Fate Rebellion

Hearing about his father's state caused Rurik to frown. He wasn't as distressed as a normal child would be when they hear their decent enough parent is in trouble, but it did make him a little uncomfortable. He liked and respected Harald, even if he didn't love him like a father. Certainly not like Maria did. 

"Show me," he softly told his little sister. He wanted to see how bad it truly was, and Maria quickly obeyed. She let him go and nodded with teary-eyes, before walking away with Rurik in tow. 

Although she was a warrior and a natural berserker, she was also a caring, sixteen-year-old girl, which meant she was going to cry at least a little. Fortunately, so long as she didn't turn into a blubbering, useless mess, not even the rough Viking warriors blamed her for it. 

Or, perhaps, they simply didn't dare to. 

There was a small crowd of men gathered around a small patch of beach. This was where Maria came out from earlier. As soon as the gathered warriors noticed him, they started making way with respectful nods, some greeting him by his moniker. 

Rurik paid them no attention and quickly made his way to the middle of the group… where he found the broken body of this father. He seemed to be awake, but his body was positioned in a way that shouldn't be possible. His back was broken, and a sharp rock protruded out from his stomach. He was dying. 

Harald looked up at the sky with solemn dignity. He knew he wasn't long for this world, and a true warrior faced his death with honour, no matter the circumstances. The teary-eyed Maria quickly kneeled next to him. "Father… I found Rurik," she muttered softly. 

Harald blinked and took his eyes off the sky to look at the people around him. He quickly noticed his son and smiled. "Ah! Goo—cough cough—Good," splatters of blood sprayed across the stones next to him with every hack. "Come here… Wolfscar… my son…" he panted heavily from pain and weakness. 

Rurik looked at his father and felt strange. It wasn't grief for his upcoming death per se, but rather about such an unworthy death for a worthy warrior. It wasn't a mindset he would have recognized in his previous life, but Viking life had clearly affected him. 

He kneeled down on his father's other side. "I'm here, Father," he said solemnly, pressing his hand on Harald's shoulder. 

"G— Good… That's good…" Harald wheezed, his eyes a little unfocused. "L— Listen, I— I believe I'm worthy, but… C— Could you ask Eilin to— to put in a good word… among her friends?" 

Rurik needed half a moment to understand what he was talking about, but then it clicked. 

Eilin was supposed to be a Valkyrie in mortal form, and Harald hoped the Valkyries would bring him to Valhalla, rather than letting him sink into Hel. His current death was a bit of an edge case in Norse lore, and although he'd had his own doubts about Eilin's identity, those didn't seem so important now. 

Of course, Eilin was as much a Valkyrie as Rurik, but he decided to keep that to himself. "I will tell her, Father, but do not worry. The Valkyries are no fools, they will certainly see your worthiness." 

Rurik didn't actually believe Harald was going to Valhalla after death, especially not after his own experience with reincarnation, but why deny his father a little comfort? 

"Haha—cough cough— yes, they surely will," Harald coughed and groaned, some relief spreading through his hazy eyes. 

Knowing he had little time left, he quickly grabbed Rurik's shoulder with surprising strength and looked into his son's eyes. "Listen… Rurik… tell these bums… to get lost and… help the others… yeah? Don't allow… others to die… because these idiots think… I would rather… have them stand there looking at me." 

Rurik nodded and looked up. The forty or so warriors gathered around Harald heard their king's words, so all it took was some stern glances by Rurik before they all scurried off to help the wounded, leaving only Rurik and Maria behind. 

Harald smiled proudly. "T— They respect you… my son, that's… good! You'll need it— to lead them— onwards! I don't know… what happened, or—cough cough— where we are, but… there's lands to… to conquer." 

He tightened his grip on Rurik's shoulder and looked at him intensely, "So conquer them, Rurik! A— And protect… y— your sister!" 

On his other side, Maria had started sobbing slightly, and Harald turned his attention to her. He raised his other hand to caress her cheek. "Don't cry… little Maria…" he smiled gently, but with iron determination. "You are… a warrior now…! I'm so— so proud of you, my little… midget berserker…" 

Maria started giggle-sobbing at being called midget berserker by her father, who'd always forbidden others from calling her that. But she quickly wiped her eyes and straightened her back as her tears halted. "Y— You're right, Father. I— I won't cry anymore, and I— I promise I'll make you even prouder!" 

"G— Good…!" Harald coughed violently as more blood sprayed into his beard. "Now, I—" 

ROOOAAARR! 

Suddenly, a thunderous, guttural roar rippled through the air and shook the ground itself. Rurik cried out in pain and covered his ears, his mind was swimming as some kind of pressure pushed down on him. He actually felt like he was going to faint. 

And he wasn't the only one… 

Across the beach, every warrior cried out in pain and sagged to their knees—the weaker ones fainting instantly. Maria, too, screeched in pain and covered her ears. 

It took a full five seconds for the sound to ebb away and the pressure to leave with it. When it was over, Rurik looked into the distance. Instantly, his brain halted for a moment. 

A creature looking unmistakably like a dragon was approaching from the horizon. It moved at dizzying speeds, rapidly growing bigger and more menacing in its approach. 

"What the shit…" Rurik muttered in shock at the first glance of proof he was on another world. 

But he had no time appreciate it. 

"Rurik!" Luna's voice suddenly echoed in his mind, far clearer than it ever had before. "The Norns are already here! To Eilin! Now!" 

Rurik blinked and couldn't help but glance at Maria who was just coming to her senses. 

But Luna wasn't about to let him linger. "Dammit, now is now! They'll be fine! The Norns don't care about them!" 

Rurik cursed for letting himself get distracted, even for a moment. Luna's assurance had brought a fleeting sense of relief but now was no time for that. He sprang to his feet and bolted toward Eilin without hesitation. 

She was running toward him too, but her demeanour was wholly different from usual—rather, it was eerily reminiscent of Luna's. Strange, dark-green colours clung to her hands, its glow unmistakably similar to what the crones used. With a sweeping motion, she unleashed a shimmering barrier that expanded outward, encasing everything between them. 

Another deafening roar shook the air, this one far stronger than the last. Though muffled by the barrier, the sheer force made Rurik stumble. The others were not as lucky, however, as every conscious person on the beach crumpled to the ground, Maria among them. Their fates uncertain. 

Rurik's pulse thundered in his ears, but he refused to stop. The dragon's approach was blisteringly fast, its massive form growing larger by the second. Glancing at the gap between him and 'Eilin', he estimated they had less than ten seconds. Would it be enough? His confidence in Luna was unshakable but plans often fail when they meet reality. 

Their eyes met, locking across the distance. Time seemed to slow, each step dragging like an eternity. Determination burned in her gaze, yet something in his must have given him away… Truthfully, he still worried about his little sister, especially if his father died. 

'Eilin's' expression shifted—a flicker of scepticism, followed by a roll of her eyes. Without breaking stride, she summoned a small green orb and hurled it across the beach. It streaked through the air like a comet, before embedding itself in Harald's chest. 

Rurik barely registered the act before 'Eilin' tilted her head skyward, her scowl sharp enough to cut stone. Frustration flashed across her face as she turned back to him, her movements abrupt. 

Her eyes were full of regret, self-reproach, and shame. But then she waved her hand once more, conjuring a puddle at her feet. Without hesitation, she leapt into it, vanishing in an instant. The puddle evaporated, leaving behind only ripples in the gravel and a stunned Rurik, a few steps away. 

There was no time to process what just happened. His chest heaved, his mind raced. But before he could take another step or form a single coherent thought, the dragon landed with a ground-shaking crash, its immense shadow swallowing him whole.