The woman did not seem to find his assertion that she had confused him with someone else as an acceptable response. Instead she countered it with there is no mistake. Týrr was overcome with the urge to retaliate, to tell her that he knew what his own name was. It was his name, after all. My name is Týrr. Týrr Nýreldur. Not Tez...tezca...whatever.
The name she had called him had been complicated to say and he would only stumble over it, embarrassingly, for a few moments. Týrr was being childish. He knew it. He loathed it, but then again he wasn't sure how he was supposed to act other than on the defensive when some strange women was standing in front of him calling him “her Prince” and trying to tell him that he didn't know his own name. You are mistaken. I'm not your Prince. I'm not anyone's Prince,
He felt bad because well, he did. There was no definable reason for his guilt other than he was sorry that he wasn't who she was looking for. Sorry that he looked like her lost Prince. I'm sorry.
Týrr murmured softly, in barely more than a whisper, casting his crystalline gaze down at the ground between them. Lately, it felt like he couldn't live up to anyone's expectations. Not Ragnar's — for his father felt it necessary to spawn and have children to replace him, not the Gods, not Fox's, and now he couldn't even meet the expectations of this stranger (though he was a wee confused as to why that bothered him so much).
Týrr felt broken. Even if he wasn't broken, he amended his thoughts, then he was having serious cases of insecurity lately. Something that the teenager hadn't really dealt with until a few months ago. Týrr had never been arrogant, nor conceited but his self esteem hadn't ever been low. He didn't know what was wrong with him, only that he wanted to be fixed. He wanted to prove himself, he wanted to be something.
He wanted to matter.
Despite that this woman did not seem to be suffering from the same discouragement as Týrr. She kept on, insisting that his name was Tezcacoatl, that he was the son of a Queen Quetzalcoatl, that apparently this Tezcacoatl was an Amazon. Which certainly didn't match anything that Ragnar and Floki had ever told him about the Amazon women. I am a Viking,
He shook his head at her, almost wishing that she would let it drop, however was unable to help his insistence to point out what he thought was flawed in her explanation. My father and Uncle told me that Amazon women are chauvinists. That men have no standing in your ranks. They are useful only as slaves and for breeding.
Týrr shifted his weight slightly at that, would have blushed if wolves could have. He was knowledgeable of what occured between a man and woman during breeding season but the young Rekkr was innocent in the actual act itself. Talking about it made him embarrassed but he didn't exactly want to put that out to anyone — especially not the fairer sex. So your Prince cannot actually be a Prince.
He concluded, pleased with himself thinking that he had her tale pinned correctly as it was to him: a story.
a crime so old as the sky and bone