The last thing Gyda recalled was just succumbing to sleep, the drinking hall turned sickroom appearing in her eyes so fogged and slow that she wondered if it was a dream even so. She felt so weak, cold and drained that the thought of death no longer seemed an issue: if she could just sleep, she'd feel better, she knew it. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sleeping, only that she closed her eyes, and slowly she was aware that the sounds were different. So many people were sick that the only sounds in the hall were of people coughing or her mother's voice.

Now, she couldn't hear any of that. There were people talking, the sounds of footsteps, and all of it so loud. She wanted them all to be quiet and let her get some sleep, let them all get some sleep. Yet that meant she had to open her eyes, and the view before her wasn't the Drinking Hall, but..a ship?

Somehow, she was able to summon up enough energy to slowly push herself up off the bench where she was laying. Still weak and feverish, she draped the blanket over her shoulders and forced herself up, wanting to make sense of things. Yet everything seemed dreamlike, and she wasn't sure if she was really here or had died from the fever. None of the stories spoke of Hel's hall looking like this.

There were other people here too, but they weren't like any she saw. The only one she recognized was her father...what was he doing here? If he was killed, shouldn't he be in Valhalla?

"Hello..." Even her voice sounded weak, and it was a matter of will for her to get it louder than a whisper. "Father..?"