For The Sake of Revenge

Chapter 13: Sentiment

 Ivar's army hadn't come back in five days. Helga didn't seem too worried. But Ivar has never been away from this long before. If he dies on me... I will personally find his body and burn it. He can't leave me now.

How will I survive without him? No, I really don't know how to get by in this world. Back in 2016 Norway, I had a grocery store nearby, a bathroom, electronics, medical health care...I have none of that now and even then I am struggling. Wiping my but with leaves and praying to God they don't release any form of acid to me is a bigger risk than parachuting. Falling asleep anywhere is a huge risk. Eating cooked food spells danger.

Nothing here is remotely the same and even the languages are different. It took me five years to master Norweigan since I moved to Norway. Even then, I am not fluent. I struggle with languages, I even struggle with English and Ivar, more than once, has noticed my poor language skills. He had no qualms pointing it out. But these are the least of my worries. So far, I have had everything handed to me on a silver platter. Or as well as could be afforded if you take time, location, and the people I stayed with. Without Ivar I was nothing. Maybe Millicent would know a thing or two, but I was as ignorant as they come. Yet I tried, I tried accumulating as many skills as I could.

I had to avert my thoughts back to the present.

"Will they come back soon?" I asked Helga one day and the woman gave me a sweet smile.

"I would know if my Floki died. He gave me his charm. I feel he is well," Helga told me dreamily and I nodded, not entirely convinced. She was a fundamental pagan, she relied on superstitions. I also knew her husband would hate me and Millicent. Ivar told me as much, that and my first impression of him didn't guarantee a future budding friendship. However, Helga, with all her Luna-Lovegood-charade, didn't seem capable of hate like her husband was. Honest to goodness, she was nothing like her husband, I found nothing compatible between them, from what I know of Helga and Floki and from what I hear and see.

You would look at these two and it was like comparing broccoli to strawberries.

Still, Helga's word on account of her beliefs was very questionable.

I just hope Millicent is not stupid enough to preach against them. More than once I caught her eyeing their bonfires and sacrifices wearily. In the night she would confide in me of her reservations about fully integrating into the Viking culture just because of what they believed in. It wasn't hard to empathize with her. I felt the same way, I just hid it better.

"Millicent," I walked over to her one day when I heard her singing a tune from the mass. She looked up at me curiously.

"They hate Christians here," I warned her, "Pray in secret. People here want us dead for being Christian, including Helga's husband," I warned her. Millicent nodded at me with wide eyes. Her tune stopped flowing and I felt guilty. She could have continued singing if she wanted to. No one knew. Besides, being ashamed of my faith is also a sin. I wasn't ashamed though, I was just not eager to die young.

"Good," I sighed in relief.

Three horn blasts sounded. Familiar horn blasts. My breath caught in my throat as I hurried outside the tent flap. From a distance, I could see Ivar's army from here. But I didn't see him.

A familiar blue head caught my attention and I spotted Floki. He had to be the hardest individual to miss; tall and lanky with terrifying facial makeup--it was all I could do to not go back and hide in my tent. Behind him were two white horses with a chariot attached to them. On this chariot stood Ivar and Bjorn. My heart leaped in my chest. He looked unharmed, despite being covered in blood, but his eyes were glowing with exhilaration.

He barely looked at me as he rode past and at the end of his chariot, a man was attached by a rope, getting dragged in the dirt. The same way Achilles dragged Hector's body in Troy.