Part Six

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Ivar convinced me last night to join him in the great hall for breakfast. So, here I sit, listening to Ubbe and Bjorn tell me stories about their beloved younger sibling, Ivar, as he cringes in his seat.

Gone is the sharp malice I hear in the voices today, however. Maybe it is the way he is holding my hand on top of the table. Maybe it is the way he fed me a berry or two just to see if I would like them. It could even be the way he swiped my hair out of my eyes when I laughed too hard at one of Bjorn's tales. Ivar's darkness leaks into every story, every tale. I love it. I revel in it. My dark prince.

Either way, they were watching Ivar with an unusual expression on their faces, and I could not blame them for being curious or confused. I, too, am confused.

Last night Ivar made love to me again. He spent plenty of time telling me how much he loves me, and I him. He deserves to hear it every time I wish to say it. After he had me for the second time, we laid in his bed and spoke softly into the darkness about all of the things we've done in this life. Our mistakes. Our passions. Our desires. Whether or not I knew him for a long period of time is no longer relevant, because I know him deeply, and that is all that matters.

"So, will this fine woman marry the fierce and renowned Ivar The Boneless?" Bjorn suddenly asks. I immediately feel as if I have missed a pivotal part of this conversation because we were speaking about a cruel prank Ivar had pulled on Hvitserk when they were children the last time I was clued in.

Ivar looks at me, seemingly waiting for my response. I see the sliver of anxiety creep into his gaze as he levels those gorgeous eyes on me. I rub my finger along the underside of his palm. I give the only one I could possibly give. "If Ivar will have me."

His look says he will, every day, for the rest of our lives.

"After what happened with his last wife, Freydis, I would make sure marrying Ivar is the best choice." Hvitserk says with a dark chuckle.

Ivar's eyes snap shut. I'd heard whispers about the famed youngest Lothbrok losing his crown in an effort to become more famous than his father. It is what every young Viking warrior wants, fame, glory, splendor.

But, Ivar's wife paid the highest price for her betrayal. She usurped the crown from her husband's head and so Ivar killed her. While his brothers may poke fun at him and his unfortunate circumstances, I want to make sure he knows I would never betray him. I will love him, every broken inch, until he breathes nothing but my devotion. He is my lion. He is my hunter. I am his prey, and I will let him devour me any time his tongue aches for my blood.

"I would have most likely killed her myself. I'm impressed that he has been able to move forward and learn from his past transgressions. Everyone makes mistakes."

Bjorn slowly sets his cup down as him and his other two brothers exchange glances.

"Yes. Ivar has made a lot of them. We have, too. Forgive me if my comments have sounded harsh," Bjorn says. Hvitserk nods his head.

"Please, forgive me, Camila. The bickering between brothers is not something you should be privy to." He seems sincere in his apology, and I can see the surprise on Ivar's face. Could this be the inclusion he always wanted from his older brothers? It seems so. All he's ever wanted is to be a part of their comradery.

"Father would have liked you, Camila." Ubbe's words surprise me, and Ivar. He jolts at them. Flinches, even. I can tell he wants to tell them about Floki's dream, so I smile my consent and nod my head. He doesn't hesitate to dive into the story, an awed lilt to his deep voice. His brothers listen, rapt in the details. It is clear to me that all of them respect this Floki, and I do hope that one day I will get to meet him and give him due thanks for sending me to Ivar.

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