Thrain slides away, forcing him to mirror his movements as they stalk one another in an oval formation.
“Did you know I spoke to Thord about your marriage accord? Of course, you wouldn’t know. You spent your life playing with rocks.” Thrain scoffs. “Do you know what our father said to me as the heir to the Salt throne? He said it had to be you—the one to unify Treland. You were the one raised to be king. Not me. It was always going to be fucking you!”
“So you fucked up everything for me because Father hurt your feelings? Fuck, Thrain, you are a little bitch!”
Thrain bellows as he charges him with his axes raised–Sigvid braces for impact by crossing his axes across his chest. When the men’s axe blades connect, Sigvid wraps Thrain’s leg with his and shoves him away while pulling his leg backward, knocking his brother to the earth.
Thrain “oofs” loudly as his back crashes into the frozen ground, and he lays there for half a second while cackling like a maniac.
“To think,” he chortles, “when Ceowald asked how to advise Timber on your soul, I sold you to the Arena. Hindsight,” he stumbles upright, “I should have had you beheaded. Do you think Avina would have fallen so hard for me instead?”
In no situation would she love you. I would have fought the Briny God in the Depths to ensure Thrain never touched that woman.
“You should have known I would have survived the Arena and that I would come for you.” Sigvid swings his axe, but Thrain catches it with his own, causing both weapons to fly out of their hands.
“Because you meddled with the marriage accord, she was fucking saddled with Rendel. He tortured her!” he thunders.
Thrain tosses his head back and laughs. “She was forced into sex with her husband, the king of Timber. Hardly torture.”
Sigvid punches his gut, only for him to return a strike to the side of his head, forcing him to stagger away.
“What is this? Are you determined to spell out all of my crimes, brother?” Thrain shakes his head before aiming his blade low on him.
Sigvid jumps over the swing and brings his elbow down on his back, eliciting a groan. “I need you to hear every single fucking transgression before I send your ass to the Briny God.”
“Oh, I have no intention of going to the Depths.”
“What?”
“Seeing asmyfather is Freyr, I will greet him in the Abyss.”
“Freyr? As in the third god of Trelan?” Sigvid repeats. “The one condemned to the Abyss?” Then he realizes.
“That’s right, Sigvid. I am ahalvgudof a Draemonium. He possessed poor pathetic Thord so that Mother would bear me.”
Sigvid gapes, his mind reeling, yet so much now made sense. He recovers quickly. “Does not fucking matter. You will still join my tallies like every other man.”
Thrain whips back into position, swinging hard at Sigvid. His blow grazes his arm, cutting him but not deeply. Thrain’s eyes sparkle with triumph at Sigvid’s bleeding wound as if he has already won the battle.
A laugh ripples through Sigvid’s chest. “Weak little bitch. You couldnot even murder Sven on your own. You had to send your goon to do the work. And then, you were so desperate to cover it that you exposed your connection to the Abyss by summoning a fucking Ulv! How muchseidrdid that cost?”
“Did anyone miss that nosey boy? I am the motherfucking King of Salt! Fight me!”
Sigvid kicks him in the chest, shoving him backward. “You took a son from a good family! Just like you did with Helga. Did you care about her at all? Or was she always just a pussy?”
Sigvid kicks one of his large booted feet out between his legs, landing a brutal hit. Thrain’s face scrunches up, and he wheezes as his knees crumble into the dirt.
Sigvid fiercely pounces, pounding his brother’s body repeatedly with his fists. Every strike of his hand or boot sends a fiery rage ripping through his core. The building ferocity of the berserker is like a looming mountain as all of Thrain’s fucking crimes flash before his eyes.
“You.” Kick. “Fucking.” Kick. “Threatened. Our. Mother. And. My. Daughter!” He kicks his brother in between each word.
His roar shakes the fucking ground. How dare that monster! Everyone who crossed his brother’s path was disposable—even his own kin.
“Your time is up.” Sigvid collects Thrain’s axe and tosses it to the side along with his own. A blade is too quick a death.
Sigvid leaps on top of his brother, who is barely able to breathe due to the stomps to his chest. He punches Thrain in the face until his nose breaks beneath his fist, spilling deep crimson over his mouth and eyes.
“To top off all of the bullshit you have ever fucking done, you threatenedmyAvina! Then you placed me in jail to torture me using her image!” He is screaming as he beats any sliver of skin showing until the color darkens.
