𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 ✩ Ivar The Boneless

✩ chapter II, act I ✩

"You are a weapon; and weapons don't weep."
chapter II, act I ✧ 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

"Where is Ivar?" the girl questioned, her eyes gleaming with wonder as the three boys looked down at her, all three decided to sip on their ale at the same time to avoid her question.

She sipped on her own mead, quietly. Hvitserk settled down next to her on the fur rag, not understanding why she sat on the floor but abiding by it regardless.

"You won't wish to know, wolf," his words were slightly slurred and she didn't blame him, they had been drinking since they left the lunch table.

He swung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into him. She loved the smell of ale that he gave off. The smell of alcohol, the smell of strength and trust, all brothers had that same smell... except for the cripple who managed to have her wrapped around his fingers.

Nero sighed, running a hand through her hair, which for the first time in a long time, wasn't braided, was simply let wild. Her eyes were clear of any kohl, much to the boys' surprise. She always bore her father's mark on her face, the messy dark art that trailed down her cheeks.

"You mean he has gone with that servant?" she questioned, her weak drunkenness allowing her emotions to be visible through her eyes.

Vit lowered his voice as Sigurd and Ubbe engaged in a conversation, understanding that they had no part in what the duo's conversation.

"You don't have to speak as if it doesn't hurt you, wolf," he murmured into her ear, his eyes looking at her lovingly, her heart clenched in her chest at his words, at his looks.

In another world, one in which she wasn't a warrior, one in which she wasn't in love with Ivar, she would have married Hvitserk.

"It does not. He and I are merely friends, just like the rest of us," she reasoned and hid her head on his chest, hoping he would drop the matter and just let her breathe in his calming scent, she drank more.

"I have seen th—"

Her head began spinning as her words became more and more truthful, in fact, it had bothered her that Vit had someone, it bothered her a lot.

Though what she felt for Ivar was way stronger, the blond boy reciprocated her feelings, he was always with her when Ivar grew cold at most times.

Nero couldn't deny the feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she saw Vit and his dazzling, cocky smile, "In truth Hvitserk, what hurt me was when you fucked Margarethe. Now that we have this out of the way, I'm going to find Ragnar."

"He is in Hedeby," Ubbe warned as the girl raised her voice towards the end of her sentence and stood up. She grabbed the bottle of mead and walked out, Sigurd motioned to go after her, but his older brother raised his hand, holding him back, "she needs time, from whatever has happened."

Hvitserk said nothing, simply drank, searching for the honesty in her slurred words.

Nero pulled her horse out of the town, allowing it to be freer without so many people around. She ruffled its mane and took a swing from her bottle before hopping on Hati and leading it to where she believed Hedeby was.

She went for Ragnar because she had grown tired of hearing his sons speaking poorly of him when she had seen the man give all he had for others. Somehow in her drunkenness, she wanted to know if her idea of him was true.

While her horse's ears bobbed rhythmically, stretching forward and back with each time its hooves touched the floor, she realized that she wanted to go to Ragnar because he was the only person she knew who had experienced many types of love, many different times.