Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

2- The Storm

The bread was stale but she took it eagerly out of the woman's hands. It had been days since the captives were fed, as their food supply was running low. The woman's large blue eyes stared deeply into her pale ones, and she had a smile on her face, as if satisfied.

The woman pushes her long blonde hair behind her shoulder, wrapping herself tighter within her woolen shawl, offering another crust of bread.

"Helga," She says, pointing at herself. The girl swallows the piece of stale bread gratefully, looking up at the kind woman.

"Artemis,"

Helga smiled brightly, showing her teeth before patting the top of the younger girl's head and walking back towards the wild man with the kohl lined eyes. They began to speak among themselves, and from the sounds of it, he was reprimanding her, but she merely swatted at his shoulder before snuggling against him with a smile.

She later learned that the wild man was her husband, and his name was Floki.

More days passed and Helga had grown a fondness for the girl as she was the only captive on their boat that was a woman. It continued in that way, Helga offering her small scraps, sometimes even singing a little tune. Other times, she taught her a few words and phrases in the northern tongue.

Quite liking the company of the older woman, Artemis does her best in learning the difficult language. It was a way to pass the time, and no one really stared at her quite so much as before. In turn, she attempts to teach Helga her own language, though the older woman struggled.

Weeks went by, and Artemis found herself accustomed to the sounds the Helga produced, the words not sounding so thick and harsh in her ears as it once did. With their time almost always spent together, the younger of the two was able to recognize simple conversation.

"We are almost home," Helga tells her one morning. The journey to the north had taken months, but to Artemis, it felt like years. She licks her dry lips and burrows as far as she could in her cloak. The closer north they sailed, the colder the winds were.

"Your home, not mine," She replies, bitterly, the foreign words feeling strange on her tongue. Helga ignored her tone, only offering a kind smile.

"Your pronunciations are better. With more practice you will be fluent in no time," Artemis snorts in response. She didn't really care for fluency, in fact, she didn't care about anything at all anymore, but she nods in response if it meant she'd be treated better.

Artemis scans her eyes over the horizon, watching as the clouds turned from a soft white to an angry gray.

"A storm comes." She tells Helga. The woman looks up, causing the others on the boat to notice the change in weather.

"Thor will protect us," Helga simply says, handing Artemis a small ration of salted meat.

"Not our god," Artemis mumbles, making sure she said the words right. She takes a bite of the salted meat while pointing towards the monks. Some slept in their weak state, while others hung their heads low, muttering their prayers. Artemis admired the strong faith the monks had. She felt her devotion could never match theirs.

Helga sighs, annoyed with the simple statement, and looks at Artemis with a stern expression. Helga was never angry.

"Thor will protect us," She says with finality in her tone. Artemis thought she would leave in her anger, but Helga chose to remain beside Artemis, though it was as if her presence wasn't there anymore.

Artemis grumbles, looking towards the angry gray sky with pleading eyes.

If it is your will, Lord, drown us.

...

She didn't know how long she passed out for.

The last thing she remembered was rain, strong rain that encouraged the salty waves to crash down upon their ships with a ferocity she'd never seen before. She remembers hearing Bjorn shouting out orders, as his men huddled all the captives together into one congested mess. She panicked along with the others around her. The sound of the crashing waves was the last thing she rememebered before someone knocked her head against the mast.

Then it was total darkness.

"Is she dead?"

The male voice seemed to rattle inside her head. It was distant, yet so close that it felt like a buzzing in her ear. Despite the ache in her head, she could almost detect the hopeful tone in the voice. It took her a moment to force her eyes open, lurching forward to take in a shuddering breath. She blinks to clear her vision, fighting away the lightheadedness that came with her sudden movements.

She coughs, blinking her eyes a few more times. In her confusion, she didn't fight off the hands that suddenly gripped her cheeks.

"She's alive," Helga cries out, a blurry version of her bright smile coming into view. Floki was kneeling behind her, a clear frown forming on his lips. They were both soaked, as was everyone else on the boat. The storm had caused much damage and disarray. It was awfully quiet.

"Artemis, child, I told you, Thor would protect us," Artemis glances at Helga before looking up towards the clear skies. It was as if a storm never occurred.

Most of the men stood at the head of the boat looking out towards the sea with smiles despite what had happened. They must have been nearing their homeland.

Artemis turns to look at her surroundings, immediately noticing the remaining monks were fewer than before.

"Some willingly jumped off the ship," Helga begins to explain, "Others were washed away." The captive girl sniffs in response. She hadn't known any of the monks personally, but she was saddened by their untimely deaths. Perhaps they had made the right decision.

"Your god has no mercy," Artemis finally speaks, her words coated in sorrow. She struggles to shift her body, her wet cloak feeling like a heavy burden upon her shoulders.

"Thor had no need to protect them," Sneered Floki, "It is a wonder why he even spared you,"

"Floki!" Helga scolded, shoving the man away before pushing Artemis's matted hair away from her face in a motherly fashion, "It doesn't matter now, you are safe," Helga was a kind woman, there was no denying it, but Artemis didn't want to be coddled by her. She had a growing resentment for them. She grunts when one of the young men on the boat moves forward to kneel between them, tying fresh rope around her already bruised wrists.

"You're a fighter, aren't you?" He mutters to her, flashing her a toothy grin. She focused on his smiling green eyes as she slowly dissected his words. She didn't think she was a fighter. She thought herself unlucky.

The young man reaches over to pinch her cheek, laughing when she scowls in return.

"Hvitserk, stop your teasing," Helga scolds him, slapping away his hand. The man, Hvitserk, shrugs, smiling again as he winks at Artemis before taking his place beside Bjorn at the head of the boat.

"It's ok child, you are safe," Helga begins to reassure her, ignoring the way her husband sucked his teeth at her gentle ministrations.

"She is meant to be a slave, Helga, you coddle her too much."

Artemis lowers her head in defeat, opting to stare at her bounded wrists. She sniffs again, feeling the tears well up at the rim of her eyes before releasing a shuddering breath.

"I should have drowned."