warriors do not show their heart
until the axe reveals it
Lagertha snorts in amusement; she has been called many things, but death is not one of them. “No,” she says definitively. After a brief pause, she continues to her own amusement. “Once, I was. Years ago. No, death will never come looking for me. I must go to her.” She no longer held poison in her skin, which is probably for the best. There will be no wars any time soon- no raids, no risking of Beqanna’s displeasure. So it seems that the General is left with very little to do, and it’s starting to get under her skin; her time will come around again eventually, but the question is how long that will take. Lagertha has infinite time - and a very limited amount of patience.
The scarred gray mare lowers her head to get a closer look at this bedraggled little multi-colored heap that clearly washed up on their shores. The smell of salt and water drew her, and Lagertha’s first thought was that it might be another Sister wandering out and about (with nothing yet to do, it was easy to fill one’s days with wandering).
Instead, she finds a mess of a girl who is clearly in need of a bit of help. Her gray, whiskered lips purse in concern, noting the signs of sunburn, exhaustion, and dehydration. The filly must have been through quite an ordeal.
Lagertha is very familiar with recent ordeals.
The former Warrior Queen’s voice softens around the edges, and she adopts the sort of tone she once used for her children. The mare’s dark gray eyes try to determine if the filly is sporting any sort of serious injury, but she cannot see beneath the salt of the sea and the thin layer of sand that seems to cover her multi-colored coat. “This is Beqanna, child. You look like you’ve been to hell and back. Don’t worry, you’ll be quite safe here. Now, do you have a name?” And that is the truth - there are few who would dare to challenge Lagertha. Even without her gifts.
Lagertha
