It wasn't even a split second for Athanasia—it was a life-time.

        When Athanasia had gotten stabbed, everything came back to her.

           The first thing she heard hadn't even been Zephyria's scream of terror, but instead the soothing voice of her mother, Aðalbjörk.

           "Why are you so frightened, bjor?" Aðalbjörk asked, as her six-year-old trembled in the corner.

     "The thunder," young Athanasia confessed.

     "It's just a storm, my darling," Aðalbjörk said, taking a seat by Athanasia. She draped an arm around the child, pulling her closer. "The earth needs water… that's why it rains. The thunder and lightning just makes sure nobody tries to take the earth's water. There's no reason to be frightened."

     "You promise?" Athanasia sniffled.

     Aðalbjörk smiled. "I solemnly promise."

    Another crackle of thunder pierced the sky–this time it was closer.

     Athanasia yelped.

     "Ásgeirr…" Aðalbjörk began to call.

     "I'm not scared of it anymore," Athanasia told her mother. "It's just too loud. It hurts my head. It makes me dizzy… just like the Great Hall is during gatherings."

      "Try to focus on one thing at a time," Aðalbjörk urged. "Focus on the sound of my voice and only my voice. Your mind should tune out the rest."

      Athanasia nodded, closing her eyes.

     Aðalbjörk wiped the tears off Athanasia's face with her dress sleeve before softly singing a lullaby in old Norse.

        Athanasia had staggered, slipping and losing her footing.

        "Bjor, what is this?" Aðalbjörk asked taking the craft that her child provided for her.

        "It's a wyvern! For you!" Athanasia told her mother, grinning from ear to ear. "Just like the one on your necklace."

         Aðalbjörk giggled. "Oh. I see it." Her gaze drifted toward her seven-year-old child. "Thank you, bjor. It's beautiful." She paused before stroking the side of Athanasia's face. "...just like you."
         Aðalbjörk pulled the child closer and placed a kiss on her forehead. "You will always be the most important thing to me, bjor. Never forget that."

      ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

    Athanasia peered out of the room, her mother's footsteps echoing through the hall. Her nine-year-old mind wouldn't be satisfied with thinking Aðalbjörk was just checking on the guards–she took a deep breath before slipping on her boots and her fur coat before running in the direction her mother went in.

    Athanasia rushed down the staircase to the courtyard, hoping she'd be able to catch up to her mother in enough time. "Móðir?" The child called out to her mother.

     Aðalbjörk turned to face the child. "Ásgeirr. What are you doing up? It's late."

    Sounds of horses' hooves clapping against the ground filled the air as a man with long blonde hair approached, heavily armored on a horse as black as night. Around the man, fully armored soldiers rode in beside him.

     Aðalbjörk moved closer to the child, ushering her behind her before turning in the direction of the horses. "Stay behind me, okay, bjor?"

    Athanasia nodded, peering out from behind Aðalbjörk's leg.

    "Aðalbjörk…" the blonde man said, smirking and dismounting his horse. "As radiant as ever."

    "What do you want, Ilrok?" Aðalbjörk questioned, straight-faced.

   "I see that the child is with you," Ilrok began to comment, unamused. "Come out, boy so I might fully gaze upon you."

   When Athanasia did nothing other than stand still, Ilrok angrily huffed. "Alright. I've finished with playing nice." He whistled to his soldiers who had dismounted their horses already. "Bring the Queen to me."

    One of his guards nodded in response and approached Aðalbjörk. He grabbed her and started yanking her over to Ilrok.

    "Let go of me!" She protested.

    Once Aðalbjörk had been brought to Ilrok, he laughed a little before reaching for Aðalbjörk's pendant–it was a wyvern wrapped around an amethyst. He yanked it off her neck and chucked it.

     Athanasia lurched forward, knowing the necklace meant a lot to her mother. She picked it up and started forward, slipping the necklace into her pocket.

    "Restrain the boy," Ilrok commanded.

    A guard approached Athanasia, doing as he was told.

    "Don't you dare-" Aðalbjörk breathed.

    Ilrok snickered a little. "Don't worry, my dear. They won't hurt your precious little one." He moved his hand toward Aðalbjörk's head, but she inched away. He aggressively yanked her head back toward him and then began to stroke the side of her face. Ilrok's eyes grew a bright red–his eyes were like fires. "You really thought you could hide from me, Aðalbjörk? After everything we've been through?"

     Athanasia struggled and strained, trying to force herself out of the guard's grasp. Finally, she broke free and charged at Ilrok.

     Ilrok swung his sword a couple of times, hacking an x-shaped wound over Athanasia's right eye.

    Athanasia fell to the ground, surprised. She rose to her feet very quickly.

     Ilrok swung again, cutting a large wound from the child's hip up across the chest.

    Athanasia fell backwards.

    Everytime the child rose, Ilrok gave her a new stab wound–Aðalbjörk screamed each time.

    "No!" Aðalbjörk shouted, distressed. "Enough! Enough! I'll go with you! Just please, don't lay another finger on my baby!"

    "Fine." Ilrok yanked Aðalbjörk toward the horse, as Athanasia slowly rose to her feet once again.

    "You promised me you wouldn't hurt him," Aðalbjörk hissed.

     Ilrok laughed. "No, my dear. I said they, as in my guards, wouldn't hurt him–I didn't say I wouldn't; just like they won't hurt you… But I will." Ilrok swung his blade upward, slicing Aðalbjörk's neck. Then he thrust his sword forward right into Aðalbjörk's stomach.

      She gasped for air, holding her hand to her neck, hoping to stop the bleeding. She collapsed forward into Ilrok, who promptly slung her over his horse.

    Athanasia screamed, "Móðir!" Before running toward the horse.

    "Kill him!" Ilrok commanded his soldiers.

    Ilrok's men didn't even hesitate a single moment before running full force at Athanasia.

    The child let out a deafening scream, forcing the men backward, and sending flames outward. The small flames danced around her in a circle.

   Ilrok looked like he had seen a ghost.

   Athanasia fell backward, barely holding onto consciousness.

         ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

     "Ásgeirr," Manga called out to the royal.

    Athanasia smiled, happiness just radiated from her. "Why hello, Manga."

     Manga frowned once she saw the love-sick look on Athanasia's face. "Ásgeirr, I-"

    "You love me? Yes, I know," Athanasia chuckled, placing a hand on Manga's shoulder.

    "That's the thing," Manga slightly bit her lip and slid away from Athanasia's embrace. "I don't love you."

     Athanasia heart nearly stopped.

    Her violet eyes where so wide Manga feared they'd fall right out of her head.

     "Do- do you have eyes for someone else?" Athanasia stammered. She feared it to be true. And for a second, she could barely breathe as she awaited her answer.

      Manga sighed. "Yes. Yes I do."

     "Who?" Athanasia felt her heart shatter into a million tiny pieces.

      "Ol," Manga said.

       "Ol Teirsson?"

      Manga nodded. "Yes."

      Everything fell silent for a moment.

   Manga then met Athanasia's eyes. "Good bye, Ásgeirr." She turned, leaving the room and leaving the royal who was holding back tears.

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

     Tulok smiled at Athanasia 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!"

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

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

      "Hooray," Athanasia said, unenthusiastically.

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

     Heimir's frown curled into a snarl. "When you say it was abandoned, does that just mean the towns-people were gone, or does that include the raiders too?"

    "Father, I'm sorry, I-" Athanasia swallowed. She was cut off.

    "Sorry doesn't cut it," Heimir turned away from his daughter. "The raiders weren't caught. They'll keep destroying what we've made--destroying what others have assembled too."

    Athanasia interjected. "I thought that's what we did-"

    "Yes. But, we do it civilly... these barbarians... they don't," Heimir explained. "And because of their actions, the other kingdoms will suspect us."     

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

    Athanasia closed the door. "It was a waste of time. We couldn't find the people who were destroying our villages. It's essentially a lost cause, Cad..." She slumped down into a sitting position on her bed.

     "May I?" Cadwal asked her.

     Athanasia nodded, but said nothing.

     Cadwal sat down beside her. "I don't believe it's a lost cause. If anyone can stop these barbarians, it's you, your highness."

     "Thanks." She then sighed.

    "What's wrong?" Cadwal asked, worriedly.

     "Nothing. I'm fine, Cad," Athanasia responded, lying to the servant.

     "No, you most certainly are not! I've served you for four years now. I know when you're not fine," Cadwal insisted.

     Athanasia stayed quiet.

    Cadwal persisted. "Now, what's wrong, Prince Ásgeirr?"

    Athanasia huffed.

   Cadwal pulled a face. "Wait... Is your anger toward your title? If it is, I assure you it won't be long before you're king."

    Once again, a sound of frustration came from Athanasia.

     "Do you not want to be king?" Cadwal questioned.

      "It's not that, Cad. I do want to rule this land. I do want to make a difference. But..." She trailed off.

    "Ásgeirr, what are you saying?" Cadwal inquired, confused.

     Athanasia's mouth had gone dry for the second time that night. She took a deep breath. "I'm not Prince Ásgeirr." She didn't mean to say that. It was almost as if she didn't have a filter.

      "Then who are you-"

     Silence fell upon the room for a couple of moments before it was broken.

     "P-Princess Athanasia-" She stammered. She had no idea where she had came up with the name. She held her breath as she awaited Cadwal's response.

    "Okay," Cadwal said, calmly. He looked to the window and at the stars that dotted the night sky then back to the royal. "Does your father wish to send you on a patrol again tomorrow, Princess?"

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

    "Something on your mind?" Agnar asked Athanasia as they walked.

    "I couldn't sleep… I was having these nightmares," Athanasia started to tell Agnar.

   "If you don't mind me asking, what kind of nightmares?" Agnar inquired.

   "Our kingdom…. It was being burnt to the ground." Athanasia swallowed.

   "By the rebel brutes from the west-end village?" Agnar asked.

   Athanasia shook her head. "No. These were warriors. It almost seemed like they controlled the fires."

      "Demons," Agnar started to say.

      "What?" Athanasia questioned.

     "You almost seem to describe it as if demons burnt it to the ground," Agnar explained to her. "How vivid are these dreams?"

     "So vivid, if you only knew…"

    "It's almost like you've been given the gift of prophecy then," Agnar said.

     "Should I warn my father?" Athanasia asked.

    Agnar shook his head. "Prophecy is too close to witchcraft…. The whole village will be outraged."

    "Have you ever foreseen the future?" Athanasia questioned Agnar.

     "I've done much more than that…" Agnar sighed. "Can you keep a secret?"

      "Agnar, we've known each other for fifteen years… I won't tell a living soul," Athanasia promised.

    "I'm a sorcerer… A male witch if you will," Agnar whispered to Athanasia.

    Athanasia seemed surprisingly calm about it. "Fascinating."

    Agnar reached forward, opening the door to the tavern. "After you, Princess."

    Athanasia froze. "What?"

   "Cadwal told me. He said something about thinking I should know since we're best friends," Agnar told Athanasia.

     "Oh…"

    "Unless you didn't want me to—"

    "No, no. I'm glad you know, Agnar." Athanasia entered the tavern with Agnar following. "It feels like a huge weight off my chest."

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

     Up in the front of the tavern, the bard strummed his lute. Familiar gray locks brushed against his face. His violet eyes lit up the room.

    After leaving the bar yesterday, Athanasia had talked to a couple of other knight friends, only to find out that the bard was known for scamming people.

    "Giveeee me your money~ Give me your coins! Give me your money right now~" Noaah sang, gently  strumming the lute.

    Athanasia rolled her eyes. "What kind of idiot would fall for that?"

    Derbáil stood, heading toward Noaah's bag as if she was about to give him money.

    "Derbáil!" Athanasia called out, disappointed, as she stood and rushed after her.

    Derbáil took off a bracelet and held it over the sack.

     "Put it in the bag," Noaah sang.

     "Don't listen to him!" Athanasia shouted as she got between the two.

    Derbáil blinked a couple of times. "I just had the strangest dream… I was about to give some low, peasant boy some of my trinkets."

    "Oh, that was no dream, Princess." Noaah then turned around, sack in hand, and headed toward the door.

     "My necklace!" Derbáil then suddenly shouted out. "He's got my necklace!"

      "I'll take care of this," Athanasia reassured Derbáil. She headed toward where Noaah was and shouted, "Hey! You!"

     "Me?" Noaah turned around, all innocent like. "What did I do?"

     "You stole my friend's necklace," Athanasia said. "I demand you give it back."

     "I didn't do it," Noaah denied. "I'm a child. Do you really expect me to do anything like-—" He was cut off.

     "Cut the crap. You're not that young. You're like 17 at the youngest," Athanasia said.

      "Fifteen," Noaah corrected.

     "The point is you're rotten. You swindle the shit out of people. And you're a no good thief," Athanasia growled. She then pushed him, knocking him to the ground.

     Noaah sighed. "Fine." He tossed the necklace toward Athanasia, which she caught.

     Derbáil exited the tavern and met with Athanasia and Noaah.

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

      "Who are they?" Athanasia asked Heimir.

     "None of your concern-" Heimir responded.

    "Who are they?" Athanasia raised her voice. "They ransacked our kingdom when I was nine... The same year my mother went missing. Clearly this has something to do with me! Now, tell me, who are they?"

    Heimir swallowed. "They're monstrous undead warriors. They're cruel.... Heartless. And they're led by your real father."

     Athanasia froze, a lump forming in her throat. "Real father? W-what do you mean?"

    "Ilrok Drokonik. He's your father," Heimir told Athanasia. He had said the word 'father' in a mocking tone. "Aðalbjörk was my true love. I married her when we were both young. I just didn't know she was seeing another." Heimir was shaking his head, disapprovingly. "But, hell, I raised you like my own boy. As far as I'm concerned, I raised you, so you're mine."

     "And Hrafnúlfr?" Athanasia asked.

    "Hrafnúlfr's mine," Heimir growled.

    "Why didn't you tell me about Ilrok?" Athanasia questioned.

     Heimir's voice raised even more. "What was I supposed to tell you? That you were a fucking Devilborn? I kept it a secret because that's what any good father would do!" Heimir approached Athanasia. "Look, our guards will stop Ilrok and his forces, so let's cut the nonsense and bury the damn hatchet." He raised a hand, trying to place it on Athanasia's shoulder.

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

     "Someone needs to keep watch for Ilrok's men."

       Druid shook her head. She couldn't be anymore than seven years old. "That's not true. You're afraid of something. There was something that haunted you in the past and it gives you night terrors because of it. I can see it in your eyes."

      Athanasia looked a little shocked that the young girl knew all of that.

      "It's okay," Druid began in her thick Roman accent. "I have nightmares too… about my time back in Rome." She paused before telling the older woman, "It's okay to be scared. What we fear makes us stronger."

     It actually felt sort of pleasant for Athanasia to speak to someone like this.

      Athanasia smiled ever so slightly. Then she noted Druid's shivering. "They never had cold weather in Rome?"

      Druid shook her head once again. "Nope. Just a lot of warm days with being on the Mediterranean and everything. I think you'd like it. I know I did. I kinda miss it."

        "If you miss Rome so much, why don't you go back?" Athanasia questioned the child.

       "Oh, I couldn't." Druid gulped. "Not after everything that happened there."

      Athanasia moved her head ever so slightly before taking over her fur coat and draping it over and Druid's shoulders. She stood. "Try to get some sleep, kid."

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

    "Athanasia," Noaah had began to say. "I see you came across someone dear to me."

    Athanasia had nodded. "Yes. She fended off Manga for me." Her gaze had directed to the elder siren. "I'm very grateful for that."

    "Athanasia," Noaah smiled. "I'd like you to meet my mother, Zephyria Xenakis."

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

      "Mater," Druid stumbled over Athanasia, barely hanging onto consciousness. She collapsed in her arms.

      "No, no, Druid, no," Athanasia began. "Who did this? Ilrok? I'll make that bastard pay."

      "Mater, I-" Druid's breath rattled. "I-it's been an honor." Her face relaxed, forcing Athanasia into tears.

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

  "You named your blade Visna?" Chiaki had asked Athanasia, to which she nodded. "Well, my katana's named Takeru."

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

      "Hey," a soft, little voice called out to Athanasia as she sat in a tavern, drinking her sorrows away.

       This was followed by a light tug on her sleeve.

      Athanasia looked over to see a young boy with dark hair and white irises staring back at her.

       "I'm K-Kvasir," the young boy began to stumble over his own words. "I was wondering if you could help me find my mitéra… I'm lost."

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

     "P-please. C-Chiaki," Athanasia's voice began to sound out, wavering. "You've gotta stay with me."

      "I can't-" Chiaki grunted in pain. "Damn bitch practically zapped me of my life force."

         "I know someone who can help… Her name's Raziya… She specializes in this kind of stuff," Athanasia bit lip, her heart feeling heavy.

         Chiaki chuckled a little, using what little energy she had left to move her head, leaning it against Athanasia's. She rasped, "No need. J-just let us have this moment?"

       Athanasia remembered everything. She remembered first finding the lone, abandoned wyvern egg—the one that hatched.

          The wyvern she named and gifted the name 'Vostrar'.   

         She remembered her first meetings with Raziya and Azeline…and meeting Syn for the first time.

       Her vision was blurry now as she continued to plummet. Her eyes watered.

          "It's okay," the voice of Athanasia's mother, Aðalbjörk, seemed to call out. "You did good. You can let go now, bjor."

           That's just what Athanasia did. As she continued to fall, Athanasia closed her eyes, her one lone tear washed away by the wind.