Greenland, 15th century

If there's one thing Greenland doesn't lack, it's fresh water. Streams cascade down the mountainsides every spring when the snow finally starts to melt. Back in the homelands, from where my ancestors set sail many generations ago, the sagas tell that people had to dig down in the dirt to find something to drink, and even after all that work, the water was sometimes polluted.

Here, the water is always clear and sparkling. We gather it in buckets as it trickles down in crevasses and forms creaks. We use it to wash, cook, and clean.

Carrying water down to the village is one of the regular tasks of every morning. I do it, and my brother does it. Which is why I know I will find Ivar by the mountain creek. Here, we will be able to talk without my father's interference. Because back in the village his all-seeing eyes survey everything. He's like the almighty Odin from the old sagas that are told by the campfire at night. My father is everywhere and controls everyone.

Ivar sits on the gray rock, enjoying a brief moment of freedom. Sometimes, my brother still looks like a kid, even if he's seventeen and has been counted as a man for a couple of years now. But as his face relaxes in the morning sun, his youth is still very apparent. His beard is yet to grow in fully and his limbs don't carry the muscle of a grown man.

It's only us left now, out of all the children our mother Freja birthed. When I was born, I wasn't yet the oldest. I had a brother and a sister welcoming me. Ragnar and Hedda. I only have faint memories of them. Small glimpses of a childhood spent playing in the high grass and climbing knotted trees. Then, when I was about three, a ship sailed in from Iceland on a cold fall night. It brought with it provisions for our settlement to last for the winter, and it brought with it a terrible flu. The whole village came down with it. I remember waking after spending forever in a feverish fog and my siblings being gone.

Ivar was born the following summer. For the first few years of his life, I remember trying not to attach myself to my little brother, because surely he would be gone one day too. Everyone else seemed to perish around me after all.

There were more siblings born after that. None of them survived their first winter.

But Ivar was still there. I couldn't shield myself from him once he started to talk. Someone had to show him the ways of our world after all. Someone had to teach him to play in the field and climb trees. Someone had to listen to all my complaints about the unfairness of life. There is no one in this world that knows me better than him, except for Gudrun perhaps.

Then came Signy. Our littlest sister. She who also survived her first winter. For ten years, we were graced with her blossoming presence. My father adored his only daughter. My mother spoiled her rotten.

Life was at times, but we thought the worst was over. Spring started to come earlier each year. Shipments from Iceland gave us what our island couldn't.

That's when the world suddenly froze. Winter wouldn't end and thick ice sheets prevented any ships from traveling to or from our shores.

Mother died first, trying to find a way to escape the hardship. Signy died in the endless winter that followed, life sucked out of her from the relentless cold. My father's hope and kindness died with them.

It's only me and Ivar now. Our father may be alive but he won't protect us. And we're not children anymore anyway. We don't need him to shield us. We don't need him at all. We only need each other.

Walking down the path toward the creek, my feet lose traction in the loose dirt. I yelp as I stumble downward, grabbing a pine branch to catch myself. The parrying move is successful and I remain standing.

Ivar looks up. "If you're trying to sneak up on me, Björn, you're doing a poor job," he surmises with a wide smile on his lips.

"I'm not sneaking up on you," I reply, brushing some fallen pine needles off my pants. "If I were, you wouldn't know about it." I return his beaming smile as I sit down beside him on the smooth rock. The sound of streaming water has a calming effect on my mind, which is caught up in both infatuation and worry from the events this morning. I'm worried about myself, but even more worried about Ivar.

"Whatever you say, brother." Ivar chuckles and slaps my leg. "I think you're just covering for your bad sneaking skills."

Catching my breath from the trek, I ponder for a moment if I should divulge what I know. Perhaps I should just let it be a secret between lovers. After all, there are so few things we can keep to ourselves around here.

But Ivar is my little brother, and I need to keep him safe. I need to warn him about the possible consequences of his actions.

"I guess I was better at sneaking this morning," I start, catching a wild look in Ivar's eyes as it dawns on him what I mean.

"You saw us?" he asks, throwing a few pebbles into the stream.

"I saw you," I confirm, slinging a handful of pebbles myself. As the older brother, I need to display that I can throw things further than my little brother. "You and Aakku."

"Me and Aakku," he confirms with a sigh. "I mean, it's always been us. You must have known that too."

"I knew, or at least I suspected. I've seen how you look at her, but she's better at hiding her feelings."

We both fall quiet for a moment, our eyes focused on the creek before us. Birds sing in the trees and the ocean below clucks harmoniously.

"You know he'll never allow it," I start, trying to be gentle as I crush my brother's dreams. We both know of which "he" I spoke. The bitter force that controls all our lives. "It's too risky. You need to let Aakku go. Let her return to her own before winter comes, or she'll starve to death. We barely have enough to last us through the cold months, and you know she'll be the last one to eat when rations start to run out."

Ivar just nods, eyes focused on the stream. He doesn't seem as upset as I expected.

"And if he finds out about... you and her, then it will be worse," I continue. "I don't even want to imagine what he'll do. You've seen how he treats the other träls. You have to tell her to go, Ivar."

There was an incident last winter where a träl woman was caught eating crumbs from our plates. She was thrown out naked in the snow. Her body was found cold and blue the next morning.

My brother looks toward me with his gaze steadfast. "It will be even worse if he finds out what you're up to, Björn," he says. "I saw you too—you and Gudrun. And if I saw you, who knows who else might have been watching? You're not as sneaky as you think. Your game is even riskier than mine."

I look away, startled that Ivar has turned the tables on me. He's right, of course. It would be worse. Having relations with your father's wife is a crime you'll lose your life over, regardless of how that came to happen. Having relations with a träl woman is nothing compared to that.

"My game isn't your concern," I mumble. "I'll make sure he never knows."

"How?" Ivar asks. "The only way for him not to know is to leave, and where would you go?"

There is nowhere to go, we're both aware of this. There's no respite from our father's all-seeing eyes. We live in Oden's hall, and we cannot leave.

"Since you're so concerned about me, Björn, but so reckless with your own affairs, I have you know that I have a plan," Ivar tells me conspiratorially. "We have a plan. We will escape him."

If only I had the naivety of youth, maybe I would believe him. Because Ivar, little more than a boy, sounds so sure of himself.

"How?" I ask this time, because how do you escape when all paths leading away are caved in?

Ivar shrugs. "I'll tell you in due time, brother," he replies. "Before winter comes, we will act. As soon as the waters start to freeze."

My heart freezes upon hearing those words. Because I know, or at least suspect, what he's planning.

When you're stuck on a frozen island at the end of the world, the only path away from there is across the ice.

Rising from the cliff, Ivar brushes against my shoulder with his hand. I catch it with my own, keeping his hand in mine for a moment. Whatever he's planning, I'm worried for him. Neither staying nor leaving is safe for either of us.

"Please be careful, brother," I say. "You're all the family I have left."

"I'll say the same to you, Björn," he replies, not removing his hand. "Please be careful. I can't stand seeing anything happen to you."

As my little brother walks away I can't help but picture the day he will walk away from me for good. All that will remain is an empty bed and footsteps in the snow that lead to another life. Perhaps a better life, but a life I won't be a part of.

Author's Note: Is it too much back and forth between the different POVs? I have been doing every other so far, as there are some themes or events that need to be synced, but I may stay in one POV for several chapters in a row down the line.

Stay tuned for Saga and Mikk sightseeing Nuuk in the next chapter! (and perhaps there are some things in this chapter that will inform the events there)