Wrath | Sigrid

The massive, dark wooden doors closing left a breath-taking sound behind in the great hall. Vidar closed his eyes and listened to the echoing of the sound that slid through the enormous room. Eventually the sound died out and the king opened his eyes again. Silence. Vidar straightened his shoulders and rolled his head from side to side in order to relax himself a bit. The entire morning he had been visited by villagers that needed something from him. Advice, new materials, bigger lands. He pulled out a hand through his hair, stroke the wavy sea of black and grey backwards. ’Bring me some ale.’ he said calmly, almost whispering. But people knew that was only a mask for the storm that was raging on the inside, ready to burst at any moment. Vidar moved his arm that was laying on the arm rest slightly from impatience. From the corner of his eye he saw the empty throne of his wife, where normally his daughter would take place. But Vigdìs hadn’t been by his side that day, she had things to take care of outside the walls. Days like these made it quit hard for Vidar to handle his temper, frustrations were easily build and at the same time he felt more dead on the inside than other days. He turned his head back forwards, lost in thought and stared into the emptiness of the great hall. There was nothing pleasant or warm about it. The massive room was stone cold, since the fireplace hadn’t burned in weeks. And apart from big stone walls, pillars and some furniture for the guests, the room was empty. No candles, no carpets, no music, nothing but emptiness and cold. The only thing that gave the room some color were the iron shields that hung against the walls, like paintings. All work from Vidar’s apprentices, as final exam before they were allowed to call themselves an expert in smiting.

Vidar awoken from his thoughts, and noticed that there still wasn’t a servant that had obeyed his command. His eyes flashed to the side of the room, where the servants normally were supposed to wait until Vidar gave them an order. But there was nobody there. A wordless shout filled the room and was strengthened because of the emptiness of the room. ’Thrall.’ he screamed furiously, saliva coming out of his mouth. Even people who knew him for years often were surprised by how fast his mood could turn. Vidar pushed himself out of his throne. The fur he was sitting on fell on the floor from the ferocity which he had stood up with. With eyes full of anger he looked around, ready to release his wrath on the first the best person he would see.

He was like a volcano, a bursting volcano, ruining everything that came across his path. In this case the servant, that had responded way too late to his request for some ale. With a calmth that Vidar hadn’t had in years the slender brunette came walking towards him. ’Sir?’ she asked him, pretending like nothing was wrong. With convenient steps he descended the little platform where the thrones were standing. In a few second he stood eye in eye with the servant, towering above her. The black cloak Vidar was wearing made him wider than he was. ’You call me king.’ he said, with a furious raw voice, and stared her intense into the eyes. For as far he remembered, or interested he had never seen this slave before. So unannounced he grabbed her left wrist, pulled it towards his body and rolled up her sleeve. He wasn’t gentle, didn’t even tried to be so. When he looked to the inner side of her wrist, he saw clear skin. There was no sign of the slave-mark from Uddevalla, she wasn’t marked. Vidar frowned his eyebrows and released her wrist as if it was the grossest thing he had ever touched. ’Lit the fire.’ he commanded in cold blood as he lifted his head and pointed towards the fire place. ’It looks like you are missing something.’ With those words he turned around and walked to the side of the room, only to pick up an iron rod that was hanging on the wall.