Episode 2 of Vikings: Valhalla kicks off with Leif and Freydis, shackled and immersed in a solemn contemplation of their uncertain fate. Freydis exudes a sense of righteous satisfaction, convinced that justice has finally been served. Leif, on the other hand, his mind clouded with the looming shadow of death, finds solace in his sister's unwavering courage, pride etched across his features.
As they are dragged before a seething horde of Vikings, their fury palpable, Olaf stands at the forefront, a ravenous thirst for vengeance burning in his eyes. Freydis, ever the tactician, proposes a trial by combat as a means to quell the tempestuous waters of conflict. Olaf, however, scoffs dismissively, emphasizing the irreplaceable loss of Gunnar, their formidable warrior, and the dire consequences of their dwindling numbers.
Into this fray steps Harald, his keen instincts recognizing a chance to wield influence. He cunningly turns the tables, offering Leif's life as the wager in a battle that would secure Freydis's freedom. Leif, now irrevocably drawn into this web of fate, prepares himself to harness his nautical prowess and combat skills in a desperate bid to save his sister.
On Leif's vessel, tensions simmer between the Pagan and Christian factions, their differences like chasms too wide to bridge. Leif, acutely aware of the impending storm within, imposes a strict edict: all weapons must be surrendered. Jalf Gorn, a reluctant soul, grudgingly complies, yet his sly nature betrays him as he retains a hidden, diminutive axe, tucked away in the folds of his cloak, a treacherous secret waiting to be unleashed.
In the realm of England, Aethelred, amidst the aftermath of a devastating slaughter, arrived at the once-infamous Danelaw, now a year's sorrow later, reclaiming it as a sanctuary once more. Yet, shadows of unease lingered among his men, whispers of Viking hordes gathering in the frigid North, a looming war that threatened to consume even his doorstep.
Aethelred's own health faltered, his cough a harbinger of worse to come, as he devised schemes to buy off the Vikings with gold—a futile endeavor. It was then that Queen Emma, a pillar of resilience, took the reins, orchestrating an alternate strategy to confront the invaders head-on.
Her daring plan entailed dispatching the youthful Edmund to Mercia, a quest fraught with peril, as he sought to enlist the aid of Eadric Streona and the might of Mercia. The stakes were high—the throne itself hanging in the balance. Emma knew full well the risks, yet she pressed Edmund to remain steadfast, to resist any enticing negotiations that might undermine their cause. As he rode forth, the Queen's countenance bore a mask of anxiety, her heart heavy with concern.
At the majestic Tamworth Castle, nestled in the heart of Mercia, Eadric Streona, a man of cunning, agreed to muster 5,000 foot soldiers and 1,000 steeds to bolster their defense. Yet, his vision of the conflict diverged from Emma's, convinced that the Vikings' path of destruction would carve through the North, Mercia's borders their first target. Emma, however, held a differing conviction, her intuition whispering that the enemy would strike from the South, a notion Edmund echoed with urgency.
But Streona, a seasoned tactician, saw through Edmund's urgency, perceiving the King's frail condition as a weakness. Edmund, ever the strategist, seized the moment, turning the tables with a bold challenge, accusing Streona of disobeying the future monarch. With a sly grin, Streona conceded, ultimately relenting to unleash his forces upon the encroaching Vikings. Thus, a delicate balance of power was struck, amidst whispers of war and the unyielding determination of those who dared to stand and fight.
As they retraced their steps, the distant toll of bells echoed, echoing Edmund's fervent plea for their attention. With each man sinking to his knee, they collectively bowed to the newly crowned King, a somber acknowledgment that his father's reign had come to an end.
Far out at sea, Jarl Gorn's despair deepened into conviction that they were hopelessly lost. Leif, though, sought to quell his captain's doubts, but a mocking chuckle from a Christian sailor proved to be the final straw. In a swift, violent turn, Jarl Gorn whirled, his axe flashing as it sliced through the air, severing the laughter from its source.
Leif maintained a tight rein over the crew, his swift action ending Jarl Gorn's reign of terror with equal swiftness. This bloody turn of events drew troubled glances from Harald and the other Viking vessels as they converged upon the shores of Kent, their journey finally brought to land.
Harald, making his way aboard Leif's ship, whispered a single, ominous word into his ear: "Viking." The simple utterance carried the weight of their shared heritage and the unspoken bonds that tied them together.
Meanwhile, Jarl Haakon's admiration for Freydis blossomed into something deeper. Their conversation amidst the bustle of the market, where she shared glimpses of her past, culminated in her entrusting him with her treasured knife. Recognizing the call of destiny within her, he resolved to send her on a journey to Uppsala, where she might uncover her true fate.
