Chapter Text
The man gave names to all cattle, and to the birds of the air, and to every animal of the field; but for the man there was not found a helper as his partner. So the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; then he took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the LORD God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. He could feel all that she felt and knew that this was the other half of his soul that he had been waiting for. And thus the first soulmate was born. ~Genesis 2: 20-22
While walking along the sea shore the sons of Bor found two trees, and from them they created a man and a woman. Odin gave the man and the woman spirit and life. Vili gave them understanding and the power of movement. Vé gave them clothing and names. The man was named Ask and the woman Embla. Together, their souls were one, and they could feel each other no matter how far one went from the other. From Ask and Embla have sprung the races of men who lived in Midgard. ~The Prose Edda
Heahmund grows up knowing he is different. Everyone else around him feels a warmth in their soul, the feelings of the person they are meant to be with forever. He feels…nothing. Where there should be something is just an empty void. His mother and father try to console him, telling him that many people don’t have their soulmate born right at the same time. Sometimes, it takes a few years. He tries to be patient, he really does. Maybe if he puts his faith in God, he will find the one he’s meant to be with. But as the years pass and Heahmund ages from a boy into a young man, he knows that there is no one out there waiting for him. Maybe his soulmate died before he was born or maybe it was never meant to be. Either way, the hole in his heart isn’t filled.
He finds solace in his God, for he knows that the Almighty will never desert him. The good book says that God is the greatest soulmate of all. Heahmund clings to this more and more as he grows. When he’s fifteen, he hesitantly tells his parents that he’s entering the seminary. He sees the look that passes between them, something that’s a combination of relief at knowing he’s found his place and pity at knowing their son will never find true happiness.
The others at the seminary are there for various reasons. Many, like him, have no one waiting for them. Others, and this he’s thankful that at least he’s never had to experience, have had their soulmates die. As the years pass, he finds solace in three things: prayer, contemplation, and the sword. When all else fails and his anger rises, he takes up his sword, and goes to practice. The weapon is one of the only things he feels he’s good at, for it’s like an extension of his body when he uses it. It helps control his anger and wield in that part of him that still feels untamed sometimes.
Then when he’s twenty, everything changes. He’s in the middle of vespers when he feels a burning sensation in his chest. At first, he mistakes it for some form of attack, his heart shutting down. It’s painful at first as if a brand has been seared inside his soul. He collapses and the other priests take him to the infirmary. He lies there for hours, wondering if he’s going to die. Then the pain disappears, leaving warmth in his soul where there had only been darkness before. There’s emotions there, small and confused, but present nonetheless. He realizes that his soulmate has finally been born. Heahmund doesn’t stop smiling for three days.
He doesn’t leave the priesthood. There’s several like him, those waiting for their soulmates while serving God at the same time. It doesn’t diminish his worth in God’s eyes or those of his fellow priests. He tries not to think about how he’ll be a middle-aged man before the man (and somehow he knows instinctively it’s a man and not a woman) he’s meant to be with is even going to be old enough to be called a man. They won’t have as much time together as he would like, but he’ll make every moment count.
It’s several months before Heahmund realizes there’s something very wrong. A newborn child should feel happy, secure, and loved. While his soulmate does feel that, there’s also something else that’s felt intensely: pain. Sometimes it’s lessened and sometimes it’s worse, but his poor soulmate appears to be in a constant state of pain. Heahmund can’t figure it out and so turns to his superior for guidance. “Something is very wrong. He’s in such intense pain all the time. I…what can I do?” Heahmund hates the vulnerable hitch in his voice, how it betrays how much he already cares about this small child that he’s never even met before.
The old bishop seems to understand, wise eyes compassionate as he lays a hand upon Heahmund’s shoulder. “God does not give us burdens we are not able to shoulder. You must be a source of strength for him, give him something to fall back on. And remember that all of us are created in God’s image. No matter if he is deformed in any way, you must feel love for him always and no matter what.”
Heahmund takes the words to heart, trying to provide a solid rock for his soulmate when he’s tormented. Its agony sometimes to feel such an intense emotional state, but Heahmund endures. As the years slowly pass, he finds the child’s pain slowly changing. It doesn’t disappear, but as he seems to grow used to it, the emotion gets pushed more to the back of his mind. It’s a relief for the priest, for even he has his limits when it comes to his great strength.
When he’s not worrying over his soulmate’s state of being, he likes to imagine where he is, what he’s doing, and what he looks like. He feels a little silly doing it, like some lovestruck child, but it’s something he never had the chance to do in his own youth. He gets the distinct feeling the one he’s meant to be with is far away, perhaps not even in England at all. Though it is a selfish prayer, and he knows he shouldn’t ask for it, he prays for God to send his soulmate to him as soon as he can. Heahmund is trying to be patient. But he’s also been alone for so long.
Ivar has never known what it’s like to be without a soulmate. There’s a constant warmth there, a solid presence that he knows means someone is out there just for him. Whoever it is feels wise and patient, someone that puts forth strength whenever Ivar starts to feel like things seem hopeless being a cripple. He can’t be certain, but he thinks that his soulmate is older.
He’s there when Ivar kills another child as a young boy, shocked and terrified until a blanket of soothing energy is pushed towards him, calming him down as if he was right there beside him. He’s there whenever Sigurd teases him about being a pitiful nothing, as if he’s right there to dry the tears Ivar cries in private. The pain in his legs is great, yet when it feels like too much, he has something he can fall back on, the patient and seemingly endless strength that his soulmate has for him.
While he hates the stares he gets when he crawls around Kattegat, he spends a great deal of time by the docks, watching the travelers come to and fro in their boats. He knows his soulmate is very far away, yet he holds onto hope he may someday travel to the kingdom in Norway. He never sees him, but at least it’s a way to pass the day besides training with his weapons.
It’s one of the only things Ivar is good at, being able to throw an axe or swing a sword. Despite his useless legs, he works twice as hard as his brothers to be the best he can be with his weapons. He doesn’t have any friends to distract him from his training, but he never feels alone. There’s someone out there meant for him. He just hopes he’s enough for the man, even with his crippled legs.
As he grows older and angrier, he tries not to project the cracks that are appearing in his mind. Yet somehow his soulmate seems to know, doing the best he can to heal the fractures that keep growing greater. His control has never been great and there are times he thinks he’s going to snap completely. It’s moments like this the man whose mind he’s connected to seems to lend him some of his patience. He can wait, to be a real Viking, to meet his soulmate, whatever the gods throw his way.
When Ragnar asks Ivar to come along to England, he jumps at the chance. As they get closer and closer to the country, he can feel the emotions he’s felt his entire life grow stronger and more intense. He keeps quiet about what he’s feeling until it’s only he and his father left. “I think my soulmate is here. Somewhere in England.” Ivar should feel a sense of disgust or despair at knowing he’s meant to be with an Englishman. All he can feel is relief that he’s finally so close.
Ragnar seems to understand. It was said that the great Ragnar Lothbrok had several soulmates over the course of his life. Ivar wasn’t sure if that was true or not. In any case, his father just places a hand on his head, ruffling his hair in an affectionate manner. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find him while we’re here.”
Then everything falls to pieces as he’s forced to leave his father behind to die. As if that wasn’t agonizing enough, he feels like he’s being ripped in two as he boards the boat to Kattegat. He was so close to finding his soulmate and yet now he’s lost his chance. He spends the whole voyage miserable and seasick. The clear despair he’s feeling through their link tells him his poor soulmate is feeling the same way.
Bishop Heahmund feels a tugging day by day as his soulmate’s emotions become clearer. Wherever he’s been all this time, he’s finally in England! He leaves the town he’s in immediately and works his horse into a lather as he tries to pinpoint exactly where these feelings are coming from. They get stronger the closer he gets south and he tries to contain his excitement. His soulmate is sixteen now and Heahmund is so eager to finally meet him after all these years.
Then the feelings stop drawing him in and start to fade back to their usual murmur. He’s so stunned he almost refuses to believe that his soulmate is leaving England before they’ve even met. “No!” He wants to tell him. “Don’t go, not when we’re both so close!” But he’s gone, back to wherever he’d come from, and the bishop feels more alone than he ever did as a child with an empty void in his heart.
For the first time ever, he curses at God, getting drunk on a lot of cheap wine. Why would he bring them so close together only to draw them apart again? Is Heahmund being punished for his sins? Has God decided he is unworthy of happiness? When he sobers up the next morning, he realizes how close he was to blasphemy, and flagellates himself for penance. He tries to remember the Lord has a plan for both of them. He has to believe they’ll meet when the time is right.
The second time Ivar comes to England, he knows that he can’t afford to be distracted. Revenge must come first even before his own happiness. He does give his soulmate the gift of feeling his great satisfaction at seeing two kings dead through his actions. Ivar can feel the excitement coming from his soulmate’s end. They’re both so close now and Ivar will burn down all of England if he can find the man he’s supposed to be with.
Taking over York gives him a permanent base to work out of. If he stays here, his soulmate is bound to be drawn to him, the way he was last time. So Ivar patiently waits out the weeks as the English army camps on his doorstep. He does have some trepidation that his soulmate might be a soldier. What if he gets killed in battle? No, Ivar refuses to believe he’s destined to be with anyone but a warrior at least as good as he is.
Heahmund arrives in the English camp feeling most distracted. It’s been almost two years since he last felt his soulmate in England, and now he’s very close again, he can feel it. The now eighteen year old has been having bursts of satisfaction, happiness, and even glee, things that have always been rare up until now. Just what is he doing here? As he speaks with the king about strategy, he glances at the walls where the heathen army is entrenched. He can feel the pull so strongly now and he feels a cold pit in his stomach as he realizes that his soulmate is likely a Norseman.
Why would God give him a heathen barbarian as a soulmate? He recalls the old bishop, now dead these long years, that he must feel love for his soulmate no matter what. He shall turn him from his savage ways and show him the true God. He just prays the Norseman is strong and clever enough to survive the upcoming battle.
The battle rages fiercely around both of them. Their feelings are nearly intertwined now in the heat of fighting for their lives, killing the enemy, and generally trying to survive. The rain makes it hard to see anything and both hope their next blow doesn’t end the life of the one they’re meant to be with.
Then the battle seems to come to a halt as Ivar is knocked from his chariot. Heahmund squints through the droplets, trying to get a good look at the young barbarian, the one who has no fear despite being a cripple. Ivar sees a tall figure fighting bravely with neither shield nor helmet as the arrows rain down around him. He cuts down the men around him like a scythe going through wheat. Heahmund turns and points his sword, finally able to look this Viking warrior in the face.
Their eyes lock and they can feel something snap into place inside of them. Both of them think the same thing at the same time. “Oh no.” Then the same thing again. “Yes.”