Merciful || Ivar the Boneless

f i f t e e n

The smell of burned meat soaked in the air so strongly, it would stay in Kattegat for days. It was dark and people were surrounding a bonfire, watching and cheering the act of justice.

Ivar wanted to blood-eagle the bastard but Eira strictly turned that option down. "You should be more open-minded," she told him.

Ivar was now sitting on a wooden chair, ale resting in his hand. His eyes wouldn't leave Eira and he wasn't alone. Everyone was watching her. The stranger girl, who found her voice and strength to get a revenge.

Eira was moving as if she was one with the air and the fire, her moves were fluent, slow but precise.

Once she cut off his both arms with an axe, she took his own butcher-like knife, put it into the fire, so close the flames were running over her skin but she didn't notice. Her skin has been through much worse than this. Once it was hot enough she pressed it against what was left of his arms.

The whole time he was trying not to scream, but after a while, he broke. That was like a lullaby for Eira's ears. Maybe it was something to replace the screaming of her parents while she was trying to forget. A piece of hope for her soul. That was a part of her that still hoped she could be the girl she used to be.

"Kill, kill, kill!" People were cheering but that wasn't Eira's intention.

She turned her head towards Ivar and looked him straight in the eyes. He nodded, no need for words.

Eira was exhausted after such a long day. She told Ivar what she was planning with the Berserker, she just couldn't continue how tired she was.

Ivar slowly walked to her, a stick in his left hand. He still needed the support of it. As soon as he was close enough, he took the knife from her hand, whispering in her ear.

"I got you," he meant it.

Eira sat down to watch. Her eyes were glued to Ivar.

He took that knife once again, held it few seconds in the fire. "Hold his head," he told two men standing by. They did as he said.

"Now open his mouth," again they did what Ivar asked.

He grabbed his tongue, one fast movement with the knife and he was mute forever. He yelled, blood running down his chin. Ivar looked at the tongue in his hand, disgusted. Then he threw it in the fire. His eyes met Eira's. Her face was neutral, no sign of relief or any emotion.

Ivar gave the knife to another man and told him to burn the Berserker's tongue wound and lock him up for the night if he survives.

He slowly walked towards Eira who was already standing up. Together they walked away, people watching them.

"It's over, folks!" Ivar yelled before they disappeared inside.

Once the door closed behind them, Eira let her hair fall down while letting out a breath she held for a while. Ivar sat on her bed, putting his stick down. The tension in the air was thicker and thicker.

"In two days we will go north to kill the jarl," Ivar told her, his eyes focusing on the ground.

Eira turned around, brushing her hair. "Not we," she murmured.

Ivar's eyebrows were almost touching, how much he was frowning. "I am going with you, we all are!" he hissed through his teeth, jaw clenched.

Eira stopped brushing her hair, came closer to Ivar and sat down next to him. She looked over her shoulder to face him.

"No more dead people than it needs to be. I don't want anyone to get hurt. I don't want..," she stopped in the middle of a sentence. "You to get hurt," she said to herself as quietly as she could.

Ivar heard, a smile appeared on his face. "What?" innocence in his voice. He wanted her to say it again.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt, or Ubbe, or Hvitserk," she added after a pause.

Ivar's heart was beating fast, he looked up in the window. The stars were shining brightly in the dark sky. "I should go," he said standing up.

"No, please, stay."

Ivar turned around.

"Why? You're safe now. The Berserker won't hurt you anymore."

"I don't want to be alone anymore," her voice cracked.

Those words spoke to Ivar like no others. He felt alone most of his life, even though he was surrounded by so many people at all the times, he was alone. The cripple kid who had to be carried everywhere. Everyone was watching him, feeling sorry for him. The loneliness made him vulnerable. He didn't want to be alone. Maybe now was the time, he won't have to be.

She stood up right in front of him. They were looking at each other. While watching each other, the knuckles on their hands were touching. Both felt it, but they chose to not break the moment. Their fingers intertwined, electricity in the air made their heart beat faster.

Eira pulled her hand back, stepping away. She wasn't sure why she did it. She wasn't ready to open to Ivar, nor any men. They caused her too much pain and she didn't know if she could trust them again. Certainly, she knew she wouldn't let a man touch her without her permission, not anymore. Not unless she wants to.

Eira started a little fire in the fireplace.

Then she walked to the bed, laying down. Ivar was still standing in the same spot not knowing what to do. Eira made it clear by tapping on the bed next to her.

He unsure took off the metallic contraption, leaving it behind with his stick. He sat down, picking his legs up on the bed.

When he lied down, he was looking up. He was too nervous to turn his head around to look at Eira. She smiled and a few minutes later, she fell asleep. Ivar waited little longer until he was sure she was really sleeping.

He found the courage to lightly turn around, to look at her. Ivar thought he hasn't met a more beautiful woman in his life. She was tough, yet fragile. She was dark, yet the light in her was shining more than the sun.

Ivar didn't realize it, but his face was closer and closer to her, examining every detail of her face. The few freckles on her nose, a small scar on her forehead.

Until he crossed the line he once drew. His lips brushed hers.