"Everyone will be here," Heimir began.

      "Everyone?" Ásgeirr asked, raising his eyebrow.

       Heimir nodded to his son. "I mean it's not every day that the king's son becomes the crowned prince."

       Ásgeirr stood silently.

      Silence fell over the room for the next ten minutes.

      Heimir gazed out the window, watching his Viking comrades arrive while Ásgeirr just stared at the ground.

     "My lord?" Asked a servant by the name of Anya as she peaked through the door way.

    Heimir looked away from the window and toward the door. "Hmmm. Oh yes! Anya, what is it?"

     "Geir is here," Anya told Heimir.

      Heimir smiled. "Thank you, Anya. That will be all."

     Anya nodded and smiled, before disappearing down the corridor.

      Heimir stood and headed to the doorway. He gave once last glance to Ásgeirr. "It's show-time." Then the Viking king left the room, closing the door behind him.

     Ásgeirr spent roughly an hour or two changing into something else and hyping himself up. He kept telling himself, "You can do this", on repeat.

     Ásgeirr then headed toward the door, took a deep breath and opened it, heading down the corridor and into the Great Hall.

     Heimir was waiting for Ásgeirr–--so was pretty much everyone else.

     Ásgeirr swallowed as he approached Tulok. Ásgeirr then bowed down.

     Tulok smiled at Ásgeirr before commencing the ceremony. "It comes a time in every first-born prince's life that he becomes heir to the throne. Today, Ásgeirr Heimirsson is to go through with this." He paused before continuing. "With the word of the gods, I shall say that they approve. Arise, Ásgeirr Heimirsson, the future king of the kingdom of Sweden!"

     Ásgeirr rose and turned to look at the cheering crowd. He faked a smile. He didn't like the attention and most of all, he didn't want to be the future king. He'd much rather be a queen.

     "Come on, future king! There's so much mead for us to enjoy!"

      "Hooray," Ásgeirr said, unenthusiastically.

     ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

       As vikings consumed their mead and performed excited jigs, Ásgeirr just stared off into nothingness, deep in thought.

       Heimirsdottir. That was her surname.

       She had thought on this matter quite a lot.

      "Prince Ásgeirr?" Agnar Geirsson's voice snapped Ásgeirr out of her dazed-like state. "Are you alright, my liege?"

      Ásgeirr nodded. "Yes. I'm fine, Agnar. I've just had much to drink." She acted as if she had staren-off in a drunk daze.

     Agnar chuckled. "Hopefully not too much. The king wants us and a couple of others to patrol the west end. He tells me there are disturbances over there."

    Ásgeirr stood. "Yes. I've heard of these disturbances. How many people commit these acts?"

    Agnar then told Ásgeirr as they walked, "Well, from what your father's men have seen, two. But, from eye-witness accounts, there could've been as much as two legions."

     Ásgeirr pulled a face. "This is bad," she said. She then started off in the direction of the armory.

     Agnar questioned her, "Where are you going?"

     Ásgeirr then called over her shoulder, providing an answer his question. "To suit up. If we're going to stop this unknown army we need to be prepared. I need you to assemble some men. They shall prepare. I'd suggest you to do the same." Then, Ásgeirr headed off to the armory, leaving Agnar behind her.