Sigurd stews in his anger and envy as he watches his little younger brother Ivar and his bride at the high table a distance away. It is the celebration of Dísablót this night and during the celebration, your pregnancy was venerated. Ivar was a god-king and you were his queen.

Sigurd craved you.

He hated his brother, even more so when he married you. Sigurd had wanted you for himself. But watching you caress your swollen stomach made Sigurd’s jealousy spiral.

He wanted what Ivar had.