Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Princess Katya wasn't coming out of the lake. She had jumped from the boat about a minute before, but Prince Igor was already fearful. Everything was just so quiet and still, that was the problem. And the dark clouds gathering above him weren't helping. It was true that he had agreed to visit that village with Katya, but the place had scared him since the moment they'd arrived, in spite of its beauty. To him there was something sinister about that lake's waters; nothing could be that still.

"Princess Katya?" Igor called, trying to raise his child voice as high as he could but failing. "Katya!"

He gulped and looked around: every bit of air, water and land around him was still dead silent, the wind grew rougher and more dark clouds started ruining the scenery of bright green pastures and trees. Katya had chosen the isolated village to visit precisely because of that, she loved the calmness and the colors; not to mention the fact that the lake had healing powers (or so the locals said).

Igor thought of jumping into the water himself to find her, even though he didn't know how to swim. Then again, what choice did he have, alone and away from Kiev? Just returning home and alerting an adult could take too long for Katya. And then he remembered she -and her unborn baby, Ivar's child- were the only sort of family he had left. Even if Katya herself was sometimes cold towards Igor, she still was the closest thing to a mother figure he'd had in his short life. He was the only 'cursed' one of his dynasty, the only one to be born an only child and have both parents dead at a very young age. He didn't know what he had done to deserve such a life.

But precisely for the same reason, he realized he needed to be brave again, like when he had gotten rid of his uncle Oleg. He needed to be brave for Ivar, who had taught him to stand on his own feet, and for Katya, who Ivar loved deeply.

Igor stood on the edge of the boat and jumped into the lake with his eyes shut.

Once submerged, a hurricane-like twirl yanked him around violently. He tried to swim up, but it was like a giant or monster was beating him senseless. The air was starting to fail him, his lungs fought back, and he opened his eyes to try to search for Katya, but everything was obscure and spinning. He thought, let me go, let me go, whatever you are! and was suddenly pulled down by the feet.

*****

A mouthful of fresh air woke him back into consciousness, violently, like being born again. It was almost too much air, but Igor breathed in all he could, then out, and he realized he was so glad to be alive he could almost smile, but then he started sinking, so he kicked his legs harder. It wasn't working as much as he had hoped, his small body went down and he flapped his arms to be noticed.

And then, someone from land shouted:

"Dytyna! Dytyna!"

The phrase ("a child!") sounded similar to Igor's native Rus language, so he screamed for help in it, hoping to be understood. It wasn't long before adult arms carried him out of the water and into a small ship.

When he opened his eyes fully and could think more clearly, he saw that the men that had rescued him had strange clothing, the ship wasn't like the ones he had traveled in before at all, and instead of the quiet village there were people swimming half naked by the shore and other things he had never seen in his life.

"Where am I?" he asked, filled with anxiety.

"Ukrayina!" one of the men answered jollily as he opened his arms as a way of welcoming, much to the child's confusion.

"You can understand me?"

That last question was either ignored or, indeed, not understood.

"Davn'orus'ka mova?" another man asked him as he held him by the shoulders.

Igor tried to make sense of the words. Russian, that sounded like Rus. Mova… language. Rus language.

"I speak Rus", he said. "I am Rus!"

The men all stared at him, studying him. The one closest to him spoke, slowly.

"Mene zvaty…" he pointed at his own chest, "Borysko. Ya…", he pointed twice now, "Borysko. Tvoye im'ya?" Now his index finger touched Igor's chest.

The boy was so nervous he wasn't grasping what seemed to be a simple question. He shook his head, so the man pointed at himself again.

"YA, Borys'ko". He pointed at Igor again. "Ty?"

"Igor", Igor answered.

The men nodded vigorously, some smiled, then gave him more animal skin for the cold and fruit. When the boat arrived to the shore, they yelled at the people who were staring at Igor and gently ushered him into what he thought was a large metal box with wheels. He was startled when the box started moving much faster than a carriage.

******

Hours later, Igor was sitting in a quiet room made of material he had never seen before. Next to it there was a bigger, much louder room where people in uniforms walked in, out and about and spoke at impossible speed. The men wore dark blue while the women wore white, and the strange machines they sat at made Igor dizzy. His head was whirling from all the things that had happened that day, and he didn't think he could take much more. He was having trouble focusing and breathing.

Suddenly, a woman of about fifty-five years old, with deep wrinkles around her mouth and short blonde hair, walked into the room followed by five men. They all had the aforementioned uniforms.

The men sat in a row at the back and the woman sat right in front of Igor.

"Igor, how are you?" she said in his language, following with a smile.

The child was so relieved he almost smiled back. He could breathe again.

"You speak my language?"

"Yes, I studied it many years. I studied the Rus people".

"You studied… You're not Rus yourself?"

"No, I'm Ukrainian".

"You're what?"

The woman chuckled, shifted in her seat and took Igor's hands. She got serious.

"Igor… I'm going to tell you what happened to you and where we are. Don't get scared, alright? We're here to take care of you, to make sure nothing bad happens anymore".

Igor glanced at them all and nodded. The woman gave a big sigh.

"You're in the future", she said, careful with each word. But still, the boy's body jerked with fear.

"What?!"

"Please, try to stay calm. You're safe now, completely safe... Listen. This is the year 2019 AD".

"Two thousand..."

Out of the table next to her, she grabbed several pieces of what seemed to him to be white thin layers and started reading them.

"The official report says you appeared in the Bile Ozero lake at 18.15".

"That's the lake's name?"

The woman seemed to be confused by his question.

"Yes", she answered with a small frown. "Four men rescued you, one of them named Borysko. Am I correct?"

"Yes".

She looked down at the white layers one more time, bit her lip in thought, and put them back on the table. She crossed her legs.

"Alright, I'm going to explain to you how you got here. You see, there's something in the waters, in the seas and rivers and all that, that's been transporting people from the past into our current era. It's been happening all over the world, for a few years now".

"So it's like moving forward... But in time".

"Yes, exactly".

Igor stared into nothing for a long while. Surely, he had overheard people in the Silk Route talking about something like that, but he was too little and never believed them.

"But why is this happening?" He asked.

"We don't know yet. But while we figure it out, we have facilities and special shelters for befor... migrants like you".

Igor stared at all the six adults in the room, one by one.

"I don't want a shelter. I want to go home", he said.

The woman looked at him with tenderness and sadness.

"We wish we could send you back home, Igor, but we haven't worked out how to reverse the process yet. Some people have tried to go back to the past by submerging themselves in water, but they haven't been successful".

Igor was crushed. This couldn't be happening... It seemed like a nightmare. He had thought to finally have found peace and happiness in his life after killing Oleg.

"Are you sure?" He asked the woman.

"Yes, we've been investigating for a while... I'm sorry, Igor". The boy leaned forward on his chair, making fists of frustration. "But we're still working on it, and the final goal is to get everybody back. If they wish to go back, that is". 

"Then... Could you help me find somebody? She jumped into the lake before me and—"

"She jumped on purpose?" The woman interrupted him, shocked.

"She was taking a bath", Igor explained. "She does it all the time".

"In this cold?"

The boy shrugged. "She's always saying Kiev's coldness doesn't affect her much".

There were some words exchanged between the men at the back, while the woman was still dumbfounded.

"And you jumped after her", she said.

"Yes. Because she was taking too long in coming out".

The woman intertwined her fingers over her lap.

"My dear child... Do you remember how you actually got here?"

"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"

"Because time migrants don't remember. In fact, so far you're the only one who does. The rest claim to have suddenly appeared in the future, out of the blue".

Igor was really confused. Such strange things kept happening, one after the other...

"Tell me exactly what you remember", the woman requested.

"Well", Igor breathed in, "I jumped into the water, then some monster or spirit grabbed me and yanked me in different directions, like it was trying to kill me... Then it pulled me downwards, and I think I fainted because I don't know how much time passed between that and when I woke up, above water".

Every adult in the room had listened to the boy's story with fear in their eyes, so naturally Igor got fearful too. They were all staring at him, speechless. But then he got brave again and decided to rise above it all, just like he had risen above the waters of Bile Ozero. He couldn't be fearful when Katya was missing and pregnant and Ivar was so far away from them, probably ignoring what had happened. He decided he had to find a way to help them all.

"Can you help me find her?"

"Find the woman who jumped before you?"

"Yes. Her name is Katya".

One of the male strangers at the back whispered something to another colleague that quickly sparked a general murmur, like flies hovering above rotten food. A discussion broke out, with nods, shaking of heads and pointing fingers, but always in a low tune. The woman seemed to have caught on what they were saying, for she put a hand over her opened mouth as she looked back at them. Igor frowned slightly.

"Katya as in Princess Katya?" she asked him, facing him again.

"Yes, that's her!", Igor answered, hopeful, but immediately regretted having been honest. Of course, those adults being from the future, they already knew everything about him and his family. And his expensive clothing probably told a lot more about who he was than anything else. In that moment, little Igor hated his naivety.

"Is your uncle Oleg of Novgorod?" The woman inquired of Igor, who frowned at them all again, fully angry.

"I killed him. I killed my uncle. What do you people want from me?"

He was ready to draw a blade from his belt when the woman in front of him smiled, mellow.

"We won't hurt you, Prince Igor. We want to get you back to your kingdom as much as you do. God knows the future of our people depends on it".

"What do you mean?"

"You're one of the foundations of our culture, our history".

All of this is already yours, Igor remembered Ivar's words not long ago. Even the moon and the stars.

Still, he replied in his mind, not now. Not here. I miss my home and this looks nothing like it. In addition to his dizziness, he was now also nauseated. He decided to look past the woman and focus for a while on the view the room's large windows were providing. The night had already fallen and the beautiful stars were the only thing that hadn't changed at all, that had stood the test of time.

"Are we really in Kiev?" He asked the woman.

"Yes", she answered. "Would you like to see the future of your city?"

She stood up and started for the windows. Igor followed.

"What do you think, Prince Igor?" she put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He stared at the tall buildings, the lights, the cathedral with Christian crosses on top. He blinked and said:

"This is still too strange for me".

The woman chuckled lightly and gave him a side hug, pulling him closer to her. He snuggled up to her, longing for Katya, for a mother.

Then, someone knocked on the door and the woman left with a thousand apologies. As she shut the door, the men turned their inquisitive eyes on Igor, who looked away. There was a discussion outside the room which the child tried to decipher, but this time he couldn't make out a single word. When the woman came back, she was smiling again but nervously this time, Igor could tell. Adults always thought they could hide things from him, but they rarely succeeded.

"What happened?" he asked the woman.

"Oh, don't you worry. I'll handle everything".

And she put a hand on Igor's shoulder again, as they both stared out the windows.

He started humming a Norse song Ivar had taught him. Quickly it turned into full lyrical singing, which impressed the woman next to him.

"Do you speak Viking?"

"Já", Igor answered with a full smile.

The woman put a finger over her chin.

"I think you'll be better off in Oslo, dear Igor. I'm going to make some calls for your relocation. Alright?".

Before she left the window, however, Igor asked:

"What's Oslo?"

The woman smiled.

"A place where you'll meet real Vikings".

Igor got a rush of excitement rushing through his bloodstream.

Chapter Text

Lars Haaland was quite sure this was a dream. After all, who dances to their freaking phone alarm, out of all the music in the world? And where had those sizzling Cardi B moves come from? The only 'moves' he had in his walking life were awkward imitations of what late nineties French House music was supposed to be danced like. But there he went, in this dream, shaking what God had given him. He wanted to stop, but for some reason was physically, literally unable to. And suddenly, he wasn't inside an empty box anymore but in a theater stage, where a corset choked him below a French maid dress. Let's do the time wrap again!, him and the Rocky Horror Picture Show characters danced. Lars looked down on himself and saw his legs were covered in high stockings, just like the can-can girls of the seventeenth century; and of course, because this was his worst dream ever, he was actually dancing to the can-can instead of doing the classic steps from the famous rock opera. It's just a jump to the left... And a step to the right! Lars spotted his colleague Wenche among the cast. Her blond hair was now almost as tall as the Pisa tower, she was smeared in tacky make-up and her fat belly bounced inside her burlesque outfit. She winked at him, adding a blown out kiss that Lars grimaced at. Let's do the time wrap again! "No, no more time wraps, for the love of—", he thought, running out of breath from all the high-kicking the can-can dance required. Luckily for him the dream changed once again, only he wasn't so lucky after all because now he had grown —where his face should have been— a gigantic head the exact shape of the Hafgufa sea monster, and everytime he screamed for help, its ugly mouth would open wide and belch human excrement while also revealing its thousands of yellow, rotten teeth. Lars started swearing off in his native Norwegian, over and over, until he finally woke up with a gasp so big he almost choked.

When he recovered, he realized he was at home (thank God!) and his phone alarm clock was indeed ringing with that cheap tune he had bought out of pure boredom.

He didn't turn it off, though. He just lied still on the bed, waiting for his body and mind to adjust after a long night of Temproxate. Then, he heard the door banging. Or rather, someone banging on the door, because he wasn't that high. Couldn't be.

The sound felt so loud in his ears that it reverberated deep inside them, provoking an unpleasant pressure. So he rushed to open up, almost tripping over himself on the way to the apartment's lobby. He groaned and rubbed his eyes before twisting the doorknob open.

A boy of about nine years old was half-smiling at his doorstep. He had sporty clothes on, a backpack, black hair and an enigmatic, yet kind face.

"Huh?" Lars blurted out, sounding rather rude without meaning to. He was just too hungover.

"Minn nafn er Igor", the boy said calmly.

Lars recognized the Old Norse, if only because that sentence in particular sounded almost identical to its Norwegian counterpart, and slapped his own forehead. Not this early in the morning… he thought. And where the hell is Alfhildr when I need her?

"Eru þú Lars Haaland?"

That's my name, Lars thought. I should say something. But nothing came to mind. He was sort of still thinking about the Hafgufa from his nightmare. A Hafgufa monster with Wenche's lower half for a body.

"Yeah, I'm Lars but…" he answered in modern Norwegian, still completely clueless. "Who sent you, again?"

Igor blinked, then his face puckered and he covered his ears.

Lars guessed he was bothered by the phone alarm still going off, so he gestured at him to wait a moment and went to turn it off. That's when he noticed he had over twenty new text messages and two missing calls, all from the head of Kiev's police department, Valentyna Henadiyivna.

"Shit", he muttered.

Immediately after this, she rang him. 

"Tina", Lars picked up.

"I hope to God you've answered the door by now, Lars", Valentyna said in Ukrainian-accented English. "If you mess this up, I'll be in a huge diplomatic mess--"

"My door is opened", Lars replied, shooting a clueless glance at Igor, who remained amazingly still (for a kid his age, that is) at the doorstep. "But what are you talking about?"

"Last night? You told me you were fine with taking Igor as a temporary guest?"

"Uh, ah… I don't remember that. Did we speak last night?"

"… Are you on drugs?"

"No, no, of course not!" Lars laughed. "I was just… I think I had too much to drink, haha".

"So you were drunk when you picked up my call".

"… Sorry".

"Well, better sober up fast because this is important. Listen carefully".

"Yeah sure, I'm listening".

"At your door is Igor the Old, a.k.a. Prince Igor, from 10th century Kiev".

"…Royalty? Royal beforeigners are here already?"

"Igor seems to be the first one. That we know of. Anyway, he's a really nice, polite kid so please be kind. I couldn't keep him in Kiev for much longer, certain… undesirables overheard he was here and were already on the hunt".

"Jesus Christ, they wanted to kill a child?"

"Want, present tense. But yes, we have our own time-terrorists here".

"Huh. Is the kid safe now?"

"I wouldn't say he's a hundred percent safe, but he's much better off there than in here. You Norwegians are handling this beforeigners situation better than us".

"Well, not by much, but thanks".

"And I trust you. You used to be a top cop, Lars--"

"I still am, Tina".

"... And you'd get back on track again if you applied yourself".

Lars almost snorted. Valentyna could act like a goddamn mother towards him sometimes, even though their age gap wasn't that wide. But he was at least glad she didn't suspect he used Temproxate day in and day out.

"Thanks, I'll try to remember that", he told her.

"Well, I'm glad", she replied. "Oh, and Igor also speaks Old Norse, so I thought you guys might hit it off".

Lars wondered how was that supposed to happen when he had been feeling disconnected from other human beings for the past few years. Since he started using. No, before that, since his wife left him for that moustache-twirling, ridiculous 19th century prick and took his daughter Ingrid with her. Yes, that was more accurate. The only person Lars still felt sort of normal around was Alfhildr, his cop partner.

"Lars", Valentyna brought him back to reality.

"Uh-yeah, I noticed he can speak Old Norse. So uh… For how long is he staying with me?"

"Until we figure out how to send people back to the past".

After the initial disbelief at Valentyna's response, Lars scoffed sardonically.

"But Tina, that could take months. Years! We've been in this mess for years".

"Then we'll just have to work harder. It is what it is, Lars. I have my boys trying to crack the freaking mystery already, and the Serbians and Slovaks too".

"But…" Lars was trying to find words that wouldn't offend his friend. "Those are small countries".

"Well, I can't exactly call the G7, can I?"

"Because Igor is a historical figure".

"Exactly, it would draw too much attention. And it's very likely more royals like him will pop up everywhere in the next few months."

"Right. Damn…"

"Yes, it's not a pretty situation. That's why I advise you to be discreet, Lars. You can't reveal Igor's real identity under any circumstances".

"I can't even tell my partner?"

"Who, the Viking?"

"Don't say that word…"

"… Right. Sorry. But you do really trust her?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"Fine. It'll be your responsibility if she screws up".

Lars smirked to himself. "I think I can live with that".

"Anyway", Valentyna went on. "I'll be periodically transferring you money for Igor's clothes and food and whatever else he needs. You don't have to worry about that part".

"That's nice, Tina, thanks", Lars tried to conceal the slight sarcasm in his voice. She was a good friend but she had just dumped a kid on him, after all.

"No problem. Oh, and I'll email you the other details about Igor's case".

"Case? I already have lots of cases--”

"I have to go now, Lars, I have a meeting. Check your email tomorrow".

"But Tina--"

"Goodbye".

And Valentyna hung up.

Lars sighed and checked on Prince Igor. He was staring at the cellphone in authentic fear.

"Oh, this?” Lars held it up for him. "It's not dangerous, don't worry".

He chuckled, nervously, and nearly threw the device in the trash can behind him in an effort to make the child feel safer. Luckily, he caught it mid-air on time.

"Come in", he said with a hand gesture.

With unsure steps, Igor walked into the apartment, glanced around and closed the door behind him.

"Sit wherever you want", Lars tried on a smile. He thought, maybe if he smiled more, Igor would feel more comfortable.

With the help of some more gestures, the boy finally sat down at one of the sofas. He took off his backpack and felt the furniture's fabric with his fingers again and again while Lars tried to find a way to communicate with him efficiently.

After a quick research on his phone, he downloaded an application that translated Norwegian into Norse runes. He couldn't believe how he hadn't known about it until now. And he knew it would work because even though he never paid much attention in History class, he had a hunch Igor didn't know any alphabets yet.

I spoke to Valentyna, he typed into the app. The woman who sent you here from Kiev. She likes you a lot.

He tapped Igor's shoulder and showed him the runes translation on the screen. But the prince jumped off the sofa and started backing away as he shook his head repeatedly.

"No no, it's safe. Look", Lars said and pointed at the runes. No response. He tried to recall some of the Old Norse vocabulary Alfhildr used. "Uhhhh… Eigi… dangerous". ("It's not dangerous").

He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping to have said that right.

Igor approached him, slowly, until he got close to the phone. His eyes opened wide at the novelty and he stepped even closer, until his nose touched the screen. Lars laughed, remembering the times his own daughter was a little child.

He pulled the screen reasonably away from Igor's eyes and pointed at it for the second time. Igor read the runes message under his breath and replied to Lars in a louder tone, but Lars made the "wait" hand gesture and brought him a pencil and an open notebook.

Igor looked at him, then at the notebook and finally put it on his lap. He grabbed the pencil to write a reply in runes and when he was finished, he showed the page to Lars, who scanned it with his phone.

I like her too —the translation said—. But I miss my home.

Don't you start fucking crying again, Lars told himself as his eyes already gave signals of the first tears. Shit! He rubbed them off as subtlety as he could, while Igor just looked at him. Alfhildr would have a field day with this.

Poor kid, though.

I'm really sorry about that —Lars wrote and paused, not knowing what else to add—. Valentyna bought you those clothes?

Yes —the prince replied.

Lars gave him the thumbs up sign meaning they looked cool, to which Igor smiled.

They wrote to each other like that for a time that seemed endless compared to how present-day humans chatted. Lars told him about his job as a police investigator in the simplest possible terms, while Igor talked about being Rus, his blood family and ancient Kiev. Then Lars started going on about the time traveling, when and how it started. He didn't want to scare the boy, but if he were to even step a foot out of the apartment, he had to be prepared. Igor seemed to have understood enough for his young age and the period he came from, which relieved Lars quite a bit. His ex-wife made sure he doubted of his parenting skills every day of the week, so he was happy to prove she could be wrong.

You'll be fine, Igor —he wrote onto his phone, but before he could translate it there was a knock on the door.

Somehow, Lars knew it was Alfhildr. It was the way she knocked. Or maybe the convenient time she was arriving at.

Or maybe he was actually going insane.

He quickly composed himself and went to open the door.

"You're not gonna believe this", was the first thing he said to her.

"What, what happened?" she frowned, yet her lips twisted in a half-smile.

"Just come in and find out".

Alfhildr walked into the room and spotted Igor sitting innocently on the same spot. He turned his little head at the new arrival and observed her attentively with his kind, dark-brown eyes. She watched him as well, stepping around him.

"Holy crap, is this your bastard child?" She asked Lars.

"What? No! Hell no! What kind of man do you think I am?"

She smirked, got more serious and stepped closer to Lars until their faces almost met.

"I don't know, you tell me", she said, her green eyes intense on him. "What kind of man is Lars Haaland?"

The way she said the last bit, in a sort of purr, and the way her Norse accent emphasized his full name, got Lars' very twenty-first century heart skipping a couple of beats. Alfhildr could not be doing that again, not in front of a strange kid from the goddamn tenth century. But from that angle, Lars was able to appreciate the Viking tattoos next to her ear more clearly than ever before, which, he supposed, was soothing after all. He was dead curious about their meaning. And from there, his eyes wandered to her nose, her lips…

"I… I never cheated on my ex-wife", was all he thought of saying.

"Good to know", Alfhildr backed away with a contained giggle.

Igor had been watching the entire scene with such a flippant face, even smiling a little, that it made Lars even more uncomfortable. He wondered what kind of inappropriate things that child witnessed at home everyday.

Alfhildr, meanwhile, was looking at Igor with kindness and curiosity, as if he was a puppy.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" She asked Lars with her mouth closed.

"Oh, right, right. This is Prince Igor, from Kievan Rus".

"Oh wow! First royal in Oslo! This is interesting…"

"And he speaks your language… For some reason".

It had just downed on Lars. A Prince from Kiev speaking and writing Old Norse… It was strange.

"Remember royals had a better education than you and I combined," Alfhildr explained. "Languages were easy for them".

She squatted down to Igor's eye level and spoke to him: "Heil, Igor. Ek'm Alfhildr, shielð maiden."

And she reached out for a handshake. Igor, instead, stood up and bowed at her.

"Oh shit, I forgot", she chuckled in embarrassment and got on her feet. "The Rus don't do…"

"Handshakes between men and women, probably", Lars butted in. He patted her back. "You're doing great so far, Alfhildr. Really great".

"Bite me", she teased him back.

And he took the chance to go to the kitchen. He hadn't eaten at all since Igor woke him up. No, since the night before, even, because Temproxate decreased one's appetite by a mile.

"Gerþúr vinnmeðr Lars, Alfhildr?" Little Igor was asking the Viking detective.

"Já", Alfhildr answered him. "Gerþúr líthannr svá far?"

"You guys just keep going", Lars said sarcastically as he cut an orange in half. "Pretend I'm not here".

Alfhildr chuckled and flipped her long, reddish hair sideways.

"We're not badmouthing you, Haaland, for God's sake. He was just asking me if we work together".

"Oh… You said no, right?"

Their eyes locked over the little joke, both partners smiling. But the moment was gone almost as soon as it had arrived.

She shifted on the sofa and faced the boy again. "Igor, Þú mæli norse mjök vel!", she said in a perfect kindergarten teacher tone that surprised Lars. "Hvernig koma?" She asked him.

For all answer, Igor looked down and shook his head. Alfhildr hummed, thinking.

"What did you ask him?" Lars wanted to know.

"About his Old Norse skills. I think he might be closely related to some Vikings".

"Huh. But he's clearly Rus".

"It's a small world, partner". At this, Lars' lips curved up slightly. He liked that better than when she called him by his last name. "Always has been. Even back then".

He was finally eating his orange. In large slices, because he was so hungry. When he was satiated enough to feel like a person again, he called Igor and offered him a slice, but the boy shook his head no and put a hand over his stomach, completing the gesture with a grimace.

"He must still be time-sick", Alfhildr said.

She then asked him if they had given him Temproxate already, something Lars, of course, deciphered immediately.

Igor looked very confused and shook his head again, so Alfhildr gestured at him to wait for a moment and got up off the sofa. She walked towards Lars, in the kitchen.

"I suppose you can spare one of your precious little bottles for someone who's actually sick?"

Lars noticed the reproach and judging in her voice, and it hurt him.

"Don't need to be so mean…" he tried to play it off with a half smile.

"He's a child, you absolute moron. I don't want him to catch you getting high, or… or end up like you. I mean it, Haaland".

Lars did realize the implications, and the responsibility, but the addicted parts of his brain (which were everywhere at that point) also left him numb to such concepts.

"Alright", he said, "what do you want me to do?"

"Right now, I want you to piss off somewhere else while I give Igor the drops and explain to him how to use them".

"Uh--But why, why do I have to leave?"

"Because you probably get all warm and fuzzy inside when you watch other people use Temp".

Lars couldn't say she was wrong.

"Okay", he agreed. "I'll be in my room".

And he left. But Alfhildr didn't count on the fact that he always carried Temproxate bottles on at least one of his pockets, he not only kept them in that red box in the living room. His strategy was useful for situations like that one, when everything was just too much to handle.

He thought about Alfhildr's contempt back in the kitchen, how much he seemed to disgust her even though they'd had their moments just seconds before, and he put two drops of the drug on each eye.

When he came back to the living room, he felt like a new man. A drugged, hyped up and artificial man, but new nonetheless.

Alfhildr was asking Igor something with a protective hand over his shoulder. The child nodded, smiling, so she smiled back and patted him.

"How did it go?" Lars even dared to ask.

Alfhildr squinted at him for a second, then faked a very brief smile and said:

"He's feeling better. It's a wonderful medicine, really".

Silence fell between them. Alfhildr started teaching Igor how to use a cellphone, while Lars couldn't think of anything else to do but to throw away the remaining orange slices, as he obviously was no longer hungry.

***

It was already midday in Oslo when the storm seemed to have passed. Alfhildr had lent her phone to Igor so he could poke around for a while, and she was now looking at Lars.

"How come is this kid not in Ukraine, Haaland? If he appeared there…"

"Ah, an old friend from Kiev's Police sent him to me. Apparently there's a…" Lars' phone rang. He apologized to Alfhildr and answered it. "Yes?… Yeah, this is him… What? Where?… Uh-huh… Yeah, I'm going right over".

And he hung up.

"What's going on?" Alfhildr asked.

But Lars was already rushing to his bedroom.

"Haaland!" she went after him. "What happened?"

She found him on his knees, packing medical items on a medium-sized sports bag.

"It's Ingrid", he said, agitated. "She's quarantined into the beforeigners hospital wing".

"What? How so?"

"Apparently she…" Lars struggled to breathe. "She jumped into the sea to save her friend from drowning. At the same time that some beforeigners emerged".

He rubbed his forehead intensely and continued packing.

"Fuck... Do you think she got contaminated?"

"I don't know", a big exhalation came out of him. "I hope not. The doctors would have sounded more serious if she did… Right?"

His partner didn't reply.

When he finished packing the emergency items, he stood up with his keychain in one hand and the sports bag hung around his opposite shoulder, ready to leave. He found himself facing Alfhildr.

"I'll take care of Igor, Haaland", she assured him with a hand on his left shoulder. "You go".

And she hugged him in the awkward way that Norse people hugged, but still a bit better than the last time she did it. He hugged her back and an all too familiar dopamine rush hit his brain like firecrackers.

She pulled away, and now they looked at each other. Lars was unable to tell if her bright green eyes still hated him.

Just then, her phone rang. She picked it up, listened for a short while, then said "okay, I'll be there" and hung up.

"Navn's been murdered", she quickly explained to Lars, letting a slight delight at the news slip out. "Apparently. I have to go check the crime scene".

"Ah, okay…" Lars was still processing it all. "How about Igor?"

"I'll take him with me. He'll love a good crime scene".

"Alfhildr", he stopped her smirk. "Promise me you'll be careful. He can't attract too much attention".

She smiled again.

"No worries, he'll be in the car the whole time. And if the coroner gets suspicious I'll just tell him he's your nephew".

Lars chuckled what he could chuckle given the circumstances. "Thanks,", he said. "Do you want me to drive you to the station to go get your car?"

"No need, I'll take a taxi. I don't want to make you waste time".

He touched her shoulder and quickly left the apartment with a goodbye wave. He still heard her wishing him good luck.

Chapter Text

Lars was behind the wheel as he drove Ingrid and Gregers, his ex-wife's new partner, to the latter's house. He hadn't even had time to think about Navn's case, how Alfhildr was handling it all on her own, absorbed as he was in the discovery that his daughter had gotten high on Temproxate with her school friends and staged a fake timeigration. But there was still a mile of distance between being distressed about it and actually making the connection that his own habits had put Ingrid at risk of being contaminated by timeigrants or timeigrating herself… and never returning home. In the back of his head, Lars knew the Temproxate had been, with at least 90% of possibility, stolen from him by the girls, but he was in denial.

"Your father and I have to address the Temproxate issue", Gregers suddenly said, to Ingrid in the backseat. We do? Lars thought. "How could you even consider doing something like that?"

"I don't know..." the teenager answered. "It was stupid".

"Who procured the drug to you girls?" Gregers inquired.

Father and daughter exchanged a significant look through the rear view mirror.

"I don't remember very well", Ingrid said. "I'm just so tired…"

"We'll let you rest", Lars rushed to speak. "I think we can continue this conversation when you feel better".

Gregers seemed to agree, even reluctantly, so Lars was relieved. Specially when his phone rang inside the car's hands-free device.

He put his pair of airpods on and picked up.

"Alfhildr".

"Navn's really dead. Serves him right".

"Huh... Yeah, I'm glad we won't have to see his ugly…" Lars suddenly remembered he had the company of a teenage girl and a nineteenth century gentleman in the car. "Stuff again", he chuckled, and was happy to hear Alfhildr's own laughter too. "So who murdered him?"

"We don't know yet. We just found a lot of bullets in the forest. Poor idiot had wounds all over his body too".

Lars had so many questions he didn't know where to start, so he improvised.

"I'd like to meet the person who could take down that thug".

"We will probably know, tomorrow. I have a social gathering tonight".

"Gathering? Alfhildr, have you written your report already?"

"No, but it shouldn't take me too long. I'll do it tomorrow first thing in the morning".

Lars sighed greatly.

"Come on, Haaland, I've been working my ass off here, I want a break".

Gregers was staring sideways at Lars, almost rolling his eyes like he was about to shoot him for using that cursed 21st century device for that long.

"Hey, I have to hung up now, really can't talk much at the moment".

"Why, where are you?"

"In my car with Ingrid", and for this, Lars lowered his voice to impossible levels. He was lucky Alfhildr had all her five senses overdeveloped.

"Alright", she said, a tiny bit louder. "I'll text you later, about Igor too".

"Is he alright?" Lars was immediately alarmed. But Alfhildr laughed.

"He's never been better! I'll just fill you in through MSM".

Lars smiled at her now common mistake, really hoping his daughter hadn't caught his idiotic face through the car's mirror.

"Alright. Bye, Alfhildr!"

"Bye!"

***

Once at Gregers' house, its 19th century owner invited Lars in to share a couple of drinks. Lars was warming up to the guy and didn't want to disappoint him, so he accepted. A morbid part of him wondered exactly how long it would be before Gregers found out the Temproxate found on the girls' blood was his all along.

As soon as all three got inside, he got a notification from Alfhildr, so he clumsily excused himself and ran to the bathroom to answer her "MSM".

"Dad!" Ingrid shouted from the outside. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just have a bit of an upset stomach!"

He locked the bathroom door and unlocked his phone screen.

Alfhildr: I need the spare keys to your apartment.

Lars raised his eyebrows as his phone informed him that Alfhildr was typing again. Where are you going with this, Alfhildr?  The question popped into his head again. Jesus, I need to relax, take it easy…

Alfhildr: Igor fell asleep in my car so I'm dropping him off at your place.

Lars: But I'm at Gregers, Alfhildr. With Ingrid.

A: Gregers is the guy who stole your wife, right?

Lars sighed, facepalming. But for some reason he couldn't be too angry at Alfhildr.

L: Ingrid's stepfather, yes. He invited me for a few drinks so… I can't just leave so soon.

A: But I have to go socialize tonight!

Lars repressed a chuckle, afraid to be heard outside the bathroom.

L: So go socialize some other day.

A: I already made plans. I have a lot of people here with me, Haaland.

L: Don't be giving Igor any drinks!

A: LOL you're one to talk! Junkie...

And she sent him a sticker of Snoopy kicking a soccer ball. Lars smiled.

L: Unrelated sticker again, Alfhildr.

A: Ah shit! Sorry, I still can't handle phone stickers.

"Dad!" Ingrid called from outside the bathroom. "You've been in there for a while…"

Shit, I bet she thinks I'm getting high in here, Lars thought.

"Just a sec, Ingrid!" Lars excused himself and started typing faster.

L: Give me at least an hour, Alfhildr. I have to stay here until Ingrid goes to bed at least.

A: An hour?! Urd is gonna kill me!

L: Who?

A: Nevermind.

L: I'll text you as soon as I'm free, so we arrive at my place at the same time.

A: I'm already there, you absolute idiot. At your parking lot. I hate you [angry emoji]

Lars chuckled to himself. Well I don't, he thought.

L: I'm really sorry, but today was crazy with everything that happened. Just be patient, alright? Sing him a lullaby or something.

A: Sing a fucking WHAT?!

This time it was a loud cackle that Lars had to supress with a hand over his mouth.

L: I really gotta go now. See you later [smiling emoji]

A: Yeah see ya.

When Lars got out of the bathroom, he found Gregers preparing the drinks on his little kitchen and Ingrid sitting on a sofa in the adjacent living room. Lars sat down next to her, and the two exchanged a moment of tense and awkward silence.

"Can you tell me where you got the Temproxate from?" Lars finally asked her, not wanting to give himself away so easily. Maybe, there was the slight chance... He was dealing with sixteen year olds, after all.

"Why do you ask if you already know?" Ingrid asked back.

He put a hand up to his forehead, thinking, so it's real. It had really happened. His own daughter had been put in danger because of his habit (the word "addiction" didn't ring a bell for him yet). And even then he didn't see himself quitting any time soon. I'm a piece of shit father…

"How could you steal it, Ingrid?"

"It wasn't me, it was Madeleine!"

"And you didn't notice?"

"No, it must have happened when I went to answer your door", Ingrid rubbed her hands against her lap. "God, this is all a mess…"

Lars let out a big sigh.

"Why do you have those bottles anyway?" His daughter inquired. 

He looked at her: she was glaring with fierce eyes.

"They're from a drug bust", was the first lie that came to his mind.

"Yeah, right. I wasn't born yesterday".

Just when Lars had decided to shift the blame to Madeleine, that skeevy girl who was corrupting his sweet Ingrid, Gregers approached them with the drinks on a silver platter. He said something about how he had prepared them and then Ingrid had to go to bed to let the adults drink. They both kissed her goodnight.

"Do you know what elevates the Vermouth to perfection?" Gregers asked Lars, one full glass in hand. They were both standing up in the lounge now.

"No, what?" Lars said.

"A filled pipe".

Interesting offer, Lars thought.

"I'm not really a pipe-smoking kind of guy", he said before chuckling lightly.

"How do you know until you've tried?" Gregers challenged him.

So they smoked through the pipe, and it turned out Lars was quite good at it. He laughed along with Gregers, but thinking to himself about how truly screwed up he was as a person. What's next for me, crack cocaine? Jesus Christ…

They chit-chatted for a while, then Gregers started talking about his deceased son, an 8-year-old boy who had drowned upon arrival, and Lars was surprisingly supportive. He promised him to send security to investigate all the tomb vandalizing that was happening at beforeigners cemeteries lately. It was common practice in Oslo to spray paint phrases like "Norway for nowadays people" or "Beforeigners, begone!".

"Will you really do that for me?" Gregers asked him.

"Yeah, it's no problem at all".

Gregers had one more sip of his drink and watched him.

"It seems you're a greater man than I first thought, Lars".

Lars laughed.

"Oh, just give it a few more days and you're gonna think I'm an annoying asshole again".

They chuckled together.

Now they were staring off into the stars, through the windows.

"Listen, Gregers, I have to go home now", Lars said. "It's been a long, stressful day", he excused himself with an awkward smile.

Gregers nodded. "Sure, I completely understand. But did you enjoy the Vermouth?"

"Yes, of course, it was terrific!"

"Then I'm glad".

***

Twenty minutes later, Lars was pulling over at his block's parking lot, which was dirty from all the beforeigners' trash, as usual. Alfhildr was standing up there, furious and with a sleeping Igor in her arms.

Lars couldn't help but chuckle at the scene as he stepped out of the car.

"Oh yes, very funny, Haaland! Leave me with a sleeping kid in the middle of the night!"

Lars was still smiling.

"Perhaps you should buy a pickup next time", he said.

Alfhildr stuck out her tongue at him.

Someone, a person that is, howled near them and it was only then that a startled Lars got to see Alfhildr's Norse friends. They were sitting in her police car, with their strange clothes on, and looking inebriated already.

"Alfhildr!" One of them, a redheaded woman, shouted. "Do you like playing mom and dad?!"

"For fuck's sake…" Alfhildr blushed. "Shut up, Urd! I'll be there in a second".

She started moving towards the group of large staircases that led to Lars' story, grunting from Igor's weight. Lars followed her.

"You really should help me out, Haaland", she said, panting. "Be the man in the partnership and all that".

"I can't, my leg's still weak, remember?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, for crying out loud!"

"I'm serious! And may I remind you it was your bullet?"

She stopped walking up.

Lars loved having Alfhildr trapped like that, loved the few times he could outsmart her and she didn't have something clever to say. Truly, it seemed the childish smirk he was pulling off now was working on her, for he could catch the slight blush on her cheeks in spite of the eye rolling.

"Fine", she agreed with a grunt, and hopped Igor over her shoulders like he was three and not ten-ish years old.

So both police partners climbed all the way up to Lars' storey, with him still —after all the time spent together— sillily impressed at Alfhildr's shield maiden strength. When they reached his apartment door, he even remarked how really strong she was.

She raised a weirded out eyebrow at him, then Nabo's voice called for him, saving him from the embarrassment. Thank God.

"Lars!" it said, joined by his big, crazy eyes. "Congratulations, I see you're starting a new family!"

And he seemed positively surprised at this conclusion.

"No, no, it's not what it looks like…" Lars blushed, and was pretty sure (or hoping so) that Alfhildr was blushing too.

"You're stealing someone else's child?" Nabo was alarmed.

"No…" Lars' impatience and Nabo's eyes grew. "I can assure you I'm not doing anything illegal", he said with the calmest voice he could manage. "We'll talk later, alright Nabo?"

"Let's just get inside…" Alfhildr said, letting a out a short laugh.

"Yeah, yeah", Lars mumbled. He took out his keys and addressed Nabo again: "See you in the morning!".

"Good night, friend!"

As Nabo walked back to his own apartment, Lars unlocked the door to his and he and Alfhildr walked in.

"Who was that?" She asked.

"Neighbor", he answered.

"Looks like a beforeigner".

"Yeah, he is".

"Also a drug dealer".

"Alfhildr!"

How did she know? How did she always pick up on anything related to Lars? There was no way to fool her. He thought he should hate her, he really should, if he only could.

With a smirk, she carried little Igor towards Ingrid's old room. Lars followed and watched her draw the sheets and covers, carefully place the boy there and tuck him into bed with the same street clothes he had arrived in Oslo with.

Then she waited until he seemed deep into dreamland to turn to Lars.

"Haaland", she said. She looked so kind and genuinely worried —it pretty much killed him. "What exactly happened to Ingrid at sea? If you don't mind telling me, of course".

"Uh…" Lars had to think it through, and fast. No, Alfhildr couldn't know about his stolen Temps. Not right then, anyway, when they were both doing so great. And he knew that hiding the whole truth would snowball and hit him in the face more sooner than later, but he did it anyway: "Ingrid's friend was faking a timeigration", he grimaced and Alfhildr scoffed in annoyance. "Dressed like a beforeigner, having her other friends record it and everything. I'm sorry, Al--"

"Wait, they did it to post it on the intraweb?"

"Probably, yes", Lars didn't feel like correcting her lexical mistake just then.

"Well, I hope Ingrid disagreed with that stupidity".

"Yes, she was peer pressured. She told me so. I'm sorry, Alfhildr, you probably liked Madeleine already".

"Madeleine? The blonde girl I met at your house?"

"Yes, that's her. And please don't mention this to anybody else. She's just a minor, and I'm kind of selling her parents out here".

"They're friends of yours?"

"Sort of. And you know I don't have many friends as it is, so…"

"I'm your friend".

They shared a meaningful look.

"Yes, I know you are", Lars smiled slightly. "Thanks".

"And to think it all started with a free package of lady pads…" Alfhildr mused.

They chuckled hard now, and Lars thought of how relieving it was that the scare was over. Well, except for Madeleine, who was probably in a pretty dark place still, having messed with time and drugs like that. "She's not herself", Ingrid had told him. But Lars did not want to think about it yet, even if that made him a selfish asshole. Which was, incidentally, one of his self-inflicted nicknames since he started living the junkie life. Selfish asshole, selfish asshole, selfish asshole…

"So, you're gonna give me your spare key after all?" Alfhildr asked him.

"Let's just…", Lars stared towards the bedroom door. "… Not wake Igor up, okay?"

And they left the room, closing it behind them.

"Alfhildr, I can't just give you--"

"Oh no no no no, we're sharing custody now". Lars didn't have time to laugh or retort, for she was speaking fast. "You can't be a child guardian and go fight crime at the same time, Haaland. None of us can. I'm offering you a helping hand".

Lars gave her an skeptical look.

"Just like that, you're helping me?"

"Hey, it's what I was taught at the Police academy. Always support your partner".

Lars was quite literally speechless. He wanted to tell her she sometimes took police mottos too seriously, but only gazed at her as he liked to do.

"So you agree or not?" She asked him.

"Yes, of course. I mean, whatever is good for Igor--"

"Great, so now we have to make schedules. Whenever I'm free I'll come over here and babysit him, and you'll do the same when you're free".

"What about meals?"

"Well, if you don't have time to cook, you'll have to take him out".

"Or I could just order something from Foodie".

"But he loves real restaurants!"

"Alfhildr".

"What? I took him to a restaurant today myself. He was a doll, really, you don't have to worry about bad behavior with him".

"Really? No tantrums?"

"Nope. And he loves ice cream. And Oslo".

Lars smiled. "Great. Awesome".

"Okay, I really have to go now, Haaland. The night is young, as they say", Alfhildr smiled.

Our idioms really suit you, Lars wanted to say, but instead said this:

"Have fun at your social gathering. I mean it".

She grinned. "Aw thank you, Haaland! I'd take you with us, but as you know, you're a sourpuss from the future".

"You mean the present".

It started with her smile, which turned into a smirk, which in turn made her and Lars chuckle in unison. Afterwards, Afhildr even stayed in Lars' eyes for a little bit longer than she was used to.

"I really have to go", she finally said, breaking contact.

Lars handed her his spare keys, which she saved into her jeans.

"Thanks", she said. "Sleep tight, partner". And she walked back towards Lars' entrance lobby. When she got to the door, she waved him goodbye. "See you tomorrow!"

"See ya!" Lars waved back with the same stupid face he had made over the phone.

***

The following night, Lars was doing police research on his work computer when Alfhildr walked in.

"What are you up to?" she asked him.

"Just, looking at files of people trained to operate an Exigo Y drone".

"Navn was killed by a drone?"

"Yes, I got contacted about it by some military people this afternoon".

"That explains the million bullets he was shot with…"

Enthusiastically, Alfhildr sat down next to her partner and watched him go through every profile carefully.

"Dear God, you're slow", she concluded, exasperated.

Lars turned his chair right to justify himself to her.

"This is a very serious matter, Alfhildr. I can't just scroll down the files like I'm on Instagram…"

Alfhildr crossed her arms, but let him work for a while.

After not even a minute, however, Lars felt her hand on top of his, over the computer's mouse.

And he got speechless again. Jesus Fucking Christ, why couldn't he just do something, anything, whenever she did things like that? Did he really have no game, as his youngest cousin said?

And she kept on moving the cursor and clicking like having two hands on top a single mouse was the most normal thing in the world.

"Alfhildr", Lars' mouth resembled the Sahara desert.

"What", an annoyed Alfhildr replied, double-clicking.

It happened in nanoseconds, as the IT Division liked to speak. She bolted up from the computer chair and put her hands over her head.

"FUCK!". She cringed as if she had just touched a greasy bug who carried hepatitis, then shut her eyes. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" She looked at Lars. "I wasn't trying anything on you, just so you know!"

"Then why the hell did you hold my hand?" Lars was trying to enjoy the situation, felt he deserved it at least a little. And It wasn't like he could still feel sweet warmness in his hand or his brain was having a dopamine orgy. Nope, not at all.

"I didn't mean to!" Alfhildr kept shouting. "You were going too fucking slow with those files, so I tried to grab the rat to--"

"The rat?"

"Yes, that thing…" She pointed at it. "Next to the keyboard".

"It's called a mouse".

Lars was, indeed, having way too much fun with the whole… circumstance, and Alfhildr apparently could tell.

"Don't laugh at me", she said, pouting adorably, "you can't even row a boat".

Because ships already do that for us, dearest, Lars thought, but just when he was about to say it, an email notification popped up on his computer screen, with its characteristic sound.

You have 1 new message from Valentyna Henadiyivna.

He read the message silently and quicker than usual. When he was finished, his eyes were large and his mouth gaped.

"What is it?" Alfhildr asked him. "I don't understand Saxon".

"It's in English", Lars said, amused that she still called the world's main language 'Saxon'. "But anyway... Valentyna says Igor's stepmother is missing somewhere in Kiev. She timeigrated just before him".

"Shit…! So Igor was looking for her and he ended up here".

"Pretty much…"

"That's so sad!"

Lars started whistling to the tune of "California Dreamin". It seemed fitting. The beforeigners, to him, were living a perverse kind of 'American dream'.

"You're a terrible whistler", Alfhildr commented.

"Why are you always so mean to me?"

Alfhildr cackled.

"I'm just messing with you! Are you mad at me, dear?"

"Uh….." Lars decided to keep summarizing the email for her instead, and looked at the computer screen again. "Well, the Kiev Police is in charge of the case now, we just need Igor to give us a physical description of her stepmother".

"Okay, I'll text him", and Alfhildr took her phone out.

But Lars interrupted her.

"He's asleep".

"It's only 10 pm", she said dismissively. To Lars' exasperation, she started tapping around the phone. "Besides, he'll be happy we're doing something to find this… What's the woman's name, again?”

"Princess Katya".

"Another royal, of course…"

"Alfhildr", Lars called.

"Hm", she replied, still typing.

"Did you really buy a phone for a little kid?"

"It's for emergencies".

"…"

She looked up from her own phone.

"Come on, Haaland. You can't keep the child away from this world forever…"

"You bought it under your own ID, I assume?"

"Of course I did, I'm not a clueless idiot… Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you".

"Then what's the issue?”

Truthfully, it was hard to contradict those bright green eyes.

"Nothing, no issue", Lars lost the battle.

Alfhildr smiled at him, then went back to typing on her phone.

"I taught Igor how to send voice notes", she said. "This shall be exciting".

So they waited for said minutes, during which Lars played "California Dreamin" on the computer because he couldn't help himself.

"That song is so slow!" Alfhildr complained, earning a look of "you have to be kidding me" from her partner.

"What kind of music do you listen to, miss Enginnsdottir?"

"Black metal, of course!" And she did the horns up gesture.

"Well that's disturbing…"

Alfhildr's phone beeped twice. She tapped on the screen and Igor's little voice was heard. The poor boy sounded exactly like he had just been woken up from a good sleep.

After the voice note ended, she typed everything out in the computer's notepad (in Norwegian) and Lars read it.

"Okay…" he said. "I'll send this to Tina in English".

He took a photo and had it translated with his new app. In that moment he couldn't understand how anti-technology groups existed at all.

"Wait, there's another message from Igor", Alfhildr announced.

Lars, who had just emailed Valentyna, couldn't believe it. Alfhildr hit play.

When the five seconds of so of Igor's message were over, Alfhildr started chuckling and shaking her head.

"What is it, what did he say?" Lars asked her.

"He says Princess Katya is pregnant", she pressed on her forehead. "You're going to need a lot of luck for this case, Haaland".

"What are you saying? You're on this too".

"Oohh no no no no…"

"You clearly care about Igor. And he likes you more than he likes me--"

"Obviously…"

"See?"

Alfhildr grunted.

"Fine. But tell your friend Tina she has to pay me high commissions for this. I'll be working 58 hours a day after all".

Lars smiled at her joke.

"You know it's not on us to find this Katya, right?" He reminded her.

"Yes, but imagine when Tina does. It's gonna be crazy…"

"We have to ask for backup".

"Only if we really need it. I hate those jerks at the office".

There was a long silence.

"What were we supposed to be doing before that email arrived?" Lars asked, completely zoned out again. The last drops he had taken had been in the late afternoon.

"Checking the possible drone pilots", Alfhildr reminded him. Then she scoffed, smirking. "Honestly, Haaland…"

"What? I'm really tired".

"Right…"

And he put the Norwegian military files back on the screen again.

Chapter Text

At the shores of Kattegat, Ivar and his brother Hvitserk discussed strategies and plans for their new attack on Wessex, which had been thought up by the youngest of the Ragnarsonns. Their laughter echoed in the solitary coasts when Ivar felt a strange presence near them.

He turned his head back and saw a hooded figure riding a black horse towards the brothers. Its body was too thick to belong to a woman, and its face was hidden in pitch darkness.

"Is that the Seer?" Hvitserk tried to guess.

The figure laughed like men did and took down its hood: It was Prince Dir from Rus grinning at them both, specially at Ivar. He still had the mouth scar from having been tortured by his brother Oleg.

"I had to travel like this from Kiev", he explained and got off the black horse. For some reason, he wasn't wearing royalty clothes or even military ones under the black robes, but farmer clothing. He began feeding the horse and patting it. "I can't be seen by the people here, as you both understand".

Ivar still hadn't recovered from the scare of the Seer, what it would had meant for him to see him again.

He studied Dir for a while.

"I'm afraid it's not good news that I'm bringing you, King Ivar".

"King?" Hvitserk repeated, sardonic.

"He'll always be a king to us", Dir said calmly, then looked at Ivar again. "Ivar, I must inform you…"

"What is it?" Ivar asked quickly.

He already felt his stomach turning. Maybe he hadn't been born with prophetic talents, but he knew when things were about to turn ugly, often when it was already too late.

"Katya and Igor have gone missing, for nine days now", Dir said.

"Nine days?!" Ivar shouted. "And you just inform me now?"

"It's a long road from Kiev, King Ivar", an apprehensive Dir explained. "I was going to send one of my servants, but I'm afraid, due to the circumstances of the disappearances, that you wouldn't have believed him".

"Why, what are those circumstances?"

Prince Dir side-eyed Hvitserk for a moment, then went back to Ivar.

"I can't believe no one trusts me!" Hvitserk said and walked off.

"Hvitserk!"

Ivar, going as fast as he could with his rudimentary crutches, caught up to his brother.

"What are you saying? I never said I didn't trust you".

"No, but those Rus clearly think I'm some kind of traitorous scum, so it's obvious you poisoned their minds".

"Poisoned…?!"

Ivar sighed. He couldn't believe the relationship with the brother he loved the most had gone sour yet again, now with jealousy and paranoia included. And we haven't even fought for the same woman yet, Ivar thought with a snorted laugh.

"What's so funny?" Hvitserk frowned at him.

"Hvitserk… I have more important things to deal with right now than your stupid jealousy--"

"Jealousy?!"

"My child is missing", Ivar's voice had turned throaty with menace now. "Katya carries my child. I'm sure I told you about it before we came here?"

"Uh-I think you did mention..."

"Good, so you surely understand I have to go after her? And after Igor too, considering he is like my child?"

Hvitserk looked at Ivar like he was insane, like Hvitserk himself hadn't just spent entire months drunk, drugged and wandering the streets of Kattegat only to end up vanished in a forest, like an animal.

"Listen to yourself, Ivar! You're abandoning our future battle for a woman you barely--?"

Ivar punched Hvitserk in the face, throwing him down to the grainy sand. From above, he looked on his bloody nose:

"Some things are more important than the stupid English", he spat.

"Nothing is more important than our battles!" Hvitserk replied, shouting.

Ivar had had it. He huffed, walked back towards Dir and smiled at him.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, Prince Dir. Where did Katya and Igor disappear, exactly?"

But Dir stared at the wounded Hvitserk for a while before answering.

"Lake Plavnyyprokhid, according to witnesses. It's in a small village south of Kiev".

Ivar's eyebrows joined in a frown.

"They got seized by a monster or…?"

Dir shook his head. "The villagers didn't see nor heard any monsters. They only said the lake must have swallowed them".

Ivar's eyes went wide.

"Swallowed them?"

"That's what I meant when I said you wouldn't have believed it", Dir said. "But it really happened, and we have to investigate why. Come with me, King Ivar.".

"I will. But where are your ships?"

"I've got only one ship this time. I captured a slave from Małopolska and made him take me to the shores".

"But where is it?"

"Near here", Dir said with an enigmatic smile. "We must be discreet, Ivar. Come, I offer you this horse to get there".

It was then that Ivar got actually suspicious of Dir and the whole lake story. How could he have believed such nonsense? Maybe someone in Kiev wanted him captured, for whatever reason, and sent Dir to lure him. But if it was all true, if Igor and Katya were really missing… He couldn't risk it.

Prince Dir seemed to have read Ivar's thoughts. He smiled again.

"I'm not tricking you, King Ivar. I wouldn't make such a long journey if it wasn't for the safety of Igor and Katya. You can trust me, specially after what you did for me in Rus".

And Ivar got up on the horse.

***

Ivar only came to think, really think, about the disappearances when he was already on board of the ship, somewhere in the Baltic sea. As Dir gave some fruit to his tied Polan slave, it all downed on Ivar: Igor and Katya were really gone, vanished or dead and he could only beg the gods for mercy.

No, he couldn't let himself reach that conclusion yet. They were warriors, both of them, Ivar had taught Igor, specially, to defend himself and fight for what he wanted, so Ivar knew, somehow, that they were putting up a fight, wherever they were. They wouldn't give up that easily.

Still, night terrors haunted him sometimes. He would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, with the ship rocking to the will of the sea waves and the clear images of Katya and Igor's pale corpses still in his mind. And the slave laughed at him everytime, even from that miserable position. It was then that Ivar would swear to himself he was going to slay the Polan as soon as he stopped being useful, and find Igor and Katya. Whatever it took.

**

Some days later, the three men anchored in the Vistulian shores. They hid behind dark old robes (given by Dir) as to not be attacked, stole a carriage on sword point that same night and used it to cross their way to Rusland. In total, arriving in Kiev had cost them five days and Ivar wasn't going to waste any more, so he bought enough food for them all and asked Dir to take him to Lake Plavnyyprokhid. Dir calmly assured him that the village wasn't too far away.

When the group arrived, the place was deadly quiet, almost as if it could kill you just for daring to visit it. To Ivar, it even looked like it had no villagers at all. Maybe they're all ghosts, his mind raced nonsensically.

Standing still on the very limit between land and water, Ivar noticed a spark of light erupting from the lake. There weren't many things that startled him in life, but that quickly became one of them.

It had sounded like fire, like a little explosion.

"What was that?" He asked Dir, next to him.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Dir said. "If you look closely, those sparks are everywhere in this lake. It's been happening since Katya and Igor disappeared".

Another spark erupted, and Ivar even felt a burning smell. Or maybe he was going insane…

"May I help you with anything?" a stranger's voice with a Rus accent was heard behind them.

Ivar got startled for the second time as he turned around: it was a peasant man, who didn't seem to feel the cold under his dirty robes.

"Did you see him come to us, Dir?"

The Rus prince didn't reply, while the peasant just smiled at Ivar with a couple of teeth missing.

"I'm Dir, Igor's uncle", Dir said to the villager. "I came here before, do you remember me?"

"No", the villager said coldly. "But I can tell you about the child and his disappearance".

In that moment, Dir's slave pulled him forward by the chain they were mutually attached to.

"What are you doing?!" Dir yelled, struggling to not fall into the water even though he wouldn't have drowned at that short depth.

But the slave seemed to be inexplicably stronger, pulling from the chain and running on the spot. His eyes, once normal, now indicated he was irrationally desperate to reach the waters beyond the shore.

Ivar withdrew his sword and cut the chain that bid the slave to Dir.

"Ivar, no…!"

"Let him go, Dir!"

The slave was already running towards the water, yelping with happiness.

"It's better this way", Ivar concluded.

"Why?" Dir inquired.

"To see where the lake takes him".

They watched the now free Polan man swim further, almost to the very center of the lake. Then he stopped, looked down at his reflection in the still water… and something sucked him in. Fast.

There was a new spark of light and no traces that there had ever been a happy man swimming there.

Ivar had frozen from shock.

"What in God's name…?" Dir was mumbling.

"He wanted to see the cities that shine like stars!", the peasant behind them spoke, almost amused at the events.

"Which cities?" Ivar turned back on him violently.

But the man was no longer there. Instead, freezing air seemed to have replaced him. Shivering, Ivar glanced around the village but couldn't find the peasant's  presence anywhere else either.

He looked at Dir for answers, but the Rus prince seemed to be as shocked as him. He was staring into the lake in a trance-like state, as if an evil spirit was in there. Ivar sensed what was really happening to his Rus ally and dragged him away from the shore by the arm.

"Let's go, Dir".

He didn't know where he got the strength to do it, with his crutches always on him, but fear was a powerful force. Or so he was always told.

When they were far enough from the lake, near some small huts, Dir looked like his normal self again.

"What happened?" He asked Ivar. "Why are we so far away?"

"… The lake hypnotized you, Prince Dir. You couldn't look away from it, so I had to drag you here".

"This is sinister. There's something in it, I know it…"

"I'll check what it is tomorrow morning".

"Tomorrow?! But Ivar--"

"I sense the waters will calm down in the morning. We have to wait until the gods have stopped fighting and are serene again".

Dir was puzzled. Ivar told him they would spend the night in the empty hut right behind them.

**

The next morning, Ivar didn't wait for Dir to wake up, but started searching for a ship by himself. At the almost empty shore, he found a builder, a skinny little girl (what a strange village that was!) who was about to finish a prototype.

"This should help you cross the lake", she said as she gave it the final touches.

"Thank you, but I don't plan to cross it", Ivar said.

The little girl looked at him in fear, though it wasn't nearly as strong as the fear he and Dir had felt the night before.

When she finished the ship, she didn't charge Ivar anything, only walked away. So he started pushing it into the water, with difficulty because of his disability. Every step forward cost him a lot of effort, but he wasn't going to give up.

"Ivar!"

It was Prince Dir, running breathlessly towards him. 

"I can do it on my own!" Ivar shouted and continued pushing the boat.

But Dir kept running until he reached the shore, where he gave the ship the pushes it needed and then lifted Ivar firmly to throw him inside it. The Boneless was glad he had landed fine and without anything broken, not even his crutches.

He started rowing.

"Thanks, Dir!" He yelled, suddenly very excited about his upcoming adventure. All his childhood fears about the seas seemed to be on hold, momentarily suspended.

Dir was waving an arm from the land.

"May the Lord guide you, King Ivar!"

Ivar laughed again, pretty sure "the Lord" had nothing to do with all that trouble.

He didn't look up at Dir again. He reached the center of the lake, panting from tiredness, and started looking for a way to jump into the water. Of course, he realized soon enough, there was no way for him to "jump" anywhere, as he had no functional legs. He laughed at himself, crawled until the left edge of the boat and inclined it with his own weight just enough for it to flip over and take him with it. In a second he was in the water, holding onto the wooden ship.

He couldn't stay afloat without grabbing onto something, of course, never could and never would be able to, but that didn't matter in that case. He remembered the lake had sucked the slave in, dragged him down, so what difference would it make if he tried to swim? He would be swallow down either way.

He let go of the ship and waited. He was sinking. The water reached up his nostrils Then it happened, fast: the waters dragged him down with violent force.

**

Ivar couldn't remember how much time it had passed, but he suddenly woke up. Although that couldn't be, for he was still deeply submerged and his eyes didn't sting as they always did when he opened them under water.

What?

And he was breathing. Actually breathing, like a fish instead of a human.

His mouth widened in surprise, but no water got inside of it. He kept breathing normally. Then he was kicked by yet another mysterious force —or perhaps it was the same one— which then started moving him forward at great speed, he practically couldn't see a thing as his body flew through the currents like a shark. He was forced to close his eyes again.

He only opened them when he felt the speed slowing down, and saw the majesty of the deep ocean for the first time in his life: fish, other animals, plants. It was all strangely clear and bright too.

Then the "force" stopped pushing him.

"Ivar the Boneless", a smooth, almost feminine male voice echoed. Ivar glanced around to check where it came from, but the way the water vibrated… The voice seem to come from everywhere at once.

"Who's there?!" Ivar asked into nothing, feeling like a stupid child. But it was honestly all he could think of saying.

The water started vibrating again, and the same voice answered him.

"Don't you recognize me, Ivar? I thought you were better than your brothers".

Before Ivar could even think about the meaning of those words, the water in front of him swirled with dust and dead insects, darkened and transformed into something else. A monster. Or so Ivar thought at first.

As the water slowly regained its brightness, he began to make out what was in front of him. A giant. Or a God.

Váli.

God of Vengeance.

Váli?

"But you can't be under water", Ivar said, dumbfounded.

The young man (because he had the appearance of a young man) chuckled, unaffected by Ivar's daring. He was floating far away from the youngest Ragnarson, but as a half-giant, every detail about him could be observed clearly: from the simple warrior clothing on top of a pristine body to the bow he carried on his back. All in all, he was handsome, with a teenage face and a slim figure, something Ivar had never heard in the tales Auslaug used to tell him as a child. In fact, he remembered he was described as ugly and dirty.

"It's true, I can't be under water", the god Váli said. "But the circumstances made me. You see, Ivar the Boneless, we think we are born with our fates burned and carved into our skins, but we aren't. I recently discovered this. I, the youngest of Odin's children, just like you are of Ragnar Lothbrok, was meant to be nothing but a pawn in a game of vengeance, born only for that purpose and discarded later; but now, with my knowledge of the future, the future of the entirety of humanity, I can change my purpose and strive for something greater. That is why I chose you, Ivar".

"You chose me?" Ivar asked. "For what?"

"Your mission, of course", Váli answered. "When you were a newborn your father tried to kill you, didn't he?"

Ivar didn't understand the purpose of making him remember such things.

"But he didn't do it in the end", he said. "He was only a man, not a God".

Váli chuckled.

"Indeed, he was. But he hated you, rejected you through all your childhood, didn't he?"

"What does this have to do with my mission?"

"Patience, Ivar, patience. I'm making you remember the pain you felt as a child because later Ragnar redeemed himself, put you before all his other sons and told you about your gifts, your greatness".

"It's true, he did".

Váli smiled, his left eye twinkling behind his long hair.

"That's what I mean, Ivar the Boneless, that despite every atrocity committed against you you survived, succeeded, became the best of Ragnar's sons".

The God's words filled Ivar with pride. He was going to ask about Bjorn's spot, just in case, but felt it unnecessary in the end.

"You have a greater purpose", Váli spoke again. "Like me, hated by my father and brothers, foretold to be nothing but an unwashed, ugly, lesser God. What I'm going to entrust you, Ivar, if you succeed, will take you to one of the highest points in Valhalla".

Ivar's beautiful eyes narrowed.

"Will I really be a god?" He asked.

"That is not my place to say, I'm afraid. And I'm sorry, because I know you've questioned your humanity many times".

Ivar wasn't completely satisfied with Váli's answer but decided not to push him any further. Instead, he asked:

"What is it that's so important to grant me that place in Valhalla?"

"You're going to change the future, Ivar the Boneless".

Ivar was stunned at Váli's quick answer. Usually the gods took their time with their children and filled them with tales and philosophy before spilling the truth out.

"But that's impossible", Ivar said.

"Not with the information and tools I have now. You see… Katya and Igor, they're in the future right now".

"You… You took them to the future?"

Váli showed his white teeth in a grin.

"No, I did not", he replied. "I was merely a guide, protecting them from harm".

"Who was going to harm them?"

"The future Norwegians. They have nothing in common with us. It was them who opened up the timehole, causing this--"

"I'm sorry, opened up a what?"

Váli chuckled, although still patient with Ivar.

"My dear Ivar… It's a long and complicated affair, but I'll try to be concise. And simple. A timehole is a crack in time, something that connects the present, the past and the future together, a hole humans can travel back and forth through. When I found out about it, where it was located, I merely… slipped through it".

He laughed like a mischievous adolescent. Effectively, like the youngest of his brothers.

"So you traveled to the future", Ivar said, frowning.

"Future Norway, yes. I saw everything, spoke to some of my children, then came back. My father was furious, of course, along with Loki and the others, He said we aren't supposed to play with time, not us, the best among gods. But I told him the humans had done it first, and for their own petty interests. I was only trying to fix it, I told my father so. You see, Ivar, a lot of your Viking brothers and sisters have been and are being transported to the future through that timehole, against their will, and now human history has changed so much that our foundations, our values, our very existence are about to succumb by the hands of our enemies. I'm here to prevent that, even if it is by only guiding my children through sparks of light".

Váli made a pause, smirking as he witnessed Ivar connecting the dots.

"It was you…!"

"Time is greater than everything else, Ivar the Boneless. There's little even us Gods can do about it. It eludes us. Remember that when you're in Oslo".

"Oslo? That village in…?"

"The Kingdom of Vingulmark, yes. It becomes Norway's capital city in the future".

Ivar couldn't lie to himself: his head was spinning with all the new and remarkable information. He stayed quiet for a while, analyzing everything.

"What year did you travel to, Váli?"

"2019, twenty first century. 2019 AD, to be precise".

Ivar had been trying to take some steps backwards, shocked as he was, but of course, that was impossible under the sea.

"AD?" He repeated.

"It means Anno Domini in the Christian calendar".

Váli's young eyes were fiery with hatred.

"Christian…" Ivar couldn't believe it. "Christianity conquered Norway in the end?"

"Yes, that's the enemy I was telling you about. We must destroy it, Ivar, before they destroy us. That is your mission".

"Wait, what exactly do I have to do?"

"Ah I can't tell you precisely that, Ivar the Boneless. I know your character, your weaknesses, and for that same reason I can't tell you everything I know so soon. You'll sense what your final goal is at the right time, you'll feel it in your Norse blood".

"Will I find Igor and Katya too?"

"The gods will make it up to you. That is all I can tell you".

Both human and God looked at each other for a while.

"So I'm going to future Norway…"

"Yes".

"How?"

"Leave that up to me, dear Ivar. You'll arrive safely, do not worry".

"… Does Odin approve of this?"

"Reluctantly", Váli chuckled. "He has spirits in all of Scandinavia watching for our interests, but it is mostly my war, and I won't let anyone sabotage this mission".

Ivar nodded.

"Understood", he said. "I just have one last question for you".

"Ask away, dear Ivar".

"What happens afterwards? If I--I mean, when I succeed?"

"You will return to the place you belong to and that belongs to you: this time, Kattegat, your family. For a new beginning with your Viking brothers and sisters. That's the promise of a God".

Ivar nodded again, solemnly. Then, knowing the final hour was upon him, he bowed to the God of Vengeance and said:

"Hail, Váli".

Váli smirked.

"So long, Ivar the Boneless".

And he pointed his gigantic bow and arrow at Ivar. Seconds later the impact hit him straight in the chest, he flew backwards and landed on the rough, wet and grotesque tentacle of a gigantic animal. The Kraken, Ivar guessed breathlessly. It's going to kill me!

But the Kraken growled in a bizarrely tender way, Ivar felt its calm breathing… The scene made no sense at all, and yet… He knew exactly what to do.

He bent over and held tight to the tentacle as if riding a horse. Next thing he knew, he was flying through the ocean, if such a contradiction was possible, at high speed and twisting and swirling, flying all over the world, through all the seas. At times, he and the Kraken would reach the skies, and Ivar laughed in pure, mad happiness. This time, he was seeing much more of the seas than a couple of fish; he was watching the entire Earth, watching beauty itself.

After a time lapse Ivar ignored completely, he was lifted out of the water and into the air, much higher than before and long enough for him to catch sight of a big city at night. Then the Kraken submerged again and Ivar was laid into the shore gently, like a small wave would.

**

Ivar woke up after a moment, coughing and panting but otherwise physically fit for someone who had just spiraled around the oceans of the world. He felt and saw sand under his wet body and raised his head higher: he was at a beach in a city like no other, a city that…

"… Shines like stars", Ivar repeated the Rus peasant's mysterious words.

He understood now.

"… Where the houses are tall as mountains, and words travel like the wind", he went on in a whisper, utterly clueless as to what, how or why that phrase was coming out of his mouth.

So this is future Norway, he thought, and tried to pull himself up, but couldn't. He noticed his crutches lying in the sand, reached out for them and… was stopped by someone's shoes stepping on them. He raised his head.

The owner of the shoes was a very tall man, with red hair everywhere except for the blonde top of his head. He was wearing a uniform the same color as that of the night sky.

"Velkommen til Oslo", he snarled at Ivar, who somehow understood him. "Skitten fremvandreren".

Beforeigner, Ivar repeated mentally. It made sense, that amalgamation of words. These clever future Norwegians. But they have no idea who they're messing with.

Chapter Text

It had been too long a day for Alfhildr and it was only eleven in the morning. Approximately, since the digital clocks had been hacked by anti-technology activists so no one in the precinct knew what time it was. No one except Alfhildr, who as a Viking had other ways to tell the time. They weren’t as precise as technology, but they worked enough for her to know that she needed to leave the station as soon as possible and go onto the field to do some investigating.

She finally reached the subterranean parking lot, where she found another vehicle was blocking her way out. Parked right in front of hers. And with space as tight as the department could afford, Alfhildr knew she was trapped. But she didn't recognize whose car was it until she spotted that fat, timeist bitch Wenche walking towards it. She had a sandwich in one hand, of course…

Alfhildr put her hands on both hips.

"Would you mind hurrying up?" She was trying hard to control her anger. Maybe if she was nice to Wenche… That's what the lovely people from Human Resources kept telling her anyway. "I've got places to be".

"Relax, I just went for a sandwich".

Alfhildr sneered. "That's nice, but some of us have actual work to do".

Wenche raised her eyebrows as if she couldn't believe the Viking had spoken to her like that.

"Feisty little farmer girl you are".

"What did you just call me?" 

It was Wenche's turn to sneer. She approached Alfhildr in confident, empowered steps and snarled at her:

"I researched your friend Urd on the B4 forums. She isn't a 'traditional path finder' or whatever crap you made up. She's a Viking just like you".

Alfhildr didn't reply. She was silently cursing the "intraweb" for giving power to morons like Wenche.

"You lied about your background, Viking", Wenche started up again. "Are you sure you deserve to be a police officer?"

Alfhildr figured it was best not to respond to the provocations, for it would only strengthen Wenche's case.

"Stay away from Urd", she snarled instead. "I fucking mean it, you witch".

Wenche laughed and returned to her parking spot. Very slowly, she opened her car's door and got inside, taking even more time to close it. Alfhildr rolled her eyes as her colleague threw the remains of a coffee plastic cup out the window and down to the ground. Disgusted, Alfhildr got inside her own car and honked, but Wenche started eating her sandwich desperately slow, widening that mouth of hers and chewing so loudly the beforeigner could hear her.

Alfhildr was fuming with anger. She put on her favorite music in the stereo, that "black metal" 1990s wonder, and started thinking of the best and most practical ways for Wenche to die. They'd never find incriminating evidence if Alfhildr did it the way Tore had taught her. How to dispose of a body, Tore Hund 101. She would only need to wash her face thoroughly off all the blood that would splatter from Wenche's severed head.

Alfhildr smiled to herself.

But then she saw the real Wenche was giving her the finger from that old, tacky as hell white car.

Alfhildr honked twice, honked thrice and several more times to make the old woman move her vehicle out of the way, but Wenche kept on eating.

Through Alfhildr's car stereo, the nearly unintelligible singer was shrieking about how mørket slynger seg (the darkness winds its way), how all paths lead to darkness.

Alfhildr stepped on the gas as hard as she could, propelling her car forward until it crashed Wenche's.

The impact noise was, to the younger woman, equivalent to Beethoven's 5th Symphony, or any warrior chant led by Ivar the Boneless.

She felt so triumphant and —hear THIS, Human Resources! — righteously proud of her heritage that she didn't even notice Lars coming down to the parking lot until he was next to her car.

"What the hell happened?" His mouth was moving but she couldn't hear him clearly.

And for all answer, she shrugged.

***

"It must have been the transmission", Alfhildr was explaining to their boss, Sargent Eriksen, with the most innocent, goody-good face she could master. In reality, she had no idea what 'the transmission' was. She just had heard the term many times on cable television, when she was still a college student and stayed awake all night doing coursework; there was nothing else going on the TV except stupid car pawning shows.

"Wenche's version is different", Eriksen said, then turned to Lars. "Do you have any indication that this wasn't an accident?"

Come on, Haaland, back me up here! Alfhildr thought as she looked at him. I'll buy you anything without that 'gluten' thing on.

Lars shook his head. "No… Not at all".

I love you, Lars… Well eww no, not really, but you get the idea…

In that moment Wenche walked into Eriksen's office, wearing a neck casket. Alfhildr wanted to cackle in her face but she controlled herself.

"What did the doctors say?" Eriksen asked Wenche.

"That I was lucky not to suffer more serious injuries".

Alfhildr looked at her boss as if saying, "See? This is why I'm so sorry about this terrible accident. I will support my lovely colleague Wenche in anything she needs during her recovery".

Eriksen stared at Alfhildr for moment, then advised Wenche to take a few days off while they investigated the incident.

"I'm not sure the Chief of Police would agree with that", the blonde threatened.

This bitch! Alfhildr thought and rolled her eyes because she knew Eriksen was focused on Wenche anyway.

"I don't think we need to involve her", Eriksen stuttered.

"I've already called her", Wenche counterattacked. "She wants an investigation".

Eriksen was speechless for a moment.

"Fine, we'll investigate", he agreed, his clear eyes lost somewhere far away.

**

An hour later, while in the car with Lars on their way to interrogate a witness, Alfhildr congratulated herself about how convincing she had been that Eriksen let them return to their spots pretty quick. She felt so confident, in fact, that she decided to keep talking about the crash with Lars.

"Wenche has quite a lot the imagination!" she exclaimed.

But Lars threw a suspicious glance at his cop partner.

"Please… I know you did it on purpose".

Alfhildr's eyebrows arched in surprise, but she didn't retort. She decided, instead, to address what really bothered her about Wenche.

"She's been out to get me since my very first day at work. And for what, because I'm a beforeigner? I was never nasty at her until she started it. I'm not lying, Haaland".

But Lars didn't say anything. His eyes were strangely focused on the highway.

"And it's not like I can change my birth year at will", Alfhildr went on. "No one can".

Lars sneered in a way that it hurt Alfhildr. And she was never the one to get hurt in any kind of relationship dynamic, being in a friendship, at work… She didn't even tolerate that kind of bullcrap from Urd, her best friend in the world.

"Spoken like a true activist", Lars said with stinging irony.

Alfhildr almost snapped, asked what the fuck was wrong with him, but controlled herself. She wasn't going to lose her mind, not right then, not even with all the stress from that awful day.

"Whose side are you on?" she asked Lars instead.

"No side", he answered, nonchalant. "I just want to focus on the case, and maybe you should too".

She glared at him like she was about to blood-eagle him, but he didn't notice because his eyes were still fixed on the road.

They didn't say anything for a while.

"She's always doing stuff like what she did today", Lars spoke, to Alfhildr's surprise. "She's a terrible cop and even the bosses know, she never cooperated with me the few times we've worked together".

"… And you're okay with that?"

"No, of course not. I'm just saying, you should just get over it. For your own good. Seriously, I'm thinking of your well-being here".

Alfhildr's jaw dropped in utter disbelief.

You sexist, condescending pig!

"Lars…" And she realized his first name had escaped her lips for the first time, but ignored her own embarrassment. She was sure her next phrase would sting him good. Fucking asshole… "Do you fancy her?"

"Who?"

Great, just deny it, you---

"Wenche".

"No!"

Alfhildr snorted a laugh.

"Oh please!"

"I swear I don't have a thing for her!"

"Liar. You want to fuck her, that's why you put up with her shit".

Alfhildr realized too late she had just sounded like a jealous thirteen-year-old girl, but she didn't apologize. She was standing by what she had said, even against Lars and the whole world. It was the only thing that made sense, that explained what was going on in that car at the moment. Why else would he tolerate someone totally gross like Wenche? Who could even like her as a woman? Alfhildr pictured her and Lars in bed together, undressing each o-- no (she physically, literally shuddered at the mental image). 

"You're nuts", Lars said in a low voice as he did a turn with his car.

Oh, am I? I'm "nuts" and you're not?

Shit, what's wrong with me? I'm going insane, thinking nonsense because of this stupid little thing! So what if he's fucking her? It shouldn't matter…

Of course it shouldn't!

She sniffed with anger, and it that moment the answer hit her. The real answer to all that mess.

Lars' car didn't smell of Temproxate anymore.

"Since when did you quit the drops?" She asked him, back to her usual confidence.

"I have no idea what you're talking about", Lars did another carn turn.

"I don't smell the fucking thing in here anymore, Haaland! Don't play the fool with me".

And now that she noticed, his hands were fidgety over the steering wheel, he had glistening sweat on his forehead (and it wasn't even hot in Oslo) and his left cheek twitched a tiny bit from time to time.

How come no one at work has noticed? Alfhildr wondered. Oh right, it's because no one there gives a shit about him.

Except for me.

Poor thing.

No, poor HAALAND.

Except not really because he's a giant asshole. He doesn't deserve my pity.

"So how many days are you clean?" Alfhildr insisted.

"A few…" Lars answered. "Five, I think".

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

Alfhildr snickered. "Am I supposed to believe you suddenly stopped using what makes you tick because you grew a conscience?"

Now Lars looked annoyed.

"Well, I fucking did!", he said. "I grew one! I did it for the boy, for Igor. I don't want to use while he's living with me".

Those words shouldn't feel so damn warm inside, Alfhildr thought, and felt with horror how a heartfelt smile formed on her lips. She stopped it immediately and side-eyed Lars.

This stupid d-bag addict… Thinks one little empty gesture will make me change my mind about him, make me think he's changed and warm up my fucking heart. This childish, idiotic…

"Cat's got your tongue?" Lars smirked at her, and she felt for even the shortest moment that he was back to his normal self, that things went back to business as usual between them.

Of course, if "business as usual" meant something entirely different and opposite to the term "business"…

"Shorty", Alfhildr suddenly spat at him.

Lars laughed, confused.

"What?"

"You heard me. You're practically a midget".

The observation had been on her mind for a while. She had to admit a lot of silly shit went through her mind lately. It was living in the future that was making her stupid, according to herself.

"I'm only two inches shorter than you", Lars said matter-off-factly.

"… And don't you forget it".

Alfhildr wanted to grin, to laugh along with him again, but she thought she couldn't afford to do so at that particular moment. No, we're fighting, let's continue fighting, let's take this to its logical conclusion. Me at his place, yelling loudly, quitting the force forever.

Ok, it's possible that I love drama too much.

But then Lars laughed, looking at her with a certain something in his eyes, and she did exactly the same.

Then she saw his right hand land next to her seat, on the gearbox, move closer to where her left hand rested... and go back to the steering wheel. Ok, what the fuck was THAT? Lars didn't need to manipulate the gearbox because his car was… What was the word? Come on, Alfhildr…! She had learned that in college. Automatic! Yes, that's it, his car is automatic! And since it's automatic he doesn't need to put his hand anywhere near the gearbox.

"We're here", Lars announced as he slowed down the vehicle. "Ada's psychiatric".

**

When Alfhildr and Lars were already inside the hospital building, his phone rang. But he clicked his tongue and ignored it.

She glared at him.

"Answer it, Lars. Might be important".

"I really doubt it".

Now it was the nurses who glared, but at the both of them. One of them, an old lady, told them to turn off the phone because it was disturbing the patients.

"Go outside and fucking answer it, Haaland!"

"Shhh!" Another nurse.

Alfhildr was done. She grabbed the phone off Lars' jacket pocket and ran outside the hospital building.

"Hallo?" She picked up. But upon hearing the caller, she grimaced.

Lars was next to her, his dark eyebrows risen up.

"I don't understand Saxon, sorry", she said to him, handing the phone.

"Tina", Lars inferred and answered it himself in English. "Yeah, what's up?"

Alfhildr waited until her conversation was over. Lars seemed too cool and detached while he listened to her police friend, who incidentally had a case of their interest to solve.

"Uh-huh… Yeah, I'll take care of it… Bye bye".

And Lars hung up.

"What is it?" Alfhildr asked.

"They found Katya", Lars replied.

Both detectives started walking back to the building.

"Igor's Katya? The princess?"

"Yes, in a brothel in Kiev".

"… Hah, gotta love men".

Lars' eyebrows went up again as he smiled in amusement.

"Excuse me?" he said to Alfhildr.

"Come on, like a woman could be behind a brothel…"

"You'd be really surprised".

She frowned, but ignored it. They reached the elevator and Lars pushed on a button.

"Alfhildr", he called, and she had to bit her lip as not to smile. His Norwegian accent made her name sound funny. But at least he hadn't yet given up on pronouncing it right.

"Yes?"

"There's something else about Katya. I'm gonna tell you but promise me you won't freak out and run to my apartment--"

"Haaland. I respect my job, do you seriously think I'll run away now?"

Lars eyed her, then said: "Katya has amnesia. She doesn't remember who she is nor her own language".

Just like Tore was just days ago, Alfhildr thought.

"Yeah, I learned it happens to some timeigrants upon their arrival. But how did the Ukrainians know she was Katya, if she can't speak?"

"Igor's description?" Lars raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, right! Right…"

"And her pregnancy, I suppose…"

"So now she's scared and alone in Kiev".

"Tina is transferring her here. Igor will finally see her".

Is that kindness I see in your face, Haaland?

"Wait, how are they transferring her without drawing attention?"

"Tina has her contacts. Don't worry".

"Awesome. See? I haven't left this hospital. I'm not freaking out, Igor will be fine if we work together on this".

Lars chuckled. Then, a pang of worry pinched Alfhildr.

"You'll handle it, right?" She asked him. "Because that poor woman can't be left in the hospital, on her own, without memories. And I'm too busy with paperwork from this case".

"It'll be fine. I'm sober now, remember? I'll drop by the beforeigners wing tomorrow morning, take Igor in my car".

"Great!" Alfhildr was relieved. "Awesome".

Lars gave her another smile as they reached the story where their witness worked.

***

Alfhildr was hurriedly going up the stairs to Lars' apartment. She skipped several steps each time, worried she might trip or fall because, even though it was morning and the sun was bright, her sight was clouded from anxiety.

She finally reached his doorstep, where her hands trembled to find her key until she did and opened the door.

"Lars!" She called immediately.

No answer.

She didn't need to call a second time, for she knew, somehow. 

Running past the living room and to Lars' bedroom, she found him laying on the bare floor, in just his underwear, unconscious and with a million empty Temproxate bottles around him. His phone's LED light was beeping a bright green, so Alfhildr picked it up from the bed.

(09:10) Ingrid: Dad, where are you?
(09:11) Ingrid: Dad
(09:15) Ingrid: You promised you were gonna watch me in soccer practice, remember?

You have missing call from Ingrid (9:22)

(09:28) Ingrid: It's about to start.
(09:30) Ingrid: Jsyk, I only care about getting into the first team now, not about you and your fucking drugs. It’s like I've got no father.

Alfhildr's was taken by a fury like no other, worse than when she crashed Wenche's car. She dropped the phone on Lars' bed and bent over to pull him by the neck skin, her nails digging into it.

"You STUPID. Piece of SHIT!", she yelled at the top of her lungs. As he still didn't react (his eyes were fluttering), she added: "I should kill you!"

It was then, upon letting go of Lars' neck, that she noticed the other, little person who lived with him.

Prince Igor was standing at the opened glassdoor that led to the balcony, watching it all in a transfixed way. He wasn't even blinking.

Alfhildr's first instinct was to go over and cover his eyes, even if her old self would have objected to such coddling. She had been raised by a tough, male Viking, after all. Then she carried the boy away from Lars' bedroom.

"Are you okay, Igor?" She asked with concern, once outside.

Igor just looked at her, for all response.

"For how long had you been standing there?" Alfhildr asked this time.

The voice that came out of him was so weak he sounded like he was five years old instead of nine-ish.

"I don't know, a very long time, I think. I woke up and my breakfast wasn't ready, so I went looking for Lars and found him on that bed… I didn't know what to do, I… Am I in trouble, Alfhildr? Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not, little one! Lars' the only one who fucked up here", Igor perked up, seeming to have understood the swear word, but Alfhildr gave him a quick hug. "Let's go to the kitchen".

And so they went.

She prepared cereal with yogurt for him and watched him eat for a while. Then she made him sat down in one of the sofas from the living room.

"I'm gonna give you one good news and a bad one", she said, once again squatting down to his eye level.

"Okay… What's the good one?"

"They found Katya in Kiev".

“Really?”

His excitement was contagious, so Alfhildr grinned along.

"Really really. But the bad news is that… She lost all her memories when she arrived here. Doesn't know who she is, can't speak Rus…" At Igor's horror, Alfhildr quickly added: "But don't worry, a friend of mine was like that too and he managed to get his memories back".

"How?"

"By spending time with the people he knew from the past. Everything came back to him one afternoon".

"You're not lying to me, Alfhildr?"

"I'd never lie to you, Igor", she smiled and sat next to him. "Unlike…" And her thumb pointed back at Lars' room. "Listen to me. Katya is being transferred to the past people hospital here in Oslo. I'll take you with her as soon as I solve this mess with Haaland, okay?"

"But when will that be?"

"Soon, I promise I'll try my best. I know…" she scoffed. "I know it’s been rough for you all this time, but I promise it’ll get better. And if you can't live with Lars anymore I'll find you someplace else. It will all be fine, okay?"

"But I like this house", Igor said.

"Of course you do, it's a pretty awesome house, isn't it?"

Igor nodded with a smile, then did something that melted Alfhildr's heart: he reached for her on the other side of the sofa and gave her a handshake, just like the first time they met and she had tried to do the same with him.

"Did I do it right?" He asked.

"Of course you did! Now, one last thing".

She thought of how lucky she was to find a pair of headphones conveniently placed on the coffee table.

She picked them up and showed them to him.

"I'm gonna have a serious talk with Lars. There might be some yelling…" She chuckled. "Well, a lot of yelling, so if you don't wanna hear it just put these on top of your head".

"What are those?"

"You can listen to music with them. Music from your phone".

"… How?"

Alfhildr chuckled. "It would take me too long to explain, but trust me, it will work. Now, put those soft plugs inside your ears… Uh-huh… and plug the other end to your phone… No, not in there, it's the other hole… Perfect!"

She smiled, but then Igor pulled the earphones out.

"Don't worry too much about me, Alfhildr", he said.

"Oh, stop talking like an adult!" She laughed.

"But I mean it. It's not the first time I see an addict, Ivar's brother was one too".

It was too much for Alfhildr to process. She froze.

"Ivar the Boneless, by any bloody chance?"

"Yes".

And Igor looked away. "I shouldn't have mentioned it".

"Why? You can trust me, Igor. I wouldn't even tell Haaland about these things".

He slowly raised his head.

"You promise?"

She raised her palm.

"Word of a Viking".

Igor smiled and started talking:

"Ivar is like a father to me. He saved my life many times, taught me things... He's done a lot more for me than my real father anyway, who died when I was smaller".

"Wait, hang on, how do you know Ivar, again?"

"Because he was captured by my uncle Oleg and brought to Rus. Ivar teamed up against Oleg, with me and uncle Dir, and we overthrew him together. Oleg was insane, and dangerous. He wanted the kingdom that belonged to me".

"He treated you badly?"

Igor nodded. "All the time. He only gained my custody because he killed another one of my uncles, his own brother".

"Fucking hell.. I'm really sorry about that. Have you always been this lonely?"

“Yes. My mother died too, giving birth to me. And my father never took another wife, so I remained an only child".

Alfhildr's eyes softened even more.

"Does Ivar know you're missing back in Kiev?"

"I don't know, he returned to his land after Oleg was gone… But I hope he finds me, me and Katya. I hope someone lets him know we're missing".

Alfhildr caressed his dark hair once again.

"Let us hope so, yes. I really wish I could go back and find Ivar for you, or send him a message somehow, but as I told you before, it's impossible to return to the past. That's all we know for now. Best we can do is hope that Ivar has found a way to get here".

Igor nodded.

Alfhildr placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and told him to wait as she "talked" to Lars, promising not to take long. She plugged the headphones to Lars' stereo, put on classical music for Igor and left the living room.

**

"Wake up!"

Alfhildr bent over Lars and gave him a few slaps on both cheeks. But the bastard didn't even flinch.

"HAALAND!" she shouted in a deeper voice.

That got him moving a little, so she pressed on his nose with her fingers to block the air in and out of him. That finally woke him up. Loud gasps.

His eyes were very narrowed and he was having trouble focusing them on Alfhildr.

"You were supposed to be at Ingrid's soccer practice right now, weren't you", she reminded him, now squatting next to him.

"Soccer practice? Where am I?"

Alfhildr sighed, exasperated.

"At your apartment, after having had, how many drops?" She started counting the bottles, but then realized it was futile. "How many bottles did you use last night, Lars?"

She had no idea how his first name had slipped out again.

"A lot…" he groaned. "I couldn't take it anymore, Alfhildr… I was sweating like hell, shitting, puking, about to pass out… Thought I was gonna die".

And his eyes looked up at her with a lot of pain inside. Alfhildr ignored them, glaring.

"Then why the hell did you assure me everything was gonna be fine?" She spat and mocked his voice: "I'll handle it all, Alfhildr, don't worry!"

He was unresponsive, so she bent over again.

"I could punch you so hard but oh that is not allowed in this century!"

"Leave me alone", Lars grunted. "Why do you care so much?"

"Good question! And I don't know… I don't know why for a second I believed you were better than this".

Her toughness was wearing out, so she sat on the edge of Lars' bed. She wished she was still in college, younger and with no knowledge of the D-bag next to her or Wenche or… But then she remembered Urd, and how the two would probably have never reunited if Alfhildr wasn't a police officer… Besides, she knew damn well why she became one, even though no one else did and she concealed it well. She wanted to find her biological parents. As simple as that. Tore had been great to her but she wasn't her real dad. Not even Big Tore was, may he be drinking with the gods in Valhalla. Alfhildr thought that maybe there was a slight possibility her parents would, someday, emerge from the same sea as her, the one that could be seen from Lars' living room.

She sighed, realizing she had to resume… whatever it was she was doing to Lars. Yelling at him. Sure, but there was more to it. Shock therapy? No, that was illegal in the twenty first. No… Not even Igor was enough of a reason for her to be in that room full of that awful, piss-like Temproxate smell.

Then she concluded that maybe there wasn't a definite reason. Yet. Maybe she didn't have all the answers yet. And it was okay that it was so.

And she stood up again, next to Lars.

"Haaland", she called, if only to keep him awake. His eyes were opened and he blinked, so that was enough for her to go on. "You broke Ingrid's heart. You really did. She sent you like a million texts begging you to go watch her. Want me to read them for you?"

"No…" Lars' empty voice came out.

But she went and unlocked his phone anyway.

I only care about getting into the first team now, not about you and your fucking drugs. It's like I got no father.

For a tiny moment, Alfhildr thought she'd heard Lars sniffing, but he was lying so stiff, like a rock, that it was impossible to tell either way.

"You shouldn't have read that", he said, voice still dead.

"She's going to find out how deep in the shit you are eventually", Alfhildr said. "You know it well".

"She still prefers me over Gregers".

Alfhildr laughed.

"That doesn't exactly make you father of the year".

Lars sat up with difficulty, only to vomit on the floor a bit. Alfhildr thought that wasn't even the most disgusting thing about him that morning.

"Have you considered the possibility that she's already told your ex-wife or Gregers himself?" She stung him.

At this, he sat up on the floor again and stared at her, fearful.

"She wouldn't tell on me", he replied with the same emptiness. "Not with Gregers anyway".

Alfhildr thought about it. Maybe Haaland was right. Then again…

Her phone beeped from a notification. She unlocked the screen and saw Alex had texted her.

What's taking you so long? Is Haaland at his place?

>Yes, everything is fine —Alfhird texted back—. He just had a little accident in the bathroom. He's embarrassed to show up at work, you see.

Lmao —Alex replied—. So it will be a while still.

>Yes.

I think I'll send someone else to run your errands for today, then.

For Ada's case.

>Who are you going to send?

My dear friend Wenche :)

>No! I'd rather you do it by yourself.

What's in it for me?

>Listen to me, you ugly brute. There's nothing in it for you other than doing your goddamn job as a cop. And if you try to fuck me over in today's errands I swear to Odin I'll rip your head off with my teeth and feed it to the pigs from Vestfold.

>Have I made myself clear?

Jesus, what a violent farmerwife.

>Go do those errands or you'll see actual violence.

Fine. But I'm only doing it because you threatened me.

>Oohh p-p-poor little Alex feels threatened!

And Alfhildr locked her phone screen to get back to Lars, who was still laying on the floor.

"I'm hungry, Alfhildr!" Igor shouted from the living room, his voice too loud because he was probably still wearing the headphones.

Alfhildr thought fast. Yes, there was no reason to delay it.

"Igor, go pack your clothes!"

"What?!"

She gave one last look of disgust at Haaland, told him to do whatever he wanted with his life and went to Igor.

"I'm taking you to lunch, don't worry", she said.

Igor took off the headphones clumsily.

"But you told me to pack my things".

"Yes, because after lunch I'm taking you to my house. At least until Katya's memories come back. Isn't that great, Igor?"

"But is your house big like this one?"

Royals, Alfhildr thought and smiled.

"No, but it's comfortable. I like it. It's actually half-house, half-vehicle, so I think you're gonna like it too".

"Vehicle as in those things with wheels?"

"Precisely".

His big black eyes grew.

"Your house has wheels?!"

"It does!"

Igor grinned back. "Then I think I'll like it".

**

Alfhildr got updates from Alex once she was already installed at her trailer home with Igor.

I found this file after chasing Ada outside the deposit for a while. Couldn't catch her.

Ring any bell to you?

Alex has sent you three photos.

The pictures were all from a medical file that contained severeal headshots of what had to be a timeigrant, judging by her unkept looks. Alfhildr zoomed in on the teenage girl and slowly recognized Madeleine, Ingrid's friend and the one who had faked a timeigration for internet points.

Alfhildr's eyebrows puckered in anger.

"She timeigrated…" She mumbled to herself, her mind racing. "She tried to fake a timeigration but then she traveled to the past for real! Went to the past and came back to the present… almost right away”. But how? And why?

Alfhildr examined Alex's photos again. The doctor's report said Madeleine had "temporal anomalies identical to other timeigrants". Didn't answer to her name, suddenly forgot her mother tongue and… what was that text, almost at the background of the last headshot?

Toxins found in bloodstream consistent with Temproxate. Volume: 0.2594096 mL.

"Holy shit, that's four drops!" Alfhildr whispered a shout.

It was the double of what Lars usually took. She wondered where Madeleine got the bottle or bottles from…

But of course, Alfhildr didn't need a lot of time to figure it out. Drug addicts never cover their tracks right, they’re sloppy, as she had learned in Police academy. So with that information, it was easy to remember that Madeleine and Ingrid had been at Lars' apartment the day she accidentally shot him, that Lars had introduced the girls to Alfhildr and Alfhildr had cooked dinner for them all. And all of that had happened no less than a week before Lars was called into the beforeigners hospital because of Ingrid. The girls had all gotten high on Temproxate.

It all downed on her. She rubbed her forehead, pushed her long hair back and answered to Alex:

>No, I've never seen that girl in my life. Why do you think Ada has her medical file?

I don't know. I think we're missing some key information here.

>Agreed.

I'll go to her house to interrogate her.

Alfhildr actually feared for Madeleine's life in that moment.

>I can do it myself.

You free right now?

>Right now? No, I’m not. Dammit.

>Fine, go interrogate her, but don’t use your usual tactics.

Whatever do you mean?

>You KNOW damn well what I mean. Fuck this up and you'll be sorry.

She shut her phone screen, not bothering to read his response. Then she stared into the emptiness, thinking.

"Igor".

"Hmm?"

The child was reading, through the magic of photo translation, a comic book Alfhildr had left by her laptop.

"I'll send a quick message to Haaland outside. Don't open the door to anybody, alright?"

"Okay. But how will you get back in?"

"I have the key".

And she jangled them happily in front of him.

Once outside, where there was a strong smell of mead left by the other Norse people and their trailer homes, Alfhildr desisted of using Lars' voicemail because he never checked it. Instead she decided to send him a voice note (apparently, they were very different concepts), something she had learned how to do months ago.

It still cost her several tries not to let go of the recording button, though. And when she finally managed, she pressed on it hard and started speaking.

"Hey… Haaland. I just found out that girl Madeleine stole Temproxate from you to get high with her friends before jumping into the sea. Planned to keep that a secret from me, didn't you?… … Anyway, Alex replaced me for today and he sent me photos of her medical file, which he found in Ada's belongings, by the way. Weird… The report details a lot of horrible stuff, stuff worse than losing your memories. Well, you probably already knew that… And of course the drops made her little trip much worse than it should have been. It makes perfect sense, Lars, but I think your present-day fellows aren't taking the Temp's damage seriously enough. Either that or someone, some people, is torturing new arrivals or something”.

She shuddered at the idea and made another pause, not caring that her phone was recording nature sounds now.

"Listen, I know you probably feel a lot of guilt over Ingrid, so please, please get help? You need it, Haaland. And I don't even mean a big effort on your part, just ask and I'll do my best. Didn't you say we were friends? Friends help each other out. I'll get a doctor for you if that's what you want. I'm serious. I'm not angry at you anymore, I won't yell at you over here, I just want you to get help. Do it for your daughter, at least. Jesus Fucking Christ, Lars… Okay, bye!”

**

Lars missed three whole workdays. Naturally, Alfhildr was worried, but didn't ask around nor commented about it with the others as to not get them suspicious.

In fact, she was about to drop by his house when her boss Eriksen called her up to his office. When she got there, she was faced with even higher-ranked police officers.

"What is it, Harald?" she said with a nervous smile. "Why did you summon the big guns on me?"

"Alfhildr, this is a very delicate issue. Your car was searched during the investigation of the crash… and we found these in your drawer". Seemingly out of nowhere, Erikson pulled out two Temproxate bottles protected by evidence bags.

"What are those?" Alfhildr said, doing her most innocent face again.

"Don't play naive with us, Alfhildr, we know you were treated with Temproxate when you arrived here".

She gave a big sigh and almost rolled her eyes.

"Fine, I do know it's Temproxate, but the bottles aren't mine, I swear!"

"They aren't?"

Then it hit her. If they weren't hers, naturally they belonged to the officer she shared that car with…

"You're aware me and Lars aren't exactly friends with our other colleagues?" She said defiantly.

"Where are you going with this, Alfhildr?"

"I'm just saying, maybe it's a setup".

"Are you accusing one of the other officers of planting evidence?"

She knew it was best not to argue further. Eriksen might take it on with Lars later…

"No, of course I'm not. It was just… a theory".

Eriksen squinted at her for a while, then sighed.

"Do you consent to having your blood tested?" he asked her.

"Yes", she answered, defeated. "Of course. Anything to clear this up".

"Our lab is on the parking lot, at the back. You can go right now if you want".

"Okay".

**

When she was returning from the blood test, she spotted Lars in one of the corridors that led to Eriksen's office.

"So you're back!" she greeted him sarcastically.

"Yeah, I'm-I'm clean again. What did you just do? 'Cause I--"

"What did I do? I got my blood taken to cover for you. They found--"

"The bottles in your car, I know. Eriksen just told me".

"Wait, you've already seen Eriksen?"

"Yeah", Lars was avoiding Alfhildr's eyes like an expert on that particular field. "I've told him the Temp is mine". He grimaced and without any logical reason headed downstairs, where Alfhildr had just come up from.

"Why did you do that?!" She stopped him with a shouted whisper. She didn't want anyone else to overhear them.

He didn't answer and looked away once more.

"Go back and tell him you lied to help me," she said. "I'm a beforeigner, they'll go easy on me!"

But Lars rubbed his forehead and descended a few more steps. A confused and scared Alfhildr followed him.

"Stop", he said. "Stop playing this humility game, Alfhildr".

"It's not a game, I honestly believe you're a better cop than me. I've heard the stories, from before your wife left you, the cases you worked in…" At this, Lars breathed deeply. Alfhildr couldn't tell whether he was annoyed or nostalgic. "And you've been a cop for a lot longer than me as well. You deserve a second chance, specially in this bloody precinct".

"A chance? A drug addict like myself?"

He's just used the word, Alfhildr thought. 'Addict'.

"Yes", she replied.

"Why? That makes no sense".

"Because… well…"

As she couldn't finish her sentence, Lars stepped down even closer to the parking lot. Again, she followed him.

"Don't beat yourself up so much", she told him as she gripped his left arm. She was pretty sure she was hurting him with those battle hands of hers, but he wasn't complaining either. Oddly. "Lars, even on drugs you're better than Wenche and the rest of clowns". He just looked at her in the eyes. "Come on, retract yourself to Eriksen…" Without meaning to, she dug her nails deeper into his skin. "Can't be that hard…" She gazed into his eyes.

Lars shook his head.

"I've already handed in my resignation", he confessed.

"You what!"

And Alfhildr grabbed him again as he was about to finish going down the stairs, this time barely above the wrist.

"You can't do that", she said to him.

"Why not? I made a mistake, and mistakes have to be paid for".

Alfhildr let go of his arm, angry.

"What kind of bullshit is that now?"

Lars blinked.

"I have to go, Alfhildr".

But she stopped him with a yank on his shoulder.

"You can't".

"Why?'

Still with one hand laid on it, she bit her lower lip and sighed as she hung her head.

"Because you can't leave me alone in here", she mumbled.

"What? I didn't catch that", Lars said.

She hated everything, hated the entire world in that moment.

"I said I'll be alone here. Not a single person having my back—"

"Alone?" Lars said. Oh how she was hating that stupid nonchalant tone he had adopted lately… "You won't be alone. Come on".

"Have you not been paying attention since my first day? Of course I'm alone!"

She had raised her voice again, yet felt weak doing it. She also had the stinking suspicion her colleagues were hearing all the yelling.

He didn't answer, again, only stared at her.

"You're my only friend in here, Lars".

She wanted to grab him again, by any body part if that's what it would take for him to retract from his resignation, but she didn't dare to. Instead, she looked at him with innocent eyes, this time genuine ones.

He stared back into them. It was the longest they both had been just gazing at each other in silence, and Alfhildr felt she had to do something. Anything. No, something had to happen because "the universe" made things happen for you or some other crap people passed off as 'spirituality' in the year 2019.

Lars broke contact and ran down the few stairs left until he was in the parking lot entrance. This time, she stayed right where she was.

"Goodbye, Alfhildr", he said awkwardly, and left the precinct.

What kind of goodbye is that?! Alfhildr thought as she sat down on the bare stairs, hands on her face. She wanted to cry, she really did, after a very long time of keeping her eyes dry and happy. As they should be. And then, she concluded: It's no good to trust anybody, to give your… No. She couldn't be thinking that.

But at the same time, she felt too weak to stand up, so she stayed on the staircase and 
buried her face between her knees.

**

It was past midnight and she was still at the office, doing some paperwork on her computer, paperwork she could easily do the following morning, at home. She suddenly decided to put on some music, but not black metal this time. Instead, she logged in to one of her music streaming accounts to let the service recommend her whatever. And she was very surprised (shocked, more like) at the enormous quantity of romantic ballads suddenly on her feed. Precisely as if the internet was reading her mind. So those Neo-Luddite morons weren't so wrong, after all…

But then she thought, fuck it, I don't understand those damn Saxon lyrics anyway; and she hit play on the first album cover that caught her attention.

The singers' voices made her laugh. The cover photo featured three males, but they sounded high-pitched and soft like women. Alfhildr liked the instrumentation, though. It was soothing.

The following songs finished putting her in a mellow mood. It wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling, but it was nice. She couldn't explain it.

And without realizing it, she had spent valuable minutes lost in the music instead of doing her paperwork. When she finally noticed, she decided to call Urd. At least with her the night wouldn't be completely wasted.

But her phone was off.

Then her computer played that chat notification sound she found so cute. She got her face closer to the screen and saw it was a message from Jeppe, the harbor cop and sexting partner extraordinaire. Funny, she had almost forgotten he existed.

Mead tonight? ;) —his message said.

Alfhildr smiled, suddenly devilish. 

Sure! —she replied—. Your place?

**

Lars didn't know why he kept his Instagram account active. He only followed his coworkers (on Human Resources' advice) and never interacted with anyone. He supposed he could start using it to keep tabs of what Madeleine was doing, that skeevy girl is hiding something, although if his daughter Ingrid ever busted him, he was done forever. His ex-wife would never forgive him, and she could even get the idea that he was stalking a teenage girl like some kind of creep.

Which he wasn't. He just suspected the girl was up to no good.

Lars was thinking about all of this non-sequitur as he scrolled down his feed absentmindedly. Suddenly, he got notified that there were new posts to show and, sure that he had nothing better to do that night than check them out, he refreshed his feed.

A very explicit picture of Alfhildr doing stuff Lars had locked out in the very depths of his brain was the first thing he saw. It was a photo with a man (and he had to check it was a man because Alfhildr was full of surprises) in almost total darkness if not for his red hair… Lars squinted to read the username who had posted the photo…. Jeppe. Jeppe, the harbor cop.

He closed the Instagram app with a swipe of his finger and got up in order to pay a visit to his neighbor slash drug dealer. It was way past midnight already, but Lars needed it, he needed it right then and there. He could kill for it. He longed for it like the flowers longed for the rain, like the fakir in the goddamn Middle East needed their Allah.

Chapter Text

When Igor saw the woman she had spent Ivar's departure and subsequent absence with, almost mourning together as if he had died, the woman who was carrying the child Igor would love like a brother, the woman he had risked his life to find, when he saw Katya with her long black hair now broken and dirty, wearing those strange white robes, chewing on her fingernails and specially the sadness in her beautiful eyes, it broke his heart. So much that he just had to run and fling himself into her arms, completely forgetting about the fact that she had lost her memories and couldn't even speak.

Expectedly, Katya looked at him like one looks at dirty beggar, and shifted backwards on the bed as she shook her head.

"It's me, Igor", the child said rather loudly, but she shook her head faster, shielding herself away from him. "Please, Katya…"

She kept doing the same movements, this time with added whimpers. Then she started sobbing softly, and despite his young age, Igor could tell what she was thinking. Why can't I remember? Why don't I know who I am?

He took a small crucifix (Dir's First Communion present) out of his new jacket and carefully held it in front of Katya's whimpering eyes. He didn't want to scare her even more by abruptly shoving a crucifix into her view.

She slowly looked up and became fixated by the Christian symbol. She was staring at it like one stares into the eyes of a person, deep into their soul, and the fear left her face to be replaced by intrigue. She tilted her head, grabbed the object but then shifted away in a near jump and started shaking her head again.

Igor was so frustrated he felt like crying, trapped in that strange place, in the future… He sat down on the visitor's chair, in front of her bed.

It felt unfair to him that Alfhildr couldn't stay with him after arriving at the hospital, and so there was no one to advise him on what to do if things got complicated. She had told him about crucifixes, how they had worked for her mysterious friend who had recovered his memories; but to Igor it wasn't enough. Something else could be wrong with Katya, for all he knew.

He decided to sing something from the Rus Mass he attended to every Sunday. He quite liked to sing, especially in Latin, the language used in all masses.

So he started off. Softly, very softly. By the end of the first verse, Katya sat up in bed and began listening with the same intrigue as before.

"Who's singing that rubbish?!" an angry Norse voice came from the next bed, separated from hers by a white curtain.

Igor stopped singing, scared, but it was too late, for right away someone drew the curtain open anyway and glared at him with disgust. It was a man approximately of Lars' age. 

Then it hit Igor: he could speak Norse. And perfectly, according to Alfhildr.

So he decided to recite a prayer Ivar had taught him:

"Odin, far-wanderer, grant me wisdom,
Courage, and victory.
Friend Thor, grant me your strength.
And both be with me".

The man took a step back, his clear eyes widening at the child, who looked back candidly. Then the Norse one frowned.

"Blóta", Igor spoke up, as confidently as he could, with the beginning of a smirk.

The man smiled, nodding once, and put a hand on Igor's shoulder.

"Já, blóta", he said and straightened up with a fist in the air. "Christians to the fire!"

And amongst some clapping, he returned to his bed. Igor exhaled, but no one heard him below the horrified murmurs of the doctors and nurses.

Then, Katya started making strange, hollow noises. He turned at her: it was like she was trying to speak.

The boy ran to look for a nurse, and when he found one that seemed kind, he dragged her towards Katya's bed and explained what was going on in his incipient Norwegian.

The nurse placed a finger on her chin for a moment, then approached Katya with care. She sat down on her bed, gave her a remedy Igor couldn't glimpse, but that seemed to be helping the princess, who was a lot calmer now.

The nurse pointed at Igor and asked Katya for his name.

"A-a…" she managed to croak.

"Hva heter du, lille gutt?" the nurse asked Igor himself.

"Igor", the boy answered.

"Igor…" Once again, the nurse's index finger was on her chin. "Russisk?"

"Rus, ja", Igor said.

The nurse wrote something in the file she was carrying and showed it to Igor, who recognized the Norse runes for the second time since his arrival in Oslo.

For how long have you been in Oslo? —the nurse wanted to know.

I don't remember —Igor wrote on the same paper—. A while.

The nurse smiled weakly and nodded at him, visibly frustrated for not being able to continue the conversation. Then she looked down on her papers again and back up at Katya.

"Your name is Katya Henadiyivna", she said to her with a gentle expression.

Just as Igor realized Valentyna had "given" Katya her last name, the latter's eyes widened. She stared at the nurse for a long moment, Igor noticed it was because of the golden crucifix around her neck, then fainted on the bed.

"Katya!" Igor shouted and jumped off his chair, but the nurse stopped him with one arm. She shouted some names and soon a lot of other nurses had gathered around Katya.

Igor couldn't see what they were doing to her, so he got anxious. He tried jumping up so he could catch something.

Suddenly, the nurses stepped back with gasps of surprise, and Igor could see Katya awake again, with a look more alive than before. More authentic.

"Katya?" Igor tried again, standing up from his chair.

And she smiled at him.

"Prince Igor", she said in Rus and sat up slowly on the bed. “I remember now”.

Igor was so relieved he nearly chuckled and teared up at the same time. With the nurses now completely out of the way, he run into her arms once again, this time receiving a tight hug and a kiss on the head from the princess.

"You jumped into the lake for me, didn't you?" She asked him as she cupped his face.

Igor nodded.

"You didn't have to", she said.

"No, I did. For Ivar".

Katya heaved at the mention of the name, her cheeks turning a little pink.

"Is he here too?"

"No…" Igor shook his head sadly, but then remembered what Alfhildr had said to him and added, louder: "Not yet".

Katya tilted her head at him.

"You believe in him", she stated.

"Of course I do", Igor said, almost shouting. "Don't you?”

Katya snickered in a sad manner.

"He doesn't love me. Not really anyway".

Igor narrowed his eyes at her, remembered how Ivar used to talk about Katya, how enamored he really seemed to be, but decided not to ask questions about adult matters.

When he turned around, he saw that only the first nurse, the one he had dragged in there, had stayed. Sitting in his chair, she was jotting down on some papers.

She stopped, looked up at the boy and smiled.

"Katya will be fine", she said in Norwegian, and stood up.

"Does that mean she will be released soon?" He answered in Old Norse, getting mad at his own head.

The nurse shook her head rapidly and left Katya's wing.

***

Alfhildr went to pick Igor up late at night, finding him nearly falling asleep on the visitor's chair. She hugged him, apologized and told him she would have lost her job if she missed that particular day.

"Why?" A curious Igor asked her. 

She sighed.

"It's a complicated case we're investigating with Lars, that's all".

"Like with murderers and thieves?"

"Just murderers", she chuckled. "But we're not in danger, you and I, don't worry".

Alfhildr looked in Katya's direction. The princess was now sedated and sleeping.

"Did she get her memories back?" she asked Igor.

"Yes, all of them!"

The shield maiden grinned.

"That's wonderful, Igor! So, ready to go home?"

Katya's sudden, piercing scream almost ripped the boy's ears off. He covered them as he watched her back arch up over the bed and her hands hold her abdomen, which quickly grow into a bigger pregnant belly.

Igor was paralyzed with shock and fear. Was that what usually happened in the future? Had the future people put something into Katya’s body?

Meanwhile, Alfhildr left the spot and quickly came back with a flock of nurses. They worked on Katya until her screams stopped and her arms rested on the bed again. There was a lot of movement from the nurses and one doctor in and out of Katya's guard, so neither Igor nor Alfhildr could see her properly. When the guard finally cleared up a bit and a sleeping princess came into view, Igor pulled from Alfhildr's jacket.

"Alfhildr…"

"Oh sweet Odin… How?"

"I don’t know, but I saw it grow".

Alfhildr squinted at the princess, then asked Igor if he knew for how long had she been pregnant.

"Not too long, I think…" He answered, remembering. "I had found out about it a few days after we traveled to the lake".

"This is some weird shit…"

Suddenly, the flock of nurses came back and started talking to Alfhildr. They all seemed serious and worried, and there was a lot of nodding and ‘okays’. Finally, two of the future people connected Katya to a machine and took her away in the same bed, which now could move, to Igor's puzzlement.

"Where are they taking her?" He asked Alfhildr in desperation.

"Intermediate Care", she answered and looked at him directly, one hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, they'll care for her there, she'll be watched at all times. They just want to make sure her baby will be fine".

"And will it?"

Alfhildr grimaced.

"We don't know, to be honest… Just trust the Gods, okay?"

"Which ones?"

Alfhildr frowned, smiling. "What do mean which ones?"

"Christ or Odin?"

"You worship both?"

"They're both real".

Alfhildr snickered, puzzled.

"No, no, you can't do that… Come on, let's go home".

She put a hand over his shoulder and the two stared for the exit, but he still looked up at her in genuine curiosity.

"But why not?" He insisted.

"Oh, I'm so not ready for this conversation…" Alfhildr said with another snicker, and pushed her long hair back.

Igor let it go. When they reached the exit, he asked instead:

"Will we come back tomorrow?"

"I don't know yet, visits are very restricted in IC. You have to be patient, okay?".

But Igor pouted, effectively like the kid he wasn't being allowed to be. 

"I want Ivar to be here", he complained.

"Ivar the Boneless…" Alfhildr mused to herself. "I'm quite sure he'll be here soon. He always fought his way out”.

***

Two days later, while they rested at Alfhildr's trailer home, she got a call on her telephone. After it ended, she told Igor a nurse was worried about Katya and urged them both to go see her immediately at IC. She clarified that the baby wasn’t in any danger, but that "the strange thing" had happened again and they needed to see it for themselves.

So they hurried there, and what they saw made their jaws drop: Katya's pregnancy bump had now grew into a significant belly.

"What the fuck…?" Alfhildr muttered.

A doctor turned to her, angry, and she apologized quickly.

Katya was awake, but visibly exhausted and distressed, touching her belly once in a while as she stared at it. She spotted the duo and immediately called for Igor, who ran towards her. It was the first time he saw her truly vulnerable.

"Prince Igor…" She said. "Do you know something about what's happening to me? I don't understand this people's language…"

Igor tried in his mind to find the right words, but he felt he couldn't.

"I think it's best that Alfhildr explains it".

"Who?"

And Igor called her in.

"This is Alfhildr. She's a shield maiden".

"Viking?"

"Yes", Alfhildr said with a smile. "I've lived here for three years now. It’s an honor to meet you, Princess Katya”.

Katya nodded, then frowned from sadness.

"But does that mean… I get to stay in this place too?"

Igor shook his head. "You won't, I promise. We'll all return home soon”.

The princess smiled.

"You’ve changed, Prince Igor. You weren't that optimistic in Kiev".

"I taught him that", Alfhildr intervened. "I've been taking care of Igor this whole time".

"Oh… How did you find him?”

“He was found by someone else, then sent here to Oslo”.

The princess turned to the boy. “Igor, are you okay?”

He nodded.

“Thank you, Alfhildr”, she said, taking the shield maiden’s hands.

Alfhildr smiled in a light chuckle.

"It's nothing, don’t worry".

After a pause, the princess asked her:

"Will my child be alright?"

"I'm counting on it. The nurses said they didn't find anything wrong".

"How? They can't see inside of me".

"They actually can in this time".

Katya's eyebrows went up and she pulled the bed covers slightly further up.

"It means they'll take care of you”, Alfhildr assured her. “They have the best tech—resources for that".

The princess just looked at her.

"And who knows, maybe they've dealt with something like this before. Maybe that's what happens to pregnant women when they arrive here".

"The nurses said that?" Igor intervened.

"I haven't asked them yet, it's just a…" Alfhildr's voice went weak. "A hunch I have".

"Oh".

"Igor, do you mind going outside with me for a while? I need to ask you something".

Outside the beforeigners hospital, workers moved boxes in and out of trucks.

"What do you want to ask me, Alfhildr?" Igor said.

"Uh… Ivar is the father of that child, isn't he?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Cop intuition", she smirked. "But please tell me he didn't abandon her…"

Igor blinked several times.

"He told me he had to return to Kattegat”, he recalled. “He also said he had to leave so I could become a man who could stand on his own feet".

"Aw, Igor…" Alfhildr pulled him in for a hug. "He'll come here, you hear me? He will arrive at any second".

The boy sniffed.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Ivar is destined for greatness. Ever since we Vikings are little kids, they tell us stories about him. He won't let anything get in his way".

Igor looked up at the shield maiden, calmer now.

***

They returned to Katya's room. There weren't any visitors chairs at IC, so Alfhildr and Igor stood there, watching Katya falling asleep.

Igor pulled on the shield-maiden's long jacket and got on his toes to whisper in her ear.

"Is Katya's child going to die?"

"Of course he won't, Igor! Why would you think such a thing?"

"You haven't asked the nurses yet".

"But I will. I promise".

Igor's fists clenched as he gained the courage to say what was on his mind. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times in the process.

"I just don't want anyone to hide things from me. I'm already ten years old".

Alfhildr chuckled with tenderness.

"Ten, really? I could have sworn you were nine".

"Alfhildr".

She observed his angry face with amusement.

"Listen" she said, "I'll ask a doctor about it if you want. They know more than nurses. Does that make you feel safer?"

"Yes".

Katya was waking up again, so Igor asked the shield-maiden why she kept falling asleep and waking up.

"It's the medication", Alfhildr explained. "The… remedies make her sleep".

Female screams filled the entire hospital, followed by a big commotion. Igor could hear male, stern shouts in Norwegian, and suddenly a lot of patients and visitors were standing in the corridors, looking around the place.

A nurse stormed in, upset.

"Everybody, back to your beds! This doesn't concern you!"

"What's going on?" A beforeigner asked, shouting.

"Who came to the hospital?" Igor followed, in Norwegian.

"No one, it—it doesn't matter. Go back to your dorms! Except you, Enngisdottir".

Alfhildr and Igor (Katya hadn't been able to leave her bed) looked at the nurse in shock as the others followed her orders.

"You work with the police, am I correct?" She asked.

"I am an officer. Why, what exactly is happening?"

The nurse lowered her voice to speak to Alfhildr alone. Then she looked both sides of the corridor and Igor understood her: "You must come with me, Enngisdottir".

Igor gripped Alfhildr's arm.

"I'm going with her", he said firmly in Old Norse.

The nurse frowned at him, then looked back at Alfhildr.

"He can't, he's just a child", Igor understood.

Alfhildr said something in Norwegian and then took the gun Igor already knew out of her pants, but that seemed only to disturb the nurse even more.

"No…" she shoved the weapon back, then pointed at Igor: "No".

As the boy frowned in anger, the nurse dragged Alfhildr out of the ICU.

He sat down on the floor for a brief moment, until both women were put of sight, then stood up to follow them.

***

Alfhildr's footsteps came closer and closer as she heard a man's voice coming from the hospital's lobby, in clear Norwegian:

"No, no! Stop that! I'm a cripple, where do you think I'm going to escape to?"

When she and the nurse got there, all colors left Alfhildr's face. Nothing in the world could have prepared her for that sight.

"Ivar the Boneless…" she breathed out in Norse as her stomach did several flips.

"You know me?" Ivar went back to his Norse language.

His warrior attire was as weary and dirty as his crutches, but all in all he looked quite happy, as his grinning, bloody mouth showed.

"I'm…" Alfhildr started, and gulped. "Alfhildr Enngisdottir. Shield maiden for Tore Hund's army".

"Tore Hund?" Ivar repeated.

Alfhildr relaxed a little with a tiny smile.

"He's from after your time. Tore told me all kinds of stories about you, Ivar. You're a legend amongst legends".

Just as Ivar chuckled, half-humble, the doctors and nurses cleared their throats.

"This man is obviously a criminal—!"

"No criminal!" Alfhildr gestured with her hands to calm them down. "He just—got attacked by a…"

"A Hafgufa?" Another doctor mocked her.

"It was actually a raccoon…" She bit her lip to stop a smile from showing. "A feisty, vicious one. Right, Ivar?"

"Yes, a raccoon", Ivar said.

"Do you seriously expect us—”

"He isn't armed", Alfhildr interrupted, raising her palms, "so he's not here to attack anyone, and he's a cripple—"

"We don't use that word around here!"

Alfhildr rolled her eyes and sighed heavily.

"Fine, he's disabled. Do you people really think he's a murderer or something like that?"

This time there were no protests, only almost imperceptible murmurs.

"Good. Now get this man medical attention", and Alfhildr showed them her badge. "That's a police order".

Since the female nurses wouldn't go near Ivar, Alfhildr had to help him walk towards the emergency dorm, where she sat him down on a white bed. 

As a male doctor examined his wounds, she asked him, barely moving her mouth and in the most casual tone possible, how did he speak Norwegian.

"I don't know", Ivar answered, also in Norse. "I came here and I just… I could understand it, for some reason. Whenever I'm in front of people of this time I say what I want to say and... my lips just move different".

This information disturbed Alfhildr, so she didn't reply. But then she remembered the lost poems, the ones that said Ivar wasn't a simple mortal. Could he be the answer to… everything that was happening?

"I would advise you not to speak in Norwegian in front of this people", she said to him and side-eyed the doctor. “It’s not safe”.

"… Alright".

The doctor was done with Ivar's mouth.

"That's human blood in his mouth, officer", he informed.

Alfhildr panicked, staring at Ivar, who kept his mouth tightly shut and his eyes glancing from her to the doctor.

"Quit pretending, young man", the latter said, "I heard you speaking Norwegian in the lobby. For how long have you been here and why aren't you in our records?"

"Excuse me", Alfhildr said, "but I'm the investigator here”.

"I don't remember when exactly I appeared here", Ivar spoke in Norwegian again, much calmer than Alfhildr was. "I only remember dragging myself to the shore. I couldn’t find my crutches, as you surely will understand. Then some bastard came to me, beat me and dragged me to… to a dungeon or something similar. There were others like me in there. We were tortured—"

"Enough!" the doctor suddenly shouted, his face like a tomato.

"Something to hide, doctor?" Alfhildr said with a cunning glare. "If those people were— are being tortured, then the culprits have to pay, am I wrong?"

"No, of course… No, we won't let torturers get away with it… Please continue, young man".

Ivar smirked so devilishly it almost melted Alfhildr. Why did he had to be more handsome than in her fantasies?

"They underestimated me", he told. "When it was late at night and they had fallen asleep, I crawled towards the ginger—"

"Who?" Alfhildr and the doctor asked at the same time.

"The one who attacked me upon my arrival", Ivar answered, flippant. "I bit his nose", he laughed. "And he screamed like a little girl!"

"Wait… Ginger, you said?" Alfhildr wanted to know more.

"Yes, ginger. Very tall, a bit of blond hair—"

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

"Okay, I think we better continue this conversation at the station", she hurried to say.

"The… station?" Ivar said.

"I'm a police investigator. I fight criminals", Alfhildr explained, smirking at how cool that had sounded.

The doctor was upset.

"Well…" He said, and his left cheek twitched. "Despite your… unconventional methods, I'm glad you managed to escape from your captors, young man".

"Alright", Alfhildr said. "After he's done here, he needs to see his family".

"Family?" Both doctor and Ivar were puzzled.

"There's a missing person's portrait that looks exactly like Ivar, doctor. And the people looking for him happen to be on this very wing".

"May I see this portrait?" The doctor asked.

Alfhildr clicked her tongue, faking disappointment.

"Ahh it's at the police station! Otherwise I'd gladly show it to you".

The doctor just looked at her.

"Very well", he resigned. "I'll cure his mouth and then you'll take him with his family".

Alfhildr nodded and headed towards the exit door. She gave Ivar a significant glance and said to the doctor:

"I'll be outside. And don't try anything funny, doctor".

"Funny?"

"Ivar acted in self-defense. Do not treat him like a criminal".

And without catching his reaction, she left the room. Once outside, she was sure her warning had not been necessary. If Ivar had gotten past Jeppe (she got queasy thinking about the possibility and tried to block it out of her mind), then an old doctor would be easy peasy for him.

***

Ivar seemed to be in perfect health. Ironically, according to himself, since he practically had no legs (he chuckled at this phrase). But the old doctor had cured his body bruises and wounds from the time at the "dungeon", and told him his mouth wasn't infected, incredibly. The old man cleaned it with an awful-tasting liquid and Ivar was good to go.

“Follow me”, Alfhildr told him.

They slightly smiled at each other and began walking side by side.

"Do you know the name of the man who attacked you, by any chance?" She asked.

"Hmm… Jeppe. His name was Jeppe, if I remember correctly".

Alfhildr's heart shrunk like a dying flower. How could I be so stupid? And who knows what other horrible things could he be up to?

"Is it true Katya and Igor are in this place?" Ivar interrupted her thoughts. He didn't doubt Váli, but finding the two so quickly seemed too good to be true.

"Well, Katya is. Igor is staying with me. A friend brought him here from Kiev”.

"Really? And he didn’t suffer any harm?”

"No, he’s perfectly fine”, Alfhildr smiled.

"Wow… Thank you. Thanks a million, Alfhildr. I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened that boy".

“I'm sure he feels the same way about you. He told me you’re like a father to him”.

"Really, he said that?"

"Does it surprise you?"

"Maybe… I never thought I'd be anyone's father. No woman wanted me, for most of my life. And now Katya is carrying my child… It's incredible".

"You're incredible", Alfhildr smiled.

"You know I'm taken, right?" Ivar said after a chuckle.

"I know, I know, and I would never… But I grew up with stories about you, epic stories… And I always wondered what you looked like".

"Well… Here I am", Ivar said, half vain, half awkward. Then he got serious. “Is Katya sick, that’s why she’s here?”

She looked at him with kindness, but didn’t want to worry him so soon.

"Kind of. She's been through a lot, but she's pulling through. She's a warrior".

Ivar smiled. "She is, I know she is".

Only Alfhildr's boots and the tapping of Ivar's crutches could be heard in the corridors. He guessed it was midnight because of the temperature and the position of the moon when he rushed into the hospital.

"It must have been frightening for Igor too”, Ivar finally said, “this…"

"It was! At the beginning. But he's a wonderful kid, and he's been feeling better since Katya was moved to this hospital".

Ivar nodded.

"Is there any way to keep my identity in secret here?"

"You could try buying modern clothes… Like the ones I'm wearing. I could get some for you".

"For free?"

"Sure. It's no problem for me".

"Thank you. For how long have you been living here, Alfhildr?"

"A bit over three years".

"Do you miss our kingdoms?"

"Of course I do! But it's hard to go back to the past unless..."

She wanted to mention the timehole, Madeleine's case... But perhaps it could get Ivar the Boneless into trouble.

"Unless you go through the timehole, you mean?"

Alfhildr's eyes opened up like fried eggs.

"How do you know this? Who sent you?"

Ivar smirked, thinking, Váli, the God of Vengeance, sent me.

They had arrived at the ICU guard. Most of the lights were out and only little Igor could be seen sitting on the floor and staring down at it.

"Who gave you those ridiculous clothes, Igor?", Ivar teased him.

***

The child looked up.

"Ivar!" He shouted and ran into his arms.

"How's my boy!" Ivar ruffled Igor's hair as he hugged him back. "You look absolutely ridic—Now no, don't cry…"

Igor was hiccupping and sniffing, still in Ivar's arms.

"I was only joking about—”

"I've missed you, dad…" Igor wailed.

Ivar was sure he had heard the word before Igor himself, who continued crying on his shoulder.

"Igor…" Ivar tried to sooth him. "Igor, my boy, calm down…" He squatted before him and cupped his left cheek. The crying decreased for a moment. "Do you want me to call you 'son' from now on?"

"You would do that, really?" A congested Igor asked.

"Of course. I already love you like a son either way. Now I’ll also call you as one".

Igor hugged Ivar again, tighter. His crying was now a happy one.

"Why did it take you so long to get here?" The boy complained.

"Hey, I had to ride the Kraken to arrive!"

"The freaking Kraken?" A congested Alfhildr spoke.

The newly father and son broke the hug to look at Alfhildr, whose eyes and nose were red.

Igor pointed and laugh.

"You're crying…"

"Igor!" Ivar scolded.

"No, it's because she told me she never ever cried".

"Well, I obviously fucking lied, Igor", Alfhildr said and took out a handkerchief to blow her nose.

All three of them laughed, Igor with a big grin.

"May I see Katya now?" Ivar asked Alfhildr.

"Ooh, I think time passed us by, Ivar…" She sniffed,  checked her watch and made a face. "Yes, it’s already quite late. But we can come back in the morning, surely".

"That's fair", Ivar said. "But where will Igor and I sleep?"

"There's an empty trailer house near mine, I'll get you there".

"I'm sorry, an empty what?"

Alfhildr chuckled before saying, "Igor will explain it to you. You love those houses, don't you, Igor?"

"I do! They have wheels, Ivar, wheels!"

"Not so loud, son, you'll wake up the people here!"

"We have to leave now?" Igor asked her.

"Yes, but we can't do it through the front door, the evil Norwegians will get suspicious”, she and Igor chuckled. “We have to find the secret back door". Alfhildr turned her phone lantern on went for a left corridor. "Follow me", she instructed.

***

At the trailer home Alfhildr ended up buying for Ivar, he woke up feeling quite strange. He was nauseous, his head hurt and he didn't want anything going down his throat. Not even water.

He sat up in the bed and turned around to look through the windows: it was raining lightly and other Vikings were dancing to the beat of drums, drinking mead, laughing out loud. Ivar smiled, but only a second after he was stumbling to the bathroom to vomit. As he washed himself, he remembered with a bit of resentment that Váli had never warned him about this sickness.

There was a knock on his door.

"It's Alfhildr!" she shouted.

Ivar went to open it.

"I'm sick", he said.

"I know", the shield maiden said right after. She searched in her pockets and held a small yellow bottle before Ivar. "This will make you feel better".

He grabbed the bottle and examined it closely.

"What is this, a drug?"

"Yes. It—"

"I don't take drugs", Ivar shook his head and gave the Temproxate back to Alfhildr.

"It'll make the sickness go away".

Ivar glared at her for a moment.

"We could go to the hospital for that".

She smiled. "It's the time sickness, silly". Ivar was about to tell her to watch her tone, but the previous words intrigued him so he let her continue. "Everyone who comes here from the past gets sick. The Temproxate helps with the symptoms. A few weeks and you'll be as good as new".

Ivar's eyebrows knotted together as he stared at the bottle on Alfhildr's hand.

"Did you just call me silly?"

"Igor has taken it too, and you can see he's completely fine", she said.

Ivar grimaced, but said: "Fine, I'll take them. If only to see Katya".

Alfhildr put the first drops on his green eyes and waited until the effects settled in. Ivar blinked several times until his body adjusted to the medicine.

"Is Igor awake?" he asked.

"Not yet. He's been up many nights, worried about Katya", Alfhildr had a sad face saying that.

"Aw…”

"He's very emotional about her— and the baby", the shield maiden smiled. "He already loves it".

Ivar chuckled tenderly.

"You mean, he".

"Do you want it to be a boy?"

"Of course. I want to keep the family bloodline".

"Right".

But Alfhildr's smile faded, and fast. Ivar could see she was troubled.

"Is something wrong?" He asked her.

She shook her head fast, blinking.

"No, it's all good. Let's go wake Igor up".

***

The rain grew so heavy that day that Ivar and Alfhildr couldn't leave the trailer house until it subsided, approximately at 11 pm. Igor had fallen asleep again at 10, so Alfhildr decided not to disturb him. Ivar was worried about leaving him alone at night, but the shield maiden assured him everyone in the 'neighborhood' respected her and she was going to ask a good friend of hers to watch over the house. Before leaving, she left a message for Igor on the kitchen and double-locked the door.

Katya had been transferred to the small dual bedroom section, still inside the beforeigners hospital, on exhortation of the Ukrainian government. It wasn't that they knew who Katya actually was, as Alfhildr explained to Ivar, but that they couldn't stand having a national mistreated in a foreign country.

It was quite dim when Alfhildr and Ivar reached the second story and last obstacle: a young nurse.

"Good evening", she said. "You're Katya's partner".

"Yes", Ivar said.

"He's not armed, officer?" She talked to Alfhildr now.

"No, he left all weapons at my place".

The nurse shot a horrifying look at Alfhildr, who contained her laughter.

“I was… just kidding”.

The nurse glanced at Ivar from head to toe, then said:

"Alright, you can go through".

The whole way between that nurse and Katya's room, Ivar had his heart jumping out of his chest. The tapping of his crutches could be heard over the strange, high-pitched sounds coming from some patients’ machines.

He was getting closer… 

"Katya…" his voice was low as he opened the door leading to her bedroom.

But the vision of the person over the bed who locked eyes with him made him stumble back and fall painfully on the floor, inavertedly getting the door closed.

He felt stupid as he looked down on himself. Useless. Of course it had all been a prank, a sick joke.

"Ivar!" The unknown woman shouted and in a moment, she was there to lift him up and put him back on his crutches.

He looked at her as she did so: same long black hair as Katya, but a completely different face. Sapphire-like eyes, smaller nose, oval face. She was also pregnant, but that, for all he knew, could be merely a coincidence.

"You're not Katya", he said breathlessly, feeling his entire world was crumbling down. "Where is she?" He grabbed the woman's throat between his fingers, pushing her onto the bed. "Where is she?!"

Her eyes got teary as she pleaded.

"Ivar… Please, nei…"

The confusion made him loosen his grip a bit.

"Þú mæli norse?"

"Já…" The woman looked deep into his eyes, begging for mercy, and he let her go. “It’s me, Katya…” she continued in old Rus.

And Ivar understood all of it. He looked down.

"I'm sorry I hurt you", he said and raised his head. "But are you really her?"

"The same Katya you met. I'm just not Freydis. I never was. I told you so many times, Ivar".

She grazed a finger through his cheek. Like she was… in love, indeed.

"But why am I seeing the truth just now?", he said, gazing into the new, sapphire eyes. It was hard to get used to them.

"Maybe it's because now you love the real me".

Ivar touched her cheek softly and moved down to her chin. This new 'Katya' was beautiful nonetheless. He had to admit it. And her hair, the same long, dark hair he knew, was pulling him towards her. She had almost the same power over him as that cursed lake had over Prince Dir. But it felt good, this 'curse' of hers. Ivar didn't want it to ever end.

"Do you still love Freydis, Ivar?"

"No, I don't".

He was surprised at his quick and truthful answer. If he hadn't had to think it through too much, if he hadn't had to lie, then that meant it was true…

"I only love one woman. And it will always be Katya".

"You mean, me”, she almost chuckled. “Because I am Katya".

"Prove it".

"If I kiss you...", she cooed for him and shifted towards the edge of the bed, where she flung her arms around his neck. "Will you remember me, feel me in your flesh and heart?"

Ivar’s head twitched in confusion.

"Come on, Ivar… You do remember what our kisses felt like, don't you? Because I remember. They were like…"

And she whispered something in his ear that made all the hairs in his body stand on end, all the right parts tingle. His mouth dried up as they gazed at each other, and some kind of warmness took over him. Just as when he and Katya made love for the first…

"The first time we made love…" he spoke in a hoarse voice. "You were Freydis. I saw it, you spoke to me in my language".

"No, Ivar", she said kindly, without a trace of condescension, "you saw Freydis. You heard her voice. But we did made love, you didn't imagine that".

"What did you really say to me, that night?"

She smiled with a beautiful blush.

"That I would give you what Freydis never did. That everything was going to be alright, with us together".

He pounced on her for a kiss that turned out to be more spirited and fierier than ever before. Ivar had thought it was impossible to give oneself up to someone else like that, until you were both literally breathless, but there was Katya, showing him that it was possible, that she truly loved him, even more than any other man before him.

The lovers were panting and moaning into each other lips rather loudly, but Ivar didn't care if the bed next to them, divided by a white curtain, was occupied. He only had eyes for Katya, he was there to love Katya.

When they had to pause to breathe, she guided his hand to her pregnant belly, and before Ivar could ask how it had gotten so big, for how long exactly had they been apart, he felt the baby kick. And he knew it was a boy, just as he had known Oslo was the city with houses as tall as mountains and where words traveled like the wind.

After grinning into each other's lips, Ivar and Katya continued kissing and ended up on the white hospital bed, with her on top and him, who watched in amazement —because he wouldn't ever not be amazed by her— how her hospital gown fell down her shoulders. She then bent over him, planted a kiss on his neck and murmured, while undoing his Viking armor:

"I love you, Ivar".

He caressed her hair, reached for one of her hands and held it tight.

"I love you too, Katya".

***

"It's morning, Ivar!"

It was Alfhildr's voice, Ivar recognized as he opened his eyes. He was completely naked, just as Katya was as she slept peacefully with an arm over his chest.

There was another knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Alfhildr asked.

"No! Wait just a second…"

A rushed Ivar nudged Katya, trying to wake her up.

"Katya… Katya…".

He moved her arm away, carefully. She hummed and woke up in a manner that showed the true princess she was. 

"King Ivar…" she purred, looking at him.

"We have to get dressed".

"Why?"

"We have to, we must. What if one of those 'doctors' walks in—"

"You don't want anyone else to see my body", she smirked.

"I had enough of that when Oleg was around".

The images flashed through Ivar's mind like knife cuts. Oleg possessing Katya in front of him just to spite him. Katya enjoying it… Now he knew he wouldn't be able to get it out of his head all day. He trusted her but… that was one memory that would haunt him forever.

"Don't torture yourself", Katya took his hand.

"Just put on your new clothes and hurry up!" Alfhildr half-shouted into the door, in a thick Norse accent.

Ivar snorted a laugh, looked around and found clothing in a cabinet above Katya's head. It was similar to what Igor wore now, only of darker colors.

He took a piece, put it over his head and started unknotting his hair braids.

"I have to go", he said to Katya.

“I understand”.

She helped him with the braids, then started with the rest of his new clothes.

"Will you come back often?" she asked him as she did it.

"I'll try to. I'm on a quest".

"Quest? From whom?"

"Secret", Ivar smirked. "But I promise I'll be here for the birth of our child. And I'll bring us all back home".

"Kattegat?"

"No, Kiev", he answered with a grin.

"How are you so sure about all of this?"

"Katya, I love you, but I can’t tell you that yet”.

She laughed, bit her lower lip and her mouth twisted in a mock-pout. Then she got off the bed to put on her hospital gown again. Ivar, already dressed, took the chance to see if the other bed in the room was occupied.

It was, but the patient seemed to be unconscious. Not even his breathing was audible, only the sound of the machine connected to chest.

Ivar exhaled in relief.

"You look funny in that clothing!" Katya chuckled behind him.

"Alfhildr bought some for you too, for when you get released", Ivar teased her.

That got her quiet, her face alarming. It was Ivar's turn to chuckle and then he moved around her bed to kiss her goodbye.

"I'll be back", he murmured.

"I know you will", she smiled.

***

When Ivar opened got out of the bedroom, he found Alfhildr waiting for him with a wide smile.

"You look positively cool, Ivar the Boneless".

He scratched his now lose hair.

"What does that mean?"

"Just super... really… Viking".

They smirked together. She had a new pair of crutches in her hands. They were white and made of something like iron.

"Are those for me?"

"Yeah, I bought them from a nurse. Come on, try them on".

Ivar's head tilted left.

"Are you sure they're stronger than mine?"

"Completely. It's what they use here".

She helped him put the crutches under his armpits, and when both Vikings started moving along towards the hospital exit, he found himself happy with the change.

"This is a wonderful improvement", he commented to Alfhildr.

"Yes, medicine is quite advanced now. On the bright side of things".

But Ivar suddenly stopped on his tracks.

"Wait, where's Igor?"

Alfhildr chuckled. 

"Relax, he's waiting in my car".

"Ah, alright…"

"Do you like your new clothes?"

"They're a bit itchy, and Katya thinks I look funny now, but I like them. Thanks, Alfhildr".

"You're very much welcome, Ivar".

She smiled at him as they continued walking side by side.

Suddenly, he frowned and asked:

"What happened to… to Katya's pregnancy? I don't reckon it's been that long since I left Kiev".

"Oh, that… It's sort of a… Well, the doctors here wouldn't believe me, but I think it's magic".

"Magic? She's no witch".

"No, I mean the good kind of magic. When she was brought to this hospital she barely had a belly. One night it just grew until she was about this big, all in a matter of seconds. Very painful for her, I have to tell you… Two days later, it grew again, the size it is now".

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. The doctors haven't figured out why it happened yet, but your child is fine; he's a healthy, normal baby, and they can't explain that".

Ivar arched his eyebrows and said nothing for a while. Of course the child was going to be fine, he thought, Váli had reassured him he would be compensated. But Katya's process… that was a complete mystery.

"Do you think it's because of the time travel?" He asked Alfhildr.

"Maybe", she answered. "Who knows what happens when you come here?"

"You mean… You don't remember how you arrived?"

Alfhildr shook her head. "No one does. Only the people who arrived on purpose".

"Like me", he smirked.

"Exactly".

"Do you really not remember?"

"No… I just suddenly woke up in the middle of the ocean and tried not to drown…" She shuddered. "Not pleasant".

"I'm sorry about that. My journey was much more comfortable".

"How come?"

Ivar gave her a mysterious smirk.

***

On the car, all three started talking about Oleg, mostly because that scene kept replaying on Ivar's head. 

Suddenly, Igor confessed:

"I killed him, Alfhildr. I killed uncle Oleg".

She raised her eyebrows, smirking a bit through the rearview mirror.

"Really?"

"Yes. I had to. And Ivar helped me".

Ivar was grinning with pride.

"One less crazy idiot in the world", he said to Alfhildr, who glanced at Igor through the same mirror.

"Well, Igor, you’ve just become a true Viking in my eyes".

The child grinned and thanked her.

***

"So Hvitserk was right", the boy told Ivar when they were about to say goodbye to Alfhildr, at the beforeigners’ ‘block’ of trailer homes. She was talking to some of her friends. "You were seeing things. Katya was never this Freydis woman".

Ivar chuckled and patted Igor's head.

"One day, Igor, when you fall in love… you'll understand".

"Understand that you can go mad?"

"Only a little, yes".

"Odd… Uncle Dir once told me the same thing".

"That's because every man knows it, son", Ivar ruffled the boy's hair.

"What?!" Alfhildr suddenly shouted, far from them. She was speaking over what Ivar had learned was the 'telephone'. "No, stay there, Ingrid, I got his spare keys… Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes… Good, the more people the better… Bye!"

She walked towards them in a rush, apologetic.

"You two stay in Ivar's house”, she pointed at it. “I'll be back in a few hours, but there's plenty of food in there".

"Where are you going, Alfhildr?" Igor asked her.

She grimaced.

"To Lars".

She ran towards her car and waved goodbye at a puzzled Ivar and frowning Igor before getting inside.

Chapter Text

Ivar almost jumped on his chair when Igor turned on the TV that rested on a wooden shelf in front of their tiny dining table. They were having pre-cooked breakfast that the boy had quickly learned how to make.

"What is that?" Ivar pointed a shaky finger at it.

Igor, who was kneeling in front of the device, lowered its volume and watched the screen up-close for a while.

"It's like a telephone…” he explained. “But bigger". He stood up and returned to the dining table. "You can see anything that happens in the world".

Ivar arched his eyebrows over his teacup.

"Interesting. So what's happening now?"

He could see Igor struggling with the written words on the screen. The images, on the other hand, were easier to decipher: a group of present-day people protesting outside a block of apartments.

"I don't know. I don't understand that writing", Igor said.

"Well, luckily for you, I do".

"How?"

Ivar smirked. "I don't know. I just arrived here… and was able to understand it".

Igor stared at him, his head tilting slightly.

"And how did you arrive? You haven't told me about that yet. How did you swim to the shore?"

"I didn't have to swim”.

At Igor's confused look, Ivar smirked and brushed his dark hair.

"The Gods are with us, son. That's all I can say for now. And don't mention this to anyone. Can I trust you?"

Igor nodded. "Of course".

Ivar smiled and turned his attention to the television again.

"Saint Olav Church vandalized by Norse gangs", he translated. "Brilliant! Wait, Saint…?"

"King Olav?" Igor followed.

"He wasn't a Christian…"

"Wait, what is the woman saying now?"

Ivar listened, his mouth gaping at every word.

"She says a Viking named Tore Hund could be linked to those attacks".

"Who's Tore Hund?"

"It sounds familiar…" Ivar was grabbing his chin. "Ah, I remember now! Alfhildr fought for him! She told me she was his shield maiden!"

Igor said nothing, staring from Ivar to the screen. Both had stopped eating.

"This is the third church vandalizing after Saint Olav was murdered in downtown Oslo Tuesday night", Ivar read. "Murdered…?"

"But I killed—” 

"Yes, Igor, I remember you killed Olav. His bones are in the depths of the sea now. Or should be!"

"Maybe he travelled to the future before… No, that doesn't make sense…"

"No, he couldn't have come here to escape, we watched him burn!"

Ivar didn't want Igor to think he was yelling at him, but an untamable anger was boiling up inside him. He reviewed the events in old Norway again, and things still didn't make sense.

"Igor, may I use your telephone?”

“Sure”.

And Ivar called Alfhildr, after many tries with the touchscreen.

"ALFHILDR", he shouted into the phone, making Igor laugh lively. Ivar jokingly threw a pillow at him, but the boy didn't quit it. "Stop that… HELLO?"

"Ivar, hi!" Alfhildr finally picked up.

"HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME, ALFHILDR?"

"Yes, why are you shouting?"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS WORKS!"

"… At least put me off speakerphone, Ivar the Boneless".

Igor, grinning, approached Ivar and did what Alfhildr had requested with a single finger tap.

"Thanks!" She said, and Ivar couldn't hear her so clearly anymore, so he put the phone close to one of his ears.

"Is it fine now?" He asked, quieter.

"Yes, don't worry. What's going on, why did you call?"

"Your friend Tore Hund was on the tel…"

"Television", Igor helped out.

"Tellyvision. Just now".

"Yes, I know he supposedly killed Saint Olav".

"But Olav's no saint—"

"Yes, he is. He was anointed by—"

"No, you don't understand. He can't be a saint because he wasn't even a Christian. And he couldn't have come here because Igor killed him in our time".

There was a long pause on Alfhildr's part. Then she blurted out a "what?"

"King Olav was burned alive in Tamdrup, during the Rus' invasion”, Ivar told. “I saw it with my own eyes".

"I don't know, Ivar, time is a complicated thing".

"I'm somewhat aware of that. But can't you consider the possibility that Tore didn't kill Olav the Saint?"

Ivar had said the last two words with a pinch of sarcasm.

"… You're actually right, I can", Alfhildr said. “Now that I remember, Tore told me he killed two Christians but never mentioned anything about a saint. He would have known if— hang on, I'm getting another call".

"Wait!"

"Don't hung up, Ivar, I'll get back to you in a while".

***

Make amends. Right. That's what recovering addicts were supposed to do, weren't they? At least that's what the Americans said. Lars would never give in to a "higher power" he didn't even believe in, but this, apologizing, he felt he could do it. And he was actually sorry about his past behavior too, even at the very very bottom of his heart and layered on with a thousand excuses.

He rang the bell of his ex-wife's house. Greger's house.

"Yes?"

"Marie! Hi… Hi".

She was already rolling her eyes and sighing.

"What are you doing here, Lars?"

"I'm supposed to apologize to people", he parroted like a child and got a condescending look in return. "I… I'm getting clean. For real this time".

Marie watched him, examining him.

"Fine. What do you want to apologize for?"

"Uh… For what happened to the girls. And for the unforgivable stuff I said to Gregers—is, is that his voice in there?"

"Yes, and you won't interrupt his whist club. He was inconsolable for days after your last visit".

"But it was—You know what, nevermind. I shouldn't have come here in the first place".

And Lars went down the stairs and to the entrance garden.

"Lars, wait!" Marie called.

He turned around, surprised.

"I'll tell Gregers you stopped by", she said, and closed the door on Lars without another word.

Well, first amend went just great, Lars thought as he walked towards his car. But when he unlocked its door, he saw his daughter Ingrid walking down from Madeleine's house and towards him. The two girls were neighbors since Gregers took Ingrid to live there.

"Ingrid!"

"What are you doing here, dad?"

"I was just… talking to your mother about some stuff".

"Oh".

"Everything alright at Madeleine's? Is she feeling better?"

"Yeah, she is".

"Great!"

"Just tell your colleagues to relax".

"What do you mean?"

"Two cops showed up at school today to question Madde. She got freaked out".

"Which cops?"

"Um, one of them had his nose horribly wounded, like it had been bitten. And the other one was this guy with short brown hair".

"Wait, what did the one with the bitten nose look like?"

"Half ginger, half blonde… And very tall".

"Shit…"

"Are they your friends?"

"Absolutely not. Hang on, I have to speak to Alfhildr".

Lars already had the phone out of his pocket, but Ingrid stopped his hand.

"Can I talk to her first? It's kind of— well, not really urgent, but this thing's been nagging me since—"

"You can talk to me about it, Ingrid".

"No, it has to be another woman".

"Why?"

"Because it's a women thing… Come on, dad".

Lars felt he was falling down from the sky in a parachute with no strings. His suspicions, which he always thought to be a hundred percent true, were making his head spin.

"Ingrid, are you— are you pregnant?"

Ingrid laughed out loud, but still somehow with a frowny face.

"Dad! For God's sake, no! What kind of daughter do you think I am?"

Lars didn't reply right away: he was panting, partly relieved, partly still terrified.

"No, you're a great girl, I just thought… Since you were being so cryptic…"

"Oh, I didn't mean to… It's just, it's a boy problem, and it's not about me, so I don't wanna ask my parents about it".

"Right… So you want to talk to Alfhildr".

"Yes".

"Okay, I'll ring her and give you my phone".

"Thanks. Are you two going out already?”

Lars’ right eyebrow went up to the sky he had just fallen from.

“Already?” he repeated as his daughter laughed. “No, we’re absolutely not...”

His eyes looked down to dial Alfhildr's number. After a beat, he handed the phone to Ingrid.

As the other line rang, Lars stood still, as if waiting for something.

"Dad!" Ingrid complained, and his father walked away diligently to his car.

***

"Lars from Mars", Alfhildr said upon picking up the phone.

"What? No, it's his daughter, Ingrid".

"Oh… Oohh. What's up, Ingrid? You need anything from me?"

"Um, a bit of advice, actually. Well, more like an opinion".

Well, this is certainly intriguing, Alfhildr thought with a smirk. "An opinion about what?"

"Well, you know my friend Madde?"

"Madeleine?"

"Yeah".

"Yeah, I remember her".

"Well, she was doing perfectly fine this morning at school, then at recess she got a voice message, and I swear I heard some Norse dude speaking to her, in that language, you know?"

"My language".

"Yes. And it was a short message, but Madeleine couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. I asked her what was going on, but she wouldn't say. She's acting really weird".

"Uh-huh".

This is so dumb, Alfhildr thought, but didn't hung up out of respect for Lars.

"And the guy sounded older", Ingrid added, "so I'm worried about Madde".

"How old?"

"I don't know, thirty or forty?"

"Huh…"

Then, something clicked inside Alfhildr's head.

"Your friend was the one who had that incident at sea, right?"

"Yeah, but she's fine now".

"Ingrid, she travelled to the past and back to the present, according to our investigation. She also started speaking Norse since that day; a colleague who questioned her told me so".

"You guys sent another one…?! Those cops are scaring her!"

Alfhildr pressed above her nose with both fingers, frustrated. The sunset was approaching in Oslo, she could see it outside the office's window.

"I’m really sorry, Ingrid, I didn't want to send any other cop that wasn't Lars, but we had other issues to take care of and couldn't… The point is, this colleague told me Madeleine was in a state of panic but speaking perfect Norse. Well, more like mumbling to herself".

"What was she saying?"

"Some n—No, actually, I can't tell you. It's part of our investigation, strictly confidential".

"Oh, wow… Okay".

"So if Madeleine got a voice message in Norse and understood it…” Alfhildr scratched her forehead. “Has she spoken Norse the last few days?"

"No, not while I was around, at least. Is she in danger?"

"… No…", Alfhildr lied, if only to not worry Ingrid. "Nah, she'll be fine. It's just, contacting with a Norse adult man over the phone is a bit… Weird. Let me just look into this, and keep an eye on her, okay?"

"Okay. Sure".

"Add me to your contacts, so we keep in touch".

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll jot down your number".

"Great. And don't forget to call me if this guy contacts Madeleine again or if she goes to meet him in person".

"I will. Thanks, Alfe…"

"Alfhildr".

"Right. Alfhildr. Thanks for your help".

Alfhildr noticed the tension in the teenager's voice and said:

"Don't worry, Ingrid, you did the right thing by calling a cop. I'll do my job, you just keep an eye on your friend because there's an older guy lurking, that's all this is".

"I guess I can't ask you to keep this away from my dad, right?" Ingrid said after a while.

"No, sorry. Madeleine is part of this case; he has to know".

"Okay. Fine, I guess. Bye, Alfhildr, take care".

"You too. Bye!"

Upon hanging up, Alfhildr gave a big sigh and pushed her front hair back, as she always did when she was stressed. Who was that Norse guy, either way? The whole thing was more than just “weird” to her. And contacting a present-day minor… Of course, Madeleine wasn't really from the present… Not anymore, anyway.

The LED light from her phone flashed all of a sudden, startling her. She checked the name on the screen.

"Ivar!" She whispered, putting the phone on her ear. "I'm so sorry!"

"Was it really that urgent?" He said in a teasing tone.

"It was, actually… More than I would have thought. But where were we?"

"You were telling me Tore killed two Christians days ago".

"Yeah, they cornered him, beat him up, they knew who he was but he didn't because he had lost his memories when he got to this time…"

"What?"

"Some time migrants lose all their memories when they come here. Yes, that happened to Katya, but she got them back, she's fine now". Alfhildr made a pause to breathe, while Ivar stayed quiet. "And so is Tore. As soon as he remembered who he was, he massacred those Christians. That's what he told me about it".

"Hmm. How can I speak to him?"

"I’d take you to his place, but I have a lot of work to do. You can call him, of course. Through Igor’s phone—"

"Enngisdottir", a familiar, cold voice said behind Alfhildr. He had his hand on her shoulder and it was making her uncomfortable.

She flinched away and turned to Eriksen.

"You've been on the phone for hours now", he said. "Don't you have police work to do?"

"Yes, just one more minute—"

"No, you hung up now. I'm getting complaints".

Wenche, Alfhildr cursed mentally.

"Alright", she conceded.

She hung up but immediately sent Tore's number to Igor's phone.

>Call him, Ivar.

***

Ivar was getting more and more frustrated inside that tiny home, unable to visit Tore because of his disability, without Katya and with a child to take care of… But then Igor told him the telephone was the only way to reach Tore for now, so Ivar followed Alfhildr's instructions.

"Hello?" A man's voice answered in Norwegian.

"Are you Tore Hund?" Ivar asked in Norse.

"If you're one of those Christians playing a stupid prank on…!"

"No Christian here!" Ivar chuckled, smooth. "I'm Ivar the Boneless, Tore".

"Ivar… Ivar, son of Ragnar”, Tore repeated, skeptic.

“Yes”.

“Are you, really? How do I know you're not someone pretending to be him?"

"Alfhildr gave me your number".

"You know her?”

"Yes, we met a while ago. And if you still doubt me you can ask me anything about Ragnar or the Gods, I'll gladly answer you. But there's no time for that now".

"What do you mean?"

"I saw Olav die in our time. The real Olav".

"I knew it! I knew these Christians were insane!"

Ivar's mouth stretched into a grin.

"… So what happened that day, exactly?" He asked the other Viking. "The day you supposedly killed him".

"I was cornered by two men who claimed to be part of Olav's Christian army. They tried to kill me, so I had to kill them first, obviously”.

“Do you know their names?”

“No, they didn’t say”.

"So neither of them identified himself as Saint Olav".

"No. That’s what I told these stupid people, but they don’t believe me”.

“Maybe they don’t want to believe you”.

“Huh... How did the Olav you knew died?”

"He was executed, burnt alive on Oleg of Novgorod's orders. I saw it with my own eyes".

"So he couldn’t have come to this time”.

"Not at all. And he wasn't even a Christian, as far as I remember. Pretty stupid, but not a Christian.”

“Forgive me, Ivar, but I don’t remember many things about my past life. That’s what being dragged to this time does to you”.

“I've been told about it. Do not worry”.

“Well, thank you. Was this Olav a king or something like that?”

“Yes, he was! King of Ringerike”.

There was a long pause, then Tore Hund cursed and exhaled into the phone's speakers.

"It’s his son”, he said. “Saint Olav is King Olav’s son”.

Ivar's stomach started to turn.

“I never knew he had a son”, he said.

"Well, the boy was a bastard child, so it makes sense you didn’t know… I know all of this because I read it online recently, by the way…”

“On-what?”

“There’s a sculpture of Olav II in the last church that was vandalized".

"Hmm".

It took some seconds for the epiphany to reach Ivar, and when it did, he almost shouted it out from joy. If Olav's son, the last symbol and bastion of Christianity in Norway, arrived to the future, then all Ivar had to do…

"Do you know if this son of Olav is here, Tore?"

"I doubt it, but if he is, send him my regards".

Both Norsemen laughed deeply.

There were a couple of heavy knocks on the trailer home's door and Ivar saw Igor standing up, so he stopped him with a hand.

"Tore, I must say goodbye for now. Don't worry about Olav; father or son, I'll take care of him".

"You really are as the legends say, Ivar the Boneless".

"Together we fight", Ivar smirked, but more knocking on his door almost made him drop the phone. "I have to go", he said and left the device on the dining table to go open the door. Igor had sat down on the only bed.

The man in front of Ivar, in old robes, was smiling.

"Have you heard about this fellow called Odin?" he asked in Norwegian.

Ivar was about to say yes, but the absurdity of the situation stopped him. He squinted at the man.

"Who are you?" He asked, also in Norwegian.

"I'm a servant. A servant of the one who sacrificed his eye to drink from the well of Mímir".

Ivar's eyes widened.

"Finally someone gets it", the man smiled. "Let me in, Ivar the Boneless. This isn't an order, but a request".

"How do you know who I am? And who are you, again?"

"Kalv Torbjørnsen", the man said and extended his hand, which Ivar shook reluctantly. "I was one of the first Vikings to arrive here".

"That's quite interesting, but whose army did you fight for in our time? A real Viking is a warrior for his people".

"Ah! That…" Kalv chuckled. "It's not safe to answer it here, Ivar. You must invite me in".

"Why? You can come in by yourself".

"No, I cannot. Listen, I know it sounds bad, but I'll explain everything if you invite me in".

"…"

"Come on. What would Váli say?"

"What?"

Ivar almost lost balance from shock. His mouth had gone dry. He looked both sides of the Viking neighborhood and finally told Kalv to come inside.

Igor started shivering upon seeing the stranger.

"Who's he, Ivar?"

"Kalv Torbjørnsen", Kalv said in a casual tone. "Is this your child, Ivar?"

"Not by blood", Ivar gave a tiny smile. "What is this about? How do you know so much?"

"Well, it all began when I died".

Before Kalv could continue, Igor had leapt towards the door. He managed to open it, but Kalv's hand stopped him.

"I'm not dangerous", he said. "I'm here to help Ivar".

"You're a ghost".

"Who is here to help Ivar and all of my Viking brothers. Don't run away, child".

"It's Igor", the boy said as he slowly closed the door.

"Igor of Kiev?"

"Yes".

"History is changing…" Kalv mused with a hand over his chin. He turned on his seat and to Ivar. "Where were we? Oh yes, I died a year after my arrival, but then the Gods chose me as one of their messengers. So now I wonder the streets of Oslo, knock knock knocking on people's doors".

He laughed, but Ivar didn't get the joke.

"What?" He said.

"Nevermind. You're new in town".

Ivar suddenly remembered. Váli had said that there were spirits watching over living Vikings in Oslo.

"And how did you know I was staying at this house?" Ivar asked.

Kalv smiled. "We don't move in the same plane as the living, Ivar the Boneless. That is all I'm going to say about it".

Ivar bent forward a little, his face stern. 

"What do you know about Olav's son? Is it true he was a bastard?"

"Oh yes. I saw him several times as an adolescent, he used to wander the streets of Denmark, begging for food or stealing it. Then he became Olav the Stout, of course, and enslaved me and thousands of others for his Christian army. Yes, I was forced to fight for Christianity. Can you believe it? It's a wonder I appeared here, or I would have died in dishonor".

Ivar leaned back on the chair.

"You mean to tell me…" he said, "that Olav the Stout enslaved other Vikings and called them his 'army'?"

Kalv let out a lively laugh.

"He called us his flock, actually. Flock! The things we did, they were far from the gentle nature of sheep… How do you think Christianity won over all these lands? Not through the supposed love and compassion of their Messiah, no sir".

There was another, longer pause on Ivar's part. It was starting to rain again and Igor watched the two men with both feet over the bed.

"And then Olav the Second became a Christian saint", Ivar said.

"Yes, people of this time just adore him. If they keep on believing Tore Hund killed him, things will get uglier".

"How can I help?"

"Well…" Kalv took a sip of leftover tea. "If the Christian God is also helping His flock, and I'm pretty sure He is, then we just have to wait until Olav the Second arrives here. And that is when you strike, Ivar the Boneless".

Ivar drew a big smirk, nodding slowly.

"Will you let me know when he arrives?" he asked Kalv.

"I'll do my best", the spirit answered.

"Excellent".

Ivar got up and slowly headed towards the tiny kitchen.

"Would you like more tea, Kalv?"

"Sure, why not?"

So Ivar poured some tea in a different cup and told Kalv to help himself. But when he was returning to the dining table, a sharp pain on the entirety of his left leg made him scream.

"Ivar!" Kalv and Igor shouted at the same time.

They held him just in time: his weak legs were about to collapse over the floor.

"You need to rest, Ivar", Igor said.

"… I'm fine", Ivar grunted and even advanced a couple of steps.

"Dad, no!"

And the same pain crushed both of Ivar's legs this time, specially his knees, like a hammer punishing a small, helpless piece of wood over and over. Before he could stop it, tears were falling from his eyes, and he felt arms carrying him to the only bed of the trailer house.

He let out a shriek, eyes shutting. When he opened them, Igor was staring into him, pale and frozen as snow.

"Ivar, your eyes…"

"… What about them?"

"They're… strange. Blue".

"When Ivar's eyes turn blue, it'll be the end for me and you", Kalv recited from somewhere in the house Ivar couldn't see.

The words had sounded more menacing than the Seer himself.

"What's happening?!" he panted. His bones felt like someone was cracking them with their bare hands and setting them on fire at the same time.

"Your bones are breaking, Ivar", Kalv spoke again, from nowhere and everywhere. "Your brother Hvitserk was supposed to tell you this, but history is changing, as I said".

"I can't… I can't die. I have to kill—"

"You won't die, Ivar, not tonight. I'll take you to the hospital".

Kalv's smiling, bearded face suddenly came into Ivar's view. He tapped the other's forehead with one finger, and everything turned black.

***

The police sirens had surrounded the harbor precinct, which was strangely closed and quiet. Several cops slid out of their cars, took their guns out and used megaphones to threaten to shoot if the front door didn't open.

"Jeppe! David!" Lars shouted. "Open the door!"

Alfhildr gave her partner a look that conveyed disappointment, but followed by one of encouragement.

"It'll be worse for you if you don't open it!" He added, more firmly. “You know damn well what you did!”

There was still no answer from the inside, except for some grunts Alfhildr managed to catch by taking a few more steps forward. She nodded at her colleagues, who started shooting at the precinct’s hefty padlock until it flew open. Then the iron door slid up and up and the two suspects came into view: David holding a wounded Jeppe on the floor.

The other cops approached them, still with their guns pointing directly, and ordered David to stand and put his hands up. However, he just stared at his colleagues.

"Up, I said!" Alfhildr shouted.

As David obeyed slowly, he glanced at Jeppe and shouted back:

"Can't you see he's injured?!"

"Yes, I can see another time migrant defended himself".

Alfhildr smirked at Jeppe's bloody, rotten nose that was almost slipping off his face, the smell of it, his moans of pain. Ivar had done a good job. And her feelings, her pride would be fine in no time. She wasn't a fragile little girl, after all.

"Handcuff Jeppe and take him to the hospital", another officer commanded. "That thing looks infected".

"He needs to be interrogated", Alfhildr said coldly.

"He will be, Enngisdottir", a female officer said as he approached the wounded man on the chair with handcuffs. "But a dead suspect is not useful".

At the present-day people hospital, or "normal hospital", as the present-day people called it, Alfhildr and Lars still had to wait a while outside Jeppe's bed. When the guards authorized them to go in, she stopped Lars from getting up.

"I'll do this myself".

"He kept people in a dungeon, Alfhildr".

She looked into Lars' brown eyes: his worry seemed sincere.

"He's not as dangerous as a pissed off Viking", she smiled and walked off towards Jeppe's hospital bed.

"Close the curtains, please", she ordered the guards.

She approached her former hook-up with a small smile and sat down in a chair next to his bed.

"That doesn't look promising", she pointed at what was left of his nose.

Jeppe had a breathing tube down his throat and patches all over his nose, so his voice sounded different —possibly eviler.

"You… You know who did this to me".

It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

"And you think I'll tell you?" Alfhildr laughed. "We also know Mariana bit you on self-defense, right before you murdered her".

"You can't possibly prove that".

"Ohhh but we can. We have your DNA".

Jeppe's face contorted in a monstrous smirk.

"You don't", he croaked. "I fucked you weeks ago, my little Viking".

Alfhildr let out an uncomfortable snicker, shuddered a little at the memories, but quickly composed herself.

"The man who took your nose also took your blood", she slowly explained to Jeppe. "You really are dimwitted".

That seemed to scare him for the very first time. He said no word.

"And you'll either rot in here from sepsis or rot in prison", Alfhildr added. She stood up. "Not worth buying women and killing others over, am I right?"

She left the little room almost as soon as three doctors were entering. She realized Jeppe didn't even deserve a goodbye.

"How did it go?" Lars asked her, standing up as if his sick grandma was in that bed.

Alfhildr snickered at this one's stupidity and shook her head.

"It's definitely sepsis", she said for all answer.

"So, karma", Lars said.

"There’s no such a thing", Alfhildr said matter-of-factly. "But hey, thanks for giving me a heads up about Mariana… and the bite marks. You were… quite awesome. Really".

She was smiling, almost blushing, much against her wishes.

"It's no problem", he said. "I mean, we're partners and it is our case, right?"

Alfhildr chuckled. I was thanking you for making me see the real Jeppe, you doofus.

They still looked at each other for a while longer, until a familiar scream broke the moment.

"Ivar", Alfhildr muttered as she ran towards the closest corridor.

***

Ivar had woken up screaming, quite literally, on a moving bed and with blurred vision.

The nurses shouted some sort of code into an iron stick as they moved him, and in between cries of pain, Ivar called for Igor.

"I'm here!" the boy answered in a shaky voice, "I'm here!". And even though Ivar couldn't see him, he felt his little hand on his arm. "They'll heal you, Ivar, you'll see".

But right after the boy started crying. It broke Ivar’s heart.

And Ivar wasn’t too sure he will be ‘healed’ in that place, not even after hearing Kalv's reassuring words. The burning and sharp pain spreading from his thighs all the way down his legs seemed too final, too mortal, like there was nothing else beyond it. And what if that was the point Váli was trying to make? Would Ivar become a spirit, like Kalv? Was that part of ‘the plan’?

He heard Alfhildr's voice, all of a sudden, on the side opposite Igor.

"What on Earth happened?" she asked.

"Who are you?" another nurse said.

"I'm his friend. Would you please tell me what's going on?"

Ivar heard something in Latin, followed by:

"Or brittle bone disease, as it's better known".

That's its name? He thought. It isn't a curse from the Gods?

"Never heard of it", Alfhildr said.

The bed's wheels kept going round. Forward. Not a single turn in the whole trip. It was strange.

"Yes, it's a rare one", the nurse said, and Ivar screamed from pain again.

He felt a sympathetic female hand landing on one of his cheeks and fell deeper into unconsciousness, so deep he couldn't hear his surroundings anymore.

And even though his eyes were now shut, he saw Váli's young, handsome figure floating above him.

I told you your fate would change, Ivar the Boneless.

Chapter Text

Alfhildr wasn't sure if Ivar would appreciate a stuffed animal for a gift, but she was sure he would consider flowers too soft, so all in all she was happy with her choice. With the fuzzy giraffe between her hands, she pushed through the hospital's front door (nearly slamming it open) and quickly found a nearby counter to ask about Ivar's room number. Once she got it and was heading there, her phone rang. It was Lars.

"Not now, Lars…"

"Why, what are you up to?"

"Just visiting a friend at the hospital…"

"Who?"

"Uh, Ivar. Remember the night we arrested Jeppe...?"

"Right… So who exactly is this Ivar, an old boyfriend of yours?"

Alfhildr let out a joyful cackle at the same time that a too pleasant warmness burned her insides.

"Gosh, you're paranoid!" She said.

"Paranoid about what? And I am not!"

She chuckled, her cheeks turning embarrassingly red.

"He's just a Viking friend. Why are you calling, is it urgent?"

"Yeah, sort of. Remember you told me about that Norse guy who contacted Madeleine?"

"Oh, right, the older guy!"

"Yeah, so I looked into it, and he was last seen at the Reeducation Center in Tromsøgata. He borrowed a phone, called Madeleine and just vanished from there. No one knows his name".

"Shit… Wait, we can still track her phone!"

"… Alfhildr, that's illegal".

"Yeah, so is lurking after teenage girls. C'mon, we'd have a solid case of sexual harassment".

"We wouldn't, actually, because Madeleine is sixteen".

"Shit! Right, I had forgotten…"

"Why is this so important to you, anyway?"

"I just have a bad feeling about this guy, Lars. I don't know, may be cop intuition. And remember we don't know for how long Madeleine was in the past or whatever the hell she did there".

"Ohh right. Yeah, you're completely right".

Why isn't he contradicting me?, Alfhildr thought.

At Lars' silence, she took a seat across one of the consulting rooms, but when she noticed the row was full of pregnant women, she stood up and backed away, wincing as though they all had leprosy. Looking up, she realized she had wandered into the Gynecology waiting room...

"What are you doing?" Lars asked in the tone of a prepubescent boy.

"Nothing, I…" Alfhildr said as she walked through the wings and rooms. "I'm on the stairs again. The elevator broke here”.

"Oh".

"What are you doing?"

"Me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing".

"What, you're just staring into a wall?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Come on. Are you watching porn, Haaland?"

"What?!"

"What?"

"… Uh, it's been a long time since you called me by my last name, Alfhildr".

She let out the lightest of chuckles.

"Yeah, I—I remember… I don't know, it just came out like that".

"Why, though?"

"Because it just did, Lars, for Odin's sake!"

She heard his contained laugh, his breathing, and did nothing but smile in return.

Fuck, Alfhildr, stop it! Snap out of this!

"So, uh…" Lars said, shaky. "I'll look for people who can hack into Madeleine's phone and uh… I'll call you when it's done. Just visit your friend and don't worry about this".

"Aw, Lars, that is very considerate! I think I'll buy some Chinese food for the both of us later".

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No!" Alfhildr laughed. "Shit, Lars… Don't make me think you're on drugs again!"

"I'm not… For real. I'm clean".

"That's good. So, uh… Dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, Chinese. Sure. See you then, at your place".

"Awesome. Bye Lars".

And she hung up, mostly because if she didn't do it then she never would have.

She then saved her phone in her jeans and sprinted towards the wing Ivar was resting at, exactly as if she was visiting her long lost lover who was about to propose to her. She got a kick out of imagining herself as the actress Sandra Bullock, running to save a guy from amnesia.

Alfhildr was smiling fully when she knocked on Ivar's door and stepped inside.

"Good morning, Ivar. I bought you a gift".

With some difficulties, he opened his eyes and straightened up on the hospital bed. He had machines controlling his vitals and serum going up his veins.

"For how long have I been here?" He asked, rubbing his forehead.

"Don't get scared, but… It's been a week".

"What?"

"You needed to fully recover. They had you sleeping because it would have been very painful otherwise".

"I can live with pain", Ivar bragged, as if he had forgotten the state he was in when he arrived at the hospital.

He examined the stuffed giraffe and shook it. When no sound came out, he sniffed it and made a nonchalant face.

"So what did the doctors do to me?" He asked Alfhildr, looking up at her.

"Nothing much, they just put new legs on you..."

"What?"

Alfhildr was grinning.

"It's true, you just can't feel them yet because it's only been a week, but they're perfectly functional. Go on, look for yourself".

Ivar pulled the bed's sheets away and saw a pair of new, healthy legs where his old ones were supposed to be. There was something wrong with his skin, though, with its color.

He pinched on it.

"This isn't my skin!"

"It's alright, Ivar. The doctors made a new skin for you from skin donors. That's why the tone is a bit off".

"Donors… Other people's skin?"

"Yeah".

"So they were skinned alive for me".

Alfhildr laughed.

"No, no, nooo... Here people can choose for their skin and other body parts to be donated when they die".

"That's…" Ivar's green eyes were huge. He let out a laugh. "That's still wicked".

"Yeah, it's pretty brutal".

"What else are these legs made of?" He asked as he started bending his knees. There was a slightly metallic sound, but otherwise his movements were smooth and quite easy.

"One of the doctors who operated on you will be here at any minute now. I'm sure he'll explain everything".

Ivar kept moving his legs and feet, carefully.

"This is…" he started.

"Pretty fucking incredible?" Alfhildr helped him, chuckling. "Yeah, it bloody right is".

"So they just… cut off my old legs and replaced them with these?" Ivar asked her.

"That's the simpler explanation, yes".

Ivar noticed the sewing marks in his groin and grimaced.

"Still beats not being able to stand up, huh?" Alfhildr tried to cheer him up.

In that moment, there was another knock on the door and she saw a familiar face get in.

"Oddvar?" She said. "Don’t you work with dead people?”

"Hello, Alfhildr", the coroner said. "I majored in reconstructive surgery, besides forensics; so yes, I was part of the team that operated on Ivar". He got out of Alfhildr’s way and acknowledge his patient. "And I see you two are friends”.

"Yeah. It was a coincidence that I was in this hospital when he fell ill".

Oddvar smiled slightly and approached Ivar.

“How are you feeling, Ivar?”

“Good, a bit tired...”

“That’s normal, don’t worry. Has Alfhildr explained the surgery to you already?"

"Yes. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Well, you still have brittle bone disease, though it is dormant now. We examined your other extremities while you were sedated and found you had never broken a bone that wasn't on your legs".

"It's true".

"Quite remarkable, Ivar. But I must tell you that you have to check your new legs with us every six months".

Silence took over. Ivar shot a meaningful glance at Alfhildr and faked a smile for doctor Oddvar.

"Sure, I'll come here".

"Good", the coroner/surgeon smiled back. "Now, do you want to try them out?"

"My legs, you mean?"

"Of course. You'll need a cane, but you can still walk".

"But doctor… I've never walked before. How will I know…?"

"We programmed your mind while you were sedated. You now have all the theoretical knowledge required for walking. You just need to practice".

Ivar was looking at the doctor as if he was mad.

"What the hell does all that mean?"

"Advanced medicine, Ivar. You don't have to understand it, but you do need to trust it. Trust the doctors who took care of you. We mean you no harm".

After a pause, Ivar nodded, so Oddvar went to retrieve a cane from a nearby cabinet and gave it to him.

"Lean on me to stand up, then on the cane. The rest will be easier".

Ivar sat on the edge of the hospital bed, laid his hands on Oddvar's shoulders and slowly lowered one leg down. When his foot touched the floor and he was sure he wouldn't fall, he lowered the other leg.

"Well done, Ivar!"

Ivar could hardly believe it. There he was, standing on his own two feet, no tiredness, weakness or bones breaking.

"Now, grab the cane and try a few steps", Oddvar added.

With a significant area cleared out, Ivar pressed the cane down onto the floor and took his first step. It felt good, natural, like he was supposed to be doing it. It was also very similar to when he first spoke in Norwegian.

He gave more steps forward, and soon he was slowly walking around the room.

"Whoa!” Alfhildr exclaimed.

"I'm walking!" Ivar yelped and laughed, excited like a child.

But the doctor was already looking at his watch.

"You can walk for ten more minutes, Ivar. Then you must rest again, alright?"

Ivar nodded.

"I must go now. Oh, and Ivar?"

"Yes".

"Your child was born yesterday", the coroner smiled. "Thought you should know".

Ivar had an expression of such confusion and sentimentality that Alfhildr couldn't help but smirk tenderly.

"Can we take him there, Oddvar?" She asked.

"Oh, Katya will be brought here, if I'm not mistaken. You guys don't worry about a thing".

"Thank you so much", she said.

And the coroner said goodbye with a smiling nod, leaving the room.

**

Ivar was nodding off over the bed when the sound of tiny wheels he knew too well woke him up. As he rubbed his tired eyes, he had the irrational thought that he was being taken into surgery again, that his legs were breaking again, but then he composed himself; just in time to see Katya coming at him over a chair with wheels.

The world stopped for him in that moment, that second when he spotted his child on her arms, small and vulnerable. Up until then, he had never stopped to think about the vulnerability of life, about how we can be here one day and gone tomorrow. Ivar's life had always been about himself only: himself against Ragnar, himself against his brothers, himself against Lagertha.

But not anymore.

"Ivar!" Katya said joyfully. "You've gone mute!"

"Can I—can I hold him?" Ivar asked, his now wet eyes not leaving the sleeping newborn. "It's a boy, right?"

"Of course it is! I told you I knew, didn't I?"

She carefully placed the baby into Ivar's expecting arms, where he was gazed at by his father. He had inherited Katya's pale skin. Ivar wondered if the child had green or blue eyes, and without really thinking about it he brushed his tiny eyelids gently.

"Ivar, no!" Katya managed to warn, but it was too late: their son had already woken up and started crying.

"No no no no, I'm sorry, baby boy!" Ivar apologized as Katya smiled. "I'm sorry, please go back to sleep!"

But the baby was sobbing fiercely. Admiring the powerful lungs of his newborn, Ivar rocked him for a while, and as that didn't work, he started playing around with him. He would tickle his armpits and lift him up into the air.

"Do you have a name yet?" Katya asked him. "I was waiting for you to decide".

"Huh…"

Ivar put his son back into his arms and thought for a moment, even above all the crying noises.

"I think he'll be a… Bo".

"Bo… To live?"

"Yes…" Ivar tickled his son again, then brushed his wet-with-tears cheeks. "We're all alive, aren't we? Isn't that extraordinary?"

"If you mean it's a miracle, then yes, I agree with you".

Ivar chuckled, looking at his woman tenderly.

"I wouldn't use that word".

Bo had stopped crying, almost abruptly, gaining startled looks from both parents. Ivar was finally able to see his own green eyes in the little one. He gazed into them, smiled and lifted Bo up again.

"Bo Ivarsson", he said solemnly. "You are going to be the best of Odin's sons. You hear me?"

And the baby grinned, even though Ivar was pretty sure infants were not supposed to do that this early on.

Someone knocked on the door.

"May I come in?" Alfhildr asked from outside.

"Yes, come in!" Ivar answered.

Upon stepping into the hospital room, the shield maiden beamed. She only had eyes for Bo, almost forgetting Ivar and Katya were also there.

"What a cute little boy!" She cooed, sitting next to Ivar. "What's his name?"

"Bo", Ivar answered proudly, but his face dropped upon catching Alfhildr's glare. "What, what's wrong with Bo?"

"It's too… Come on, you're Ivar the Boneless".

"I like it", Katya intervened.

"Of course you do, Katya, you're mad about Ivar", Alfhildr said, earning a blushing smile from the princess.

"I'm just glad we're all alive here", Ivar explained, trying not to let his temper take over. Alfhildr got serious as she looked at him. "I took many things for granted before, and I think Bo is a gift from life, from the Gods".

"That's really beautiful, Ivar", Alfhildr and Katya said at the same time.

Embarrassed, they laughed. Ivar smirked at having won the hearts of two women.

"How are your legs, my love?" Katya asked him.

"They feel great", he answered. "I walked a bit this morning".

"How wonderful!"

"Want to see it?" Ivar made a gesture to stand up.

"Ivar, the baby!" Alfhildr stopped him, and he gave Bo to her.

"I'm sorry, I'm still not accustomed…"

"It's alright".

Alfhildr started playing with the baby, cooing him and making some odd noises she explained to be "baby talk".

"Oh, but you are a Bo!" She was saying now, tapping his nose. Bo smiled for the second time that day, making Alfhildr widen her eyes. She didn't comment on it, though, only glanced at Ivar and said: "He's got your eyes, Ivar".

Ivar just smiled, and she handed Bo back to him.

In a minute, the baby was yawning. Ivar carefully passed him to his mother, who made him fall asleep on her lap.

"Hey, Ivar", Alfhildr said. "Tore is having his Migration Day party this Saturday. He'd be thrilled to see the four of you there".

"Really? A party like our parties?" Ivar asked her with a smirk.

"Of course. Good music, dancing, good food, mead…", Alfhildr answered, and Ivar nodded along.

"What do you think, Princess?" he turned to Katya.

"Sure. It will be fun", Katya said.

Ivar scratched his now loose, "modern" hair.

"Alright, we're going!"

"And you'll walk even better by then", Alfhildr added.

"Will I?"

"Yes. Advanced procedure, remember?"

"I do remember", Ivar smiled.

**

Ivar was tired from having walked all the way up to the party's location, a huge yard across Tore's apartment, with the cane in one hand and carrying Bo —who cried everytime they put him in the trolley—, but he still smiled and nodded at everyone as he sat at the large dining table. They all seemed warm, just like the weather on that Saturday morning; and having Igor by his side, Bo sleeping peacefully in the trolley, and Katya on his other side, almost glowing with happiness, made it all better.

It was a perfect day. Truly.

"I have never celebrated this occasion before", Tore spoke, standing up at the start of the table. "I was more concerned with where I was going than where I came from. So why did I end up accepting the offer of a Migration Day party? The most important reason is right here", he looked down on his little daughter with a smile she imitated. "I don't want Maria to grow up with a father without a past. And as the memories have started to return, I have started to feel a bond between what has been and what is to come. Skald!", Tore raised his large cup of mead. "For the blowing wind, for the fallen leaves, and for the growing trees. Skald!"

Echoing the last word, the guests clanked their cups —or glasses, in the case of present-day folks— against one another, then drank merrily. Ivar was not happy with his glass of water, but Katya just rolled her eyes and smiled at him, reminding him he couldn't drink for now and neither did she.

"Just enjoy the party, my king", she kissed him on the cheek.

And he did, even from a distance, when a band of Norse musicians came over and started playing Viking music. He loved watching the past and present people join together in a dance of precise movements. Igor danced with Katya first, then with Tore's wife and finally with a girl about his age. Ivar chuckled, wondering if his non-blood son would find love at that party, after all. Who knew?

"TORE!!!”

The scream seemed to have ripped the woman's throat in two. Everything fell into somber silence; the guests had stopped dancing and the musicians had ceased playing. They all turned towards the woman: her long red hair waving against the wind as she ran and ran, her mouth opening again to warn Tore about something Ivar could not yet see, then an explosion that stained one of her shoulders with blood and made her tumble.

Ivar didn't get to see anything else, as he quickly picked up a crying Bo from the trolley and shielded him with his body. More explosions were heard, and a smell of sulfur and charcoal filled the air.

"Ivar!” Katya shouted from somewhere. “Ivar, sweet Lord!"

Ivar looked up at her and instinctively handed her the baby.

"Is he alright?" She asked.

"Yes, he's not wounded… W-What happened?"

But before she could say anything, Ivar stood next to Igor to watch the aftermath of the explosions and got his answer: The redhead woman, who wore Viking clothing, was lying in a pool of her own blood, Alfhildr cried next to her, and Tore… Tore and other men were disarming the man who had… who had…

"Did that man just…?"

"Yes", Igor answered, and with a side glance Ivar saw he was trembling. "He used a re... revolver. That's what made those awful sounds".

Ivar stared towards the scene in heavy, large steps. Igor quickly followed him, trying to stop him.

"Ivar, no! You'll get injured!"

But Ivar was not listening to anything. He could only see the Christian cross hanging over the neck of the attacker, now fully disarmed on the ground. And in an instant, he was there with the other men, amazingly not feeling any pain on his legs, just rage in his heart.

Without further ado, he smashed his cane against the Christian's teeth.

"No!" Tore stopped his hand, and Ivar was so surprised he just looked up without protest. "It'll be worse for us if we hurt him. Trust me".

It was then that Ivar realized he truly was in a different world. He watched the other men lift up the attacker, tie his wrists together with a rope, and looked at Tore again:

"Was he going after you?"

"Yes, he was. Urd there saved my life".

Tore abandoned his spot, running towards the woman. But Urd was already dead, as Ivar could tell from her paleness and the blood soaking her shield maiden clothing. Alfhildr sobbed, kneeling next to her.

It was such a perfect day…

**

Lars picked the flowers from a street vendor and payed her, feeling quite strange afterwards. He remembered a quote from a book he was forced to read in high school: Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.

And then he thought, maybe the protagonist from the book was right, but Alfhildr's friend had just been killed and bringing flowers was what regular, non-addicted people did in those situations. Looking around at his city, his Oslo, he took notice of all the tensions and divisions he didn't care much about before. It broke him, but seeing present-day fellows also protesting the violence gave him a tiny ray of hope he hadn't felt in a long time.

He knew where Alfhildr was hiding: a lower-class bar next to the church where a eulogy for Urd was about to begin.

She was going heavy on a beer bottle when she found her, in pitch darkness.

"I'm really sorry, Alfhildr", he said hoarsely, and squatted next to her.

It scared him that she was crying so softly, gulping and sniffing from time to time, hiding her face with her long hair. It was scarier than watching someone fully sobbing and screaming. Her hands over the tiny table were stiff as rocks, and she didn't even move when he put a hand on her wrist and brushed gently.

"The eulogy is about to start", was all he thought of saying, but this time it was said differently, he believed, from before. This time he wasn't imitating human emotions, he was actually feeling them.

Alfhildr sniffed once more.

"I don't feel so good", she moaned. Lars wanted badly to hold her hand, make her feel it was going to be alright, but at the same time felt that would be inappropriate. "Maybe I should just stay here".

Lars' right hand hadn't left her wrist. If I could just do something… But you can't, Lars. Death is final.

"That's not what Urd would have wanted, is it?" He said to his partner.

For a second, he thought she was going to slap him, but she didn't. Instead, she turned her head at him, her beautiful eyes glowing with tears:

"You're right".

"Want me to walk you there?" Lars asked as Alfhildr stood up.

She stopped walking, waiting for him to catch up.

"That'd be nice".

**

Ivar decided to attend Urd's eulogy in front of that church, even with the urgency of his mission chasing him. He felt the Christians needed to hear a loud and clear message, and besides, he really needed to ask if anyone there knew Olav II or where he was.

He was given a live crow to hold, as everyone else at the ceremony, and then listened to a Norseman he didn't know start off with a voice that could be heard from cities away:

"A coward believes he will ever live if it keeps himself from strife. But old age leaves him not long in peace, though spears may spare his life".

There was a pause, then Tore stepped down the steps of the church and spoke even louder:

"We honor you, Urd Sighvasdottir! Child of fire and blood, warrior queen and queen of night. May your sword glimmer forever in Valhalla!"

He let his crow fly free.

"Never doubt, always fight!" He bellowed.

"Never doubt, always fight!" Ivar and the others echoed, also freeing their crows into the night.

After the eulogy was over, Ivar discovered everyone was too shocked to talk about anyone else that wasn't Urd, so he decided to take the long walk home. Nobody on the streets seemed to mind him: just a regular present-day man with a cane. He could even take a taxi, since he knew his address by now, but chose not to. He felt his new legs needed more exercise.

When he unlocked the door to the house he shared with Katya, Igor and the baby, he found Bo had grown to the size of a one year old and was learning how to walk with the help of his mother.

"What in Odin’s name…?" Ivar mumbled. "Katya, what's happening?"

She looked up at him as he closed the door.

"He… grew again", she explained with a chuckle, as if it was some minor inconvenience they just had to learn to live with. Meanwhile, Bo stomped on the floor and leaned forward impatiently. "I suppose it's because of the time travel".

Ivar stepped around his son, set on trying something.

"Bo!" he called, and the infant looked up with a smile. "Bo, that's your name, isn't it?" 

Bo let himself loose from Katya's grip and ran into Ivar's arms.

"Mother of God!" Katya said with a hand over her chest. "Don't scare me like that, little one!"

But the baby was grinning mischievously, as if he knew.

"You could have fallen down!" His mother went on.

Bo hugged his father, who was too shocked to speak, while babbling something.

"You don't suppose he's going to talk soon?" Ivar told Katya, who chuckled.

"I wouldn't be surprised at this point".

Igor, sitting at the dining table, was watching Bo transfixed.

"Igor!" Ivar walked towards him and hugged him. "My dear boy! I'm sorry I'm not with you so often anymore".

Igor smiled. "I am not jealous. I just have a feeling Bo is like this not only because of the time travel".

Bo cooed in his mother's arms, while Ivar frowned.

"You're not reading those future books again, aren't you?" He asked Igor.

"No, I'm reading your books, father. The Viking poems. Alfhildr lend me some".

"But Igor, you already know about the Gods".

"Not about all of them. There is one God who grew up fast, just like Bo".

The answer hit Ivar like a block of ice: How could he have been so clueless?

"You're saying…" He said lowly, as Katya played with Bo. "That Bo has the same powers as Váli?"

Igor nodded.

"Is there's something you wish to tell me, Ivar?" He asked with that enigmatic look in his eyes.

Ivar exhaled and sat down.

"It was Váli who helped me get here, Igor. That's my big secret. And if word spreads around, if someone other than us finds out, we'll be in big trouble".

"Why?"

"Because… Because he has a plan to save us from Saint Olav. He sent me here to stop him".

Igor thought about it for a moment.

"Is Olav really dangerous?”

"I'm afraid so. He wants to vanish us Vikings from the Earth. And you, my son, are partly Viking", Ivar finger-pointed.

Igor smiled widely.

"I trust you, Ivar", he said. "And I trust the Gods. We will be alright, won't we?"

Ivar smiled, ruffling his older boy's hair. "Of course we will! How many battles have I won so far?"

"A lot".

"Exactly".

Ivar stood up.

"For now, I have an idea", he said. "I must take Bo for a walk".

"Why?"

"I have a hunch. Katya?"

**

Minutes later Ivar was locking his front door with one hand while he held Bo's with the other. He then put his son on the baby trolley and turned it around to face the city lights.

"Shit! Kalv?"

The ghost waved at him with a forced smile. He had open wounds and bruises on his face and blood splattered across his preacher robes.

“What happened?” Ivar asked.

“Olav’s army”, Kalv answered with a sigh.

"But you're a ghost. You can't be killed".

"I can be done much worse than killing, my dear Ivar. Those sheep certainly knew it".

"… They found you".

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I don't know how they saw me, because Christians are not supposed to, but here we are. Cute kid, by the way", Kalv pointed at Bo in his trolley.

"Wait, Kalv, what about my mission?"

"I'm sorry, Ivar, but I'm going to need a few days to recover. You'll have to ask Alfhildr about our dear saint".

"Alfhildr knows…?"

"A little".

Ivar's hopes rose up, but then he grimaced sadly.

"I can't ask her now. Her friend just got killed".

"Urd Sighvasdottir?"

"That's the one".

"Damn. That's terrible. Well, you'll figure it out, Ivar the Boneless. Nothing gets past you".

And Kalv popped out of sight. Ivar cursed, pushed the baby trolley forward and walked away from the Viking neighborhood.

Oslo was lively that night, in spite of what their present-day habitants called "hate crimes". The youngest the people, the more oblivious they seemed to the religious tensions, something that happened to be the opposite for the Norse. At certain points in the “pubs” (as Ivar could read on the signs), both cultures merged, but as he walked west it was obvious the Vikings had taken over that part of Oslo.

At the Viking pubs, they played a mix of traditional and modern music and sold only mead, and the women were more beautiful, Ivar had to admit. But once the partying noises were far from his ears, his head cleared up: he had to find someone who knew the location of Olav II. 

The trolley was going straight ahead, but little Bo's index finger pointed to the right.

"What?" Ivar asked him.

But the child just babbled and kept on pointing.

"Bo, what…?"

Curious, Ivar turned his head right. In appearance, there was nothing there but old houses and abandoned bars, but in between them, in some kind of alleys, yellow tents lightened by candles could be seen. Ivar stepped out in that direction.

Bo clapped and giggled when they got there. Ivar smiled at him, coming up with crazy ideas.

"What's inside, my son?" He asked. "What's making you so happy?"

And Bo pointed again, this time at a specific tent where a female beggar sat cross-legged.

"Okay", Ivar said and headed there.

He hadn't taken two steps inside when the woman spoke:

"Ivar the Boneless".

Ivar noticed the runes, animal teeth and a bonfire, and knew he was at some place like home. He rolled the baby’s trolley next to him and sat down across the woman with his legs completely stretched out, not wanting to damage them by crossing them.

He had opened his mouth to speak when he caught Bo stretching his pale little hands to touch the bonfire flames.

"Bo, no!"

But Bo still had fire in him when Ivar pulled him away. Strangely, the tent didn't smell of burning flesh, something Ivar knew too well. And the baby wasn't screaming nor crying, in fact, he smiled as he held the flames up. Then, he waved his infant hands around until a fireball floated between them. At this, he giggled.

Ivar was speechless for the second time that night. He didn't know if it was okay to praise or curse the Gods.

"Your child is special, Ivar the Boneless", the woman, unfazed, explained. She raised her head and Ivar saw she had no eyes. "I can see more clearly than most. And I see that Bo Ivarsson is a demigod".

"A what?!"

"A demigod".

"Yes, I know what a demigod is, woman... I just..." And Ivar was surprised at his word choice: "Why?"

The beggar smiled a toothless smile.

"Váli has chosen you, Ivar the Boneless. You knew that. And part of his plan was gifting your son with some of his powers".

"… Does that mean he'll have the same destiny as Váli?"

The woman threw her head back, laughing.

"Destiny! Destiny, Ragnarok, prophecies… Those things are no more, Ivar. And no one knows if they'll ever come back. Now, why do you need me in this sad, lonely night?"

"I must find Olav II, Saint Olav. It's the mission Váli gave to me".

"Ah yes, Olav the Stout. He is here, I can feel his presence… Now, exactly where, I do not know…"

The woman moved the objects on the carpet around: teeth, feathers, amulets… Until she smirked and picked up a modern map from her left.

"This will tell us where Olav the Stout is", she said, opening it up. "But you must make some sacrifices, Ivar”, she grabbed Ivar’s hand.

He didn't protest when he saw a knife come out of her robes. She pressed it against his palm and cut deep enough so that drops of blood fell onto the map. Then, something Ivar had never witnessed: his blood moved around the map, like a river, until it stopped at a placed named Cemetery of Our Saviour, in Gamle Aker.

"That’s far from here", Ivar pointed out.

"Oh, but he is heading there. Olav the Stout, the one who utterly destroyed us”.

Ivar kept silence at these words, taking in the gravity of his mission. When he stood up, he noticed Bo was still making fireballs.

"Come on, demigod", Ivar teased as he made his son lie back on the trolley's pillow. Then he pulled the little vehicle back out and looked at the woman, who was no beggar, clearly. "Thank you".

She put her hands on top of his.

"Blóta", she said.

"Blóta", Ivar replied.

And with a smile and a bow, he left the tent with Bo.

**

The pub's DJ was playing Finntroll and the mead was good, but none of it mattered to Alfhildr. Urd was gone forever and those little escapades there seemed pointless now. As she drank, the survivor's guilt crept up to her, starting from the ground, from the very roots of the earth, up to her heart and ending in her head, which was about to explode with thoughts of what ifs and I should haves. She was a cop, for fuck's sake. Tracking religious extremists was supposed to be her job. All those days, weeks! Cutting cakes from her bosses, celebrating the case wrap-up, getting to meet Ivar's baby as if she had the right to such luxuries… And the Christian murderer had been acting in the shadows, under their noses, all along. Shoulda woulda coulda.

"Alfhildr", a friendly hand rested on her back. It was Tore.

"Hi", she croaked.

"Hi", he responded.

He sat down next to her and ordered whisky.

"I still need to tell you about my memory", he said. "The memory that came to me before the party, remember?"

"Yes…"

"Apologies if this is the wrong time, Alfhildr, but you have to know".

She chuckled at his solemnity.

"What's all this secrecy, Tore?"

"I'm not sure if I'm being wise in telling you…"

"Just spit it out. I'm not a little girl anymore".

Tore breathed in and out. Before he began, he focused his sight on the liquor bottles in front of him.

"This was many, many years ago. I was on a ship at sea, with my father's army, we hadn't eaten for days… And suddenly, one of our men shouts, pointing at the middle of the ocean, 'what is that?!'. Thinking he had spotted food or a friendly ship, we followed the path of his finger… And there was a little girl, about six years old, screaming as she tried not to drown. So of course we rowed until we got to her, pulled her out of the water, and I noticed she was wearing the same life jacket my daughter uses now, a life jacket on top of clothes from this era". Tore turned to Alfhildr. "It was you, Alfhildr. You are the little girl”.

"… Me...?"

"Yes. You were so scared of us at first… I named you Alfhildr, and my father gave you your last name, Enngisdottir. 'No man's daughter'".

Alfhildr's entire world stopped existing. The bar, the music, Tore himself, ceased to exist. No man's daughter. There lied the answer to all of her life's mysteries, from her last name to the fact that she had no memories from age six and backwards. She never thought much of it, or rather, hadn't had time to think much of it, until she appeared (or was "came back" the right verb?) in the twenty first century and those things started to matter. A father, a mother, a family. Could they still be here, my mom and dad? Did they abandon me? And who am I, in reality? Enngisdottir. No man's daughter. I am no one.

Tore apologized with a palm on her back and left. Alfhildr ordered vodka as a terrible thought assaulted her: if he was my real father, he would have stayed.

The barman handed her the vodka jug, from which she drank promptly. A weird sensation of being out of her body, of being Alfhildr but not really Alfhildr, was taking over her and she figured that the best way to block it was with more alcohol.

The DJ was playing even happier drinking songs; but Alfhildr felt tired and numb.

Then, she felt another male hand on her back, one she knew and even appreciated better than Tore's at the moment.

"Sorry if this isn't a good time, but I have a new lead on the case", Lars said sitting next to her.

Alfhildr would have killed him. In another time, in another self, if she wasn't so damn confused and hurt at the moment, she would have killed him. Instead, she sighed and smiled bitterly.

"You're right, it is not a good time".

Pause.

"Okay… Okay".

Alfhildr could see him with the corner of her eye, because nothing escaped her that way. People think I can't see them just because I'm not staring at them, but I can. If they used all of their five senses instead of being on their phones all day, they could do it too.

"What do you want to do tonight?" Lars asked her.

She didn't need to overthink it.

"Tonight, I just wanna dance and forget".

No answer from him. Of course, this stupid, idiot… But as she took gulps and sips of her vodka jug, she could still watch him with the corner of her eye.

But what on Earth is this doofus doing? He's scanning his surroundings, as if hunting deer, for fuck's sake. Now he's leaning on the bar, sitting back down, leaning again, opening and closing his stupid mouth and… What is this, he's offering me a hand?

Alfhildr chuckled, still congested and teary-eyed, as she looked down on it.

"You know how to dance?" She asked him.

"Eh", he half-shrugged, half-smiled.

"You're the dancing cop now?" She smiled amusingly.

"To be honest, I don't know what I am anymore".

She gulped.

"Neither do I".

And she put her hand in his.

**

Oh my God IT'S HAPPENING, Lars' head screamed as they headed for the dancefloor. It was ridiculous, but he couldn't help thinking and feeling like a hormone-fueled fourteen-year-old.

IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING—

Jesus. Calm the f down. You're gonna ruin it.

There were indeed two Larses fighting inside him now: the immature Lars who watched too much TV and the serious police officer who kept telling the first one to calm down and not screw everything up.

But the music was loud as hell, and the lights could give him a seizure, and Alfhildr could dance too damn close to him when she wanted to, and there were Norse people all around them. In fact, he was sure he was the only one from the present there. 

And what the hell was that music anyway? Metal, cookie-monster vocals, some synths, folk instruments, clean vocals… And worst of all, the thing was oddly catchy, it had a beat, it was alive like their lives hadn't been in a while. Lars listened up for the lyrics as he (tried to) dance, mostly to kill time and not let his nervousness shown.

Gallantly you fought
Made your people proud
Rise, brave warriors
The journey has just begun

"HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY!" The Vikings chanted as they hopped left and right on one foot. Then they sang the chorus all together:

High to the skies
Across the seas,
Woods of the north
And mountain peaks
The song will sound
Through history
Tonight we'll feast with Valkyries

Lars was pretty sure he was making a fool of himself —and oh, how nostalgic he was now about his dream dancing from months ago—, but at least Alfhildr wasn't complaining. She was beaming, in fact, and looking directly into his eyes. It was odd to Lars that she had been down and teary eyed just moments ago. Some girls you never find out what's the matter.

Goddamn it, could you stop thinking about books in the middle of a pub night?

The song ended, blending with a new one: same rhythm but the lyrics were in Finnish, so Lars took the chance for some pub, normal people chit-chat:

"You still like that black metal stuff?"

"Yup", Alfhildr said proudly as she bounced on the spot with her eyes closed.

"You know those guys are disturbed, right?" Concerned Lars said.

Drop it, man, Cool Lars thought.

"You mean the guys in the bands?" Alfhildr said, eyes opened.

"Yeah. A lot of them are criminals. Like serious, dangerous criminals. They went to jail and—"

"Oh, for Odin's sake!" Alfhildr said, laughing. "Shut up, Haaland!"

And she achieved her goal with a full-mouth kiss.

Lars instinctively parted his lips, finally blocking out his two brains for good. His chest heaved as he got the first tastes of Alfhildr, something akin to Temproxate plus weed multiplied by a million —and without side effects except for a hard on in his pants. She really knew how to kiss, and he could tell even though he hadn't kissed many girls besides his ex-wife. There was just something in it, the way she grabbed his face to plunge deep into him, exploring all of him, slipped away just slightly and then came back again. It was driving Lars nuts, making him mentally beg for more, for Alfhildr not to leave him. And her bites of course, that made it all even better, and oh, it now included her long and ridiculously delicious arms around his neck. It was going to be a slobbery, disgusting, R-rated mess when they were done, and Lars was all for it.

They were closer together now, and when the DJ had the gall to play a metal ballad Lars was pretty sure he was going to drop dead. Cause of death: folk metal ballad with girl around his arms. Alfhildr slowed down the kiss, because she was the one in control all that time (something Lars couldn't enjoy more), and he ran his fingers through her long, endless hair and down to the waist he had desired so much. In response, she pulled at the hair from the back of his head, scratched his nape as if her life depended on it and pulled her pelvis closer to him so that they were almost glued together. And still, they swayed perfectly to the ballad, sweet, weird, metal ballad...

And it was over much too quickly. The song ended and they just gazed into each other, Lars' lips wanting more, Alfhildr giving him a "that was incredible, wasn't it?" look.

But the DJ played a fast song again, and Alfhildr yelled with a smile:

"God is dead!" 

"What?" Lars mumbled.

"It's the bar's theme song!"

It was the fastest one Lars had danced to that night. The lyrics were easier to make out because everyone shouted them out, specially the chorus:

Joy to the world, God is dead
So let's drink til the bitter end
Joy to the world, God is dead
So let's drink til the bitter end

While that one had been danced by jumping on the spot and waving of the arms, the next verse was joined by a multitude of Norse hands fisting the air:

They whip you with their made-up sins
They beat you until you finally give in
But know that there is another path
Filled with joy and not the grandeur of misery
Wake up and see
Drink with me
In our wanton harmony!

At the end of the song, the Vikings cheered and clapped. Alfhildr bought two more jugs, this time containing mead.

"Are you digging our dancing?" She asked Lars and took a sip.

"Yeah, yeah, it was cool", he answered sincerely, adding a smile. "I never thought I'd enjoy dancing to metal".

"Oh, it's the best music to dance to. Most people are missing out".

Her happy, green eyes watching him from the top of the jugs were driving him mad. So mad he couldn't even smile back, just stare back with his mouth half opened like an idiot.

"Lars, you haven't touched a drink all night".

"Uh, I have to drive…"

And his voice died out in an almost wail he didn’t know how to fix.

"We don't have to leave the bar", Alfhildr said. "We can use one of the restrooms".

"Huh-uhhh…?"

He was pale, but she giggled loudly. He could tell she was enjoying it too much.

"I'm kidding!" She exclaimed. "You think I'm so cheap I do it in bathroom stalls?"

"Uh…" Lars' palms sweated like a madman. For the second time he felt she was killing him. She'd be the end of him. "How many drinks have you had, Alfhildr?"

"Not enough for you to think you're taking advantage of me, if that's what you're worried about".

"Oh-uh, great, 'cause I would never—"

"Ugh, you're such a good boy".

She pulled him from his jacket and shut him up again with a kiss.

Afterwards, they stood at a corner of the club as they watched the others dance. Alfhildr had her head resting on Lars' shoulder and the tip of her right hand fingers holding his. Not entire hands, just the tip of their fingers. Lars' body was all over the place, between hard ons and panic attacks. After what seemed like an eternity, he got the courage to throw an arm around her waist and was happy when she didn't push him away.

He kissed the cheek where her tattoos were, his favorite part, and pushed her hair away.

"Alfhildr, I…"

"Tell me", she said, mischievous as she faced him.

"I…"

I love you.

WHAAAAT?!

What the fuck are you doing, man?

I didn't say anything!

"Lars?" Alfhildr said with apparent concern, but then burst out laughing. "Lars! What's a matter with you?"

"N-nothing".

"Nothing?"

"L-let's go to my place, shall we? It's cozier".

Alfhildr nodded, excited. "I agree. And bigger", she added with a giggle.

This time it was Lars who gave her a small kiss, but he wasn't counting on it getting deeper and urgent. Soon they were snogging in their little corner like a couple of teenagers.

"Lars…" Alfhildr panted in his lips.

"Yeah", Lars still managed to taste hers one last time. "Yeah, let's go".

Chapter Text

Love. Love love love. Kjærlighet in Norwegian, a word that —as Lars had heard on a talk show many years before— linguists joked was on the verge of disappearance due to lack of use. He himself didn't remember using its verbal form with someone other than his daughter, and that was when she was still a toddler. He certainly never used it with his ex-wife. It sounded slobbery. Love. Cheesy, so so American. However, he had to admit, nationalities and cultures no longer had meaning in the post-beforeigners world.

So why had he said it to Alfhildr, then? Or thought of saying it, more like? As he headed toward his room's windows and stretched his arms before the sunshine, he realized he didn't have an answer. And maybe it was okay that it was so. Maybe the why didn't matter as much as the how. All he could think about was the night before, their kisses, the incredible aftermath that rendered both of them exhausted. In a single night, Lars had poured out all the numbed, repressed emotions from years of substance abuse, let it all go without a care in the world.

It was almost as if, and he shuddered at this thought, Alfhildr was his new drug. He had replaced Temproxate with… But no, that wasn't it, because she wasn't a thing to replace something else; she was a person.

And he turned around to look at her, as if wanting to make sure he wasn't really thinking of her as a thing, make sure his mind was in the right place. Weird, he had never acted like this, never had a lot of moral qualms or cared this much about not hurting a woman.

Of course, his addiction years —if they were behind him at all— seemed to have been excruciatingly eternal, hence the feeling that he had never been anything but an junkie.

He returned to his bed, where Alfhildr slept facedown. Her straight, long hair hung over her back —which Lars now kissed softly— and covered almost the entirety of her face.
He could almost chuckle at the cuteness of it all, but instead he smiled and grazed delicate fingers across her figure.

She grunted in her sleep and a painful moan escaped her lips.

"Tore…" She mumbled, rolled over her back and started shaking her head. "Tore, no, please… No!"

Lars was torn between waking her up and not doing anything, let the nightmare run its course. And just as his mind battled these two scenarios, Alfhildr jolted up in bed, eyes flung opened as she panted for air.

She started crying in the way she had done before Urd's eulogy, silently, holding herself back.

Lars came to the rescue with an arm around her naked shoulders she didn't need to reply to, followed by kisses on her hair. As the crying passed, she leaned her head on him.

He remembered how happy she had gotten at the pub, when they danced for about twenty hours. Was it because… Because of him? Could he elicit such a sudden recovery in another human being?

Alfhildr, I…

She suddenly took in her surroundings, the tangled sheets, the sunlight coming through the windows, the fact that she and Lars were both in just their underwear, and her cheeks turned red.

"Oh, ffffuck!" She shifted away from him.

"Alfhildr…" A hurt Lars spoke.

"I was very drunk last night", she said and drew her legs up to her chest. 

"Do you regret it?" He asked, trying and failing to hide his hurting.

She hid her face for a while, until he saw a small smirk appear in her soft lips. She half turned to look at him.

"Well, no one could regret a night like that, couldn't they?"

Lars couldn't help but chuckle from the bottom of his happy, bouncing heart. It was relief, pride, lo—affection, all thriving inside him. He bent over to caress Alfhildr's hair and kiss her.

"Lars, stop!" She flapped her hands as if shooing a fly and pushed him away. "Stop acting so lovey-dovey!"

He chuckled.

"Or what?" He dared her with an intense but playful look.

"Or…" Alfhildr gaped. "Or I'll make you…"

Before she could elaborate on a coherent answer, he started placing soft kisses on her neck, which he would sniff up from time to time. Her perfume from the night before hadn't worn off, making him grunt in pleasure.

Alfhildr moaned, then restrained herself and said, still with her eyes closed:

"You're being very unfair here, Lars".

"Oh, does the defense want to say something?" He was nibbling on her ear now.

"Yes!"

She giggled and pushed him away. He watched the innocence of her clear eyes again.

"I can't", she shook her head, and once again drew her legs up.

She looked truly troubled as she rested her cheek on top of her knees.

"Why?" He asked.

She sighed.

"I'm not who you think I am, Lars".

"Wh-what, what do you mean?"

"I'm not really from the past", she said, her damped eyes staring into him.

"You…?"

"Just hear me out. I haven't been lying this whole time, I just found out the truth last night, from Tore. Yeah, he reached me at the pub just before you did and told me… Well… Apparently, I popped up at the Northern Sea when I was about six years old and Tore and his Viking friends rescued me… I was wearing clothes from this time".

"From… From the twenty first?"

She nodded, then chuckled sadly.

"Surprise!"

"Alfhildr… I'm really sorry, you must feel…"

"Like shit? Yeah".

Lars still couldn't find the right words, so he just watched her absentmindedly pull from the bed's sheets.

"You don't think I'm gross and weird now?" She asked him.

"No! Certainly not gross. Come on now. Weird, yeah, I always thought you were weird".

They chuckled together, then she lied on the bed again, on her left side. Lars lied next to her, but didn't shift closer out of fear of freaking her out again.

"Hey..." he parted her hair to reveal her ear and neck. "You'll always be you, regardless of your past. Nothing changes for me".

"Nothing?" She shifted towards him, to his surprise, her eyes brightening in the haziness of Lars’ bedroom.

"Absolutely nothing. So I don't care if others think you're gross. Screw them".

She smiled at him, but then tears formed in her eyes again.

"Hey, hey…" Lars caressed the face she was trying to hide into the pillow. "It's gonna be alright, everything will turn out okay…"

She didn't say a word, but held his hand against her neck and kept it for a while as she closed her eyes. Lars watched her, thinking she was going to fall asleep like that.

But then she opened her eyes, sat up and beamed at him.

"You're so cute!" She bopped his nose.

"You like me?" Lars mumbled like an idiot.

"We just slept together, you absolute—"

"No, but do you like like me?"

"Oh, that! Yeah, I do! Do you think I would have cared about your addiction otherwise?"

Lars recalled all those moments in shame.

"I put you through a lot of shit", he told her. "You didn't deserve it".

"It's alright, it's in the past", she said. "What matters is that you're clean now. You are clean, right?"

"Absolutely. Otherwise I wouldn't had been able to… You know".

She smirked.

"Oh, that reminds me", she said, and roughly grabbed Lars' bandaged hand. "There's nothing wrong with this hand, you liar!"

And she slapped it. It hurt, but Lars couldn't help but chuckle proudly. He removed the bandages and stretched the hand in question a bit.

"I needed an excuse to use Temp", he said. "But it was for the better, right? Because now it's like your favorite hand".

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" She laughed.

Once again, Lars pinned Alfhildr against the bed and gazed into her eyes as he brushed the sides of her hair. And now she did the same with his, smiling.

"Hey, uh…" he started off. "I'm really sorry about the awful stuff I did to you when we first met. I still had my issues, and it wasn't fair to you".

Alfhildr nodded, then smirked.

"Look at you, all sweet and apologetic!"

He chuckled.

"Recovering addicts are supposed to apologize", he said.

"So this is an obligation for you".

"No, I actually want to this time".

With you, it's never an obligation.

They smiled into each other lips. Lars couldn't help but kiss her again, even risking rejection, and for a moment the only sounds in his apartment were those of lips smacking and throats moaning.

"Alfhildr…" Lars pulled out for a moment.

"What", an impatient but kind Alfhildr said. "What do you wanna say now?"

"Well, just that… If you don't want something, if you don't want us to be something, it's totally okay—"

Lars' phone rang with the "Time Wrap" song. Let's do the time wrap again!

"Oh, you think you're really funny, Haaland?"

"I'm-I'm sorry if it's offensive—"

She laughed. "I'm not offended. Go, go answer it".

"But—"

"Might be important…"

In that moment her phone also rang, but with a black metal song. They smiled it off and left the bed to pick up their respective calls.

"Yes?" Alfhildr answered.

"Hello?" Lars answered at the same time. "Oh, Oddvar! What's up?"

"You are not going to believe what we just found on Jeppe's apartment", the coroner said.

Lars exhaled, bracing himself for the news.

"What did you find”.

"Evidence bags with women's hairs in them".

"WHAT!"

Lars looked back on Alfhildr, but she seemed busy with her own call.

"Women's hair?" He repeated in a lower tone. "Like hair from the head?"

"Well, I would imagine it would be much harder to yank hairs from anywhere else, Lars".

Lars ran a hand through his face.

"That's disturbing", he said. "But shouldn't you report this to Eriksen first?"

"I should, but you happen to know one of the women whose hairs we found. Well, you and I, actually…"

"Alfhildr?"

"Yes".

"Jeppe took a sample of Alfhildr's hair?"

"Yes".

Lars cringed. "Jesus fuck!"

"It wasn't at random, of course. We ran all the samples through the DNA database and found out they come from female beforeigners. It looks like our friend Jeppe was collecting memorabilia all around the city".

"Once again, that's disgusting".

"No, I agree with you. But I'm not calling you to gossip. We found something interesting in Alfhildr's DNA".

"Yeah? What is it?"

"It's modified".

"Modified? But that's..."

"Oh, I didn't believe it myself at first, but I repeated the test three times now and it's definitely altered DNA".

"But I thought that could only exist in a non-human being, or, or…"

"Or two human beings in one".

Lars sat down on his bed, unable to speak.

"Lars…" Oddvar called. "Do you know this means Alfhildr might come from multiple timelines, right?”

"Yeah, yeah", Lars cleared his throat. "Is she—is she the only one with modified DNA?”

“From our twenty-five samples, yes”.

“This is…”

“Surreal? Yes. But with everything we’re discovering recently, unsurprising. Listen, Lars, I'll handle this quietly, and if Alfhildr is ever curious, she's welcome to drop by at the lab".

“Okay”.

“But I urge you to be careful. Do not let this information slip out”.

“I won’t. Don’t worry, Oddvar. And thanks for telling me anyway”.

"No problem. Have a nice weekend, Lars".

"Thanks, you too. Bye bye".

Lars hung up the phone and could hear Alfhildr say over hers:

"Well, in that case… Good luck!… Bye. And don't do anything stupid, for crying out loud".

"Who was that?" Lars asked Alfhildr as she hung up.

"Uh, just a… Telemarketer".

"Oh… yeah, for me too. So annoying, aren't they?"

They chuckled it off, then lied on the bed again, next to each other.

"Hey, Alfhildr…" Lars said.

"You'll have to call me Princess Alfhildr from now on", she joked.

"Really?" He rose up, leaning on his elbows.

"No, not really, fucking hell, Lars…" She laughed, cheeks flushing.

"Oh… Well, I wanted to ask you… 'cause I thought it was kind of odd, coming from you—"

"What was odd?"

"Well… How come you like Igor so much? Most people would hate a strange kid that someone else dumped on them…"

"Oh but it wasn't his fault… Being sent here and all that. Besides, I love kids! Who says I don't?"

"It just seems very unlike you, Alfhildr".

She chuckled.

"Well, I never had to raise one, maybe that's why I like them".

"You never…" Lars realized he had to be very careful with his wording. "… Got married?"

"Once… But it didn't work. I had four miscarriages in total".

"…Shit! That's awful".

She titled her head a bit and snickered.

"Tell me about it! My husband hated me—no, loathed me for it. We had no choice but to go separate ways, and I figured it was not worth trying to have children with anyone else. We didn't have the medical knowledge we do nowadays but still… Four miscarriages… One knows when their body is broken, right?"

"You're not broken…"

"My uterus would beg to differ". At this, she laughed in a yelp. "And anyway, I dedicated my life to being a shield maiden since then, and now I'm a cop, so…" She shrugged. "I don't need a kid".

Lars watched her throw her hair back.

"Okay…" He said. "I respect your decision".

"Thank you, twenty first century man!"

After they were done chuckling, Lars held her right hand. He was surprised at the large scar in the palm.

"What's this from?" He asked while running his finger through it.

"Last thing I remember before coming here", she said with a puzzling smile.

Jeg elsker deg, he thought.

He got up to turn on his stereo, the pristine Juice Newton chords making him blush slightly. Where had that come from? Had Kalv been bringing his records into Lars' apartment again?

"How romantic, Mr. Darcy!" Alfhildr shouted from the bedroom. She laughed.

Lars didn't reply. He returned to his bed threw her onto the bed and filled her with kisses on her mouth, neck, collarbone…

He stopped to show her his fake-injured hand.

"Missed it?" He looked up at her.

"Shut up and keep going lower!"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you!"

"I don't believe you".

As Alfhildr giggled hysterically, Lars left a trail of kisses down her lower abdomen until he reached the elastic straps of her panties, which he started pulling with his teeth.

Chapter Text

Ivar was hidden behind a tombstone at the Cemetery of Our Savior, in the outskirts of Oslo. His phone stroke twelve, midday, the sky was rather dark and the girl still didn't show up. Alfhildr had told him she was getting closer to the place. And regarding Olav the Stout… he had to be hidden somewhere in the cemetery, or so Ivar thought.

To make time pass faster, he would pull from the strings he had attached to the trap he and Igor had built upon the grass, to make sure it worked. Then he would look to his left, where the boy and a three-ish year old Bo hid behind another tombstone. The toddler was content as usual, while at the same time holding a rare, adult-like calmness. He hadn't made a single noise since Ivar had told him to stay quiet.

An omnibus pulled up at the cemetery entrance, which Ivar took as a sign to throw his phone at Igor and give the two boys a nod.

A present-day teenage girl descended from the bus; blonde, with fair skin, exactly as Alfhildr had described her over the phone. Ivar squinted at her as she walked into the cemetery in delicate yet firm steps, her face glowing with expectation.

Madeleine Aas, Ivar thought. Are you really that much of a threat?

She passed the first gate of the cemetery, still far from Ivar's hiding spot, knelt before a tomb and skimmed the name of the deceased one with her eyes. Then, to Ivar's surprise, she started digging into the soil with her bare hands.

The task —whatever it was— seemed never-ending. She scratched and scratched, kicking the humid dirt out and ruining her clothes and skin. When a significant hole had been dug, she jumped down and retrieved a sword from it.

Ivar's eyes grew bigger, then squinted again.

It was a silver sword, much more majestic and beautiful than Ivar's.

He then heard the trot of a horse coming closer, from the opposite gate of the cemetery, tensed up but was relieved when the animal crossed before his eyes and not behind him.

He held his breath as not to be heard and poked his head out of the tombstone long enough to see better.

The horse’s rider was a very tall man, heavyset and shirtless as if wanting to brag about his physique, and long, greyish hair fell down his back. To Ivar, he looked like the men in those "romance" books present-day girls loved to read.

Madeleine gave the man the mighty sword, which he saved into his leather jeans. Then she put a golden crucifix around his neck and smiled, gazing deep into his eyes.

"I forgot how tall you were", she said, as Ivar had been foretold, in clear Norse.

The man smiled back.

"They don't call me Olav the Stout for nothing".

Ivar made a "stay there" gesture at Igor and Bo and got up from his hiding spot with his old crutches beneath his armpits. He limped towards the couple and cleared his throat.

They turned to Ivar, both in shock.

"Sorry to interrupt this beautiful love scene, but I've got some pending matters with Olav".

Olav hid his initial surprise behind a smirk, while Madeleine clung to his right arm and glared at Ivar.

"Ivar the Boneless!" The saint greeted with just the right amount of contained hostility.

Ivar smirked, limped closer to them both and replied:

"I prefer to go by Ivar Ragnarsson these days".

And with that, he threw the crutches away and stood firmly on his new legs. He started chuckling at Olav and the girl's shocked faces.

"You…" Olav grunted. "How did you…?"

Ivar smiled wickedly.

"I love the doctors of this time!" He said. "I don't know why you want to hurt these good people so badly".

Olav glared, his nostrils fuming like a bull's.

"Did you really think", Ivar went on, "were you naive enough to believe I was going to let you get away with your plans?"

He drew out his sword and nailed it forcefully against the grass.

"The Gods are with me, Olav", he added at the saint's silence. “You don’t stand a chance”.

"There is only one God", Olav snarled, "you filthy, worthless pagan!"

Ivar laughed.

"Prove it, then", he said. "Fight me, kill me on this holy ground and prove your God is mightier than Odin".

This time it was Olav's turn to chuckle.

"I'd rather not taint myself with your pagan blood, Ivar. I'd rather show you mercy, because you don't know what I'm capable of".

"Oh, is that so?"

"That's right. Your death won't be peaceful. It will be long, neverending, so painful you will regret ever having challenged me".

Ivar snickered.

"Let's see, little saint", he said and pulled his sword up from the ground.

But the young girl suddenly put herself between him and Olav the Stout.

"If you wanna kill him you'll have to get through me first".

"Madeleine, that won't be necessary…" Olav said, pulling her slightly from her pink jacket sleeve.

Ivar smirked.

"Listen to the man", he pointed his sword at her and waved it to the side. But Madeleine stood right where she was. "Step aside, little girl".

"No!" She shouted defiantly, and silence fell between the two. "What? You're afraid to hurt a little girl?" She smirked.

Ivar's sword slashed her across the face. As she fell to the ground, bleeding and moaning, Olav shouted:

"How dare you, cripple!"

Ivar smirked as his sword blocked Olav's.

"I don't see any cripple here".

And so the fight started; the clanking of swords, the heavy grunts, the weight of Ivar's Viking armor contrasting Olav's naked and vulnerable chest. Ivar's legs felt strangely strong, as if he'd had them for the entirety of his life and hadn't needed a walker just days before.

"You won't win, Ivar!" Olav shouted as their swords tried to disarm one another.

Ivar panted, but he was not going to give up.

"You still don't get it, do you?!" He shouted back.

"Get what, my dear pagan?"

In a thud, Ivar fell on his back and now had Olav's blade scraping his neck. Despite this, he panted with a confident smile.

"That all of Valhalla is with me".

And with a loud grunt, he used his aesthetically inferior sword to push Olav's out of the way, throwing the much larger man to the ground, next to him. Ivar swiftly stood up and took the chance to do a slice on Olav's neck, which started bleeding satisfactorily.

But Olav laughed, covering his wound with barely one hand, stood up and with the other hand swung his sword at Ivar. He missed by about an inch, so Ivar disarmed the saint with a swoosh and stabbed him in his muscled abdomen.

Just as Ivar smiled triumphantly, Madeleine’s voice popped up again:

"No!"

Ivar felt a burning sting on his right shoulder, smelled the blood but could only fall to his knees. While he panted and grimaced, he heard fire behind him.

He turned around, still on his knees.

A circle of high, sizzling flames had caged Madeleine, who cried out in confusion, for mercy. She tried to step out of it, but seemed to be trapped by some kind of invisible barrier. The flames began to grow thicker, taller, and the smell of burning flesh reached Ivar's nostrils.

He turned his head right, as if he knew, and there it stood his son Bo, unmeasurable ire in such small eyes and fire pouring out of his hands.

Ivar didn't have time to congratulate or thank him, as Olav stood up and came at him with the silver sword, a stab Ivar managed to elude by merely inches one more time. The Viking pressed his blade against the other’s and advanced forward, forcing Olav to step back several feet.

"Igor!" Ivar signaled as he kept on pushing the saint backwards.

Olav glanced around in momentary confusion, but long enough for Ivar to stab his sword deep into the naked chest, making the saint stagger back even more. Blood spurted out like an everflowing stream, dark and grisly just as Ivar liked it, and a wide smirk grew on the Viking’s face. He withdrew the sword from a groggy Olav, who nevertheless was trying not to crumble.

Ivar's mouth snarled, his eyes staring into the saint’s terror-stricken ones:

"DEATH… TO WHITE CHRIST!"

It happened in no more than two seconds. With one last and mighty push, this time from Ivar’s bare hands, Olav's right foot was forced onto the area of grass where the Viking trap began, and he disappeared down a deep hole.

Breathing heavily, Ivar quickly stepped up to look at his work, the final result of another one of his battle strategies, and was quickly joined by Igor, who wore Viking armor of his own and held a thread in one hand.

"Wow…" The boy's eyes widened.

Olav's bloody corpse lied at the bottom of the hole, his own sword impaled into the left side of his muscled torso.

"Here lies Olav the Stout", Ivar said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Former saint".

And he chuckled. cheerily. 

"Ivar, the girl!" Igor tugged him by the armor's sleeve.

"She doesn't matter, Igor".

"No, look!"

He looked in the same direction as his non-blood son, and found a terrified Madeleine thrashing on the ground while Bo stared from above.

"No!" She screamed. "No…! Leave me… alone!"

Wild winds suddenly took over the cemetery, bringing putrid dust along and whistling like a prelude symphony to death. Ivar had to shut his eyes, which had started to sting and itch, and cover his entire face.

Madeleine's screams, now more like wails of pain, pierced his ears.

When the winds disappeared, so did her previous burning wounds and the opened cut Ivar had inflicted across her face. She was unscathed, as she had never been in any battle. But she didn't move one inch, her eyes fixated on the sky and her mouth gaped like she had just seen the worst thing in the world.

Ivar also noticed Bo was standing next to her and staring down at her face, so he ran towards them both.

A Norse rune was carved in blood against her forehead, at the very center:

ᛟ

"O…" Ivar read. "O for Odin…"

"You will bear this mark forever", a deep voice reverberated through the cemetery, and Ivar was in awe to find it came from Bo's mouth. The little boy seemed to be in a trance as he continued to stare at Madeleine. “I saved your life, healed your wounds, but in exchange you will carry my name until the end”.

Madeleine gasped heavily, awakening. She started moving, trying to sit up, but could only lean on her elbows. The peacefulness of the cemetery returned as if it had never left.

While Ivar, Igor and Bo stood in line without speaking, Madeleine looked at them in utter dread. She ran two fingers through the mark on her forehead, now the color of blood and gold, and looked down on said fingers for a long while. They had fresh blood in them.

She got on her feet and ran away from cemetery.

When she was far out of sight, Ivar side-hugged Igor:

"I told you we were going to win this one!" He smiled, and Igor grinned back. "I told you the Gods were with us!"

Ivar then approached his youngest one:

"And Bo", he got on one knee and held him by the arms. "What would I do without you, little demigod?"

Bo smiled widely.

"Pappa", he said.

Igor laughed as Ivar frowned.

"Why are you speaking Norwegian, Bo? Your first word should have been in Norse!"

But Bo giggled. He pointed at Igor:

"Storebror Igor".

Without speaking, Igor bent down and hugged the smaller child tightly. When he pulled away, he lifted him and held him between his arms.

"Dad?" He said.

"Hmm?" Ivar seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

"How are we going to get to the time hole?"

"Alfhildr will drive us there. She promised me".

**

Alfhildr pulled over the cemetery as her car stereo blasted some 1970s heavy metal. Through the dark sunglasses hiding her tired eyes, she could see the trio waiting at the entrance gate: Ivar, Igor and a little boy of about three years of age.

She stepped out the car and walked towards them.

"Is that Bo, Ivar?"

"Yes, he keeps growing and growing", Ivar grinned.

Alfhildr bent over towards Bo and messed up his blond hair.

"Aren't you the cutest little Viking!"

"Hallo", he greeted.

Alfhildr turned to Ivar with a glare.

"You didn't teach him Norse?"

"No, I was a little occupied slaying a saint, as you can see".

They all laughed, except for Bo. 

"Where's Olav’s body?" She asked Ivar.

"Come and see".

Alfhildr followed him through the first gate of the cemetery, through the rows of white tombs, until they reached the saint's improvised 'grave'. Her eyebrows shot up at it.

"Impressive, Ivar!"

"Thank you. But I wouldn't have done it without Igor here".

"Prince Igor! You…?"

"I helped him set up the trap".

Alfhildr looked down on Olav's corpse again and said:

"Ivar… Did you also kill Madeleine?"

"I didn't have to. But don't worry, she won't bother us again".

Alfhildr smiled.

"You're a man full of mysteries, Ivar the—I mean, Ivar".

He chuckled it off as Alfhildr blushed.

"It's alright”, he said. “And I'm hiding things, certain things, to protect you. You have been of great help, Alfhildr".

She smiled again, almost blushing, and did a small bow.

"We should get going, Ivar. Katya must be impatient".

Ivar looked at her with a small smile, but said nothing as they walked towards the car.

Once inside, Alfhildr commented:

"Nice armors, by the way, all of you. Where did you get them from?"

"Temps du perdut", Ivar answered.

"I've heard of them".

"They also braided my hair back. Look".

Alfhildr glanced quickly at his new Viking braids and put her sight back on the road.

"Which fake name did you give them?" She raised an eyebrow, amused.

"None. They didn't ask for our names. It was a bit of a strange place".

She chuckled.

"Tell me about it!"

"You've been there?"

"They were witnesses for a past investigation".

"Oh".

Alfhildr noticed his bleeding wound.

"Do you need something for your shoulder?"

"It'll pass when I get back home", Ivar smirked. "Hey, you're welcome to come with us if you want. I still remember you telling me you miss our kingdoms".

Alfhildr's mouth twisted sideways.

"I do, I just… I can't go back now. I don't… I don't think I want to either".

She was so surprised at her word choice that her eyes went wide for a second.

"You don't want to?" Ivar almost chuckled in disbelief.

Alfhildr thought of Lars again, and her lips curved upwards.

"You have your secrets, Ivar, I have mine".

"Alright", Ivar smirked. "That seems fair".

Her stereo still played the same sort of music.

“What’s that music?” Ivar asked her.

“Black Sabbath”, Alfhildr answered. Then she glanced back on Igor: “Are you excited about returning home, Igor?”

"Of course! But I will miss this telephone", he said, taking the device from beneath his belt.

"Yeah, you're no different from present-day kids on that. But I'll let you keep it, how about it?"

"Thanks, Alfhildr".

"I mean, it won't work in the 10th century, but it's a memory, right?"

They all chuckled and smiled at each other.

"We're getting closer", Alfhildr announced after glancing at her GPS screen.

**

The timehole area was strangely empty of guards and other present-day people. Instead, about twenty Norse men and women waited at the shore.

"That is my flock", Ivar explained with a smirk.

Alfhildr, who had hidden her police badge in her car drawer, watched Katya running from nowhere to hug Ivar, Bo, and Igor. She wore a shield maiden armor that oddly suited her well.

"Let's go!" Ivar waved his arm, made Bo sit on his shoulders and walked towards the sea. The beforeigners followed him.

When they were all deep into the waters, the family of four still turned to Alfhildr, who was moved to tears and waving at them from land. They waved back at her, with no need to speak any words.

Then, a huge flash of light almost blinded Alfhildr, and everybody was gone. The sea was calm again. With another tear falling down her cheek, she took out her phone and looked at the photo she had snapped of Igor sleeping in the backseat of her car, the day Navn’s body was found. Maybe that would be her only memory of Igor’s family she'll ever have. Or maybe not. The human mind was powerful, memories coming back even after traveling through time, as she knew now, so maybe it will all be hard to forget. She hoped so, anyway. Things had been so crazy since Igor arrived at Lars' door, crazy and dangerous and stressful… but still, also beautiful. Crazy/beautiful.

Chapter Text

The twilight was quiet in tenth century Kattegat, now that the once-beforeigners had been picked up by their families and returned to their homes. It was still strange to Ivar how they seemed to have forgotten everything about Oslo the minute they returned, almost as if Váli himself had decided it that way. But Ivar wasn’t complaining, as he was certain he would have found it difficult to explain their ‘little’ adventure to the other Vikings without being deemed a lunatic.

He chuckled to himself. Yes, perhaps it hadn't been very wise to tell everyone they had gotten lost at sea, but it was better than the truth. They would handle and understand it, he knew this, but only with time.

Ironic. Time.

Ivar would be sailing towards England the next morning, to see how Hvitserk was doing and put his matters in order before settling in Kiev. Like Lagertha before him, he felt that he had done more than enough to earn a place in Valhalla —as Váli had predicted—, to immortalize his name in the poems and history books, and now it was time for Igor and Bo to do the same, to trace their own path.

"I'm going with you, Ivar".

Igor's voice, coming from the opposite end of the dining table in Ubbe’s old home, startled Ivar a little. He looked at the boy with an understanding smirk.

"Aren't you tired, son? We've come a long way".

"Yes, but I want to see if everything is alright with the Norwegian army".

"Because of what Váli promised me?"

"Yes".

"You don't believe him?"

Igor shrugged his left shoulder.

"I just want to be sure".

"Fine, you're coming with me", Ivar said and Igor smiled in excitement. "But be wary around the English".

"Don't worry, Ivar. I've got a revolver now!" Igor made like he was getting a gun from his belt and did the fingers gesture: "BANG BANG!" 

"IGOR! Did you really—?"

But the boy laughed.

"I'm joking! I only brought my telephone".

"Not so loud, dear boy. And we're leaving at dawn".

Igor gave Ivar a tight hug.

"Thank you!"

Ivar was a little perplexed at this, but went on:

"And tell Katya. I don't want her to worry".

"Of course".

**

Hvitserk was gravely wounded, agonizing in Edington after long days of battle. King Alfred had made a truce with the Viking army and was letting him rest at the royal villa.

"You idiot", was Ivar's greeting.

He limped around Queen Elsewith’s old bedroom, pretending once more that he was still disabled.

Hvitserk managed to smirk in between death rattles.

"You abandon me for a woman”, he croaked, “I fight for our people… and I'm the idiot?"

"Yes, because you don't listen to the Gods”, Ivar raised his voice. “If you did, you would have won—"

"Shut up, Ivar!"

But Ivar ignored him, giving a big sigh.

"The Gods sent me away for a reason, Hvitserk—"

"Oh, the Gods! I'm not sure if… " Hvitserk groaned in pain, his eyes bloodshot. "I'm not sure if I believe in them anymore, little brother".

"What?! Don't tell me you believe in the crucified 'God' now".

"He's the only one that gives me hope, as of late".

Ivar let out another deep sigh, rubbed his face and sat on the bed.

"You left me, Ivar”, Hvitserk continued. “Left all of us behind".

Ivar said nothing for a while, staring at the ground. Then he rose without using his crutches and stood composedly next to Hvitserk, even stretching his limbs. The older brother went pale and rigid.

"You…!" He exclaimed in horror. "What witchery is this?!"

"No witchery", Ivar smiled and started pacing around the room. "Are you baptized already?"

"Ivar! Aren't you going—?" Hvitserk coughed for several seconds. "Aren't you going to… explain what happened to you?"

"Answer me first. Are you baptized in Christ?"

A small detour in Hvitsek's eyes showed guilt.

"Yesterday. A priest came here".

Another coughing fit came over him. Ivar waited until it had passed to speak:

"Then you won't believe what happened to me either way. I bet, my dear brother, that Hvitserk isn’t even your name anymore”.

“Ivar...”

“… Therefore, it would pointless for me to explain anything to you”.

You're a dead man, Ivar thought as he went for his 21st century crutches again. He put them below his armpits and looked at his brother in the eyes. And dead Christians tell no tales.

"Ivar!" Igor shouted outside the room.

"Come in, Igor!"

And the boy did as he was told, but running. He glanced at the wounded Hvitserk, not sure what to feel, what to say; then looked at Ivar.

"I need to know where King Ecbert is buried", he said.

"What? Why?"

"I'm just… Curious".

Ivar studied his eldest child.

"But how do you…?" He started off, then understood. "Ooh… Alright, I'll take you there".

Hvitserk grunted from the bed.

"I could be dead by the time you come back, Ivar".

The youngest brother smiled sarcastically.

"I'm sure the White Christ won't let that happen so soon", he said and placed a hand on Igor's shoulder as he escorted them both outside.

"The what?" Hvitserk still protested. "Where did you get that name from?"

**

"Well, this is the place", Ivar said looking down at the catacomb’s gate. "King Ecbert died on this very spot. I can still remember… SON!"

Igor had slipped down in the dirt, and Ivar could only hear the entrance gate creaking open.

"Igor, what are you doing…?”

"It will only take me a minute! I'm not in danger!”

The tombs were dimly lit, except for the golden one which belonged to King Ecbert. Igor walked towards it and took out the papyrus he had written onto before Ivar woke up that same dawn.

People from the future:

I know you can read this, I know you can understand me just as I once understood you. I am Igor of Kiev, son of Rurik and successor of Oleg. I have seen tyrants rise and fall, good men die unfairly, children passing before they can speak, but still what hurts me the most is the separation of families I saw in the twenty first century. That and people walking away from God (or Gods, whichever you believe in).

Without those, all that's left is hatred and pain. So I am asking you this now: fight for your families. Pray for them. If you have lost them for whatever reason, then you already know that a man is nothing without them.

I spent most of my childhood years alone, hurting without a mother, father or siblings. But my life turned meaningful when I could finally find a family. I wish the same for all the children in the future.

And even though we all believe in different gods, there's one thing we have in common: family. Our families make us human.

There is a world beyond our earthly one, spirits and powers you don't understand because your minds have shut to notice only evil and misery. But when you open yourselves up again, when you learn to see with your hearts, you'll find out how wonderful life is.

Igor of Kiev

Year 936, Wessex, England.

Igor folded the letter several times, opened a red coffer next to King Ecbert's left hand and deposited it there before shutting it.

He checked if he had left everything just as it was before and took out his phone. The "baretty" was almost gone, though he could still read Oslo's last weather report: 6 degrees on the Celsius scale.

He turned it off, deciding in that very moment that he would bury it deep underground in the following days, and put it back beneath his Viking belt.

"I'm coming out, Ivar!"

Igor ran towards the catacombs' entrance gate and unlocked it.