💙06 - Stand Awake [Runes of Wyrd]🤍

In the picture, from left to right: Helena Arvast – Daughter of the jarl, half-sister of Bruno Bruno Arvast – Helena’s half-brother, son of Jarl Mikal‑Finnvard Arvast and Min Shieldthrower Skörta Eldrún – Princess and heir of Norway, daughter of King Håkon Eldrún Album : https://suno.com/playlist/d3b85d17-41e5-4f6c-bfbc-4086191ed19e 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 The drakkar cut through the calm waters of the fjord, its carved prow slicing the reflection of a city that slowly revealed itself. Trondheim stood firm, structured, alive. Its port was bustling, yet different from Skalvheim. Trade here was inward, among northern clans, not open to distant horizons. There was wealth, yes, but also restraint... and a quiet vigilance. As the ship docked, a small welcoming party awaited them. At its center stood Princess Skörta Eldrún, upright and composed, her presence commanding without effort. Beside her, Torstein Orrisson watched with a soldier’s instinct, one hand resting near his axe. In Skörta’s arms, a black and white cat purred softly, unmoved by the tension in the air. Skörta stepped forward. "Welcome to my kingdom... You must be Helena Arvast, daughter of Jarl Mikal-Finnvard, preacher of the Green Faith... and enemy of my people?" Her tone was sharp, but controlled. Authority, not hostility. Helena met her gaze without flinching. "Helena Arvast, yes. But not your enemy. I came to speak, not to provoke." A brief silence followed, broken only by distant harbor noise. Skörta inclined her head slightly. "My father is ill. He cannot receive you. In his absence... I rule." Helena nodded. "Then let us speak plainly. My father seeks a non-aggression pact. Fimbulvetr is coming. We stand stronger together than divided." Skörta absentmindedly stroked her cat. "A convenient proposal. But accepting your people means accepting those who turned away from our gods. That weakens my position." She paused, then added: "Introduce those who came with you." Helena gestured toward her brother. "Bruno. My half-brother." He gave a firm nod, trying to appear more confident than he felt. Then she motioned toward the weary man. "And him... Mikell. He can speak for himself." Mikell stepped forward with unexpected grace. He gently took the princess’s hand and kissed it. "Mikell Skar. A traveler... and a careful observer. Your reputation does not do you full justice, princess." Skörta’s expression did not shift, but her eyes sharpened. "Well-shaped words." She turned away. "Come. We will speak in private." Then, to Torstein: "Take them to the great hall. Let them eat, drink... and keep an eye on them." Torstein smirked. "Of course, princess. I’ll keep a very close eye." Skörta raised an eyebrow. "Naturally. And sample the new mead while you’re at it, I suppose." A brief chuckle escaped her as Torstein shrugged, unashamed. She released her cat, which slipped away into the city. "Come, Helena." The princess’s quarters reflected her entirely. Clean, practical, marked by experience rather than luxury. Weapons rested along the walls, well maintained. At the center, a finely crafted shield immediately drew Helena’s attention. She lingered on it for a moment before turning back. They sat across from each other. Skörta spoke first, her voice measured, eyes fixed on Helena. "Your kingdom is strong. Your father has preserved unity and prosperity. But this Green Faith... I have my doubts about it." She leaned slightly forward. "I am not convinced it comes from true belief. It feels... inherited. Carried, rather than chosen." Helena took a breath before answering, her tone calmer, more introspective. "I don’t know what to believe anymore. Maybe the gods haven’t abandoned us... maybe we’re the ones who no longer know how to hear them." Skörta did not look away. "Or perhaps your father does not believe in what he preaches." A silence settled between them. "And yet, belief or not... a vassal pays tribute to their liege. That is what holds a kingdom together." Helena allowed a faint smile. "And sometimes... doubt is what keeps it from falling apart." Their eyes met. Not as enemies. Not quite as allies. Then... A scream tore through the air. Sharp. Sudden. Close. Both women froze. Skörta stood instantly. "My father." She rushed toward the adjoining chamber. Helena followed without hesitation, her pulse already rising. Something had just shifted. 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 She stands too calm for foreign ground Like silence dressed in iron sound I measure words before they fall One wrong step... I lose it all Her gaze cuts deeper than a blade Yet... something in me does not fade She speaks like storms that chose restraint Not weak... just carved by what they faced I thought I’d break her at first glance But now I feel a strange... advance Two rulers circling the same doubt Not sure which truth we speak about Trondheim Stands Awake Beneath The Storm Walls remember every oath once sworn She holds the breath of those who stay Their fate is shaped by what she weighs If I hesitate, they feel the cost A single doubt... and all is lost She looks at me like I still can Be more than just a ruling hand I should... I should resist this trust But fear alone will turn to dust If I lead... they carry me If I fall... they fall unseen If gods remain... why speak in dreams Why not stand where we can see No throne was built for restless minds No truth survives if left behind She walks beside me, not above And doubt begins to feel like trust Trondheim Stands Awake Beneath The Storm Walls remember every oath once sworn She holds the breath of those who stay Their fate is shaped by what she weighs Trondheim Stands Awake Beneath The Storm Walls remember every oath once sworn She holds the breath of those who stay Their fate is shaped by what she weighs Trondheim Stands Awake, it does not bend Voices rise where earth and will transcend She bears the weight we cannot name And shapes tomorrow through the strain