Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The days that followed were almost torture. Ivar was constantly wrapped up in schemes of revenge and taking back Kattegat. And, though I understood and supported him fully, I suppose I couldn't help but feel utterly alone.
Hvitserk had left a few weeks ago, something about their Uncle Rollo being able to provide support should they need it. A part of me wished he'd never gone. After losing Astrid, he was the only person I ever really spoke to.
Each night, Ivar would crawl in when he thought I'd already gone to sleep. I would listen as he silently lay down beside me, turning to look over at me for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek, and finally turning his back on me again. Every night I would have to squeeze my eyes closed to keep any tears at bay - my emotions getting the better of me in this dreadful state.
A part of me wished I wasn't pregnant. It was a nuisance. An utter and complete nuisance. I was no use to my husband like this, no use to anyone at all. It must've been a month or so now until the child was due. And I found that, with each day, ordinary things became all the harder.
God I wish I hadn't wished for such a thing now. If only I'd been a little more patient.
For the previous nights, I'd had dreams that I never thought I'd have to face. That's the funny thing about the darkness, it has a strange way of making you face ghosts which you thought were long since buried.
It was some two years now since I had first arrived in this time, two years since I had been dragged to the ground and assaulted. I tried not to think about it, about any of it, but it was hard - especially in the darkness. Especially when I felt so alone again, for the first time in so long.
Sometimes I could feel his grip around my throat, hand squeezing it raw as I tried to choke out a scream - only to be answered with echoing silence. I could hear him above me, smell his stench as I prayed to every God I knew for it to be over.
And I remembered feeling weak. Feeling as if my whole world was in his hands, as if there was nothing I could do.
I felt like that now. The waiting, endlessly staring out onto the shore - praying that Hvitserk would return with good news. Praying that maybe Ivar would return to being my husband, instead of aiming all of his attention on Lagertha and her half dead army.
I'd not expected it when Frida came. It felt like so long since I'd seen her, rarely being in her company at all since I'd become Ivar's wife. She and I didn't see eye to eye but she was the only familiarity I had left. And, as I stared out into the cold autumn ocean, rain dotting the shores and disappearing into an endless abyss of tears, her voice was like the sweetest song of angels. Like birdsong after a long winter. Like the closest to familiarity that I could ever come to in this distant world that was not my own.
Like home.
"Iris?" Her voice was gentle, barely a whisper in the echoing wind that swirled around us, encasing just the two of us in this singular moment.
