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"Iris, I don't think that's a good idea." Hvitserk spoke from beside me, but his voice was a drowned out sound that could barely be heard from behind the loud fuzz of my thoughts. My gaze was focused solely on my husband, and his was fixed on me - both of us refusing to break eye contact.
He understood. I know he understood. I knew that if anyone in this shitty world knew how it felt to fiercely want revenge, Ivar did. And he watched me carefully, trying to figure me out, trying to see into my mind as if he could hear my thoughts by simply staring at me for long enough.
"You'll be alright?" He stated more as a question, trying to make sure that I wasn't going to fall apart as soon as I came into contact with the woman that I once called a friend.
"What is she going to do?" I answered flatly. "Stab me?"
The brothers, of course, didn't exactly find the humour in this. They were worried about me, I knew that, but I wasn't some fragile little girl. I wasn't afraid of some cowardly woman that stabbed her friends in the back and killed babies. I wasn't afraid of everyone. And, after all the shit I'd been through, the hate and anger that began to bubble in my chest reminded me of who I was.
Lilies are one of the most beautiful flowers, but they grow amongst the harshest thorns. I was no Lilly, but that's not to say that Irises don't have thorns of their own.
"You're not going alone." Ivar retorted.
"And I'm not going with you." I narrowed my eyes at him, gesturing to the rest of the room. "You have to stay with your people for at least one night, my king. Besides, you and I both know you'll be just as angry as me when we see her." He sent me a look that told me he was not at all happy with the idea of me going to see Frida alone. I knew he wanted nothing more than to execute the woman that had murdered our child and almost taken me from him as well. But I needed to see her before he did. For my own closure, I had to see her.
"Take someone with you at least." He pleaded, a tenderness in his voice that was reserved solely for me.
Both Harald and Hvitserk stood, Whitehair lingering close by us. I was grateful for all of them, the family I'd created here in this distant world. I knew I was lucky, very lucky indeed, to be so cared about by such people. People I'd spent my life reading about in dusty old books. If nothing else, that alone was enough to make me feel valuable - even if a part of me knew that my great tale was nearing its grand finale now that I couldn't fulfil the stories. Stories of Ivar's children.
"King Harald, you should be celebrating your victory with my husband." I told the other King gently, sending him a small smile of appreciation. Both of us missed Astrid, and since she'd been gone he'd been a true friend to me. He'd come to visit me as I lay in my death bed, making sure I was still alive and kicking and urging me to keep fighting. Even though I knew that their victory now made Harald and Ivar enemies, both searching for opposing things now the war was won, a part of me was glad that he remained here with us.
