper and people moved inland. They also stopped making bronze with tin. This is notable, because tin was scarce in the Bronze Age and insinuates they might've been left out of the trade route. At the very least, they had stopped being Mesopotamia's primary supplier and started doing their best to keep up with the times.

(At this point, I'll point a finger to Cyprus, which was firing up its smelters at the same time. Cyprus is very interesting, but it pertains less to Ea-Nasir, so I'll just wave enthusiastically at their oxhide ingot copper and tin trade domination.)

So we can't know if Ea-Nasir wasn't a chronic scammer, but I think all the evidence outlines a different story.

Ur, a powerful city-state rebelling against a conqueror within Ea-Nasir's lifetime. Ea-Nasir, selling large amounts of copper to the government, and smaller sales to private merchants who complained about being given scraps; a man who was still traveling to trade copper in a state that had lost their monopoly on the copper trade and was possibly producing some less-than-ideal quality.

He mostly sounds like a person with strong ties to his city and culture. Maybe not the best copper merchant, but certainly a passionate one.

References below the cut:

Velde, C. (2003). Wadi Suq and Late Bronze Age in the Oman Peninsula. Archaeology of the United Arab Emirates, 102–113.

Bibby, G. (1970). Looking for Dilmun (Second Edi). Alfred A. Knoff, INC.

Olijdam, E. (2014). From rags to riches: three crucial steps in Dilmun’s rise to fame (poster). Proceedings of the Seminar for Arabian Studies, 44(July 2013), 277–286.

Forbes, R. J. (1950). Metallurgy in Antiquity. EJB. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.207.4426.50

Leemans, W. F. (1960). Foreign Trade in the Old Babylonia Period. Leiden, E.J. Brill.

Kassianidou, V. (2013). The Production and Trade of Cypriot Copper in the Late Bronze Age. An Analysis of the Evidence. Pasiphae. Rivista Di Filologia e Antichità Egee, VII, 133–146. www.libraweb.net

Khol, P., & Bertille, L. (2008). By Land and By Sea: The Circulation of Materials and Peoples, ca. 3500 - 1800 B.C. Intercultural Relations Between South and Southwest Asia: Studies in Commemoration of E.C.L. During Caspers (1934 - 1996) BAR International Series 1826, 1826, 29–42.

Giardino C., (2019). Magan - The Land of Copper: Prehistoric Metallurgy of Oman. Ministry of Heritage and Culture - Sultanate of Oman (2019).

What's the first question that really pops into peoples' minds about Ea-Nasir? I'm trying to write this history down, but I'm struggling.

[crazycatsiren]

Hello! I’ve been a devotee of Artemis for many years. Today I finally reached out to Aphrodite to work with her too, after many years of signs and helpful tips from her that I ignored because I was so loyal to Artemis… I’m just terrified of loosing Artemis in the process. I feel as though she gave me the push away to reach out to Aphrodite that I needed, but I’m still afraid Artemis’ distance will be permanent. I’ve never worked with more than one deity before, is there any advice you can offer me? (Thank you!)

In my experiences, often times, a deity will retreat into the background of your life for a bit, not because things aren't going well, but because they are.

I've very much experienced the "if it ain't broke don't fix it" vibe from the deities in my life. I've been worshipping Artemis for more than 10 years now, and on many occasions she's given me the "you need to spend time with others, too and not just with me because a variety of support in your life is good for you my darling" gentle poke. It's how I became devoted to Hestia and Melinoe as well, and I'm so grateful that I have them in my life now. Artemis would gently prod me in the directions of her family members, then back away to give us space. It's the "go spend some time with my siblings, it will be good for you, I think you might need a little bit more of this or that area in your life, I'll be back later" that I've very much become familiar with. She knows what she's doing, so I will just listen to her.

By all means, go spend some time with Aphrodite. Artemis will probably be poking her head out from the trees and smiling while giving you the thumbs up.

[citrusreadstoa]

Reading The Dark Prophecy: Chapter 3 (SPOILERS)

"Some old lady drops the mic / And kills everyone" That's a much larger mic than I expected. Or the people are a lot smaller. Maybe both.

"I volunteer for death!" Insert Katniss jokes. Apollo, I understand the situation was dire, but...

"What would you consider yourself, Calypso? A Titan? A demi-Titan?" Exactly what I've been wondering since she was introduced in The Battle of the Labyrinth. She exists in, like, a weird limbo zone (Hey, just like her island!). "Calypso cleared her throat with a noise that sounded suspiciously like idiot." So she considers herself an idiot? Got it.

"You're breaking my rhythm." Oh gods, is he singing this? "most worthless of teens!" Every time they repeat this, I am reminded that they're trying to make this somewhat musical and I just. I can't keep a straight face.

"making his way toward the bulldozer under the guise of an interpretive dance routine" I'd love to see this. I can guarantee you that what he's doing is so painfully obvious that the only reason he hasn't been called out yet is because the blemmyae don't want to accidentally insult his "dancing."

"Vary your adjectives" Cut her some slack, she's halfway into shock. She's doin' her best.

"stapled the bulldozer operator . . . right where his actual eyes would be." AAAAHHHHH my worst fear being realized! "Our friend is only giving you a dramatic interpretation of how we beat the Cyclopes." HAHAHAHA this poor little pathetic excuse--

"They're getting away!" "No, not at all! . . . You see, we traveled for many weeks like this..." I am fully laughing now. Also, many weeks? Half of it I chalk up to Apollo's exaggerated interpretation of events which he admittedly does all the time and not a single word out of his mouth when he's recalling a story can be trusted, and the other half I attribute to Festus being wonky. "Imagine you are Camp Half-Blood . . . and we are traveling away from you." HAHAHAHAHAAAA

"our getaway ride shuddered to a halt." Wow, I expected the bulldozer to last a lot longer. More than a page, at least. All that interpretive dance for nothing...

"The naming celebration is in three days" Is someone being born? Is a new building being opened? If it's a baby, I hope the baby doesn't end up dying or something. It's innocent in all this! "the main attractions in his slave procession!" Meg got demoted by a lot, huh?

"Suddenly an arrow" ARTEMIS. Don't even finish your sentence. It's Artemis. "A shrill whistle" NEVER MIND, IT'S HER HUNTERS. I don't need to read further. It's the Hunters. Every time a whistle sounds in these three series, I swear, it's the Hunters. Every time they describe the Hunters of Artemis entering a scene, it's gradual and dramatic with clue after clue in separate sentences or even paragraphs like, first it's an arrow. Then there's the whistle. And the wolves. And then some girl does a dramatic pose in an iconic parka like jumping down and landing in front of them or epically lowering a bow from on top of a tree far away. It's the moviest cinema thing ever.

"this woman was at least sixty years old" What??? I was so convinced. There wouldn't be any Hunters this old, right? I know they've made some exceptions for older teens, but this seems pushing it.

"sweeping red targeting lasers in every direction." Awfully modern technology for them.

"And that ghost you saw--that was Agamethus." Agamethus? I only know Brieanna. Is this some kind of underground resistance against the Triumvirate? Have we officially met the communists?

"the bomb-diggity." "Thank you.. I think." Hey! You never question when someone calls your crossbow trinkets the bomb-diggity! It's the highest of compliments.

"'If you knew Zoë, then you must be one of my sister's Hunters. But you can't be. You're...' I stopped myself before I could say old and dying." Good job, Apollo. OMG is this an ex-Hunter who broke her oath? Did she fall in love with someone and have to leave? If she is, it would explain the dramatic entrance. Holy geez, what if it was Apollo? 'Cause he keeps flirting with his sister's Hunters, it wouldn't be surprising if it worked at least once.

"Come, I'll take you to the Waystation." Holy guacamole, this is an underground resistance. It's all about the principle, baby!

[the-al-chemist]

happy ffwf! artemis is one of the most wonderful, complex, dynamic characters i've read about, and i love her so much. how did you originally come up with her and how has she evolved since her initial conception?

Happy FFWF! 🧡 (though it is well into Saturday where I am now, sorry for the delay…)

Thank you so much for the ask, and even more for the comments about Artemis. Sadly she is basically my pride and joy, so it always makes my day hearing that she’s resonated with other people the way she resonates with me!

Artemis didn’t really start as a character as such. When I first downloaded HPHM out of a mixture of boredom and mild curiosity, she - like most people’s MCs - started as a self insert. As soon as I realised that the game’s character had a backstory of their own and there was a plot to the gameplay that wasn’t “here, have a look around Hogwarts and play some matching games”, I changed her name, and later, her appearance.

There are a few main things that influenced her character to develop in the way it has. Firstly, she’s been massively inspired by many other fictional women and girls. Lyra Belacqua, Buffy Summers, Leia Organa, Jo March, Pippi Longstocking, Arya Stark and Katniss Everdeen are the ones that immediately to mind when I think about the characters that influenced me the most. She’s got a little bit of all of them mixed in there, and she’s all the better for it.

The other thing is the plot of HPHM itself. She couldn’t be a self-insert and the main character of HPHM, because 90% of what MC does, I would never do. She needed to be stubborn and headstrong and brave and reckless, or the plot wouldn’t happen! I thought carefully about her backstory, and did a little research into brain development and cognition in children/teenagers and how things like childhood neglect can affect psychology and behaviour in adolescents and young adults to try and make her characteristics believable as she aged.

I also made a point of creating logical flaws for her. I read some advice that the best way to give a character a flaw that fits with the rest of their personality is to take their defining traits and push them to the extreme. Artemis is brave and quick-thinking - so she is also rash, impulsive and hot-tempered. She’s practical and very physically able - therefore she is not particularly academic. She’s independent and used to doing things on her own - so she can be emotionally distant, self-centred, and entitled.

The first draft of years one and two were pretty patchy with her characterisation, but by the time I got to writing the first draft of year 3, Artemis had developed into the character she is now, and by year 4, I was so used to her that I could predict her actions in most situations. I went back and edited year one, and used my knowledge of Artemis’ psyche to change the plot, effectively letting her take the lead. Basically, the main thing that has driven Artemis’ evolution as a character - and continues to do so - is Artemis herself.

[thedaythealienscame]

and another one for pathologic

THANK YOU. it's been a consistent favourite of mine since the day i found out about it (almost 3 whole years ago, wow) and the characters are the things that made the whole story. i love talking about them thank you <3 <3

blorbo: artemy 100%, and i know that he's a pretty basic answer, but with the three campaigns in classic (one of which you are him) and the remaking of his route in patho 2, it's hard not to get attached to him. there's a of of inner conflict with his character that makes him super interesting to play AND talk about. also the added piece about his whole story being about love without any romance was so?? refreshing?? it's about the love and turmoil in the relationship with his dad as well as the affection that he shares for the bound (and his kids in particular). very well-written character, and any way that you choose to play him, he ends up being heartbreaking

skrunkly: i had to think about this one for a while but in the end it's gotta be the worms. i've never been so scared of something i wanted a plushie of so badly. there's a lot of interesting details in their characters (especially ones that were scrapped--they were supposed to walk with their feet dragging across the ground at first!) that make me feel SO much (the odongh that you meet in the marble nest in particular just... killed me)

the albino also gets a shout out because it fits in this category VERY well

scrimblo bimblo: while there isn't any character in particular that doesn't get a lot of attention as they're all so well crafted, i think i'd have to choose lara ravel. especially with the release of the second game, she's been reduced to being "artemy's childhood friend" when she's so much more interesting than that. the fact that she's been going through such a deep depression, her knee-jerk reaction to give and give and give even though it might not be what's best for her? and in the end when she reveals she's definitely capable of murder despite all this. idk she gives me chills, i love her to death

clara also fits here because, despite the fact that she's a main playable character, i see her pushed to the side a lot in order to talk about daniil and artemy. and her route is hard! it's really hard! but that isn't an excuse. even though (imo) she has the worst ending in terms of ethics, it's so interesting to talk about. she also has a lot of conflict given the fact that she was born not days prior to the outbreak, she might not even be human, and has a manifestation of the plague following her? she's so interesting and deserves so much better

gulp shitto: THE PLAGUE! but specifically when you can talk to it in the forms of the executor (different design than the orderly with the same costume) and when it shows itself as the changeling and calls itself murky's friend. it's fascinating and insidious and the challenge of finding out what those things are hurts so bad i love it

poor little meow meow: anna angel. she is... by far one of the most problematic characters in the games, putting children in harm's way, but she never fails to make me feel a little sad. maybe it's her fear of germs or maybe it's the fact that she seems a little sad and lost under all that, or maybe it's just because it's not 100% clear that she did the things everyone claims she did in patho classic. i just kind of wish she got a true second chance

not as problematic but definitely pathetic; katerina saburova too. not actually being a mistress when everyone thought she was, and the fact that she's the only older surviving "mistress" left? she makes me sad. her whole arc with the rat prophet was greatly needed and definitely deserved. wasn't very nice to clara though 😔

horse plinko: DANIIL <3 while i do feel kind of bad for him when he gets his worldview shattered (and when you play as him in the marble nest) he's so. like i want to play his route in patho 2 SO bad it's not funny. i want to see the changes they make, i want to see how the game changes around him. he's such an interesting character, but that's because of the things that he gets put through. i want to put him in a jar and shake him up a little and then take notes, i think he'd approve of that

eeby deeby: the fellow traveler doesn't really work because (as far as i'm concerned) he's probably literally death BUT i don't like him too much. definitely also big vlad though he evokes a certain rage in me that i'll never be able to get rid of

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 23- Silver Fox

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 6235

Warnings: Some violence.

AN: Kinda long, kinda boring, not my favorite chapter 😅

22- Queen

...

Artemis runs a hand over the smooth wood of her throne, the very one Lagertha sat in and Aslaug before her. It was hard to even call it hers.

The wood was buffed to a shine and draped in fine fabrics and warm bear fur, enhancing its regal image. The night of their wedding went by in such a haze that she didn't pay much mind to her surroundings. It was loud then, full of merry making and fascinating stories. Now it was empty, quiet, and incredibly large. The thrones were slightly elevated, sure to remind those of their place.

The current Queen stands to face the authoritative seat, imagining the women who have sat there before her. She was born a commoner and it was a part of her that would never wash away, and she wondered if she was worthy of such a powerful seat. She stood a while longer, her fingertips brushing through the soft fur.

"It is meant for you to sit on, my love." Ivar's teasing voice resonated in the hall, and it was enough for her to snap away from her thoughts in favor of glancing at her husband, his eyes filled with mirth. He speaks through the leather curtain, sly as a cat ready to pounce on its prey.

"I know that." She huffs out, turning round with a swirl of her skirts. She plops down onto the throne to prove it.

"You are such a pensive woman," He says to her, limping over to place a kiss to her brow, "What plagues your mind at this hour, hmm?"

"The usual." She says, and Ivar raises a brow, already knowing what she meant. She was questioning her position, unconfident in her royal elevation. Despite her unassuredness, she did well to be studious in the running of a household and other queenly duties, but it was not enough for her. Ivar understood the lack of confidence, but as his wife, she had to push all that aside and reflect the image of a strong queen. He knew she would be.

Artemis smiled at him, but focused on the subtle movements in the hall. She was so intune with her thoughts that she barely noticed anyone else. A new fire was being stoked by a thrall, while the others hurried about with a task at hand. One dusted about, while another threw more wooden logs into the fire pit. Geirdis was to care with the feeding of the kittens and the mastiff, and the other two were to help Edda and the rest in the kitchens as well as setting up the table for the morning meal.

She was well acquainted with some of the thralls. Others were new and she was sure to remember all their names, to remember their jobs and to remember to thank them, always. The concept was strange, as slaves were never a part of her household back home.

"How may I ease your mind? Breakfast?" Ivar cuts into her thoughts, raising his eyebrows at her, "Those strawberries you like have been freshly harvested this morning." The mention of the strawberries had her up in an instant, grabbing Ivar's awaiting hand so that they may walk over to the large table set up completely with food and drink.

"I have another surprise for you," Ivar says, and it was almost enough for Artemis to crush the berry in her hand unforgivably.

"Another? Ivar must you spoil me so?" She had enough material items to last her more than a lifetime.

"Hush now," He teases, motioning at the thrall pouring his drink, "Tell Geirdis to bring the girl out." A few short moments later and Geirdis appears with Aria only steps behind her. The blond thrall stands behind her queen, and Artemis almost shoots out from her seat.

"I am at your service, my Queen." Aria's long red hair spills over her shoulders as she bows before Artemis. The Queen had confusion etched all over her face, turning to look at Ivar who bore his signature smirk.

"What is this?" She asks "I thought you were to leave with Jarl Erik? We've said our farewells only last night."

"I've purchased her," Ivar interjects, "You may keep her as your help or you may set her free. Do with her as you see fit." Artemis looks at him with sparkling eyes and he just laughs, holding a berry between his leather covered fingers.

"Ivar..." She couldn't express her happiness well enough, "This is wonderful news!" She stands immediately, careful not to trip over the hem of her dress, before enveloping the Irish girl in her arms.

"I would see you free, of course," Artemis says to her, "Your life is your own to command." The red head smiled, her green eyes glittering with such emotion.

"I would like to stay under your service, my Queen, if that is alright with you. I've nowhere to go, and I will dutifully earn my keep."

"Of course," The Queen smiles, "I will have Geirdis help settle you in." The young blonde thrall moves to Aria's side, ready for an awaiting task.

"I humbly thank you, my King," Aria bows to Ivar once again, to which he waves off lazily as he usually did.

"I did it for my wife." He simply says, waving both Geridis and Aria off, "Report to the Queen in the evening for further instruction." They bow, and Geirdis leads Aria to a vacant room further into the hall, a smile of excitement on her face.

Artemis watches them go, happy to have her friend back. She bounces on her heels excitedly, turning to glance at Ivar. He watches her, head resting on his hand. She grins, flinging herself onto him, embracing him tightly. She places repeated kisses upon his head and brow, and he closes his eyes, relishing her adoring kisses. He could get you to this adoration.

"Thank you, my love." She says to him with a content sigh. Ivar grips her around the waist bringing her comfortably to his lap so that he may give her proper kisses on her plush lips.

"Anything for you, baby bird."

"The Jarl didn't put up a fight?" She asks and Ivar snorts in response.

"I am King, and he is but a lowly Jarl from a different kingdom, he could not refuse me, nor did he deny the silver I had offered." Artemis hums in understanding, placing a jeweled hand upon his stubbly cheek.

"Perhaps I should thank him?"

"No need. Money speaks to him more than any grateful words."

"Forgive me, my King and Queen, for interrupting such a tender moment," Heahmund enters, his tone almost sarcastic, with Hvitserk in tow, "The petitioners will be arriving soon."

"Fix yourselves and eat breakfast."

The older Ragnarsson motions with his hands for them to separate, plopping down beside his younger brother. Ivar rolls his eyes but pats her bottom for her to move.

"Eat. We have a kingdom to run."

...

Ivar sits on his throne as if he were born for it. He was all confidence, regality emanating off his person. He was fit to be king. Artemis on the other hand was a timid creature, lacking the vivaciousness she had when still a slave. Ivar glances at her to make sure she is ready. Her coronet gleamed beautifully in the natural daylight. She was a vision, but apprehension lingered in her eyes.

One after the other they came, some to dispute minor things such as a stolen goat, or a lost sheep. Others wanted marriage approvals and dowries disputed. They were mostly petty squabbles. Such things were Ivar's least favorite duty as king. He loved conquest, he loved expansion, and most of all, he loved war. He was a product of violent times, but he reveled in it. Small talk and petty rivalries were a nuisance in his eyes.

Artemis seemed to have taken quite an interest in the matters of the people. Of course, she was mostly there due to the formal setting, and as Queen, she must be present for all formal functions. But in her mind, if she was to be a proper queen, then it was her responsibility to heed the common people's plight. She wanted to do good for the people that she ruled, and help Ivar as king to prosper the kingdom, not to be a useless puppet beside him.

Ivar settled each dispute easily enough. All those years beside his mother had taught him about the local politics, though he was clearly bored of it.

The grievances of the day were minimal, small matters easily solved. The day progressed uneventfully, and by midday, the Queen sat brooding before a loom, hands tangled in a mess of yarn.

"My Queen, the weft thread is too loose." Artemis sucks her teeth at the comment, scowling. The longer she stared at the threads, the more the pretty colors of blue and green appeared to be one congested mess of shades. She was about ready to throw the loom away.

"You must tighten it, like this," Geirdis instructs, her skilled hands going over the threads with accuracy, demonstrating her many years of experience.

"I can't do it."

"Of course you can, My Queen, it just takes time."

Artemis snorts, turning her gaze away from the loom and down towards the hem of her embroidered skirts. One of the kittens, the brown one she named Eros, latched his sharp little nails into the wool, attempting to climb up the height of her leg.

She coos, easily grabbing the tiny thing in her palm. Eros mewls, causing the other 3 to call out as well, and a soft symphony began in the quiet hall. Artemis didn't mind it, it was a pleasant distraction, but Geirdis was far too annoyed with the felines.

"Hush." She scolds them, grabbing the trouble maker Eros from Artemis's hands. She then scoops up the others. The second troublemaker was Aries of light colored hair, the calmest was Siggy, the darkest and the only one Ivar named, and the curious one was Icarus. Geirdis places them in the arms of a passing thrall. Heracles snores, laying obediently beside his mistress.

"I'm sorry, my Queen, but you'll never improve if there are distractions." Artemis sighs but nods in understanding, once again picking up the shuttle to continue her amateur work. Her weaving was an attempt at creating a blanket for the arriving cold weather. So far, it was futile.

But, she had expectations to meet and shoes to fill. There were lessons in weaving and mending, a task women were to dedicate countless hours to, and a task she utterly detested.

To her, the loom was an unavoidable contraption. Threaded into the wood were her clumsily woven flax threads, nothing in comparison to tapestries and fine clothing made by the skilled hands of the women in the royal household. Artemis left most of the weaving to Geirdis and the rest of the talented women.

Running the household was entirely different, but something Artemis was able to grasp better than weaving. She was to oversee the storages for grain and meat, food that had to last them for the winter months. The keys resting at her hip were a reminder of the control and command she had.

Ivar led several hunting parties, he and his men leaving with nothing but their arrows, and always returning with several rabbits and a deer or two. They would later be skinned, salted, dried, and stored away for later use.

The King was currently out on a hunt with Hvitserk and the rest of their hunting party, leaving Heahmund, Dafi, and the rest of the guards to watch over the Great Hall, and the entire estate.

"My mother was a talented weaver," Heahmund says to her, glancing at the front of the loom before walking to step behind Artemis to get a better look. He was not impressed. "You need much improvement."

"Well, how about you fetch your mother to teach me then, hm?" Artemis shoots back, earning a chuckle from the Saxon man. Geirdis fetches a pitcher of mead and a drinking horn. She fills it for Heahmund, and he takes it with a nod of thanks.

"I'm sure Geirdis has her hands full with you."

"The Queen has been no trouble." The blonde says, her tone absolute, as if warning Heahmund in his use of words. No one should ever be so familiar with nobility, especially the wife of Ivar the Boneless.

"She wields a hammer better than a loom." He says, a comment that not even Artemis could deny. The dark haired queen cracks a smile, but continues to work with the loom, slowly pulling the flax threads tightly.

"I can't hammer clothing into existence. I wish it were that easy."

"The loom is an important part of a woman's life, My Queen. When our death comes to take us, we are buried with our weaving tools and mending needles."

"And what? Are you meant to weave in Valhalla?" Heahmund snorts, raking a hand through his freshly cropped hair. Geirdis turns to him, her eyes revealing her irritation.

"It is our worth, and what makes us who we are." She mumbles out.

"Heahmund, shut up," Artemis scolds before he could say anything more, "Only the gods know why Ivar decided to keep you around." He raises a brow.

"Did you say 'the gods'?"

"Did I hesitate?" She counters back, eyes not leaving her work, though she had no idea what she was doing. Geirdis sits beside her queen, gently stopping her hands with her own to demonstrate the proper technique again. Every so often her honey eyes would drift to glance at Heahmund before finding their way back to the weaving.

"Do manners exist in Crete?" Heahmund mutters.

"Much more than in England, I'm sure."

Loud chatter and footsteps were heard, a cue for Dafi to open the hall doors to let the hunting party in. The hounds could be heard barking, and the smell of dead animal flesh suddenly filled the hall. The kitchen thralls immediately scattered in, helping to bring in the game.

Heracles barks upon the sight of Ivar and Hvitserk, immediately stomping towards them in glee.

"Wife, you must calm this beast." Ivar mutters, watching how the mastiff stood on its hind legs, his paws placed on Hvitserk's shoulders.

"He loves the lot of you." She replies, placing down her tools to formally greet her husband. She smiles at him. He was covered in dirt, no doubt from crawling about with his bow.

"And why does Heahmund wear such a face? Tired of watching women weave all day?" Hvitserk jokes, now roughhousing with Heracles.

"He should take a turn at it, seeing as he bickers like an old crone looking to hear village gossip." Artemis says, softly wiping the dirt from Ivar's flushed cheeks with the edges of her sleeves as he held her close to him. He looked exhausted.

"Have you all the time to stand here and pester me so?" Heahmund barks out with no real heat behind his words. He laughs walking forward to clasp Hvitserk's hand, then to bow to his king in the Saxon tradition.

"It is a fun past time, I dare say," Hvitserk smirks, "Now someone please get this dog off of me." Heahmund grabs Heracles by his silver collar, hauling him down.

"How fair's my wife on the loom?" Ivar addresses Geirdis who stood quietly in the back of all the commotion. With her hands clasped behind her back she dutifully responds.

"She will improve, in time, My King."

"She means I'm terrible." Artemis sighs, smiling up at Ivar like a child.

"She doesn't lie." Says Heahmund with a snort. Ivar sucks his teeth.

"Quit teasing. Now, if you will all excuse us," Ivar addresses the hall, "I'd like to rest with my wife."

"My love, I must see to the preparations of the meat before evening." Artemis whispers to him, successfully earning a frown from the king.

"Surely that can wait? My legs ache," He says back just as quietly, a twinkle forming in his blue eyes.

"What kind of Queen would I be then?" She smiles, pecking his lips quickly, "Geirdis will prepare our chambers for you. Once everything is stored I will come for you." Ivar smiles, placing a kiss to her brow.

"Very well, go be a Queen."

...

The sky was overcast, the sun's radiance blocked by gray clouds, preventing the warm rays from penetrating over Kattegat. The farmers scrambled to continue their harvest before winter came with its harsh grip, and the fishermen pushed their small boats into the sea for their morning catch.

Artemis sweeps through the bustling village, passing pleasantries with the people who greet her, some keeping a distance from the mastiff that trotted beside her. It had been a few weeks since the wedding and her ascension as queen. Things were much different, yet nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The people held her in higher regards, of course, but life simply went on, for which she was grateful.

"Dafi?"

"Yes, my Queen?"

"Does it not bore you having to follow me? You're like a shadow," Artemis jokes to him, offering the young man a smile. It was plainly obvious why Aria admired him so.

Dafi only shrugs.

"I suppose it is rather silly when you look at it that way, my Queen. It is merely my duty to escort you, always."

"Yes, but does it bore you?" Dafi remains silent for a moment, not sure how to answer the question exactly.

"Come now," She smiles, "I've better humor than my husband."

"I assure you, my Queen, it is an honor to be by your side." Dafi cracks a smile. His usual stoic demeanor faltered for a moment, revealing a boyish smile under all that seriousness. He wasn't being honest, but she supposed it was alright, he seemed in good cheer and that was enough.

"Then I release you from your duties for the day, Dafi." His flaxen colored brows furrow at her words.

"But my Queen-"

"Go and spend your day the way you'd want to if I weren't a burden." She says nonchalantly, using the tips of her fingers to skim over Heracles's short fur.

"King Ivar will not be pleased once he is informed."

"Then be sure not to inform him, hm?" Dafi was not convinced. It has always been his duty to be her loyal shadow, as commanded by Ivar.

"Do you intend to escort yourself?"

"Of course not! I have my dog for the company." Heracles perks up to gaze at them both when he hears his name, his wrinkled face covered in drool.

"Your dog, my Queen?"

"Mhm. I'll just be with Master Hagen. Go about your day, Dafi." His features screamed skepticism, but he couldn't deny an order from the Queen.

"Very well, my Queen." She smiles, nodding him off before heading to Master Hagen's shop.

With the increase of trade, many have come to make a living in Kattegat. There was an influx of craftsmen, potters, weavers, bakers, and blacksmiths, many coming from the failing town of Hedeby. After Lagertha's death, the village was taken over by a series of Jarls, who only pushed the village back deeper into misery.

Once it was known that Kattegat's Queen was a blacksmith herself, many wanted to come and show off their work in the hope of gaining the King and Queen's favor, but an increase in forgers meant an increase in competition. Despite the growth in competition, Artemis still only chose to go to Master Hagen. She would honor Arvid's father.

Arvid's father was an ailing man, but the glint in his eye was that of a youthful man. He was intelligent, and quite a talented blacksmith, reminding Artemis of her own father at times, which made some visits difficult. His white beard was braided, and a silver bead was placed at its end. His fading tattoos were a reminder of his younger days, fighting in Ragnar Lothbrok's army.

Her mastiff bounded into the shop as if he owned it, sniffing about the things he has sniffed many times before as if they were new.

"My Queen, I was not expecting you." Master Hagen greets, his aging eyes following Artemis as she enters, removing her hood and shaking off the morning chill.

"This is no place for a queen." The old man nags, but already knew she came with purpose. Artemis snorts, removing her fur lined cloak and placing it aside.

"The title does not change anything." She moves towards the back, fetching a pair of gloves she favored for her work.

"Oh, but it changes everything." He chuckles, scratching at his beard, "A queen sits upon a throne and does not dirty her hands." He notices her usual guard was missing, but he says nothing about it.

"I was born a blacksmith, and I think that shall remain until the end of my days." The Queen says to him, "I would not be true to myself if I left such a life behind." Master Hagen smiles at her words, nodding in understanding.

"Very well, my Queen."

"And Arne?"

"Fetching more wood."

"Excellent," She smiles, "We've much work to do."

"Oh?" The older blacksmith raises his brows.

"I'm sure you have noticed the recent influx of villagers?" The old man nods.

"Many of them come with skill, Master Hagen, which means more competition for you." The old man frowns but listens attentively, "I suggest you take on at least two more apprentices, that way you may flourish."

"But my Queen," Master Hagen sighs, "I've not the strength to take on such a task. I am but an old man. Arvid was to oversee the shop, but he is making a name for himself in England. It would prove to be difficult."

"I will help you," Artemis smiles brightly, "And I'm sure many others will come looking for work. Your trade will increase, and you will be able to retire peacefully. I will see that you are well taken care of." The old man hesitates, mulling over the idea before nodding.

"Very well, I will do as you ask."

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Artemis decided to look after Arne's work, while Master Hagen dealt with a few customers that came for minor purchases.

Arne was a gifted young man, already showing talent in his trade. He was 16 years, beginning his training a few years prior before moving to Kattegat and finding a new master to teach him.

He was nervous around her, stuttering when she praised him, bending his head low in a timidness whenever she moved to instruct him. He'd never known a woman of high stature to dirty her hands as the freemen did. But he didn't know her full story.

Later in the day, a woman stops by, one Artemis was not familiar with. Her hair was so pale it appeared silver, and her eyes were slanted like a fox. She had a smile on her face as she greeted the Queen formally, extending the greeting to Master Hagen. She appeared to be searching for something, her eyes quickly scanning the entirety of the shop before her eyes landed back to the Queen. Artemis was bewildered but says nothing, thinking perhaps the woman needed to purchase something for her household.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Master Hagen asks her.

"Oh, not in particular. I was hoping to have a word with the Queen? Of course, if she has a moment to spare." Artemis nods, removing her gloves. She then glances at a hammer nearby, deciding to tie it onto her belt before instructing. She never made the mistake of leaving without it anymore as it proved useful. She instructs Arne to continue his work before smiling at the unknown woman, who peers at the hammer before stepping out into the busy streets.

"I'm afraid we haven't formally met?" Artemis says to the woman, tightening her rich cloak about her shoulders. The woman nods before answering.

"I meant no offense, Queen Artemis. My name is Dabria. I have just moved here from Hedeby."

"It is a pleasure, Dabria. Forgive me for being so bold, but if your family intends to remain in Kattegat, then you must all pledge your allegiances to King Ivar."

"I came alone, My Queen. I've no family." Artemis takes in her state of dress. She wore tightly fitted breeches, and a leather vest.

"You're a warrior." Artemis states, and Dabria nods.

"I wish to join the king's army, my Queen."

"Well, if your skills are noteworthy, then I'm sure he will not hesitate to accept you." They walked about Kattegat for a while, discussing the weather and the wealth of the town. Heracles trailed behind them, following his mistress loyally. Dabria speaks of her admiration of Kattegat, how lovely the trees must have looked in the summer months.

Kattegat was beautiful from this height, nothing at all from what Artemis remembered when she was a slave. There was something about the view of the mountains that calmed her, or at least, eased her mind just a bit. She understood Ivar's need to find solitude there. It was peaceful.

Both she and Dabria watched the scenery, and the silver haired woman breaks the silence.

"You seem like a humble woman, Queen Artemis, which makes this so much harder." Artemis turns to look at the woman, her brows furrowing.

"What are you talking about?" Dabria removes a dagger from the pocket of her breeches, unsheathing it to reveal a glittering blade. Artemis swallows thickly, her fingertips lightly skimming her own dagger she kept strapped to her thigh. A gift from Ivar, he told her to always keep it on her person. Looks like she'd be using it.

"Lagertha was an amazing woman," Dabria starts, surprised at how calm the Queen was. She expected a few tears by now, maybe an attempt to flee. She points her dagger towards her, "How could a woman untrained in the arts of battle be the cause of Lagertha's death?"

"I'd call it luck. The rest believe it was the gods who willed it. You may choose what you want to believe. Now what are your intentions with that dagger?"

Dabria smiles, slowly approaching Artemis with a grin.

"I intend to avenge Lagertha."

...

The Queen sniffles, wiping her face to rid herself of the angry tears with the back of her hand. Her eyebrows were arched angrily and her knuckles were white from gripping the hammer tightly. Her eyes were trained on the quiet scene before her.

Heracles laid beside her, his tongue lapping over his dark snout now covered in blood. His eyes were closed but his ears were entirely alert to the smallest of sounds.

She glances down at her hammer, using the hem of her torn dress to wipe the remnants of blood from its surface, grateful she followed her instincts.

The seer had been right in saying such hardships would surface, but so soon?

Dabria was clearly a supporter of Lagertha, a shieldmaiden bent on revenge. Despite her fox like features, she lacked the wit that foxes were known for.

Her dagger cut through Artemis's dress, slicing deeply into the soft skin of her shoulder. The Queen was lucky to have been quick in her own movements.

Artemis presses a hand tightly to her wound, hoping the pressure would alleviate the blood and pain that was blossoming now that the adrenaline had ceased.

She had hit the woman twice, once in the stomach and once to her face. The swing of the hammer was powerful enough to emit a sickening cracking sound from the woman's jaw, now dislocated. It had stunned the both of them, Artemis's eyes widening as she saw the woman drool and spit out significant amounts of blood. Her jaw was loose from its place.

The same feeling she felt at the war camp when beating the man's face was the same feeling she had at that very moment, and before she could lift her hammer to bring it down atop the woman's silver head, Heracles pounced, attacking viciously.

His teeth sank into her arm, the very one that held the dagger ready to attack, tackling her down. Then he went straight for her face, destroying her visage until it was nothing but a fleshy mess between his teeth. The beast growled over the warrior's dead body, before directing it towards an approaching figure, Dafi, who now held an unresponsive Artemis in his arms.

"My Queen," Dafi says to her, his blue eyes pleading with her, "Command your beast to stand down."

Artemis stared at the woman, face destroyed, body twisted in a way that reflected her dog's strength. She had not noticed that Dafi had found her, nor did she care. Moments ago she was fighting against this woman, and now, she drew in her last breathe. Heracles continued to growl, his protectiveness not dying down despite knowing Dafi very well. He slowly inched forward, ready to attack him with any sudden movement.

"My Queen," Dafi tries again, his eyes never leaving the angry creature before him. Artemis blinks, catching her breath before removing herself from Dafi's grip.

"Heracles," She commanded sternly, "Stop." The dog lets out one last growl before quieting, replacing angry noises with whining. He sits, staring up at her with large eyes, bloody snout and paws, awaiting the next command. Artemis says nothing. She spits at the fresh corpse.

Stupid woman.

She only armed herself with a dagger, perhaps not to attract unnecessary attention to herself. Or likely assuming Artemis lacked the strength and was but a weak woman. A weak woman would not have the strength that came from the many years of beating metal.

She walks down towards the path her feet wanted to go, if only to find a moments peace. Waving her hand to her large pup, he immediately follows her, leaving the guard stunned.

"My Queen!" He called after her, but she didn't stop. The commotion had spread to the rest of the village as the people came to crowd around the body of the dead woman to take a look, the ravens already feasting upon the bloody mess. The murmurs spread almost immediately, reaching the Great Hall.

Lagertha was dead, yet her spirit haunted Kattegat, Artemis realizes that. They wanted revenge. King Ivar so easily killed their queen, and so shall they with his. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, her ears picking up the sounds of boots crunching against the grass.

"My Queen," Dafi says cautiously, "King Ivar had appointed me to protect you, and I have failed." He keeps a distance from her, in case her dog decided that his presence was unwanted.

"I'm not dead." She says.

"But I should have been there-"

"Why do you blame yourself?" She asks him quietly, not bothering to look at him, "I sent you away, did i not?" She continued to press her hand against the flesh of her shoulder, blood now seeping through the fabric. It would not be wise to lose any more blood.

"I was not there to protect you."

"You could not have known."

"Artemis!" Hvitserk's familiar voice causes Heracles to bark. It echoed into the mountain ranges for all to hear, like a menacing threat that seemed to rattle over the entire land of Norway.

He pushes past Dafi, already noticing the wound on her shoulder.

"What happened?" Hvitserk asks breathlessly, removing her hand only to see blood. His eyes settle on her hammer, then on Heracles's bloody snout. He sighs, turning to look at Dafi with a glare.

"Is it not your responsibility to protect her? The king will be here any second and only the gods know what he'll do." That was Ivar's cue to enter, his chariot coming into view. His mare ran at full speed, and when he pulled the reins to stop, the chariot lurched forward at the velocity. There was a fire in his clear eyes, a rage that Artemis had not seen in quite some time.

He hopped off, his hands dragging him quickly towards Dafi, but before the guard could create his string of apologies, Ivar swipes an arm against his shins, causing Dafi to tumble hard to the ground, a dagger already placed dangerously against his throat before he could groan at the impact.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you right now." Ivar says to him, his wild eyes shining with anger. His face was so close to Dafi's that the guard was speechless, expecting the blade to slice his throat.

"My king, I-"

"Do not bore me with excuses." Ivar hisses, the point of the blade piercing the delicate skin of Dafi's neck, blood already pooling at the punctured area.

"Ivar," Artemis calls out to him, pleading, "It was not his fault, it was mine. I sent him away. Do not hurt him." Ivar sucks his teeth, but his gaze never leaves the frightened man below him.

"He still had a duty to uphold. And he failed."

"Do not kill him." She stresses, her voice dark and stern, nothing like he's ever heard. It was enough for him to look over at her, her eyes hard and lips set in a line.

Ivar sucks his teeth again, flicking his wrist quickly and swiping his dagger with expert precision, slicing along Dafi's cheekbone and up towards his temple. The guard hisses but says nothing, as he knew without the Queen intervening, he would surely be dead by now.

"Fortune smiles down on you," Ivar spits out, "Her mercy is what keeps you alive. You are released from the duty of guarding the Queen. Now, get out of my sight." Dafi stood, eyes downcast in shame. He turns round and walks away from the party. It was the little mercy Ivar would show him.

"Bishop," Ivar's fiery eyes turn to the cropped haired man, "Take a few men with you and scout the area. Lagertha's supporters must be near, and wherever they are, surely my brothers are not far. Go." Heahmund nods, quickly glancing at Artemis before motioning to the other men to move out.

Artemis slumps against Hvitserk, head hanging low. She lowers herself on the dry grass, her wound aching. She felt tired. Ivar crawls over quickly, pushing Hvitserk away to grab hold of her. She keeps silent, not bothering to look at him, yet he places sweet kisses over her head, running a hand down the length of her hair as he's always done in comfort.

"You are a warrior, and don't even know it," He says to her softly, cradling her close.

"I'd hardly call myself that. I have the dog to thank." Her voice wavered as she found it difficult to speak. He places a hand to her thigh, the one he knew she strapped her dagger to. It was still there.

"You had no need for the dagger?"

"The hammer did its job."

"Mhm," Ivar hummed in agreement, "I saw the mess you made of her. Her body will be burned in the village square tonight for all to see. The people will know the strength of their Queen, and the consequences of treason." Artemis says nothing, her mind still going over the events of the day.

Hvitserk begins to silently tie a leather strip about the thick silver chain Heracles wore around his neck, leading the beast away with much struggle.

"Have the thralls feed him the rabbit meat he is so fond of. He deserves it." Ivar's tone was so gentle, it was hard to believe that moments ago he was nothing short from furious.

Hvitserk nods, pulling the beast away, and only when he was far enough, Ivar begins his soothing again.

"You're hurt, my love, I must get you to the healer at once." Artemis nods, slowly standing up with the help of her good arm, waiting for Ivar to quickly crawl over to his chariot. He waits for her to stand beside him then grips the reins, slapping them against the mare. The beast began to move at a moderate pace.

"This is what the seer meant," She says to him quietly, "This is what he meant by the hardships, the dark shadow that looms."

"And we will deal with it together," Ivar says, "There is nothing that will stand against us."

"Who had warned you?" Artemis asks suddenly.

"Arne, Hagen's apprentice. Said the old man was worried when you had not returned for a while. Arne searched for Dafi, and Dafi warned the other guards."

"You rid him of his post, but surely you won't humiliate him further?" She had that tone, the pleading one, Ivar could already detect it. She did have a much kinder heart then he.

"I will send him back to the lower ranks for a while, until I decide what to do with him."

"It was not his fault." Artemis repeats. Ivar nods.

"I know, my love."

They entered through all the bustling activity, and the people stared as they passed through, whispers of the Queen reaching them until they closed the doors of the Great Hall.

...

@heavenly1927​ @didiintheblog​ @leilabeaux​ @jzr201​ @inforapound​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @rastakami23 @ostra814​ @zumzum96​

[shanastoryteller]

Hi, I just wanted to say the the gods & monsters series is one of the most wonderful things I've read. I know that some already have Hades in them but could you please do one about Hades and Persephone meeting? That would be amazing, thank you

Apollo comes to her, warm and smiling. He likes her body, its gentle curves, the flawless skin, how it shines with the youth and strength of spring. He is the sun and she is the earth, and it is from his rays that she gains her strength, and it would be expected of them to love each other. The god is golden, from his skin to his hair to his mischievous eyes, and there is not an inch of him that is not as lovely as the rays of sunlight peeking through the leaves.

Kore is not stupid. She knows Apollo does not linger, that she will be a wife in name and little else; he will lie with her and worship her and then grow bored of her.

Hermes comes to her, eyes sharp and hands gentle. He likes her mind, her acuteness, the way she views the world as a gem cutter would a raw emerald. He is wings and air and she is firmly rooted in the earth, she is as far from him as one can be, but his skin and hers are the exact same shade and she finds the shape of his mouth pleasing. She likes the way he considers her his equal.

But Hermes is meant to fly, spends his time carrying messages for Zeus and meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in. He may be a fine enough man, but he’s no husband.

She has two offers – each from powerful gods, each attractive and clever. There’s no reason she should find them both as unappealing as congealed chicken fat, yet she does.

“I do not often find you alone,” a deep, feminine voice says, and Kore suppresses a sigh as she turns to greet the approaching woman. She sits deep in the forest under a blossoming apple tree, but this is not her dominion alone.

“I am not often alone,” she concedes, observing the blood soaked goddess. “I’m assuming none of that is yours?”

Artemis doesn’t have enough hair to toss it over her shoulder, but she runs a hand through it, pushing it out of her face and streaking it copper in the process. “Of course not. I hope you weren’t too attached to the bucks of this forest.”

“Animals are not my concern,” she answers, “Besides, I am the goddess of spring, and therefore am born from death. It would be foolish of me to reject that which bore me.”

“Funny you should say that,” she says, “since all of Olympus is gossiping about how desperately you seek to leave the sanctuary of what bore you.”

Kore raises an eyebrow. Artemis is clumsy with her words, but she supposes the woman has never had a need to be otherwise. There are few as transparently straightforward as the huntress. She smiles, “Perhaps it is more funny, dear cousin, how easily the words prison and sanctuary become entangled.“

Artemis crosses her arms and sucks her lower lips between her teeth. “No,” she says finally, sobering, “I don’t think that’s very funny at all.”

Kore arranges her skirts around her, the green of the thread and that of the grass nearly identical. “If you’re here to plead your brother’s case for my hand, I’m willing to listen.”

The huntress snorts, derisive, and Kore raises an eyebrow. “I would not recommend my brother’s hand,” she says, “There are other parts of his anatomy which leave many satisfied, however, if that falls within your interests.”

“I am a more desirable bride as a virgin,” she answers instead of saying that the thought of touching a man she does not love makes her skin crawl. Artemis laughs as if she just told a joke, but if so Kore is ignorant of the punchline.

She does not know if she could love either Hermes or Apollo, at least not for the eternity that marks a god’s impossibly long life. It would result in a rather lackluster love making, which is presumably their main goal in pursuing her.

She dislikes her options. Behind her is the gilded cage of her mother’s overprotectiveness, and ahead of her lies the gilded cage of a loveless marriage.

“Kore,” Artemis says, frowning, “if – if you are to defy Demeter, you must go someplace that she cannot enter, a place where her magic cannot reach you.”

“Where might that be?” Kore asks dryly, “She is as I am – all that grows from this earth is our domain. Perhaps in the sea I could hide from her, but Poseidon is no friend of mine and has no reason to grant me asylum.”

Artemis shrugs, a wry twist to her lips. She cracks her neck on either side and walks back from where she came, but not before calling out over her shoulder, “I guess there is no such place Kore, goddess of spring, born of death and Demeter.“

Kore is still for a long time, staring at the place where Artemis stood.

Perhaps she is not so clumsy with her words after all.

 ~

Slipping away from her mother’s watchful eye is always monstrous task, even more so since the rumors of her proposals, but she manages. She finds the River Styx and follows it against its current, walking past and through all the warning sign that she’s gone too far, ignores the prickle along her skin as she crosses the threshold from this world to the next.

Almost immediately she comes across a hooded figure standing besides a small boat. “Charon,” she greets confidently. She tries to catch a peek under his hood, but he tilts his head away from her and manages to give the impression that he’s frowning at her even though she can’t see his face. “I need passage across the river.”

“You are not dead, lady goddess,” he says.

She holds out a shiny gold coin, “I can pay.”

“You are not dead,” he repeats, “You may not be ferried across.”

She nearly snaps at him, but instead takes a firm hold on her temper and thinks. Charon did not say she was not permitted to enter the underworld, only that he may not ferry her across. She peeks into the rushing river. It’s so powerful and fast that it churns grey foam and the water itself looks black, or perhaps that is simply whatever lies beneath. She skims her hand across the surface and the skin of her fingertips comes away burned and blistering.

“May I swim?” she asks.

“There are no rules preventing the impossible,” he tells her, but his shoulders stiffen as if he’s grown nervous.

Kore is not nervous. Either she survives and manages to enter the underworld, or she dies and Charon will have no choice but to ferry her across.

She sheds her gown – it will only weigh her down and get in her way. “My lady goddess,” Charon says, and Kore would almost say he sounds panicked. “Please do not –”

She jumps into the river.

It burns all over, white hot pain that makes her want to scream, but she has no interest in discovering what would happen if she were to swallow any of this supposed water. The current fights against her at every turn, and her muscles bunch and strain to not be swept away. It’s improbably difficult, the most difficult thing she’s ever done, but she grasps the edge of the shore with peeling hands and heaves her bloody body unto the ground.

Her entire body is one throbbing wound. Perhaps she should have listened to Charon before diving headfirst into the river, but it’s too late for regrets.

“Are you insane?” a thunderous voice demands, and then she’s being lifted by strong arms until she’s settled against a muscular chest.

She forces her eyes open, and the man glaring down at her has hair the color of the night sky and skin as pale as bone. His nose is long and sharp, his mouth wide and thin. The only bits of colors are his eyes, a green so dark that at first glance they look black. She raises a hand and cups his face, and the water clinging to her doesn’t seem to hurt him the way it hurt her. “Hades,” she says, and everything pains her just as much as before but his skin soothes hers. The skin on her palms comes away healed.

He’s angry with her, but his touch is gentle. There’s not a stitch of clothing on her, but he doesn’t glance or grope, only pulls her against him and uses the sleeve of his robe to clear the burning water from her face. “Yes, insane goddess, I am Hades.”

She had not meant to meet him, only to hide among his realm until she could think of a better plan. But she likes him already, an instantaneous and childish feeling, one she can’t remember having before.

She turns into his chest and lets out a pleased sigh, content to go wherever he brings her.

“They call me Kore.”

gods and monsters series, part vii

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 21- The Seer

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count:4640

Warnings: None

AN: This one’s kinda boring, but it moves everything along.

20- Always A Hero Comes Home

...

A new thrall bounces quietly about the room, lighting all the candles in the chambers now that darkness has descended over Kattegat.

Her name was Geirdis, a frightened little thing, possibly a few years younger than Artemis herself. She was dutiful, doing what was expected of her, except Artemis felt she was in no position to be giving the poor girl orders. Even now she felt a slight discomfort with her presence, knowing she could do all these simple tasks herself.

Artemis was once in her place, serving a haughty prince, but somehow, that all felt so long ago. As far as she was concerned, she was just Kattegat's blacksmith, second only to Arvid's father and his young apprentice. She preferred it that way as it resembled the simple life she once had. Her only privilege was that she slept beside the king, nothing out of the ordinary here in Kattegat, but something shameful where she was from.

There was a chill in the air that night, the signs of winter rearing its head. Clusters of ravens cawed into the night sky loud enough to spark her curiosity, pulling at the fur draped over the window for a glance. The dark creatures circled about the trees and were hard to make out in the darkness. The more intently she stared, the closer they seemed to be, until suddenly one appeared opposite the glass, its large wings flapping wildly as it cawed, its beady black eyes looking straight at her.

She lets out a yelp, stepping back while placing a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm her beating heart.

"My lady?" Geirdis calls out to her. She turns her attention away from the window in favor of looking at the young blonde girl, her chest slightly heaving. Geirdis eyes her for a moment, a look of confusion clouding her face.

Did she not hear the cawing of the raven?

"Please, there is no need to address me in such a way." Artemis finally says to her with a sigh, shaking her head to dispel the sudden shock that ran through her bones. Such titles were a nuisance, why should she be regarded in such a way? She was no lady.

Her eyes landed on Geirdis's hands, in which she held two luxurious garments, one a rich red, the other a soft blue. 

"You are the kings intended, my lady, I must," Geirdis says, walking over to place the dresses upon the bed, "The seamstress has made these for you upon the king's orders."

Both dresses were exceptional in design and beautifully crafted. Made of wool, they were meant to fight the chill that would soon take over Kattegat. Embroidered in a delicate way, with precious stones stitched within, they were fit for a woman of noble birth. Artemis gravitates towards the blue dress, admiring the small sea pearls and the delicate silver stitching that she could never have mastered herself. The wool was soft, much softer and prettier than anything she'd ever owned.

"When did he request these?"

"About a fortnight ago, my lady." Ivar seemed eager to plan the festivities. It made her smile.

"My lady!" Aria's familiar voice calls from behind the leather curtain. The redhead peaks her head in, waiting for permission to enter.

"Aria, it is far too late," Artemis rolls her eyes but motions for her to come in, "How did you manage to slip away under Erik's nose? And don't call me that!" Aria laughs, quickly glancing at Geirdis's nervous form before answering.

"He is asleep, quite exhausted from certain activities," The younger thrall blushes but says nothing while Artemis shakes her head,"And Dafi let me in, of course. I like him by the way, the king has given you a handsome guard." Artemis snorts at Aria's obvious promiscuity.

"I only wanted to let you know, the Jarl intends to go back to his lands after your wedding ceremony." Aria says with a sad smile. Artemis frowns, but nods in understanding. She hadn't had the luck of making many friends, and Aria was the best of them, besides Helga.

"But," Aria continues, "At least I will see you as a bride before I go. It feels like only yesterday that I was teaching you to mend, and now you are to be marrying a king." The green eyed girl laughs, quickly taking Artemis into a tight embrace.

"I wish there was something I could do for you." Artemis says sadly. The Jarl would never dare part with his favorite thrall. Geirdis's light eyes widened at their interaction before turning her head at the sounds of her mistress's dog barking in glee, followed by the familiar thumping of a crutch.

"My king!" Geirdis bows her head, with Aria immediately following suit. Ivar carefully walks in, pushing past the leather curtain. He looked massive standing at his full height. He wore his usual leather, but it was simplistic. Upon his shoulders was a small pelt of grey fur, giving him the appearance of a giant wolf. He purses his lip, surprised at the red head's presence before his eyes fall to Artemis.

"Why don't you just buy her from Erik?" He asks nonchalantly, making his way over bed and gently moving the dresses away, "Leave us." He says to both the thralls with a lazy hand gesture. They bow before him once again, making a quick exit.

"I don't think the Jarl would appreciate that very much," Artemis answers him with a smile, "She has her...duties."

"And yet, I always find her in your company." Ivar replies, yawning as he leans back against his elbows. He had risen early that morning, out scouting with Hvitserk and Heahmund on the whereabouts of his other two brothers. Still no luck.

"I happen to enjoy her company." She says, grabbing his crutch and kneeling before him to remove his metal cages. He hisses silently, the pain inevitable, but let's her finish the job.

"Wear the blue one." He grunts suddenly.

"Hmm?" She moves from the iron to focus on how the candlelight illuminated his features perfectly.

"For the wedding," He says quietly, "Wear the blue one."

“What of the red one?”

“Blue is more your color,” Ivar shrugs, “I just wanted to give you options.” Artemis grins, cocking her head at the timid little look he was trying to hide.

"If that is what you wish," She says to him teasingly, "Thank you for the lovely dresses." She smiles when he waves his hand with a light snort, a flush spreading over his cheeks. She places his braces and crutch aside for easy access in the morning before climbing atop the bed behind him, working the braids and twists out his hair. Her nails scratch lightly against his scalp, and he groans in delight, like a kitten purring in her arms.

"You will make a lovely queen." He says, eyes closed as he lowers his head to her lap, a sweet smile on his playing on his lips.

"You think so," She sighs, gently pulling at the small knots that had formed during the day, "But will I be the right queen?" She says this more to herself than to him, but Ivar cracks a blue eye open in response, his brow pulling together in that innocently confused fashion.

"You are worried," He states, perhaps knowing more than he let on. He knew that the prospect of marriage frightened her, her usual nervous antics in plain sight. It was not because she felt any less for Ivar, he knew that. He guarded her heart as she guarded his and it was absolute, a life line that the fates wouldn't dare to cut. A love had blossomed where no one thought a seed to grow.

"How is a foreigner to rule your people?" She asks him.

"They will become your people too, baby bird. Do not be so fearful."

"Why do you make it seem so simple, hmm?" Artemis scoffs but continues massaging his scalp, effectively releasing the sighs and groans of a hard day, "You have been a prince all your life, and now a king. Your people have always respected you."

It was Ivar's turn to scoff.

"You think my legs have given me any respect?" There was something in the way he said those words, almost like a twinge of anger, maybe even sadness. When they left his mouth she knew she'd said something wrong.

"The children always laughed at me, the people spoke ill of me, my own father left me on a hill to die," Ivar chuckles darkly, placing an arm over his face, as if the physical action would guard him against his memories. "I have been underestimated my entire life, and yet, I've earned the respect of the army, and I've earned the respect of the people. Now who do they follow? A cripple, but a true son of Ragnar." He removes his arm away from his face, his eyes searching hers. What he saw was uncertainty. He brings a hand to trace a finger down her soft cheek, causing her eyes to flutter gently.

"A true follower of the gods." He says softly, swiping the very tip of his finger over her lips. Closing her eyes, she removes her hands away from his silken dark strands, letting them fall over her lap.

"I’m sorry," She says weakly, "I did not mean-"

"You'd make an excellent queen." He cuts her off, grunting as he pushes forward to lean against his elbows again. Carefully, he turns his torso to face her. His loose hair in waves shape the sides of his face, a brightness in his large eyes. In that moment he did not appear to be Ivar The Boneless who so many have created fearsome stories of.

"What makes you say so?" She questions stubbornly, sliding off the bed and taking hold of the dresses to carefully store in her brown chest at the foot of the bed.

"You are not selfish, nor prideful," Ivar lists, "And you have worked along side the people of Kattegat. You know of their struggles and they know of yours. Your hands bare the mark of hardship. Who will understand their needs better than you and I, hmm? Come here." He extends his hand out for her to take, and when she does, he gently pulls her into an embrace.

"You have been blessed by the gods," He says against her hair, a repetitive of his. She closes her eyes at his warmth surrounding her, "You may not see it now, but you will in time. This is where you were meant to be. Right here."

Artemis cracks a smile, sitting beside him. Her hand follows a path that led from his leather covered chest, to his broad shoulders. She removes the fur, her hands finally settling on the nape of his neck, absentmindedly weaving her fingers in his hair. She burrows her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

"You mean in your arms?" She asks knowingly, and could feel the smile growing on his lips before he placed a kiss atop her head, and then shifting to bend lower, molding his lips with hers.

"Mhm. In my arms."

...

"That dog of yours is no hound." Heahmund comments in Greek, watching with lazy eyes as the once abandoned creature stomps about with large paws, his black wrinkly face covered in drool. The beast quickly sniffs at the dying grass before turning to Heahmund as if he heard and understood the comment.

Artemis smiles, watching as the bishop bends low, beckoning the large pup over with his hands. The dog wastes no time in stomping over, large tongue hanging out his mouth as he ran, almost taking down the bishop with his brute strength.

"Then what is he?" She asks, raising her bow and aiming her sharp arrow at the target hammered to the tree. Taking a deep breath, she lets go of the tight bow string, hurling the arrow into its destination with ease. The arrow head pierced the center of the wooden target, and she cheered. Her aim was nearly perfect, and the new arrow heads she had forged had done its job.

"He's a mastiff, a guard dog. The Lords in England use them to protect their castles."

"Hmm.” That explained why he guards the chamber entry with Dafi. She whistles, and the pup forgets Heahmund in favor of his mistress, who scratches behind both his floppy ears lovingly. In his excitement he barks in glee, tongue lapping out at her.

"What did you name him?"

"Heracles."

"A famous Greek." Heahmund hums in approval. Heracles was almost as large as Ivar's adult elkhounds, and far from the little abandoned pup she had found back in York. Left behind in Vestfold along with Ivar's hounds, King Harald's men had brought the beasts back once Ivar had established his rule in Kattegat.

He did not sniff the ground rigorously, nor fetch things as hounds would, but his massive size was extremely intimidating, and he had a fierce loyalty and sense of protection towards the woman that took him in, as well as the king, who had now grown a softness for the english creature.

Readying her bow, Artemis takes her stance once again, straightening her back in well practiced movements. Another arrow shot perfectly, but before she can prepare the next one, Heahmund clears his throat.

"Ivar has been speaking of plans for the wedding."

His tone was so nonchalant, that Artemis missed it at first, pulling the arrow from her quiver. She hesitated, turning to him to give her full attention. She knew it was a matter of time before he'd mention that he knew.

"Has he?"

"Is this what you want?" Heahmund countered back, his steady eyes on her, making her feel quite small. He always had that effect, and was one of the reasons why she had disliked him so much from the start.

"Why? Will you try and change my mind?" She challenges. Heracles immediately sensed her foul mood forming, bouncing over to sit by her feet.

"You are a Christian," The bishop  starts, "A union between a Christian and a heathen is unheard of."

"Ivar has told me his uncle married into Frankish nobility."

"For that to be finalized he had to be baptized as a Christian. And what will you have to do? Convert to their pagan ways?"

"I recall you speaking to me of destinies." Artemis forms her stance again. The next arrow flies but slightly misses its mark. She sucks her teeth, pulling out a another arrow. "And for once, you may have been right." Her eyes were so focused on the target that she had missed the skeptical look on the older man's face. She had not seen, but he raises a brow.

"What are you talking about?"

"A raven."

"A raven." Heahmund repeats, unimpressed.

"I am told they are a symbol of the god Odin."

"What of it?"

"The day of the battle I was visited by a raven..." She trails off, lowering the bow as she tried to figure out how to continue without sounding like a mad woman. Heahmund crosses his arms, still unimpressed.

"What happened?"

"I saw him." The bishop was quiet for a moment as if in thought, until he shook his head with a chuckle.

"Do you hear yourself?"

"I saw him." She insists, "He changed the outcome of the war."

"You speak blasphemy," He says. He wasn't wrong in saying such things, but it still annoyed her greatly. In response, Artemis prepares her bow and shoots the arrow at him without warning. The arrow struck the tree behind him, and he flinched when he heard it whizz by. If it were any closer, it would have grazed his cheek. He glares at her.

"You irritate me." She says with a shrug.

"You are already losing your way. You do not wear your cross." Her hand shoots up to her collarbone, fingers grazing her skin bare of any significant trinkets relating to her faith. She rolls her eyes in the way she learned so well from Ivar.

"Do you think it wise to give such opinions when the King had elevated you to a commander and an advisor. He could have killed you."

"I did what was necessary to survive."

"And look at you now," She let's out a sarcastic laugh that further infuriated Heahmund, "Alive and well, with much privilege. Do not try to sway my mind again, Heahmund. These decisions are mine to make."

"You act like these warrior women." The bishop shakes his head, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Pray for deliverance." He says, brooding in his usual manner as he mockingly bows to her, walking away like a sulking child that didn't get their way.

Artemis huffs, sticking her tongue out at his retreating figure before pulling another arrow and aiming it towards the target.

...

Prayer had often been her source of comfort when she had nothing left to do but recite the Lord's Prayer over and over again in her mind as they taught her in church on Sunday mass.

She'd pray in the darkness when the howling winds of Kattegat would shake the foundations of the Ragnarsson's old cabin. She felt an emptiness that could not be filled, often muttering the familiar words to herself as she lay in her cot.

Usually no answers came, but it still made her feel even the smallest hints of warmth and safety, especially in her darkest times when she felt trapped and alone. So Artemis did exactly what Heahmund had suggested: She prayed.

She prayed with eyes tightly shut and hands clasped together, though she felt she didn't know exactly who she was praying to. Her mind focused on the familiar ways of worship, visualizing the paintings on the walls of the church that displayed the biblical stories one learned as a child.

But her focus wavered and her heart stung and ached. It told her what she had seen the day of the battle was real, and while the stinging and aching pulled her into the direction of something unfamiliar, the bishop tried to keep her grounded.

He had set up a makeshift crucifix made of old twigs, impaling it deep into the earth, located deep in the forest where no one but he and Artemis would know of. She visited the grounds that he consecrated less, and instead, found herself learning and exploring the ways and culture of the northern people, sinking in the knowledge of their beliefs that were as tightly rooted into the earth as an ancient tree.

Artemis knew what she'd seen. How could she deny the man with the bloody eye and his band of ravens? How could she deny the death of Lagertha's men and the death of Lagertha herself?

Sometimes she would envision the face of the dead queen, blue skin and empty eyes. At times it would keep her up into the late hours of night, when Ivar was fast asleep in a dream state. She wouldn't have done it, she wouldn't have had the courage, nor the strength to even think about ending a life, but it had come to her so easily in those moments, that it had to be divine intervention.

Weeks earlier Hvitserk had returned to her the golden cross and the silver hammer. They were placed neatly atop her wooden chest of clothes, shining like holy relics in the flickering candlelight.

Ivar would step into their shared chambers at night, finding Geirdis has long been dismissed. Artemis would sit at his desk, rubbing her thumb over the pendant of Mjölnir in an almost trance like state, while the golden cross lay abandon atop the old wood he had stabbed and carved with a knife one too many times in his youth.

"You ought to go visit the seer," He finally says to her one night, comfortably tucked in bed, "He may help you."

"Is he the man that reveals prophecies and futures?"

"Mhm."

"No." Artemis mutters into his side, her eyes fluttering close in her weariness.

"And why is that?" Ivar questions, placing a toned arm behind his head and settling into the furs, "Our marriage is in a week. I do not want you to run away because you are unsure of what you want."

She ponders his words for a moment. She'd never put into account that Ivar was worried as well. She had been so preoccupied in her own troubles of faith that she hadn't thought perhaps he was worried she'd leave him. When it was obvious she was distracted, Ivar brings his other hand to gently play with her hair, enjoying the little sighs that escaped her. After a few minutes, he brings a finger to playfully tap her temple.

"Your mind will be the death of you, baby bird."

"I'm not running away," She says suddenly, shifting her body to look at him. He had this look of uncertainty she'd never seen before.

"Go to the seer," He insists, "It may ease your mind, and mine." He mutters the last part.

"Very well." She huffs, placing the pendant in her hand beneath the mounds of pillows for another night of safe keeping.

"Good." Ivar murmurs tiredly. He gently pecks her cheek with drooping eyes, turning to blow out the flame of the candle beside him.

...

She stares at the hut before her, repulsed by its appearance. It was dirty, even from the outside. The wood was rotting away and the plants that weaved themselves between the planks of rotting wood were withering and dying.

It was not an inviting sight.

Heracles sniffed about her feet, curious of the smells surrounding them.

"I fear I will not like what he has to say." She says to herself, her beast staring up at her. Shen sighs in defeat, dropping her head with eyes closed.

The seer was well known around Kattegat, a most revered man, yet the most feared. He had a power beyond human understanding, blessed and cursed by his gods to a life servitude.

Artemis has heard of his kind before. In ancient Greece they were known as oracles, priestesses of Apollo with the divine power of prophecy and interpreting the future. Of course, in the Christian world, it was viewed as the devil's work, but pushing those thoughts aside, she takes a deep breath, wiping her clammy hands down her skirts.

"You stay here." She looks down at her large pup. He tilts his head, blinking at her. Leaving him with a pat, she enters into what she felt was like decending into hell.

She was met with a dark ambiance, the type of place any Christian would identify as a witches lair or perhaps the home of the devil himself. Seashells and dried herbs hung from the low ceiling and the smell of smoke and other things she could not identify invaded her nose. Candles were lit just enough to see the steps one took, and just enough for her to want to turn back. Before she could make that decision, a voice calls out to her.

"Why does the foreigner visit me?"

Artemis stops in her tracks. It was her first time she had heard his voice. It reminded her a bit of Heahmund, scratchy and breathy, almost painful for him to speak.

"Well?" The seer awaits her answer.

She slowly turns back, searching for the source of the voice. She finds him laying upon a bed of furs, his hands interlaced over his cloaked covered body.

She'd never forget such a face, void of emotion, sickly looking, with severe scars for eyes and soot colored lips. He was malformed, creature like, with spindly fingers and skin resembling the melting wax of the candles that surrounded him.

"I was told you have answers." Her voice sounded so small compared to his, eaten up by the small fire blazing under a cauldron bubbling with something that contributed to the unpleasant smell.

"I only see what the gods allow me to see, child." The seer moves, sitting up slowly. He extends a hand out with his palm open.

Artemis grimaces. This was the part she had not been looking forward to. Stepping over the scattered furs on the floor, she grasps his hand. She hesitated, lips hovering over the waxy skin before tentatively poking her tongue out to lick a stripe across his palm.

The seer takes his hand back, grunting in approval before speaking.

"What does the future queen wish to know?" She didn't know how to respond. It was strange to hear the title from someone else besides Ivar. She steps back slowly, plopping down upon the old fur rugs before answering.

"I wish to know of your gods," She starts hesitantly, "I was raised as a Christian-"

"I know of your twisting faith, child."

"-But I have seen your god." She continues.

"The All Father reveals himself to whom he wishes." Artemis frowns.

"But why?"

"It is not our right to question the will of the gods." Was all the seer said.

"I questioned everything since arriving to Kattegat," Artemis says, placing her hands on her knees and squeezing them in frustration, "What have I to do with them?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways, is that not what you Chrisitans believe about your God?"

"Yes, but-"

"The same principle applies here. The only problem is that you are afraid to accept what is real and what is not." She turns away from the ancient man, letting out an shuddering breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.

"But why me? I was just a slave-"

"You have the ability to see, yet you are blinded." He rasps out.

"Well then, what is it that you can tell me?" She bites out. The seer grunts out a bitter laugh at her impatience, his own wearing thin.

"A shadow looms over you, whether good or bad, I cannot see," Artemis swallows roughly, a lump lodging itself into the center of her throat. The seer let's out a tired and sickly breath before continuing.

"A child shall be born, the eye of the raven. Winter draws near and so will the enemy, lurking like a pack of wolves in the dark night. They wait for Sòl to set,"

The birth of a child? But Ivar is incapable-

Artemis remains quiet, interrupting her own thoughts. Her brows furrow and the deformed man immediately chuckles, as if reacting to her confusion.

"You will find hardship beside the crippled king, foreigner. Being his queen will not be easy."

"Then who am I to be his queen?" She responds quietly, her eyes reflecting the colors of the fire as she stares intensely into its flames.

"It has already been written," The seer replies, laying back down upon his scattered rugs, "The king has been touched by the gods despite what anyone thinks, and they have chosen you to be his partner. None of this is by chance. You have given him a heart, and for that, the All Father has given you his favor. Trust in the gods, and they will have trust in you."

"But what must I do?"

"Honor the gods, invoke the All Father, and you shall be blessed. Now, go and face your fate," The seer says to her, "Leave me to rest,"

Artemis's legs shook as she stood, glancing at the seer who heaved and coughed, his breathing hard and harsh. She gives him a nod of respect, knowing that despite his lack of vision, he would know.

"Foreigner," He rasps out to her before she could make it to the splintering door. She looks back at him, her eyes lingering on the black hood that hung over his deformed face. The corner of his dark lips lift up ever so slightly into an almost taunting smile before speaking.

"Lagertha may be dead, but her spirit lives on."

...

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