All language subtitles for The.Northman.2022.1080p.BluRay.AVC.TrueHD.7.1.Atmos-FGT-English

Hear me, Ódinn,

All-Father of the Gods.

Summon the shadows
of ages past,

when the thread spinning Norns
ruled the fates of men.

Hear of a prince's
vengeance quenched

at the fiery Gates of Hel.

A prince destined for Valhöll.

Hear me.

He's here.

He's here.

Mother, Father is here!

Never enter my chambers
without invitation.

The king, milady.
The king.

Come.

Ódinn brought him home.

Hail, Raven King!

War Raven, hail!

Hail, my lord!

War Raven, hail.

Hail, ring-giver!

Onward, brother!

Go.

Hail,
King Aurvandil War Raven!

Hail!

Like a battle dog
returning to its master,

I've come to be fettered
by my queen's fair locks.

Ever are we bound, my lord.

Prince Amleth,

you have grown too old
to be greeted as a child.

Hail, Lord King.

But a father
never grows too old

for a good smothering!

How I've missed you, my son.

Will your brother not
grace us with his presence?

Think not on Fjölnir.

He'll soon be with us.

This was worn round a
prince's neck when I found it.

But it was destined
for this prince.

Wear it always with my love.

Thank you, Father.

My king.

Fjölnir.

The brute has arrived.

Hail, Lord King.

Furnish this fierce-hearted
slayer of men with some drink,

that I might drink to him.

Accept my cup, kinsman.

Milady.

Look how the
queen's cup grows wet

for more men than her king.

What metal might
buy a fragrant sip?

Sweet silver

or hard iron?

Silence, dog!

By Freyr, you slander
your lord and mistress!

Please you, brother.

'Tis but a jest.

A jest.

Heimir keeps a foul tongue,

yet I keep him as
a deep-sworn friend.

Come, brother.

Here's one more in need of
your safekeeping than myself.

Thórir

Thórir!

My Son!

To my brother,
the War Raven!

To the Kingdom of Hrafnsey!

Skál!

The enemy had a taste of my liver.

- Are you hurt?
- Almost enough

for Amleth to be
marked my successor.

I watched his
innocence tonight.

He must be awoken
to what awaits him.

He is a puppy.

He's the same age
as my grandfather

when he took the throne.

That was different.

He had to kill his uncle first.

You have not seen
your queen in a season.

Come.

Let me take you to our bed.

No.

Pray my luck spirits
see me to many war fields

after I defeat this wound.

I refuse to die in sickness

nor live the long life
of a shameful graybeard.

I must die by the sword.

I will die in honor.

Fret not.

You will die in battle, my lord.

The Gates of Valhöll
await you, I know it.

This is the same path
I walked with my father

and he with his.

Now it is our path to walk.

Ódinn.

Be not afraid, Amleth.

Do as I do.

Who barks?

Is it the wolves
of the High One?

Or is it the barking
of the village dogs?

Harken to me,
you two-legged dogs.

Drink the vision mead
of knowledge.

To learn what it is
to live and die in honor.

To be in battle slain

and in death rewarded
by the Valkyrjur's embrace.

The warrior maidens
will carry you

to the shimmering
Gates of Valhöll.

You are dogs
that wish to become men.

Prove you are not a dog.

Not only are you a man,
you dine like a king.

And you, little cub,

what are you?

I smell a clever pupil.

At every passage,

one should turn his eye round,

one should spy round.

For a foe might be crouched
within upon the floor.

Wise in measure
should each man be,

yet wise enough
to be the fool.

- Wise enough to be the fool.
- Tell me,

how did Ódinn lose his eye?

To learn the secret
magic of women.

Never seek the secrets of
women, but heed them always.

It is women that
know the mysteries of men.

The Norns that spin and weave
at their Well of Fate.

Live in honor.

Live in honor.

Safeguard your familial blood.

Safeguard your familial blood.

Know you what that means,
Amleth, son of Aurvandil?

Should I fall by
the enemy's sword,

you must avenge me
or forever live in shame!

I will, Father, I will!

My blade will not rest

till it's drunk the blood
from his open neck!

Now live always without fear,

for your fate is set
and you cannot scape it.

Swear it.

I swear.

This is the last tear
you will shed in weakness.

It will be given back
when most you need it.

Now, behold,

as a man.

Approach, Amleth,
and in our blood

behold the tree of kings.

Father!

Run! Run!

Come for your carcass,
you mongrels!

You behold your brother's
gaze in amazement.

I knew well you would.

Pity you never paid
a bastard's eyes heed before.

Now, behold how swiftly
your brother swings his sword.

Strike, brother.

Strike.

But know that bearing a stolen
ring makes no half-breed a king.

Soaked in my blood,

it will soon be sliding
off your arm like a serpent.

Your kingdom will not last.

Let this misdeed
haunt your living nights

till a flaming vengeance
gorges on your death.

Strike.

Strike!

To Valhöll!

King Aurvandil is dead!

Long live King Fjölnir!

Long live King Fjölnir!

Hail, Lord King!

Hail, Lord King!

Bring me the boy's head!

Do you see him?

- Over here.
- Cut him off!

I'll make it slow.

Hail, Fjölnir the Brotherless!

Hail, King Fjölnir!

Hail, Fjölnir!

Hail, King Fjölnir!

King Fjölnir
has found himself a queen.

Fjölnir!

Fjölnir! My lord!

The boy!

The boy.

The boy is dead.

Dead in the sea.

Yeah.

Sank like a stone.

I will avenge you, Father!

I will save you, Mother!

I will kill you, Fjölnir!

I will avenge you, Father!

I will save you, Mother!

I will kill you, Fjölnir!

I will avenge you, Father!

I will save you, Mother!

I will kill you, Fjölnir!

I will avenge you, Father!

I will save you, Mother!

To Valhöll!

No!

What are you doing?
Come now, come. Come here.

Come here.

These savages make
for fine chattel,

eh, Björnulfr?

We did good.

Never better.

When we found you
as a cub...

I knew then that you had
a heart of cold iron.

Too weak!

I want strong ones!

Not weak ones!

Mama!

Mama!

Mama!

Mama!

Mama!

Mama!

Mama!

Play, you idiot. Play!

Prowl in shadow,
slayer of my people.

Hide.

Even though your
brother stole my eyes,

I see you.

I am no one's brother.

It is not enough to be the man
that never cries,

Prince Amleth.

The prince that turned from his fate.

A beast that cares for naught.

A beast that wrings tears
from the eyes of men.

Now remember for whom
you shed your last teardrop.

Remember the oath
to right the wrong.

Remember the Raven King.

Remember.

Remember,
it contains the salty ocean

you must sail upon,
to the edge of the world.

It feeds the freezing river
of hate that runs in my veins.

It will take you
to an island in the north

where there will spring
a burning lake,

bursting from
a black mountain's peak.

There, I will drown my father's killer.

Follow the vixen's tail

to the dwelling of the ancient one

to seek the fated sword
that matches your brutal rage.

Why speak you my fortune, witch?

For where your path
of ashes ends,

another will begin her journey.

A maiden king.

Release me.

You cannot escape what fate
the Norns have spun.

Now, begone!

These slaves go to Uppsala.

Those to the market in Kiev.

Send them to Constantinople.

And these strong ones
should make it all the way

to Fjölnir's post in Iceland.

Who is this Fjölnir?

Fjölnir the Brotherless.

So-called after he
killed his brother,

the disgraced
King Aurvandil War Raven.

I know of him.

Why are his slaves bound for Iceland?

Fjölnir rules over Hrafnsey.

He fled to the backwater frontier,

with his wife and son

after King Haraldr of Norway
took his kingdom.

Fjölnir killed his brother
for nothing.

Now he's a sheep farmer.

Father.

Worry not.

When I meet your owner,
I will thank him for the warmth you gave me.

Take your place.

He's cheating.

Let's see what you've got.

It continues then.

I've lost all my silver, then.

Your sheep's clothing
does not disguise you,

Northman.

What say you, spell-speaker?

You wish to be a slave,

hide your cunning.

Show the shepherd,
you are a sheep.

I'll show the shepherd his death.

Hold it strong!

Stay on your feet!

Take my hand!

I have you!

I will avenge you, Father.

I will save you, Mother.

I will kill you, Fjölnir.

Over there.

Leave her here.

Move!

- Bunch of corpses.
- Let him rot!

The seagulls will eat him!

They're hungry!

Move, swine!

Why would you stow away
to such a hellish place?

This ground harbors evil.

My fate has brought me here.

To find what was stolen from me.

And what is that?

A mother, a father,
a kingdom.

This is your kingdom?

The traitor who stole
my kingdom fled here

when another king
took it from him.

I will leave
when I'm done with him.

I am Olga of the Birch Forest.

And I, too,
vow to escape this island.

Then you must face many foes.

As do you.

Would you face them alone?

Your strength breaks men's bones.

I have the cunning
to break their minds.

You two, hold your traps!

Walk on!

Why are we doing this?

What?

- This.
- What?

It's slave work.

You're the chieftain.

It's your temple,

and I'm the heir
to this holy chiefdom.

No man knows if he will
celebrate next yuletide

as a king or as a slave.

Best to be prepared for both.

And to stave off the latter,
the least you can do

is show your slaves
you're as strong as they are.

But no one's watching us.

Go fetch us some whey.

Think on what I said.

- Keep your shield arm up.
- I am.

- You're...
- I am!

You are not!

Attack, Hjalti!

No! No!

Fjölnir, my lord!

Your shipment is here.

Well, show me.

- Where's the rest of them?
- Get on your feet!

- On your feet!
- On your feet!

Up, swines!

Line up, bastards!

Pitiful.
Can't even stand.

They won't last the winter.

Sell all of them.

Let me see this one.

We've kept worse.

I'm not impressed.

His stench.

Never look me in the eye, slave.

Well, I wonder what
they call a beast like you

in the Land of Rus.

I am...

Björnulfr.

By name alone, you can
tell he's as strong as a bear.

But if you're as
untrustworthy as a wolf,

I swear I'll put
you down myself.

We keep this one.

The rest can go.

But mother needs
two for the kitchen,

- and one for the laundry.
- Move.

And two males for the harvest.

Fine.

These two for the kitchen,
and her for the laundry.

And choose two males
for the fields.

And her, too.

Keep her arms white,

and her hair long.

Plan to climb out, huh, Bear-Wolf?

Even if you did escape this farm,

you'd only be carrion
for the blue foxes and selkies.

This island is a barren waste.

You best find yourself some sleep.

Get! Get!

Get!

Thieving demon-bitch.

Away! Away!

Away with you!

Away! Begone!

Away with you!

I will avenge you, Father.

I will save you, Mother.

I will kill you, Fjölnir.

Here. Go.

Go take a piss.

In there.

Stop there.

You! Get on with it!

On with you now!

Where's your wits?

Turn around.

Shut the door.

Did you find it?

What you lost.

In the house today,
was it there?

That...

and more.

It's a nightmare.

Then you must wake up.

It's their nightmare.

You!

You, woman!

You come with us!

You don't belong here!

Fjölnir wants you close.

If you lose me,
will you come and look for me, too?

Will you?

Come here.

Sit, Amleth, son of Aurvandil.

Did our hen-eating friend
tell you of me?

No.

One much more talkative.

An old fool.

Poor Heimir.

He speaks of days past,

and days yet to come.

Fjölnir cut out his tongue,

plucked out his eyes
before killing him,

but I made him once anew.

Kind friend.

Know that I will avenge you, too.

I fear you must address me.

Alas, I made him no new ears.

They also met with Fjölnir's blade.

Enough!

You know why I have come.

You are still a beast
cloaked in man-flesh.

Speak, witch.

So be it, slave!

Wandering prophet.

Wake now,

from your murder.

Hear me!

Heimir is come!

Hello, puppy.

I seek the weapon the Norns of
Fate chose for my revenge.

Hear me.

Forged by the deadliest
war-smiths

ever to crawl from under
the great worm's belly.

A sword of the most
secretive rare iron,

bound with bone of the jötnar.

Weightless
in its owner's hand,

yet like a dragon's fang,

its bite can never be dulled,

never broken nor bent.

Its blade could only be
quenched in human blood.

It is a battle flame
like none other.

Its name,

Draugr.

The Undead.

It is fated.

Draugr!

Yet, difficult is the sword's nature,

for it can only be unsheathed
in the dark of night,

or else at Hel's black gates.

The Gates of Hel.

There will my sword be just.

I will enjoy feeding Draugr
till then in everlasting night.

Then shall you also enjoy the
moment when you must choose

between kindness for your kin
or hate for your enemies.

That is nothing.

My heart knows only revenge.

Show it to me.

You must make a visitation
to Draugr's owner,

the mound dweller.

Mark well the full moon's light.

For shadows are
not hospitable hosts.

Mark well the full moon's light!

Thórir will choose our strongest.

Tomorrow we'll prove
that Hákon Iron-Beard's men

are born of mud and water.

Mud will be all that remains of them.

Rakki!

Rakki!

Rakki.

Take Rakki home.

- And, you two.
- Rakki, come.

It's nearly dawn.
Get you to bed.

Yes, my lord.
Rakki.

Wake, you.

- Fetch her. You know the one.
- Aye.

Wake up, Olga.
Wake up.

Get to your feet.

The hair of a Valkyrja,

on a savage Slav bitch.

A little blood.

Unclean whore!

You will correct her,

or you'll both be
dead in the ground.

Thank the Norns
that the woman's tide

is the only blood that runs
in your house tonight, coward.

I am a fool.

It was foretold that I would slay
my father's killer in a burning lake.

Till that day comes,

I will torment the man
who made my life a hell.

Now sleep well, night blade.

Yes, we thirst for vengeance,

but we cannot escape our fates.

Get them in line!
Look lively!

- Move it!
- Don't be idle!

Those are for the feast.

Where are they taking us?

Something about
the chieftain's feast.

Last night,
I saw him with you.

Then you know Fjölnir's touch
will not linger on me

when I leave this island.

You marked him well.

And I have found
the cold iron

that will strike him down.

- When will you do it?
- When I must.

For now,
I will haunt this farm

like a hungry corpse
returned from the grave.

Fjölnir thinks Amleth is long dead.

Yes, but what of your mother?

She will revel
in Fjölnir's anguish.

She only feigns her love
to protect their child.

- Won't she wish...
- When I free her,

I will bring the boy if I must.

They've moved me back
into the kitchen.

- Björnulfr!
- If we can keep his men...

Our plan will have to wait.
Go.

Björnulfr, move!

- You, to the back!
- Move!

Woman!

Thórir, my Lord,
we're lacking one man.

I'm not a child.
My hair is my own.

I know grown men who need
a woman to tend their hair.

Get them in line.

You can celebrate
after the games, slave.

Look lively!

My lord.

Come on!

Thórir, my lord.

Can you fight, slave?

Look me in the eye, slave.

I asked you
do you know how to fight.

What are those?

You've never seen
a knatttré before?

By nightfall,
you'll have seen enough of them.

Play for blood!

You're shaming our family's name!

We need more men!

Yeah!

No! No!

- Gunnar!
- No!

Halt the game!
Halt it now!

Don't touch him!

Gunnar!

Halt the game!

Gunnar! Gunnar!

Stupid runt!

No!

- Gunnar. Gunnar.
- Wake up. Wake up.

Stupid, stupid boy.
Wake up.

- Gunnar. Gunnar. Gunnar.
- Gunnar.

Wake up, come on.

Wake up, Gunnar.
Wake up!

Gunnar. Gunnar. Gunnar.

- Wake up.
- Gunnar. Gunnar.

- Wake up!
- No.

Wake up.

Did we win?

Spoken like a true chieftain's son.

A brave boy.

A brave young man.

You.

This way.

You showed yourself brave

and loyal.

When we return to the farm,

certain privileges will be granted you.

Your work will be less burdensome.

You will command others' burden.

And, Björnulfr,

as a reward
for winning us the game,

I'll let you choose
a woman for yourself.

Even that Slav bitch
I've seen you eyeing.

Father found her too...
unyielding.

But know that we will never
make you a free man.

The stench of a lowborn slave
cannot escape him.

Yes.

Thank you.

We'll miss you cleaning the shithouse.

Olga.

You found me.

Were you lost?

Only if you were searching for me.

What do you do?

Here, where the threads of fate
have bound us together,

embraced beneath the trees,
here I speak with the earth.

What does she tell you?

How to reach your mother.

My earth magic will stoke
the flames of your sword.

Tomorrow night,
you and I,

will begin this nightmare

and bring Fjölnir's life to chaos.

Finish.

Back to the stalls.

Hey, hey.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

You.

The servants of Freyr.

Lay them before our lord's feet.

You weakling.

Fear not.
You're the first of many.

- No.
- Please! We'll set you free!

Oh, I will find who did this.

I will find them,
and I will tear out their eyes!

And I will tear out their tongues!

They will all sup in Hel!

Look, Father.

Look what has been done
to my brave friends.

Christian monsters!

Monsters!

Monsters!

Lack-beard,
did you do this?

Answer me!
Answer me!

Stop this!

Son.

Regain your calm.

They were good boys.

By Freyr,
we will avenge them.

Take him away.

Is Thórir right?

Could it be the Christian swines?

- Their God is a corpse nailed to a tree.
- For what?

These boys never touched them.

And how might they find weapons?

No.

These wounds are not of our world.

This distempered spirit
will ride again.

It wields a hungry blade.

Go.

I will prepare a sacrifice.

On with you!!

Blood-drinking Christians!

Do as you're told.

Go.

The mushrooms, I have them.

Not tonight.

The spirits will ride
and spill more blood.

Black she-spirit, abate.

Bear this offering to your mistress

and sheath your rageful
corpse-hound.

- Rakki.
- Rakki!

What is it, Rakki?

Rakki!

Down, Rakki!

Rakki!

Rakki! Rakki!

Free her.

Freyr, it seems,
has chosen for himself

who is deemed fit for sacrifice.

Blighted by his blood...

Let us hope his hunger has been sated.

This is not the work of my God.

This is trollish sorcery.

Tonight, you will be
armed to defend the farm,

for this is also your home.

How can we trust them to protect us?

Here, dog.

Your father does not want an uprising

by emboldened slaves.

Do not doubt his wisdom.

Walk!

Black dreams arise.

Hey, slaves, I like your sticks!

Yeah, good luck fending off
the demon with that thing.

Here.

Hungry?

Tonight, you are the food!

Go take some night air.

I'll finish here.

Go on.

- Get them away!
- Run!

She's a she-devil!

Touch them not.

Look not into their eyes.

The night spirits have
entered their skins

and are riding their minds.

Thórir! Out, Dísir!

Begone!

We will meet you before dawn.

Father.

Leave me.

Your sword is long.

Stop your jest.

I am your son.

Amleth?

You live still?

A life of death.

Yet, I swore to survive
till this moment.

Tomorrow, I shall finish
my deeds in honor.

Only then will I discover

whether living is to my liking.

You are your mother's son.

And my father's.

I am come to avenge King Aurvandil,

to choke my traitorous uncle
in his death-blood

and to free you.

I see you have inherited
your father's simpleness.

What say you?

I never mourned him.

You were his queen.

Your father endured me...

because I bore him a son.

- No.
- His affections were only for silver

and rutting his whores.

I know not if he had
heart enough to love you.

- Silence.
- He was a coward feigning to be a king.

He was nothing.
He was just another proud,

lust-stained slaver.

Hold your tongue!

You spit in the face
of your dead husband.

Yet his brother...

...his fine brother.

A bastard has no shame
of himself nor his trade.

Your uncle loved me,
though he knew well my past.

Amleth.

Even now, you believe
the fairy tale I told you is true?

"A noble bride hailing
from the land of Brittany"?

I never began as his bride.

How easily we all become
princesses again

when the beasts
take us for their wives.

Yes.

You were forced upon your mother.

Gunnar was received freely with love.

No.

And know you this.

It was I who begged on my knees

for Fjölnir to kill King Aurvandil.

I pressed my lips

upon his strong, sweet hand.

I kissed it and I begged.

And so this day
would never come,

Fjölnir ordered your death,

along with your own
mother's blessing.

But I saw it.

I saw Fjölnir
carrying you away...

screaming.

Screaming?

I was laughing.

Lies!

Now that you are here,
what do we do?

I should kill you
and all that is dear to you.

But you love me.

A son loves his mother
and a mother loves her son.

And you saved
your brother's life. You.

You love.

You... love.

None but me
knows who you are.

And you are so hot for revenge,

child born of savagery.

If you kill Fjölnir...

...if you kill Thórir,

and if you are so untamed
as to kill my Gunnar...

...you would be
my new king, Amleth,

and together we will rule.

- Bitch!
- Your taste and your mind

reek of your foul father!

- You should have joined him in death!
- Your words are poison!

I am your death!

Die!

Where is your mother?

Tell me.

Where?

She's as evil as Fjölnir.

I will destroy him
and all that she loved.

I will become a hailstorm
of iron and steel.

I will have my vengeance.

And more.

Then what must we do now?

I... I...

I must take to the hills.

My mother discovered who I am.
Soon everyone will.

- I'll go with you.
- No.

They cannot know
you are part of this.

Come morning,
they will hunt for me.

Why?

You killed her?

I would not kill a woman.

Not even her.

Thórir met his end by my fury.

Well, good riddance.

Tomorrow night,
you will return and kill Fjölnir?

If the Norns of Fate allow it.

And whatever happens tomorrow,
be ready to run.

His heart.

His...

His heart.
It's taken his heart!

What evil is this?

What evil eats the hearts
of brave young men?

Freyr, do you hear me?

Behave.

Be a man in front of your inferiors.

There is no evil spirit here.

I told you.
I told you.

It is my cursed son, Amleth.

We rid ourselves of him as a boy.

You must believe me,
he is here.

The progeny of Aurvandil lives still.

I fear he was led here
by the raven-spirit

of your dead brother.

- It's not possible.
- Think.

He's killed your men.

He has murdered your eldest son.

And he will not rest
till you lie cold in the ground

and our own Gunnar
lies slain beside you.

It is Amleth.

No God can help you
with this task.

You must discover my son and
kill him with your own hands.

Let my words be the whetstone
to your biting rage,

for the mischief of last night
was not the work of one man.

Find the slaves who ally with him.

Find them!

On your knees!

Down with you!

Down with the lot of you!

I know not, nor care not,

if that slave aided
in the death of my son,

but this is the end
you will all meet

if you speak not what you know.

No?

I see you're no longer afraid
of a woman's blood.

You.

Of course, it is you.

Fjölnir!

Let her alone!

I offer you your son's heart
in exchange for her life!

I am Amleth the Bear-Wolf,

son of King Aurvandil War-Raven,

and I am his vengeance!

Kill him!

Bring him to me!

- Kill him!
- He's mine!

In the end,

you're just like your father.

Evil begets evil.

How do you know
it's your son's heart

and not the heart of a rabid dog

killed two nights ago?

Where is it?

You cannot kill me.

Even if you were to
strike me with your sword,

it would not bite.

It is not my time.

I will die in battle.

Where is my son's heart?

Ódinn the All-Father

will vanquish your God of erections.

Fear him.

Silence!

I will come back for your heart.

And your mother and I
will eat it.

Ódinn, let the Valkyrja,
your warrior maiden,

fly me to your shining gates.

I see my father and mother.

I see my dead kindred.

I see my master in Freyja's hall.

He calls me to him.

Tonight, our mourning for Thórir ends.

May the neck-ale of this swift steed

hasten you to the highest tree

of the battle-weavers,
brother.

My hour of grief

has passed.

The time of wrath-kindled revenge

is upon us!

This is not Valhöll?

I did not carry you that far.

I am no Valkyrja.

The dreams of your
afterlife must wait.

Besides...

I'm not done with you yet.

My fate brought me to Iceland

to carry out my pledge of vengeance.

But my fate

did not ready me for finding you.

I thought I must always
shield my heart in stone.

I could not think I would
open it to a Northman.

You sacrificed yourself
that I could flee.

And you came back for me.

I have never felt close
to another person.

Not since I was a child.

I curse your mother's evil.

She murdered my past.

Could it not be
that your Norns of Fate

have spun another thread
for you to follow?

What do your Earth Gods tell you?

That wherever I go,
I must take you with me.

I have kinsmen in Orkney.

We could find...
we could find safe passage there.

Together.

Yet, I cannot truly believe

that you have extinguished
your fire for vengeance.

Hate is all I have ever known.

But I wish
I could be free of it.

That is for you to choose.

Let us find our future.

Welcome, seafarers.

The deck of this wooden saddle-beast

will be the only ground
you tread for 21 days.

I was expecting more of Fjölnir's men.

His son was to join us.

Anchor up!

Sail down!

Secure the shrouds!

Shrouds secured!

Keep her downwind, helmsman.

Aye, aye!

Your wound.

It is nothing
to what we have endured.

I have forgotten it already.

My family's blood.

My own blood is inside you.

You are the well
our dynasty will spring from.

I did not wish you to know

until I could trust
that our child would be safe.

While Fjölnir lives, our
children will never be safe.

If he but knew of this,

he would hunt you
with all the fire of the Gods.

It cannot wait.

Stop this.

There is now a living thread
that binds us.

I was a fool.

I wished to flee with you
from my fate.

My vision shows me
you will have two.

And my sword will save them.

But you must come with us.

You must!

It was prophesied
that I must choose

between kindness for my kin
and hate for my enemies.

And see what hope
we have before us.

I choose both.

Take her to Orkney.

In return for this ring, my kinsmen
will give you ninefold its worth.

No! No!

Amleth!

You will be mother to a king!

We cannot escape our fate.

No!

Amleth!

It's the slave!

It's him!

Close off the house!

The cub you once hunted
ate off your nose.

Now, the wolf is grown.

He hungers for the rest.

Whatever you hear,
you must stay hidden.

Keep him safe.

Keep both of you safe.

I will.

Take your freedom

and do with it what you will.

Fjölnir!

Never!

In the heart.

Thank you.

Mother!

I will meet you at the Gates of Hel.

At the Gates of Hel,

you will find me.

And there you will die

by the hand
that killed your father.

Let me down!

Slain by iron,

we shall all meet again
in the stronghold of the All-Father.

My blood will live on!

Valhöll awaits!

The thread that binds us
can never break.

We are safe.

Now make your passage.