Frostfire Ridge It's a start...

He let her argue, he let her insult him. He didn't know what else to do, and he stayed silent and took her words. Any time he tried to defend himself it got turned and twisted against him and so he'd reached the breaking point. He had nothing left to fight, nothing left to try to hold onto. She wanted him to let her go, to let them go and so he would. He didn't even bother to correct her when she used the wrong name, not even his name. Tyrr wasn't his name, wasn't who he was. It hadn't belonged to him but rather the weapon Ragnar had made of him. He'd wanted to get back at the Amazons and even in death he'd succeeded. Clearly, he wasn't who they wanted him to be and if he listened to them: he never would be. Clearly, this must have been what Ragnar had wanted: a trojan horse. “You're right,” Tezcacoatl surrendered. He knew not what else to say to her; not even sure that agreeing with her would appease her at this point. “Even in death the Viking still gets his victory.” Over him, over all of them. “If you feel that leaving is what you must do, Citali. I will not stop you. You've never been chained here. You've always been free to go, as I've said from the very beginning.” It hurt to think that Manauia left, without even saying goodbye but he hadn't ever pegged her for the sentimental part to begin with. He only wished she'd have considered his offer as opposed to throwing it back in his face, too.


It stung, and the Amazons' words cut him to the quick but he knew not else what to do other than give them what they wanted.