For The Sake of Revenge

II~Chapter 1: Longing.

Image credits: LIZZART

^^Ivar, but with dark hair.

IVAR

Living near the Øresund on an island near Kattegat, Ivar grew to love the sea. The sea is what made him who he is. It defined his body, his culture, his values, his skills, and it defined his teachings. He learned to swim there when he didn't think his legs would ever work again. Floki nearly drowned him in the sea to teach him endurance. He learned to hunt for his own cod when Floki taught him survival. All the important lessons in life he was ever taught in the stead of his father were given to him either by the land, the Øresund, Floki, or Aslaug. His father was shite at all but siring a passel of shites.

Among the many other reasons for him to love the sea, Ivar could only name those off the top of his head.

But Ivar despised the sea now. This sea was not Øresund. This sea was some random dump of shit surrounding a disease-worn land. He despised the sea even more because as he watched the ships leave, he began losing sight of the one woman who actually made him feel something. The only woman who would ever love him and not try to fucking change him.

Despite how unclear her origins were, he never should have ignored her so callously. Instead, he should have fucked her until his bollocks were spent and she was passed out on his chest, her throat hoarse from screaming his name. He should have held her when she flew into his arms, begging for his forgiveness, his understanding, and his comfort. He should have done so many things but all he could do now was mourn her loss and pray to Odin that she be kept safe.

Helga would give him a daily report on her, whether he asked for it or not. She must have sensed their turmoil, and Yasmeen must have really donned an impression on Helga for her to be so persistent with the reports he never asked for. He was thankful for that now. When he had learned she was pregnant, he forced himself away from her, still unable to understand her. Still waiting for her to disappear the same way she disappeared from her previous...future home. He couldn't understand it. He hated what he couldn't understand. Still stewing with petulant anger and selfish betrayal. Still watching her from a distance, as her beautifully bronzed, translucent skin paled with depression. Depression that he caused.

Ivar fucking hated himself now. How could he not see it then? How could he not see that his existence meant so much to the woman he had grown to care for; the mother of his child? The only good that had come out of her departure were her flushed cheeks, starry, watery eyes, and declaration of love at his approach and vows.

He didn't even say it back to her. But he didn't need to, he was planning to come back to her and say it. It was the only thing that could be keeping him alive right now.

He should have fucking married her before all this shit went down.

Five weeks without speaking to her; how on earth did he manage to do it? What had possessed him? He should have—

Pigheaded, peabrained, cocksucking piece of shite.

Fuck--he couldn't think about this shit right now. Right now, he needed to fight--to drink, no--to be with his betrothed whom he wouldn't see for another year at the very least, by Odin's will.

It was his brothers who had knocked some sense into him eventually. Literally.

"You are unusually deep in your cups, brother. I see you have not managed to mend your broken little heart," Ubbe had mocked, rather cruelly. Ivar didn't bother to ask how that little shit knew. Anyone could see the frost forming over the bond between him and Yasmeen.