Whether or not I was excited to finally meet my father, I couldn't say. I never yearned for one. There were many women like my mother, eager to see their lovers return home. There were also children excited for their fathers' return.
The earl was the first to meet them as they landed. Once he was done, we were allowed to welcome them. There must have been a hundred or so ships docking, leaving my mother wandering around in search of the one my father was on.
We walked along the dock, stopping to check each ship for who was disembarking. It was a fruitless endeavor until my mother stopped in her tracks upon seeing a certain man exiting a ship.
The man had a muscular build and was as tall as the earl. His long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, stretching down his back. He had a bearded face that looked just as rough as the other men I had seen in the village.
He looked at my mother, and she looked at him. But instead of rushing to embrace her, he turned back to the ship and stretched out his hands. A slender arm reached out to meet him.
The arm belonged to a beautiful blonde-haired woman who carried herself with grace. She elegantly stepped off the ship and wrapped her arms around the man, who met her with a passionate kiss.
They then turned back to the ship and lifted off two children who were about my age. A boy and a girl.
Twins, I thought but this wasn't any of our concern.
I tugged at my mother's skirt, trying to get her attention, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere.
"Aren't we supposed to be looking for my father?" I asked but she didn't answer; she was too busy watching the family disembark.
A stony expression crossed her face, causing me to feel a bit worried.
"Frey,"
As I tried to figure out how to get through to her, the family made its way up to us. The man, now holding the blond boy in his arms, called my mother's name.
My mother stood expressionless before muttering something.
"Dag."
The realization hit me like a blow to the stomach.
Dag?! That Dag! Is this man my father?
"You look well," he said to her, then gestured to the woman beside him. She was holding the little girl. "There are matters we must discuss. I have married again. This is my second wife, Ari."
The woman gave my mother a polite smile and lifted the hem of her skirt like some sort of noble lady.
"It's nice to meet you, Frey. I hope we can get along well as a family."
"These are our two children," Dag continued. "My son Ragnar and daughter Frey."
Frey? I must have heard wrong. There was no way he would name his bastard child after my mother!
My mother tried to speak, but her voice hitched.
"T-This is your son, Sigurd," she finally said, directing them at me. "It's nice to meet all of you."
Dag spared me a glance without saying a word, then suggested we should go home to discuss things further.
My mother walked in front while the others trailed behind her. Her eyes drifted to the other women greeting their husbands with hugs and kisses as they returned home, and their husbands in turn presenting them with gifts. Sadly, the only gift my father brought back was another woman and their children.
I felt a rage boil inside of me as I remembered how my mother prayed for this bastard's safe return.
Even neglecting her health in the process.
And this is what she gets for it!
Humiliation!
I couldn't imagine the humiliation my mother must have been feeling right now. Her lips quivered as if she wanted to cry, but not a single tear was shed. Not until we reached home. The home that used to be a sanctuary for both of them, now defiled by betrayal.
She cried silently, as if she were committing a forbidden act, while the man who should have comforted her stood with his new family, his new wife.
I resented them from that moment. I hated them for making my mother cry and for the gall of standing in silence. If I was old enough, I would've killed them both just like I did Floki!
For a brief moment my eyes drifted to the dagger I had hidden in the chicken coop but I shook it from my mind knowing that it would only make my mother sadder. But still, I wanted to return her pain tenfold.
"Why? I only want to know why," my mother asked, wiping her teary eyes.
"I wanted an heir," Dag said matter-of-factly. "All that resulted from my marriage to you was dead children. You couldn't give me a child that lived. I needed a wife who could."
"But I did! I gave you a son."
"And I am glad for it. Now I have more children," he said.
My mother bit her lips until it drew blood. I didn't know why she kept quiet; I just knew she was staring at me as she did. I desperately wanted her to leave. To take my hand and tell me we would find a place of our own but for some reason, she stayed.
Even though it pained her, she still slept in the same room as that man and his woman.
If only I were older, stronger, I could take her away from here. If only my shoulders were big enough for her to cry on, she would never have felt as if she were alone.
From that day onward, the six of us began living together and in the days that followed, my mother didn't utter a word of complaint about it. She carried on as if nothing had happened.
When we went to visit Runa in her new home, she was furious. She even suggested that my mother and I should move in with her; and I agreed but my mother declined, saying that as long as I was safe, nothing else mattered.
She was more worried about my sickness than anything else. She accepted everything without any thought to herself.
But If she wouldn't get upset, then I would get angry on her behalf. It was my duty as her son. I knew she wasn't happy about it, but all her concerns were focused on me.
My half-siblings and I all shared a room together. I discovered that I was the oldest by a few months. Both of them had blonde hair like their mother, but their faces resembled my father. I rarely spoke to them. The girl, Frey, was shy and mostly stuck with her mother, while Ragnar spent most of his time with Dag, training.
Dag mostly ignored since I was sickly. He must've thought that I would die soon just like my mother other children.
Dag would take Ragnar in the mornings, not return until dusk. I saw them outside a few times, training with swords. I was left dumbfounded when I witnessed them; my half-brother Ragnar had skills you would never expect from a child of four.
But what surprised me even more was the glowing tattoo on his hand, shaped like a lightning bolt. I briefly heard my father boasting that it was proof he was blessed by the god—Thor.
A part of me wanted to learn how to fight so I could protect my mother if the need arose. But my body was so weak that I doubted I could even lift a sword. Even if I could, my pride wouldn't let me go to that man for help.
Instead, I spent most of my days stuck in bed, and my illness seemed to worsen by the day. Whatever interest Dag had in me as his son quickly faded when he found out I was sickly. My mother tried to convince him to visit me a few times, but he refused, claiming I would be dead before long just like his other children with her.
When he left before I was born, he thought I would be dead by the time he returned. That my mother would have another stillborn or that the child would die shortly after birth. He and my mother had children before, children who lived only a few years and then died from the same sickness I was now suffering from.
He claimed that was the reason he decided to take a second wife. Because he needed a child who could carry on his legacy.
When he said that I would die, my mother was angry. Angrier than when he brought another woman and her children into the house. She was so furious and didn't speak to him for weeks.
On the days I was stuck inside, I tried using the power Hodr had left me. Concentrating, I could only create a small amount of frost, but it seemed that the more I used my ability, the worse my sickness became.
I needed to find a cure for my illness, and maybe then I could cure my mother too. For that, I needed knowledge, and the only person in the village who seemed to possess it was the seer I had met all those years ago.
So, when my mother was out in the fields and no one else was home, I decided to pay him a visit.