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The rain poured down outside, little bullets raining down from the sky - pelting its prey in a never-ending battle between land and the heavens above. I'd always wondered what they were fighting over. It had been so many millennia and the battles never ended, reigning on for longer than any man or tree or little brick home. These battles would be there at my beginning, and they would be there at my end. No matter what one did or where one went, it could never end. Some day it would kill us all. That much I knew.
I'd seen enough blood for one lifetime. It was more death than I'd ever expected to see growing up in the 50s. We often heard about the Cold War, about the possibility of another World War with the SSR and America. But I had never truly thought that I'd ever see war. These were rumours, fears, things that surely couldn't come to pass. Could they?
I'd seen mangled men. Men who'd been sent off to fight for their countries as young boys and returned shells of their former selves. But never did I think that I'd see it first hand. Never did I think I'd be the one amputating some young boy's leg or sewing up the stomach of a pregnant shieldmaiden.
And worst of all possibilities; never did I think that I'd be the one to end someone's life.
So much had happened to me in the previous years. I'd gone from being a naive girl to a murderess. A part of me wished that I could take it back, become free from these shackles of pain that wrapped around me and twisted my bones. But it was too late to take it back now.
What's done is done. The die is cast.
"You're quiet." Astrid observed, watching my train of vision - which was focused solely on Ivar at the other end of the room. I had to tell him. God there was so much that I had to tell him. But he was so busy, so focused on the battle ahead and avenging his mother. If I was to turn his focus onto me, who was to say things wouldn't go terribly wrong? No. This was a battle that I had to face alone. There was no sense in distracting him, not now.
I could feel my stomach begin to churn again, pummeling my guts for release. In everything I'd read, morning sickness was meant to come in the morning - but mine seemed to always wait for late afternoon. God I hated this so far - and I knew that the worst was still yet to come. I'd heard the horror stories of pregnancy. The belly the size of a basket ball that keeps you from sleeping or moving. And the baby the size of a damn watermelon that drops out nine months later. Sometimes I wished I could just make Ivar deal with it. He was far better at handling pain than I was. But that wasn't how this worked. I wasn't a damn seahorse.
Did they even know about seahorses here? I doubt they knew the ins and outs of the species but I was hardly a marine biologist myself, in truth. Nor was I fully in tune with the Viking grasp of science.
"Sorry." I answered, absentmindedly running my fingers through the loom that I'd set up beside my chair. It was something to occupy my brain with at least. And I found making things always eased my mind. Whether it was weaving, sewing, knitting, painting. Whatever. I just liked to make things, to take my mind off of the world for a short while. "I just feel a little ill, I suppose."
"Again?" Astrid eyed me cautiously, gaze narrowing at me. "You've been sick each day for weeks now, Iris."
"I-" I paused, staring at her with my mouth agape. Lying to her wouldn't get her to believe any bullshit tale that I made up. But if I made sure she got the message, I prayed she wouldn't say anything. I trusted her not to at least. "I've been under the weather I suppose."
She nodded, sending me a look that told me I needed to get better at lying. She was right, I'd never been very good at it. Which, of course, was funny considering that it's all I'd been doing since I got here.
"I need some air." I spoke truthfully and, before Astrid could even say anything, I had slammed the door closed behind me and released both breakfast and lunch over the muddy ground.
Being pregnant was a pain in the arse.
With a deep breath, I crouched down with my back to the wooden wall. My head spun, pounding like a sledge hammer had been jammed into it. I placed my head in my hands, silently praying for this to be over swiftly. Morning sickness didn't last long. It starts around six weeks in and finish at around 14 weeks. Only six more weeks to go.
In my haze of nausea, I'd not notice Ivar look up to watch me run outside. I'd not noticed the look of concern, or the way he stood to follow me. I'd not noticed that he'd seen me do the same thing every day for two weeks - the duration of our marriage so far.
When the door opened, I didn't bother too look. I assumed it must be Astrid, perhaps here to offer advice on the pregnancy. But it wasn't Astrid. Of course it wasn't Astrid.
"You've been sick again." Ivar observed, wincing as he leaned on his crutch. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, staring up at him with pursed lips and an unamused expression.
"Thank you for pointing that out, my love, I hadn't noticed." I sighed, resting my head back against the wall - already so tired. Good Lord and to think women, at least in my time, have faced so much oppression on top of having to deal with this. We deserve to be heralded as queens after all of this pain.
"Are you dying?"
I looked up again to meet his curious blue gaze - a look of worry centred within them - and I couldn't help but smile. He was the youngest child in a house full of rowdy boys. It shouldn't be overly shocking that, despite his genius in other areas, Ivar wasn't in the least bit knowledgeable on pregnancy. "No, Ivar, I'm not dying."
"Then what's wrong?" He persisted, holding onto his crutch with a slightly frustrated expression. Again, I gave a small smile, chuckling as I pondered what to say.
"Ivar I'm not sick." I laughed, only earning a flat look in response as he gestured to beside me. Again, I couldn't help but laugh - Ivar still not finding the humour in the situation. How could he? For all he knew, I certainly was dying. It's not like he had any experience with being pregnant. "I mean, I'm not ill."
"Then what?" He exasperated.
"I'm pregnant!" I half shouted back. Silence. For once he was silent. That was certainly a rare occurrence. So, I took the opportunity of his stunned silence to continue. "I am carrying your child, Ivar. You're going to be a father." Nothing. Still just silence as he stared back at me in shock. In truth, if I'd known that it was this easy to shut him up then I would've tried to get pregnant months ago. But the silence began to grow worrying, and slowly I stood to face him, trying to tell if he was still there or in a world of his own. I'd never seen him like this before - so stunned, so in shock. Usually he had predicted everything before it happened, but he certainly hadn't predicted this. "Ivar, say something."
"You're?" He looked down at my belly, making me smile a little. I gave a nod, silently answering his question. "With my?" Again I nodded. I watched as his look of confusion and shock grew into an expression of pure joy, complete and total happiness, and finally he pulled me into a tight embrace - as if letting me go would mean losing both me and his child forever. "I love you." He whispered, and I could feel his hot tears on my cheek as I wrapped my arms around him too.
"I love you too." I smiled as I finally pulled away. Ivar placed a hand on my cheek, gently kissing my forehead as I beamed up at him.
"You really are a gift from the Gods." He whispered.
And though I wasn't so sure about that, I wasn't sure what I'd done to deserve this amount of happiness in one moment. Perhaps he was wrong all along, perhaps I wasn't a gift from the Gods at all. Because to me, Ivar was the gift. He was everything I'd ever wanted. And I loved him with all my heart.
