Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Ivar spoke as I closed the door, giving a small huff of relief as we left the chaos and crowds behind us. I supposed it was a level of attention that I would have to get used to - especially considering that I would soon become queen beside Ivar.
As I sat down, slowly unravelling the detailed braids that ran through my hair, I wasn't even sure what to say. Though, it seemed that wasn't such an uncommon occurrence at the moment. I supposed Ivar had grown used to the complexity of my life - but I certainly hadn't.
"Do you know that woman?" I asked with furrowed brows. "Astrid's friend, Hildr." It was strange not referring to her as mother but I supposed it would be even stranger for me to tell Ivar that a woman only a couple years older than the both of us was, in fact, my mother. My mother from the future.
"No." He answered flatly, tossing his bracers onto the ground - and sending me a look that told me I was acting strange again.
I was about to tell him, to say all the crazy thoughts running through my mind. But something stopped me. Some invisible force took a hold of me and told me not to say a word. Telling him that she was my mother, and the connotations of that, would only deepen the insecurities in his mind. Whether that was him thinking that I would leave him and return home, or simply that my being here wasn't special or by divine intervention at all. I couldn't do it. I couldn't risk losing him in one way or another. And so, once again, I felt the burden of secrecy begin to weigh upon my chest.
"Nevermind." I responded quietly, brushing through my curly hair with my fingers to ensure that each braid was tidily undone. "I thought she looked familiar."
Ivar gave a small shrug, leaning back on his elbow with a small grin as he watched me walk over. I couldn't help but smile back, as it felt as though we were the only people in the world at that moment. At least, that was how he made me feel. As if nothing and no one else mattered. And it was intoxicating.
Our lips met once again. But, unlike in the hall, it was filled with a burning passion that made me tremble. This was everything I'd ever wanted. He was everything I'd ever wanted. And all those tales I'd heard as a child, telling me that love truly was the meaning of life - love was the fuel that kept the world going - made more sense each day.
"I love you." I whispered gently, lacing my fingers through his. And his bright blue eyes peered up at me with an expression he only ever wore when we were alone. Not scary Ivar The Boneless, the great warrior and leader of the heathen army. No. Not Ivar the beloved of the Gods. In that moment, it was Ivar Ragnarsson who sat in front of me. The man. The person who, like everyone else, had his own weaknesses and insecurities.
"And I love you." He answered, making me smile again. "Until I met you, I never really knew what it was to be loved or to truly love."
"Well you never have to feel like that again." I grinned, sitting down on the bed beside him. "I made you a promise, and now you can't get rid of me even if you want to."
"Is that so?"
I nodded, beaming brightly.
The night that followed was one that I would never be able to forget. Even with the earlier drinking, every tiny detail was so engrained in my memory that I could never forget it - nor did I ever want to.
As per every morning, Ivar was the first to wake. I'd not noticed him gently kiss my forehead, grab his crutch, and leave in the early hours of the morning. I'd only awoken to a coldness beside me where he had once been, the sun gently caressing the spot that his lips had once been. I smiled softly, hurrying myself deeper into the warm furs that adorned our bed as I recalled the previous evening with reddened cheeks.
A knock made me jump slightly, pulling the furs higher so that I might cover myself fully. "Yes?"
Astrid peaked her head around the door, sending me a small smile as she stepped inside, gently pressing the door closed behind her. I sighed, lying back down as soon as I realised it was her. And she only sent me a bright grin in return, wriggling her brows suggestively. I couldn't help but laugh at her expression, throwing a pillow in her direction as both of us laughed - still not daring to move too much as I kept hidden well beneath the furs.
"To what do I owe this visit?"
"It's gone noon." She laughed, walking over to sit on the end of the bed. "You've slept all morning. I thought I should come and wake you."
"Noon?" I shot up, eyes wide, quickly reaching for the nearest item of clothing that I could find - Ivar's discarded tunic from the night before. "Why did no one wake me?"
Astrid only shrugged, watching as I pulled on a pair of breeches and my usual brown boots - not bothering to braid my hair, simply pulling it back and tying it into a bunch at the back of my head. Frankly, I didn't have the time or energy to sit and braid my hair each day. And, in truth, I rather loathed waking so late. Back home, I was always the first to wake up. Granted, I never really was one for sleeping. I always seemed to have boundless energy, a restless soul I suppose. I'd stay awake all night thinking, only to rise in the morning with a tired smile and the urge to go everywhere in the world and do everything.
"Where's Ivar?" I asked calmly, looking back towards the woman who had quickly become a friend. In truth, I wasn't sure what I'd do without her at this point.
"He's in the hall with Harald, discussing plans to attack Kattegat." She answered, the same answer she always gave me these days. It seemed the attack on Kattegat grew ever closer and it was only a matter of time before we were ready to wage war.
But, unlike most days of late, I found my mind filled with thoughts other than Ivar and his war of revenge. Instead, it was filled with my own problems. And lord was it a strange one at that.
For some reason, my mind returned back to that strange scent of lavender and cigarettes; the clinking of ice cubes in a glass as my grandmother's withered hand swirled the golden whiskey around in its glass cage. Her lips pursed around that burning stick of tobacco that seemed to be her vice, greyed hair up in rollers as she turned her hand over beside mine. The lines on our palms running in opposite directions - the exact same pattern. The same swirls and curves and broken branches that made up our little lives.
Had she been a traveller too? Was her face so pale because she knew? Because she saw my future before I'd even seen it myself? Or because someday, in some distant time, my mother would return home from her disappearance, would take up again with my father and bare him a daughter all while she knew that one day I would be fated to this world and time? Had they known all along? That day, when my mother had looked over her shoulder hesitantly, as if knowing what would happen to me, did she actually know all along? If so, why hadn't she stopped me? What had made her leave me behind without warning me, without shedding a tear, without keeping me safe?
"And what about Hildr?" I asked, looking over at her again.
"Hildr?" She furrowed her brows in return, clearly slightly confused by my question. "She's in the woods gathering herbs."
Before Astrid could so much as call after me, I was gone. Gone without a word, simply darting out the door as I threw my cloak around my shoulders. I had to find her. I had to talk to her.
There was just so much I needed to know. So much I needed to say. And something I needed to do. Something that could change everything.
