💙19 - Hákon minn [Runes of Wyrd][End Volume 1]🤍

In the picture, from left to right: Skörta Eldrún – Princess and heir of Norway, daughter of King Håkon Eldrún, future Queen of Norway Album : https://suno.com/playlist/d3b85d17-41e5-4f6c-bfbc-4086191ed19e 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 For three days, Trondheim had held its breath. The great royal drakkar had arrived beneath a sky of cold steel, and ever since, the entire city had moved to the rhythm of funeral preparations. Black banners marked with ancient runes snapped in the icy winds of the Nidelva, while craftsmen, priests, and warriors labored around the ship destined to carry King Håkon Eldrún into the afterlife. Never before had Trondheim witnessed a ceremony of such magnitude. Skörta had insisted upon it. Not only to honor her father, but to remind the kingdom that despite grief, despite rivalries between jarls and clans, Norway had to remain united. She knew she would soon leave the realm in search of Yggdrasil. And if she departed while the kingdom stood divided, then the ambitions of men would destroy everything her father had spent his life building. The funeral ship was both magnificent and terrible to behold. The dark wood of the drakkar had been carved with ravens of Odin, sacred wolves, and the twisting branches of Yggdrasil itself. At its center rested Håkon Eldrún upon white furs and cloth embroidered with gold. His face appeared peaceful, almost alive, as though he merely slept before a long voyage. Around him lay his weapons, his royal ring, drinking horns, silver coins, and offerings brought by the people: dried flowers, carved figurines, sometimes even simple messages scratched clumsily into pieces of wood. The townsfolk passed slowly around the vessel in near silence. Some wept openly. Others simply stood motionless, heads lowered. By nightfall, torches had been lit all around the harbor. Their reflections danced across the dark waters like wandering spirits searching for their path. Then Skörta stepped before her people. She wore a long black gown lined with white fur, bound at the waist by a silver belt engraved with royal runes. A dark cloak rested upon her shoulders, fastened by raven-shaped brooches. The runic paint around her eyes remained, though softer this evening, as though the daughter spoke louder than the future queen. A vast silence fell upon the harbor as she advanced. Even the wind itself seemed to fade. Skörta looked one final time upon her father’s body before speaking. “My father was a great king... but before that, he was a man.” Her voice was steady, though heavy with emotion. “He knew anger. He knew doubt. He made mistakes... and the gods know we clashed more than once.” A few restrained laughs spread softly through the crowd. Even Torstein allowed himself a faint smile. “But he never stopped loving this kingdom. Never.” Her gaze swept across the people gathered before her. “He kept our people united despite the divisions between our clans, despite the ambitions of men, despite ancient hatreds that could have torn us apart. Many saw a stern king. I... saw a demanding father. A man who prepared me to succeed him even when I refused to listen.” This time, her voice faltered slightly. “He taught me that a ruler does not govern for themselves. They govern for those who cannot carry the weight of the world alone.” Helena lowered her eyes quietly at those words, while Bruno watched the queen with silent admiration. Beside them, Mikki Þríkungr distracted himself by absentmindedly playing with one of Helena’s braided strands like a curious child. Helena shot him an irritated glance. “Mikki... try to behave yourself.” The old druid immediately released the braid with an innocent grin. “I was only checking whether wisdom grows inside it.” Bruno barely suppressed a laugh. Even Skörta allowed herself the faintest smile before continuing. “My father believed in a strong Norway because it stood united. And I intend to preserve that vision. Together... we are stronger than our quarrels. Stronger than our fears.” Then she turned toward Jarl Mikal-Finnvard Arvast. “That is why I asked the jarl Arvast from Skalvheim to stand beside me tonight.” The jarl approached calmly beneath the watchful eyes of the crowd. When he reached her side, they exchanged a glance filled with newfound understanding. Skörta continued. “Once, tensions existed between our houses. Between my father... and him. But over time, we learned to listen to one another. To understand that the interests of our people matter more than personal ambition.” The jarl slowly inclined his head. “Your father possessed the wisdom of a man capable of looking beyond his own pride,” he said calmly. Skörta nodded softly. “And that wisdom... he passed on to me.” The silence that followed felt sacred. Then the chants began. Slow. Deep. Tribal. Drums echoed against the docks as the drakkar was slowly pushed onto the waters of the Nidelva. The river now carried the king toward the realms beyond. Torstein then approached Skörta with a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. He handed them to her without speaking. Yet the faint smile on his face instantly reminded her of their hunt together several weeks earlier. This honor belonged to her. A shieldmaiden stepped forward carrying a torch. The queen drew a slow breath before lowering the arrowhead into the flames. Around her, the chants called upon the ancient gods to guide Håkon Eldrún’s soul toward Valhalla. Then she raised the bow. And for a single moment... The entire world seemed to stand still. Skörta felt grief burning deep within her chest. Yet behind that pain lived something else. A cold determination. She would uncover the truth. About her father’s death. About Yggdrasil. About the signs the gods seemed to send into the world of men. Her eyes fixed one final time upon the ship drifting slowly into the darkness of the river. Then she released the arrow. And flames rose into the black sky above Trondheim. Only the future would decide what would become of the queen... and of those who had chosen to walk beside her. 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 Andar... (ljósið...) Konungr sefr Vindr berr sál Eldr logar hægt Blóð vár rennr enn Goð vaka yfir oss... ó... Niðelfr syngr hægt Skip rekr til skýja... hee... Fǫður nafn lifir... (haayi...) Augun gráta hljótt Skuggar fylgja eld... Sál ferr heim nú... ljós... Far heim... far heim... Hákon minn... Eldr syngr... eldr syngr... yfir þér... Andar vaka... andar vaka... hjá þér nú... Sofðu í ljósi, konungr vár... Skip ferr... skip ferr... til goða... Blóð man... blóð man... nafn þitt enn... Niðelfr berr... Niðelfr berr... sál þína... Far nú með friði, Hákon minn... Sál rís... Goð opna leið... Vindr tekr nafn hans... Eldr dansar yfir ánni Andar fylgja sporum hans... Blóð vort gleymir ei... Hákon ferr... Hákon ferr... heim... Valhǫll kallar hægt... Óóh... Friður vakir yfir oss... Hee...hee... haayi... óóh... Far heim... far heim... Hákon minn... Eldr syngr... eldr syngr... yfir þér... Andar vaka... andar vaka... hjá þér nú... Sofðu í ljósi, konungr vár... Hákon minn... Hákon minn... Hákon minn... Hákon minn...