Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

7- Obedience

"I didn't think Ivar was serious when he said you'd be in here."

Artemis cracks her eyes open at the offending light. Above her stood Hvitserk, a concerned look in his eye. She shifts under his gaze, feeling the discomfort in her aching bones.

"Good morning." He then chirps in greeting, holding his hands out as an invitation. Artemis hesitates for a moment before grasping them, immediately noticing the roughness of his hands as he hauls her up in one swift motion.

Hvitserk managed to lift her out like a small child, setting her down on her unstable feet. He looked at her tired eyes with a sad smile, and that alone was off putting.

"I like you, Artemis," He begins, "I can't deny there's something about you," He pauses. He runs a hand down the smooth expanse of his honey hair, set in a neat singular braid. He leans against the crate, giving her a pointed look, "But it doesn't mean you can be disobedient, nor neglect your duties." He sounded so much like Helga, reprimanding, yet somehow not so angry. At least, not yet.

There was something he was keeping quiet about. Something was brewing and it set a fear in her heart. In her nervousness Artemis attempts to smooth down her overused dress, the hem already developing fraying seams. With a sigh, Hvitserk moves closer to her, supplying a rough rope from his belt and tying her wrists together, just as he had the first time they met. She couldn't even process his actions properly, and before she knew it, her hands were bounded.

"I hate to do this," Hvisterk offers her the same sorrowful smile as before, "But Ivar believes an example needs to be made of you." She remains quiet, looking at her bounded wrists with dejected eyes.

"I will be beaten." She comes to a realization, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The faster it begins, the faster it will end," Hvisterk replies, taking the long end of the rope to pull her along with him. Her still aching limbs struggled to keep up with Hvitserk's pace, and she could feel the bile rise, burning it's way up enough to make her eyes water and the panic resurface.

Hvitserk sighs again, gently turning her around to rip open the laces holding her dress together before pushing her out the cabin door. It was a sunny day, one that hadn't been seen in so long. She would have laughed bitterly if she weren't afraid.

All the other slaves under the Ragnarson's household waited out front, some of them appearing disinterested. Edda stood there with arms crossed over her round belly, annoyed that her time was being wasted on a spectacle when she had more important matters to attend to.

Sigurd and Ubbe, and stood leaning off the side of the cabin, their faces lacking any real emotion. Sigurd takes a quick glance at her before looking away, and Ubbe's piercing eyes said it all. I told you so.

Hvitserk pulls her toward the nearest tree, tying the rope as tightly as he could around the trunk. He motions for her to face the trunk and lower herself to her knees. She ignores the uncomfortable feel of her knees sinking into the dirt, focusing her watery eyes on the jagged shapes of the tree bark.

"I'm sorry, little fighter." And with that, Hvitserk leaves to join the others.

It was eerily quiet after that. The birds were singing their morning songs in the trees, and the cold wind danced through the leaves, gently falling over her.

Artemis let's out a shuddering breath as soon as she hears his body dragging over the dying grass, and her own body immediately tensed, the exposed skin of her back forming goose flesh.

Ivar drags himself to sit beside her, grunting when his back hits the trunk of the tree. He stares at her for a few moments, but she never turns her face to stare back at his. She bites her tongue as she gets the sudden urge to spit in his face.