He grows, but far too slowly for his own liking.
The yearling boy spends most of his days exploring the innermost reaches of his Jungle home. He knows all of the vine-laced paths and can follow them with ease afforded to him by his upbringing. He is drawn to the water and its multitude of sources: the springs, the creeks, and the winding, warm river. Mother has told him to be cautious of this last one; he knows of the creatures that lurk within the depths, waiting for foolish boys to stick their feet in without care. Once, he saw a caiman pull in one such careless capybara who wandered too close to the water’s edge. It hadn’t completely put an end to his desire to discover each and every stream, but it had certainly slowed him down for a while – probably to his benefit. He finds company with the other animals sometimes (and the jaguar spirit on rare occasions), but he is far more interested in his fellow horses.
Growing up in a land of warrior women on the brink of war has taught him more than the natural world around him ever could. And while the tangled, thorny forest can distract him for days on end, Vidar always finds himself returning eagerly to the preparations happening at the kingdom’s center. There is an urgency in the mares that he doesn’t realize is new. It is a pulsing, tangible hum in the air that has been there since the day he was born. He flourishes on it, thrives on the tension and flurry of activity that keeps a wild yearling from growing bored. It serves another purpose, too, though he doesn’t realize it. Lagertha is as busy as any Khaleesi at the head of an army should be. She doesn’t have the luxury of spending each and every moment with her son. The parade of Sisters new and old doubles as a distraction for this very problem; Vidar doesn’t lament the lost time with his dam because he knows no different.
But there is one horse he does miss.
And even though he’s never met her, mother’s ample stories and praise is enough to make them not seem like total strangers. So when her year-long sentence is up (and he knows, because he’s counted the days right alongside mother) he moves past the press of bodies to find her. The khaleesi is already there, awaiting the return of her first daughter. Vidar steps next to her, watching and waiting the dark curtain of the jungle to release her to them. And when it does, when she steps through into the clearing beyond, he is ready. “Anguisette!” He lets her greet their hulking grey dam first before moving forward himself. Eagerness softens his normally rigid face; emotion warms his traditionally stony voice. If anything can bolster the spirits of the Sisters before the war, it will be the return of its princess. “Err, Sette?” Vidar looks to Lagertha for confirmation. “Can I call you that, sister?”
His storm-grey eyes flick back towards the girl, curiosity and sibling-worship lighting within them. She’s been all the way to the Valley and lived there by herself. What other adventures has she already partaken in at such a young age? Pride swells in his chest like the river after rain when she says that the Amazons are the better kingdom. Of course they are, with their mother at the helm! “Was it frightening, the Valley?” He asks, then looks between the both of them quickly, not wanting them to think he was being cowardly. “I mean, do you think we can beat them? I’d fight them if they came back for you.” He says it with all the seriousness and courage of any young boy, though he looks guiltily back at Lagertha. Surely, this is a war he will not be invited to.
Vidar