The mead hall laid in silence as he sat in his throne and watched the flames of the brazier in front of him. He beheld the flames as they danced in an almost unending manner - like the wenches he had known back in Asgard, in his village. Normally, the hall he found himself in would be sprawling with life, and many a guest would share in the wonderful mead which was served to the brim and the delicious food prepared by the three cooks of the clan.

He leaned forth and lifted his right hand from the armrest of his seat to snatch his drinking horn from the table in front of him. He brought the horn to his lips and enjoyed the sweet taste of the mead within it upon his tongue. His gaze lifted then, and his sky-blue, piercing eyes landed upon the skull which found itself upon his dining table. The skull of the man whom had enslaved him when he first came into the exiled lands.

Normally he was in a fairly good mood, yet all of that had been stripped away solely by his own thoughts. Even though he had risen out of the bed he shared with Helya, her presence could not ease his thoughts. Her presence could not still the hurricane which raged within his mind.
Strangely, however, the sight of the skull belonging to the person he had despised so greatly, did.
He placed his horn back down on the table, and his hand extended to instead pick up the skull he had laid his gaze upon. He twisted it, and set his gaze upon the empty eye sockets.

“Ymir, my God. All-father. I do not understand. I do not understand why you have sent me to these lands. I do not understand why you set a woman upon my path, which could so easily reach out and clutch my heart in her hand. With a single squeeze, she could end my life,” he spoke, and set the skull back down on the table.

He closed his eyes, and continued speaking his thoughts out loud. Somehow, the feeling that someone or something was listening to him lingered.
“I am terrified, father. All my life I have pledged myself to war and to battle. All my life I have dreamt of entering your halls and dining by your side with my name carved into eternity. But now, for the first time in my life, I am petrified. I am devoured by fear, because I love her, and my journey to Valhalla is no longer my first priority. I am terrified, because she holds my life in her hands, and if she so desired she could take it away as swiftly as you gave it to me.”

He exhaled a deep, shaky breath, and his left hand rose up for his index- and middle fingers to steadily and slowly massage his temple. His eyes closed, and a tear slowly trickled down his cheek, like a pearl of water escaping down a slab of stone after it had rained. He cleared his throat swiftly and shook his head. He spoke again, although this time his tone was shaky. Trembling, almost.

“Do not allow one of your warriors to suffer death by a shattered heart, father.”
His eyes opened, and those sky-blue orbs stood in clear contrast now against the reddened white of his eyes. He lifted his gaze upwards, setting it on the ceiling of the hall.

“I beg you, father…”