I am iron and I forge myself
If it were solely up to Lagertha, she’d keep Erebor just to stick it to Straia. Maybe challenge her to single combat in order to get him back. Come hell or high water, she is no Warrior Queen if she couldn’t survive whatever the Chamber lady could throw at her. They both had immortality, didn’t they? So no harm would truly come of it. Alas, she has more to think about than her pride and what she, personally can accomplish. A bevy of women put their trust in her. This is the moment when she must be more than a General; she must be a mother and a sister and a guardian and a Queen.
It fucking kills her.
They will say she wouldn’t stand up to Straia, that she bowed under the threat of fire. They will say that she had Straia’s achilles heel in her grasp, and that she let him go. But they do not know Anguisette and the things she would do to reclaim her own daughter. They do not know Nayl and Ephrelle and the potential they hold. They do not know Rhy and her beautiful, electric wisdom. They do not know Tantalize and Prague, and how much Lagertha would lose if harm were to come to them. They do not know odd little Vyx, colorful Elektra, or sad Sarkis and Vi. They do not know that she sees herself in Joscelin and Lyris, and they do not know the calm peacefulness of Sunday. She cannot throw them into the fire the way that she would leap without hesitation. The blood that sings at the possibility of war is not their blood. They do not know the women like she does, and they do not know the depths to which she will go for them. And so Lagertha will bite her tongue until it draws blood, and take the blow, and bide her time.
Even if they came with their fire and heat and plant control, Lagertha has faith that Rhys lightning and Prague’s magic and Lyris’s weather and Joscelin’s energy could hold them at bay. They have friends, too. More than the Chamber, at this point, probably. Lagertha is willing to sacrifices the edges of her Kingdom as collateral damage but her Sisters are another story. Trees regrow, animals return. However, not everyone can be so lucky. And then there are the wildcards - the magicians - when and where they will strike, either causing chaos or offering protection, one can never tell. The majority of them seem to lend a hand to the chaos-makers, while there are few who offer protection unless it’s to their own kingdom. And even then…
Her mind is made up. Straia’s subjects may be willing to die for her orders, but Lagertha will not ask it of her own. And so with more teeth grinding, she waits until Erebor finishes his very diplomatic speech, careful to speak in general terms, without saying how he’d ensure that an innocent sister would be released or how quickly. Nayl arrives in the middle of his speech, and after her quips, she fixes him with a hard, level gaze, keenly aware that they have quite the audience. Very well. Let them watch. Gathering her thoughts, Lagertha turns on her ‘Queen’ voice and continues at a clipped pace. “You are correct, the Chamber, though full of hot-heads and bullies, has done nothing to injure us. In fact, Killdare was very prompt in attending to a lost challenge, and I am sure he is enjoying his stay. There are no Chamberling prisoners here, only visitors learning how to battle better. I would insist the same if a Sister lost a challenge.”
She speaks from experience, listening to Lyris recount her visit to the Chamber. Gryffen is a hot-head and a bully, and someone needs to wipe that sneer off his face. For a moment, she thinks of Sette and is satisfied, knowing that it irritates him to no end that she is thriving with them… and that she calls no one Father. Plus one to the Amazons.
His attempted jab at ‘prisoners’ means nothing. If Joscelin had lost the battle, she would ask the woman why and schedule a mock for when she returns from her sentence. They are masters of their own destiny, and it is no one’s fault of Killdare’s that he is here. Lagertha has faith in his reasoning about that. It is the risk they take when they join the army. Apparently, so is being picked up and transported to a foreign kingdom. “Whatever you did before you were dropped here, no Sisters were harmed. Because of that, you are free to go, Erebor, but don’t let it happen again. Twice could be construed as… more than just unlucky. And kindly pass on the request to keep the ravens out of my kingdom, or I shall have to ask our own magician to do something about it.” Along with a standing order to zap or attack on sight. Her gaze travels to the other Chamberling man. “However, because no one challenged back for Killdare’s return, he still has a few weeks left.” Again, that prisoner part is on them. But he, too, shall be returned in the same way that he arrived - without a female inflicted scratch upon him. The flora part of their home, however, might have something else in mind. She turns her head to address two of the group. “Nayl, or Rhy - would you mind escorting him to the Jungle’s edge?” And then, in closing and clear dismissal, she takes one last glance and a slightly nod to the black stallion before turning around to head back in the direction she’d come from. “Erebor. Take care.”
Funny, if war comes, Lagertha also does not doubt the outcome - though they are probably thinking of very different endings.
It fucking kills her.
They will say she wouldn’t stand up to Straia, that she bowed under the threat of fire. They will say that she had Straia’s achilles heel in her grasp, and that she let him go. But they do not know Anguisette and the things she would do to reclaim her own daughter. They do not know Nayl and Ephrelle and the potential they hold. They do not know Rhy and her beautiful, electric wisdom. They do not know Tantalize and Prague, and how much Lagertha would lose if harm were to come to them. They do not know odd little Vyx, colorful Elektra, or sad Sarkis and Vi. They do not know that she sees herself in Joscelin and Lyris, and they do not know the calm peacefulness of Sunday. She cannot throw them into the fire the way that she would leap without hesitation. The blood that sings at the possibility of war is not their blood. They do not know the women like she does, and they do not know the depths to which she will go for them. And so Lagertha will bite her tongue until it draws blood, and take the blow, and bide her time.
Even if they came with their fire and heat and plant control, Lagertha has faith that Rhys lightning and Prague’s magic and Lyris’s weather and Joscelin’s energy could hold them at bay. They have friends, too. More than the Chamber, at this point, probably. Lagertha is willing to sacrifices the edges of her Kingdom as collateral damage but her Sisters are another story. Trees regrow, animals return. However, not everyone can be so lucky. And then there are the wildcards - the magicians - when and where they will strike, either causing chaos or offering protection, one can never tell. The majority of them seem to lend a hand to the chaos-makers, while there are few who offer protection unless it’s to their own kingdom. And even then…
Her mind is made up. Straia’s subjects may be willing to die for her orders, but Lagertha will not ask it of her own. And so with more teeth grinding, she waits until Erebor finishes his very diplomatic speech, careful to speak in general terms, without saying how he’d ensure that an innocent sister would be released or how quickly. Nayl arrives in the middle of his speech, and after her quips, she fixes him with a hard, level gaze, keenly aware that they have quite the audience. Very well. Let them watch. Gathering her thoughts, Lagertha turns on her ‘Queen’ voice and continues at a clipped pace. “You are correct, the Chamber, though full of hot-heads and bullies, has done nothing to injure us. In fact, Killdare was very prompt in attending to a lost challenge, and I am sure he is enjoying his stay. There are no Chamberling prisoners here, only visitors learning how to battle better. I would insist the same if a Sister lost a challenge.”
She speaks from experience, listening to Lyris recount her visit to the Chamber. Gryffen is a hot-head and a bully, and someone needs to wipe that sneer off his face. For a moment, she thinks of Sette and is satisfied, knowing that it irritates him to no end that she is thriving with them… and that she calls no one Father. Plus one to the Amazons.
His attempted jab at ‘prisoners’ means nothing. If Joscelin had lost the battle, she would ask the woman why and schedule a mock for when she returns from her sentence. They are masters of their own destiny, and it is no one’s fault of Killdare’s that he is here. Lagertha has faith in his reasoning about that. It is the risk they take when they join the army. Apparently, so is being picked up and transported to a foreign kingdom. “Whatever you did before you were dropped here, no Sisters were harmed. Because of that, you are free to go, Erebor, but don’t let it happen again. Twice could be construed as… more than just unlucky. And kindly pass on the request to keep the ravens out of my kingdom, or I shall have to ask our own magician to do something about it.” Along with a standing order to zap or attack on sight. Her gaze travels to the other Chamberling man. “However, because no one challenged back for Killdare’s return, he still has a few weeks left.” Again, that prisoner part is on them. But he, too, shall be returned in the same way that he arrived - without a female inflicted scratch upon him. The flora part of their home, however, might have something else in mind. She turns her head to address two of the group. “Nayl, or Rhy - would you mind escorting him to the Jungle’s edge?” And then, in closing and clear dismissal, she takes one last glance and a slightly nod to the black stallion before turning around to head back in the direction she’d come from. “Erebor. Take care.”
Funny, if war comes, Lagertha also does not doubt the outcome - though they are probably thinking of very different endings.
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons