#yes for my own curiosity but also to i guess devise better plans for fighting back against bigotry

[hungee-boy]

journalism? am i wanting to be a journalist

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 20

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE WAR ROOM

Carefully unrolling the parchment in his hands, Arngeir spread a large weathered map across the table as his companions took their place in the war room, ready to discuss the upcoming assault. Sigurd, Styrbjorn, and Eivor all waited patiently in silence, watching the jarl finish his preparations as they filled their predecessors’ roles.

It felt strange to Eivor, seeing Sigurd standing in Ulfar’s position. Even though he knew the old raider wasn’t coming back from the dead, it still made his head spin to see someone else in his shoes. It was no more than a simple changing of the guard, and yet, to the Wolf-Kissed, it felt like witnessing his entire world shift.

Though, he had to admit, there was something about the king that caught his attention too. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but Styrbjorn seemed... different today. More... composed. Dignified. As if the life in him had suddenly been reignited. His appearance radiated a noble presence, and his expression looked free of the fatigue that so stubbornly clung onto his eyes. Eivor guessed he finally took Sigurd’s advice to heart.

“Alright,” the jarl said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “We’re all here. Good.” He stepped forward a bit, resting his palms on the table’s surface. “Now, I understand that you’re eager to put this battle in motion, but before we start devising a plan, I believe the king has something he wants to say first.”

“Indeed,” Styrbjorn replied, linking his hands behind his back. “I have declared Gorm’s judgement, and I thought it would be necessary to inform the rest of you.”

That caught Eivor’s interest. “What’s to become of our prisoner, my lord?”

“For now, I’ve made the decision to keep Gorm alive. He has knowledge about Kjotve that could prove to be useful later on, so I will not dispose of him just yet. Once this war is finished, however...” the king exchanged glances with the prince, “...he will be executed. Publicly. Sigurd and I have agreed to grant him a merciful death as repayment for his cooperation, but he is to be beheaded on Bjornheimr soil.”

Arngeir paused. “Bjornheimr? Does this mean you won’t be taking Gorm back to Fornburg, my lord? Normally, when the king passes judgement on a criminal, it is he who swings the axe.”

“True, but seeing as how Gorm wronged your people more than anyone else, I’ve decided to leave his fate in your hands. It seems only fitting to me.”

The jarl was satisfied with that. “...Very well. I agree to these terms.”

“Then it’s settled. Gorm will be kept here as our prisoner for the remainder of the war. As soon as his father is killed, he will follow in his footsteps. Are we clear?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Then I won’t hinder this plan’s development any further.” Styrbjorn turned to his son. “Sigurd, you said you had new information pertaining to Kjotve’s whereabouts?”

“I do.” the prince confirmed. He walked up to the war table and leaned over it, pointing to an island on the western side of the map.

“According to what Gorm told me, Kjotve should have arrived on an island by now known as Thrymr’s Tomb. He’ll be making use of an abandoned fort located in its northern half.”

Eivor took note of the island’s name. “Thrymr? King of the jötnar? Is there a reason for that name?”

“Ah, it’s connected to a local tale, nothing more. Due to the island’s peculiar shape, the folk in that region believe it was once a fragment of Thrymr’s skull. They say it flew off his head when Thor struck him with Mjölnir, and landed in the ocean. Thus, its name.”

“And what of Kjotve’s defenses?” Arngeir asked. “What can we expect when we arrive?”

“The fort itself was built a long time ago, so its defenses should be nothing that we haven’t seen already. Plus, it’s been deserted for ages now. Its walls are feeble and decrepit. We should be able to break through the gates rather swiftly. The biggest challenge we’ll face -- is reaching them.”

“Why is that?”

Sigurd slid his finger down the map. “Because the island has no trees.”

That took everyone by surprise.

“What?” Styrbjorn blurted out. “How can that be?”

“Whoever the fort’s original occupant was, they chopped down all the trees on the island so that their foes wouldn’t have anywhere to hide. This means we’ll have no cover, and no way to approach it discreetly. We’ll be forced to launch a head-on assault.”

Eivor began growing concerned. “And how simple do you think that’s going to be?”

Sigurd furrowed his brow. “I won’t lie to you all. It’s not going to be easy. There’s a river that separates the island into two halves. The fort is on the northern half. We’ll be on the southern half. And the only way to reach the gates... is by crossing the bridge.”

Arngeir paced around the room, stroking his beard in thought. “The bridge will have us all cornered into one spot. We’ll be nothing but walking targets for Kjotve’s archers. They’ll slaughter us before we can even knock on his front door...!”

The Wolf-Kissed wasn’t so sure. “...Maybe. Or maybe there’s something else we could do.”

Sigurd’s curiosity took hold. “You have an idea, Eivor?”

The younger man thought for a moment. “...What if we formed a shield wall? We could protect ourselves from oncoming arrows, and move forward during the time between the onslaughts. It would be slow, but much safer than charging to the gate.”

“A solid idea,” the prince conceded, “but how would it work in this case? Don’t forget, we still need a way to break down the gate. How could we transport a battering ram across the bridge, and maintain a shield wall at the same time?”

“We could create a wall around the ram.” Eivor suggested.

“Around it?”

“Yes. As you said, we’ll need to bring a battering ram in order to get through the gates. But if our men are going to be moving something as big as that, they won’t have any hands free to lift a shield. So that’s why... we’ll protect them in the process. We’ll form a shield wall around them, and keep them safe from any arrows.”

Sigurd played out the method in his head. “...Hmm. It’s damned risky, but I’m afraid it’s the only option we have. The battlements are too tall for us too climb, and there’s no way we could cross the river by foot. We could swim, theoretically speaking, but it’s such a dangerous path that it’s not even worth considering.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, first of all, it’s freezing. The water would probably kill us before Kjotve could. And secondly, the river’s current is so strong that we would most likely be whisked away, or even drowned. Trust me, we’re better off taking our chances with the bridge.”

“Hm. Makes sense.”

The king posed another question. “Alright. So we’ve decided on a way in? We’ll dock our ships on the southern half of the island, and cross the bridge using a shield wall. In the meantime, the rest of our warriors will focus on moving the battering ram to the fort’s gates. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Sigurd confirmed.

“Very well, then. What happens once we’re inside?”

“Then, we find Kjotve. And put an end to this miserable war.”

Eivor felt a sense of worry flare in his chest. “But what if he escapes a second time? What guarantee do we have that he won’t flee again?”

A grim look hovered over the prince’s gaze. “Our guarantee is Dag’s death. He was Kjotve’s ally, and the reason our previous assault ended in failure. He told the man to flee before we could reach his shores, but this time, he won’t be around to warn anybody.”

Arngeir raised a point. “Of course, however, it is worth nothing that Kjotve might have taken precautions already. After all, I think it’s safe to say he’s probably aware of Gorm’s imprisonment by now. He will be anticipating an assault, now that his own son has been subjected to interrogation.

“Indeed,” Sigurd conceded. “So we’d do well not to let our guard down, no matter how much of an advantage we have.”

Eivor was pleased with that. “Sounds good.”

Styrbjorn jumped back in. “Then, have we agreed on a plan? I believe our current strategy will be our best option, and unlike other battles, we won’t have much time to adjust it. So if anyone has any concerns or objections, now is the time to speak up.”

There was a unanimous silence.

“Very well. I will inform my clan of our discussion today, and prepare them for the battle ahead.” The king turned to the jarl. “Arngeir, I think it’s best if you do the same.”

The other man displayed a slight bow. “Of course, my lord. I’ll start making preparations right away.”

“As for you two,” Styrbjorn faced Eivor and Sigurd, “try to get some rest. Both of you will have a long day tomorrow. The journey to Thrymr’s Tomb will take quite some time, and there’s no saying what will happen during the fight itself. I need you to be sharp.”

The prince nodded assuredly. “Understood.”

“Good. Then this meeting is concluded. Take care of any unfinished business you may have, and prepare yourselves for war. This will be the battle that shapes the future of the entire kingdom. Defeat is something we cannot afford. Stay vigilant. All of you.”

Stepping away from the map, both Styrbjorn and Arngeir made a swift exit from the war room as they headed out to the village, determined to turn their plan into a reality. The torches’ flames flickered in their wake as they strode through the archway, and settled down with a series of soft quivers once they were gone.

In the meantime, Sigurd and Eivor remained at the war table and simply stood there in silence, drowning in the sea of worries that plagued their thoughts. Both of them had plenty of risks to consider in the upcoming battle, but one fear in particular kept shaking the prince’s mettle. 

“I can’t believe it...” Eivor whispered, staring at the map, “...after all these years. After everything we’ve lost. We finally have a chance to take Kjotve down for good. We have his son as a prisoner, and he no longer has any allies amongst our people.” An inspiring spark glimmered in his eye. “What if this is it, Sigurd? This could be the victory we’ve been waiting for.”

The older man crossed his arms. “...Perhaps.”

It didn’t take long for Eivor to pick up on his tone. “Is... something wrong, Sigurd?

The prince leaned against a wall and sighed, unable to conceal the sorrow he carried.

“...You do understand that if everything goes according to plan tomorrow, and Kjotve dies, my clan will leave Bjornheimr permanently?”

The realization struck Eivor like a club, and he found himself quickly being drained of the hope that had just settled in.

“...Oh.” He murmured. “Right.”

Sigurd gave him an apologetic look. “Forgive me, love. I know it’s an unpleasant thought, but it’s the reality. If we win this war, I’ll return to Fornburg... forever. And I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to come back.”

Eivor shrugged. “So, what are you saying? You don’t want us to win?”

“No, of course not. It’s just...” the prince pushed himself off the wall, “...I’m going to miss you dearly, Eivor. It’ll be difficult adapting to a life without you.”

The younger man’s head drooped. “...I understand. I’ll miss you too.”

Sigurd approached his partner. “My offer still stands, you know. There’s a place for you on my longship if you wish to join us. You’re more than welcome.”

Eivor drifted off into silence for a moment, pondering the decision.

“As much as I’d love to go with you, I don’t know if I can.”

“You don’t know if you can? What do you mean?”

The Wolf-Kissed glanced upward at his companion. “Don’t forget, Sigurd, you’re still a married man. Up until this point, it’s been easy for us to hide our relationship since everyone’s been so focused on the war. But the minute it comes to an end... their attention will be back on you. And if someone finds out...”

Sigurd took Eivor’s hands into his own. “They won’t. We would just be friends in the public eye. And even then, we could do so many things together -- hunting, fishing, sailing, drinking, you name it. I could show you around Fornburg, take you to places unlike anything you’d ever seen; places where we’d be alone. No one would suspect a thing.”

“Are you sure? No one would find it odd that, in addition to your new wife, you also decided to bring her brother? Think about this, Sigurd.”

“I have,” the prince insisted, “and I want you at my side, Eivor. I love you. You know this. Damn what anyone else says.”

Eivor let out a breath. “I love you too, but...” he pushed Sigurd’s hands away, “...I. Just. Can’t. I’m sorry.”

The older man grew concerned. “Why not, though? You and I have been hiding this for weeks already. This is nothing new. Is there something else that’s bothering you?”

The Wolf-Kissed let his gaze sink to the floor, feeling terribly guilty about the heartache he was causing his partner.

“I wouldn’t be able to handle the pain, Sigurd.”

The response earned him a puzzled look. “Pain? What pain?”

“The pain of seeing you with someone else. You and I may be lovers in private, but to everyone else, we’d have to be friends. You’d have to maintain your image as husband-and-wife with Randvi, and I’d be forced to watch it from the side. I don’t know if I could handle that, Sigurd.”

A shadow of harsh understanding dimmed the prince’s passion, and he finally began to realize the source of his lover’s hesitance.

“...Ah. I see.”

“And besides,” Eivor continued, “I can’t leave my father behind. He’s already lost Thora to this war. If he had to say goodbye to me and Randvi as well, I don’t think he...”

“It’s okay, Eivor.” Sigurd reassured, in spite of his disappointment. “You don’t have to explain. I... understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I may not be happy with it, but I understand. I can’t ask you to keep this charade going forever, especially amongst a clan you’ve never known. It... wouldn’t be fair. And you have a father here who needs you. I can’t take you away from him. No matter how much I may want you.”

Eivor felt a tad more relieved. “...Thank you, Sigurd. I know it’s not the outcome either of us were hoping for, but it’s what we’ll have to live with once this war is over. If we survive long enough to see it through, that is.”

Sigurd stepped back a bit, allowing his companion some space. “...Of course. You’re right. This war is bigger than the both of us. We’ll need to prioritize our duties above all else if we’re going to make this alliance work.”

He paused for a short while, attempting to distract himself from the disheartening news. It was clear that he was trying to prevent his emotions from breaking through the surface, but even then, Eivor could see that the man was heartbroken.

“...Anyway,” Sigurd said, clearing his throat, “I should get going. There are many things I need to take care of before we set off. I’ll be in my chambers if you need me.”

“And I’ll be at the temple if you need me.”

The prince found himself intrigued. “The temple? Are you planning on making an offering?”

“Not exactly. There’s someone I wanted to speak with before the battle. I saw them praying at the temple earlier while I was walking to the longhouse.”

“Who, Ingrida?”

Eivor shook his head. “No. Randvi.”

The answer took Sigurd by surprise. “Randvi?”

“Yes,” he replied in remorse. “I haven’t been a good brother to her lately. I’ve practically deserted her ever since your clan arrived. I didn’t even talk to her after Thora died. She’s been dealing with all this grief in complete solitude, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Sigurd nodded empathetically. “Of course. Go. See your sister. You and I can talk later.”

“Take care of yourself tomorrow, love.” Eivor said, caressing the man’s cheek before he took his leave. “I don’t want to return home without you.”

The prince gripped his hand securely, looking him straight in the eye. “I won’t let myself fall to Kjotve’s axe. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~

LATER THAT DAY

THE TEMPLE

Pushing through the hills of snow that lounged on the earthy terrain, Eivor sauntered towards the temple as a gust of wind fluttered across the land, shaking the chimes that lined the path. A series of scattered clinks decorated the air in the breeze’s wake, and up ahead, Eivor could see the statues of the gods rising into view.

They remained as adamant as ever, despite the mayhem thriving around them. They guarded the village with an unwavering iron gaze, and towered over the worshippers who knelt at the base of their feet.

It was a sight that would’ve brought Eivor a sense of peace in the past. He often came here when he needed guidance from the gods, or comfort from the seeress’ words, but now... all he could think about were the sacrifices they’d made.

Thora, Ulfar, Eirik, Dag... the list grew longer everyday. Their village seemed to be occupied by more ghosts than people at this point, and returning to the temple did nothing but remind Eivor of the times when he had the luxury of taking his loved ones’ company for granted.

What if this was the last time he’d ever see Bjornheimr? What if something happened tomorrow? He was hopeful that he’d finally be able to corner Kjotve after this insufferable chase, but really, he had no guarantee.

It was entirely possible that Eivor could’ve ended up sharing his father’s fate once this war was over. There was nothing else to secure their victory other than the sheer will of their raiders, and ultimately, he had to remind himself that he was just another man.

If Eivor fell tomorrow... there was no coming back. He’d simply be gone forever, and his soul would be taken by whichever god claimed him first.

His legacy in this world would be no more than a warrior who died chasing an impossible dream, and to the Wolf-Kissed, that was a fate far more frightening than death. A fate where he would only be remembered for his failures.

“Randvi?” Eivor called out, searching for his sister. He got no response from the woman in the moments to follow, but eventually found her sitting on a bench positioned before Freya’s statue. Her head was hanging low between her shoulders like an anchor, and her elbows rested gently on her knees.

“Randvi.” Eivor repeated, trying to get her attention.

Still, she offered no answer.

“Hey,” the young man said again, kneeling in front of her. “It’s me. Eivor.”

Randvi’s stone-cold stare inched towards his face at the sound of his name, revealing nothing but a pair of dead orbs sitting in her sockets. 

She looked even worse than Arngeir did. Despite his grief, the jarl still seemed to have some fight in him at least. It may have been an act to preserve his clans morale, but even then, he had proven he was capable of leading a battle. Randvi, on the other hand, appeared as if she had joined Thora’s side already.

Her temperament was entirely devoid of any signs of life. She sat on the bench like a frail plant withering in the sun, and the way she peered through Eivor made him wonder if she truly knew he was even there.

“...We should’ve listened to her.” Randvi whispered at last.

Her brother shook his head in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

“We should’ve listened to her. She knew all of this would happen.”

Eivor glanced back at the temple. “...You mean Ingrida?”

“Yes. Do you not remember? The day the Raven Clan arrived, she warned us of a vision. Freya’s statue had just fallen, and the gods entrusted her with a dream of the path ahead. A dream of Tyr.” Randvi frowned. “...Ingrida told us about the treachery we’d face. She told us to turn the Raven Clan away, but we refused to listen. We dismissed her fears because we didn’t want to insult King Styrbjorn. And now look where we are.”

She gazed upwards at Freya’s idol. “...What if we had called off the alliance? What if we never went through with this marriage? Would we still be where we are now? Would Thora and Ulfar be alive?”

Eivor took a seat beside Randvi, sharing her anguish. “I don’t know, sister. I really don’t. The gods have been difficult to predict lately.”

The woman scoffed. “Forget the gods. Our prayers have proven to be all but useless. Thora and Ulfar both spent their entire lives following a code of honor, and yet, the Nornir still let them die. Meanwhile, men like Kjotve get to roam free, causing nothing but suffering and death everywhere they go. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be a fool to rely on the gods for protection. I don’t need them. What I need is you.”

Randvi turned to her brother. “Where have you been, Eivor? These past few weeks, you’ve made yourself scarce. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. I understand we’re in the middle of a war, but...”

Eivor’s tone sunk with guilt. “...I know, Randvi. I know I haven’t been a good brother to you.” He paused for a second. “I’m... I’m sorry.”

A fatigued breath escaped from the woman’s lips. “Well, to be honest, you aren’t the only one who’s deserted me. It seems like all my friends have either died or disappeared. You, Sigurd, Thora, Ulfar... even father keeps to himself these days. The only company I really have anymore is Ingrida, and she’s almost gone completely mute ever since Eirik’s death.”

Randvi stood up from the bench and crossed her arms in thought, taking in the view of Freya’s statue.

“I just miss Thora so much. I see her in my dreams every night. She was always there for you and me, keeping us safe in a world that wanted to leave us behind. She knew how to make people laugh too.” Randvi’s shoulders slouched. “...And Ulfar. I’ll never forget the times when he held me as a child, calming me down after I woke up from a nightmare. He may not have been our real father, but I loved him like one.”

Eivor nodded. “Me too. He was always there to keep me company after Kjotve killed my parents. I can’t imagine what my childhood would’ve been like without him.”

Randvi peered at the clouds gliding above the temple, almost as if she were looking into Valhalla itself.

“I suppose the best thing we can do for them now is to make sure that their deaths weren’t in vain. Knowing Thora and Ulfar, they wouldn’t have wanted us to be consumed by our grief. They would’ve wanted us to push on, no matter the cost. I just wish it were that easy.”

Eivor rose to his feet, joining stepping next to his sister. “It won’t be. But we’re so close to the end, Randvi. Just one more battle, and we can finally put all this tragedy to rest. We only need to fight for a little longer.”

The woman didn’t appear reassured by that. “That’s easy for you to say. If we win, you’ll get to go back home and celebrate your victory. But me? I’ll be forced to travel to Fornburg with Sigurd, and live in a clan full of unfamiliar faces. I’ll have to start an entirely new life far away from here, and spend the rest of it with a husband who hardly even cares about me.”

Randvi shut her eyes in frustration and took a deep breath, attempting to ease her nerves. A bottle of boiling rage sat corked in her chest, and without even meaning to, she had smashed it open due to seeing Eivor’s face again. 

He was one of the only people she trusted, after all. With her older sister gone, Randvi no longer knew who she could confide in. She had kept all this pain locked inside her mind, and until now, she never realized how severely it was hindering her.

“...I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so curt. I’m sure you have your own burdens to bear. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“No, I understand,” Eivor assured. “The stress of this war has taken a toll on all of us. And let’s face it -- I haven’t exactly done my job as a brother. I should’ve checked on you more often.”

Randvi shrugged in curiosity. “Is that why you came today? Because you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, actually. I saw you while I was walking to the longhouse. I was occupied with matters concerning tomorrow’s battle, but I still wanted to speak with you.”

A hint of warmth radiated from the woman’s gaze. It was clear that Randvi was surprised by the gesture, but grateful for it nonetheless.

“...Thank you, Eivor. Even though you and I haven’t spoken much recently, I am glad to see you again. I missed having your company.”

A loving grin spread across the man’s face. “I missed you too.”

Randvi slowly approached Eivor, placing her hands on the sides of his arms. “Please, be careful tomorrow, brother. I know you aren’t the type to sit by and watch a battle unfold, but it’s been difficult enough dealing with Thora’s death. Don’t make me bury you too.”

He held Randvi’s hand in a comforting manner, speaking with sincerity.

“I’ll do everything in my power to return unharmed. But I can’t let Kjotve go.”

“I know. And I don’t expect you to. Just remember what matters. Even if you survive this war, losing yourself to revenge can be a death in itself. I don’t want to see that happen. Can you promise me it won’t?”

“Of course. You have my word.”

Randvi didn’t press any further than that. “...Then I suppose it’ll have to do for now. The thought of coming back home to your corpse terrifies me, but I understand how much Varin’s honor means to you. I won’t deny you that.”

“Thank you, Randvi.”

The woman stepped back from Eivor and turned towards the temple’s entrance, ready to get some rest before charging into the storm ahead. Her mood seemed to have lifted somewhat ever since her brother arrived at the temple, but the perturbed nature she carried made it evident that she wasn’t free from her fears just yet.

“Good luck, Eivor. Even though I have faith that you and I will see this war to its end, I’m aware that anything could happen. Fight well tomorrow. If I don’t get to bring you home... then I pray that the Valkyries will.”

[connorstolltheshow-blog]

Breaking Ice and Locks

Connor needs some medical attention whilst he makes a new friend, Lina.

Connor woke up in the infirmary. He hadn’t expected to get so hurt on his arrival, but he was happy that there were at least nurses around to help him out. The last face he saw was Percy’s, damn had he got old. Well actually, they were all getting old. He looked around him, taking in the surroundings. With a groggy groan, he called out to the girl who sat on the bed next to her. “You seem grand.” He said with a laugh, flinching as his body hurt. “Better than I’m going anyway.”

Lina looks over at the man who called over to her. She was getting her wound checked out, the nurse clicking her tongue at her. She seemed to need stitches to make sure that it would stay closed. “Got stabbed with a spear during a cave in. What about you?” She said casually. She wasn’t sure who he was but he was definitely new. “You’re not from New Rome.”

“A cave in sounds horrible.” He shuddered, remembering the brief time of the Labyrinth. “Also, stab wounds suck.” Connor hadn’t really been stabbed before, just scratches and gashes. “No, not from New Rome. I’m actually here visiting.” He said, wincing as he moved to make himself more comfortable. “Who stabbed you?”

“We got out after a few hours, but it wasn’t great. It was kind of eye opening in a way,” Lina replied not overly bothered by the whole cave in situation. She hated how it happened but she couldn’t change anything. “Why would you visit in the middle of a war?” She couldn’t fathom the idea that he would pop in at a time like this. “Don’t know. Happened while the cave was collapsing.”

Connor returned to the center of his bed and looked up at the ceiling. “I didn’t know there was a war going on. Nobody knows I guess.” He shrugged. He was becoming restless and with a sigh he tried to sit up. A few moans later, he was sitting upright on the side of the Infirmary bed. “Sounds terrible to be honest. Accidental stabs. Gross.” He slid off his bed onto his feet and his knees almost buckled beneath him, but he refused to give in. “As for me, I’m brand new.” He life through the pain, wanting to be released from hospital and go find Percy.

“Well, someone better tell them. Maybe we’ll even get reinforcements if we do,” Lina said lightly, even though she did want the reinforcements, she knew that a good amount of those from Half Blood were younger than those who lived in New Rome. They didn’t need more kids fighting this war. “It was even grosser when we had to burn the wound closed using gunpowder. Fun fact, flesh doesn’t smell good when it’s burnt.” She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “Get back into bed. They’ll make you stay here longer if you don’t.”

Connor shrugged. “If the Greeks come here, who’s going to protect Camp?” It was a simple reason, and he knew that way too many of the kids there had already been in one war too many. He remembered the losses from previous wars, he didn’t want people to go through that. “I’m here now, so I may as well help.” He took the others advice and sat back down into the bed, but refusing to lay back down, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. “As for flesh being burnt, I know.” He winced, remembering the smell too clearly for his liking. “What were you doing in the cave in the first place?”

“Better them there anyway. Children shouldn’t be near here until things are safe again. They’re younger there, aren’t they?” Lina asked, curiously. She had never been there, she never planned to go. “What happened to you that had you burning flesh?” She was oddly curious about the whole situation. “We took the imperial gold mine from the Romans for a moment.”

“Yeah,” He pursed his lips, “They pretty much are. I’m one of the eldest there now,and I’m not that old anyway.” Connor said with a shrug. It had always been that way, bringing in young kids to safety, and finding it hard to leave as the years pass. Although it had become rather loney, being older meant you found it harder to relate to this kids. “Oh, I’ve never had to burn my own flesh, but I’m smelt it before on the battlefield, defending Olympus, the attack on Camp Half-Blood, nasty stuff.” His eyes lit up, actually, if you looked into them, you’d probably see a small twinkle in them. “A whole Imperial gold mine? Here?” His imagination ran wild with the things he’d be able to buy by selling that gold. “Where?”

“Yeah, well I’m considered pretty young here, at twenty six. So we sincerely don’t need anymore kids on the battlefield. Got enough teenagers getting hurt out there.” Lina had seen so many teenagers laying down their lives for this. She knew she had done the same at their age, but now it made her feel ill. “I had smelt it before too, battlefields, but knowing it’s your own flesh makes it kind of worse.” She said, thinking back to how she had thrown up right after she had gotten it done. Her eyes narrowed at him,”No. The cave in has taken out a main entrance, the entire system could be unstable, not to mention swarming with Romans.”

“Oh, no. Not that I wanted to go, I was just wondering. We don’t have a mine back at camp, so I’m interested, that’s all.” Connor lied with a weak smile. “Hm, so you’re from New Rome then? A Roman on the Greeks side? That’s pretty interesting. Aren’t you afraid of what would happen after the war?” As much as she has helped the Greek forces, he doubted she could go back to her old life and still be accepted wholesomely. “Do you come from a position of power?” He asked, there was something about her that made him think she was a leader of some sort. Damn, he really should have done some more research before coming over. “I’m Connor by the way, Connor Stoll.”

Lina’s eyes were narrowed on him,”Okay. If your curiosity takes you there, know you’re probably going to get arrested by the Romans.” She didn’t need anyone near that cave, not when they had lost so many people just a little while ago. “Yeah, I was in the Legion for eleven years before defecting. I was the centurion of the fourth.” She shrugged, her face emotionless, but her shoulders tense. “I won’t get my job back, my career in politics and the Legion is over, I’m not trusted anymore with them. I’ll have to figure something else out. I’m sure the potion shop needs someone to work there.” She didn’t want to give up teaching, she wanted to keep helping, but at this point it was looking rather unlikely. “Kolina Valla. Call me Lina.”

“I’ve been arrested once already.” Connor sighed, “Not even a minute in a new city and I already have a criminal record.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure I can take care of myself, unless they devise a new way to keep me in prison that doesn’t include locks.” Hopefully they wouldn’t realize he couldn’t unlock cursed locks. Or perhaps they already knew due to their own children of Mercury. “Ah, a Centurion. You’re speaking to a camp counselor, same thing.” He shrugged. It was in a way but it also wasn’t the same at all. “A potion shop doesn’t sound terrible, I guess that means you’re a child of the goddess of magic?” He asked curiously. “Nice to meet you Lina.”

“Everyone on this side has a record, I mean even Blossom’s been arrested before and she pets chipmunks for fun. So you’re not in bad company.” Lina said lightly. “You know how to pick locks? Always wanted to learn how to do that. Probably would have come in handy when they had me in cuffs.” Honestly, things would have gone so differently, if she had been out of the power cuffs. “I mean, in the way we take care of younger people, but I was also in charge of a large amount of the army New Rome had.” Camp counselor didn’t really match up to centurion in Lina’s mind. “Trivia, yes. Things could be worse than working in a potion shop. Might work on breaking cursed objects too, who knows?”

Connor grinned at that, petting chipmunks for fun. “Yes, I do know how, but that’s not what I did.” He shrugged. He had learnt to pick locks a long time ago, second nature now, but luckily his father had granted him with a gift. “I can unlock them without even touching them, just need a little concentration, that’s all.” He listened to her explain Centurion, he, along with Travis, had led their cabin in the battle of manhattan and the attack of camp half-blood. They just didn’t have official war armour or heavy military training. Connor furrowed his eyebrows, he hated having to know the different counterparts for the gods, now it sounded like he was going to have to remember who was who again. “Hey, maybe I could help you with the cursed objects part. I can uncurse cursed locks, but it’s pretty difficult.”

“Well, Blossom lead a rally about Greek Pride and peace. So of course, the backward government that New Rome is decided to punish her for it. The chipmunk petting wasn’t why she got arrested” Lina was still rather annoyed about Blossom getting arrested. She was annoyed about how Blossom was treated in general. “Want to teach me how to? They always put me in power inhibitors so I can’t even use my magic to get them off.” She tilted her head at him, now that was interesting. “I haven’t heard of that before, I’d love to see what extent that goes to. I wonder how powerful the curses can be and you still open them.”

“I could probably pick locks in my sleep, teaching someone how to do it though, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to.” Connor paused, “but I’ll definitely try. Power inhibitors sounds like a pain in the ass.” He didn’t have many powers like children of Hecate or Trivia, but if he did, he’d hate to have them stolen from him. “We can try, although we could probably only do one cursed lock a day.” It took so much from him, with Travis around, it was easier. But right now, he’d have to do it on his own, which, he was capable of doing.

“I’m pretty good at picking things up,” Lina assured him, even though she had the vague feeling that picking a lock was going to be harder than she expected. She’d always used her magic for that type of thing. At least while she was on bed rest, she’d have something to do. “It’s like someone taking away a limb, a part of me was missing when I had them on. It lasts for a little while too. You don’t get it back right away.” She subconsciously rubbed her wrists, thinking over the feeling again. “I enjoy working with curses and cursed objects, so that is quite an interesting power you have.”

“Thank you.” Connor said with a grin and a nod, just as he did so, a nurse walked in and scolded him for sitting up. He groaned and lay back down into the bed as the nurse did a few checks. “I guess the lock picking skills workshop is going to have to wait until I’m released from here.” He rolled his eyes as the nurse said that his medication might make him feel drowsy. “They always say that, but I honestly never feel any difference.” He said to his new friend. As the words came out his mouth, his eyelids felt heavy. “Aw shit, this stuff is like edibles, they doesn’t do anything until they hears you talking shit about them.” He said, finding it harder and harder to stay awake. “I -- It was nice meeting you though, I’ll see you around.” And with that, he fell into medical induced sleep, which was probably better for his health, he wouldn’t have been able to keep himself in bed if they hadn’t knocked him out.