Helga stood on the makeshift platform at the centre of the captured village. She wore her ceremonial black robe, her face having two red stripes running down her eyes towards her chin. Ever since she earned the title of 'God Summoner' she had been left in charge of all religious practices and ceremonies.
"The Gods will taste the blood of this new land," she declared, her gentle voice echoing mysteriously throughout the village. Her words were followed by the terrified screams of a man and woman, who were dragged onto the platform by two warriors. Once the prisoners were thrown to the ground, the warriors quickly retreated, knowing they had no place on the sacred stage.
Grabbing a bowl, she placed it underneath the neck of the man first. Pulling the dagger from her waist she placed it on the man's neck. He froze in fear unable to even breathe properly. In an ancient language, she quietly spoke. Her eyes stared towards the moons. They seemed to glow brighter with each word.
Believing it was truly what the gods wanted a feeling of ecstasy overcame her; the knife plunged deep into the man's neck being dragged across. The bowl filled halfway, being placed under the woman next. Her tear-stained face looked at the dead man next to her. The woman trembled in terror as Helga whispered the ancient words in her ear, the knife cold against her neck.
Looking at all those watching with fervour, madness finally took over. She broke into an insane laughter feeling the knife dragged across her neck. Helga dropped the limp head. Picking up the bowl she raised it into the air. Bringing it back down she looked at its contents.
She knew what had to be done next and although it was distasteful, the ceremony had to continue. Usually, a third sacrifice could be used but she was a God Summoner, making her able to take its place. "We offer the blood of man and woman from these foreign lands to the Gods. We hope it pleases you and that you shall bless the battles to come." Taking the bowl to her lips she drank the contents, not spilling a drop.
The taste of iron filled her mouth. It was distasteful but necessary. She didn't let the displeasure show on her face, however. Swallowing the last of its content. She held the bowl in the sky once more, before placing it on the ground. "The Gods are pleased with our devotion and bless us for the battles to come. Let us be the instrument of their power and bring these new lands to heel as our ancestors did before. We will provide this new land as their new home."
Raising her hands towards the people, she put on a caring smile, as the people chanted her name alongside the Gods. 'The Father Hakon', 'God of War Bjorn', 'The Guardian Asmond', 'Valkyrie of Victory Sigrid', 'The Crow Steffen', 'The Summoner, Helga'.
Her name was called alongside the pantheon of Gods, and the chants carried through the wind. Joy, pride, and arrogance surged within her as she heard her name honored among the divine. Helga felt it was only right—who was more deserving than she to be worshipped like this? She was special, accomplishing what others could not.
Since the first ceremony, an indescribable feeling had taken root in her, and over time, she had come to crave it. On the journey to these new lands, the people had gradually turned away from her father and the others, looking instead to her. Even if they didn't openly admit it, deep down, they knew she was the one who should lead them.
Reflecting on the journey, Helga looked down at the crowd, savouring the way they gazed at her with reverence. This was something she had grown to love. With a wide smile, she basked in their chants, relishing the worshipful eyes that would have never been on her had she not summoned the Gods.
She knew she was better than the rest. She had sent Gorm to the Pantheon and was the only one who could bring the Gods to this land again. Her name, like those of the past, would never be forgotten. Her father, the jarls, and the kings beside him would eventually fade from memory, but she would be remembered forever.
Helga wished to remain on the platform longer, soaking in the glory, but she knew she had to descend. As she walked down, she processed her feelings, realizing this was something she would always crave, something she never wanted to disappear. She looked around the village and recalled the castles they had attacked—strange structures, unlike anything in her homeland. She wondered how they were built. If the kings and people of this land could create such buildings, what could she achieve as queen here? With their knowledge and her power, she would be unstoppable.
The approaching Frode and Halfdan reinforced this belief. She couldn't help but think none of them were worthy of ruling the golden land they had found themselves on. Looking past the two at her father in the distance.
He was a hero who should be remembered for calling the Great Adventure, but he still required the Gods guidance to do it. Thinking about him made her eyes squint. He had changed since the ceremony. Become more of a coward as well as undermining her. Never letting her talk to her future bannerman for too long, second-guessing her in front of others and trying to steal her spotlight.
"Helga." Frode's voice awoke her from her thoughts. Looking at the man clutching the healing wound on his stomach she put a pleasant smile on her face.
"What is it, King Frode?" she asked, masking her true feelings with respect. She knew it was too early to make any bold moves. Frode looked at her with lust, causing Halfdan to shake his head in disapproval. Helga smiled at Halfdan, appreciating that he was smart enough not to desire her. She briefly considered him—he would be a reliable follower, but he was too much of a snake, like the God Floki.
Frode saw her eyes linger on Halfdan. "Let us talk in private." Jealous, he grabbed her arm and led her away. Halfdan alone, watched with a crooked smile at Frode's brazen act. Erik looked at this in the distance with a twitching eye but did nothing, believing his daughter could hold her own.
"What is it you want King," Helga asked in a slightly annoyed tone, being taken away. She threw his arm off her, taking a step back.
Frode moved in closer. "Become my queen Helga. No woman is more worthy than you to become it. A son between us would become the fiercest warrior the world has seen and finally unite our people's lands under one crown. He would bring back the Era of Heros." Slightly drunk he spoke as a matter of fact, moving closer once again.
Trying to reach out and grab her waist, Helga knocked his hand away in disgust. "No King Frode. I am dedicated to the gods and they alone will choose my future." She spoke quickly turning to leave. Frode laughed reaching and grabbing her shoulder.
Hitting it away, she drew the ceremonial dagger, placing it on the man's neck. Frode frowned seeing this, before remembering Erik's words and laughing. "Don't worry. I will make you my Queen one day." Frode said walking off, stumbling. Despite his desire, he wouldn't dare try to force himself on Helga. For one she was Erik's daughter and would cause a war to break out, but more importantly for him, she was a God Summoner. Her status was something of great importance to him. She was the one who gave him part of Steffens strength for the Adventure.
Helga looked at the man's back in disgust. He was a brutish man, ugly in her eyes. She watched him return to her father's side and begin to talk and laugh with him. Seeing this she was sure that Erik wished to brush her aside. Wed her off like a slave. Was he jealous of her becoming more famous than him, or did he secretly despise her this whole time for not being a boy when her brothers died?
Looking to the moons and walking back to the festival, her eyes shone with a strange light, no one able to understand what she was truly thinking about.