Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

12- Northumbria

"I did not take you to be the type to get seasick." Artemis says with a smile. She hands Ivar a scrap of cloth when his head emerged from the side of the ship. He spit into the sea the remnants of the bitter sick in his mouth before glaring at her. He snatches the cloth from her hands and wipes at his mouth unbecomingly before tossing it back at her.

"I am not fond of the sea." He mutters bitterly, groaning again as his stomach began to churn unpleasantly. Ivar scooted as far back into the corner he was in, treating the space as a safe haven.

"The sea is unpredictable, Prince, I think we all fear it." Artemis looks out into the calm Northern Sea, its waves gently rocking the ship like a babe in a cradle. Both Ivar's and Artemis's people were excellent seafarers, it must have bren engraved in their blood, but the fear of open water was still a rational one.

There were hundreds of ships down towards the horizon, and beyond, and a nervous buzz settled in the lower pits of her stomach. It was finally happening, all this talk of vengence and war, it all felt like stories one told a child at night.

The ship beside their own had her heart feeling heavy. Arvid's blue eyes were locked with hers as he grabbed an oar to help steer the ship. His wife was not far from him, watching the waves push and pull. She was a pretty thing, with yellow hair and blue eyes, exactly what every man here wanted. Her name was Alfhild, daughter of a well off farmer in Kattegat.

A small wedding was arranged. It was a simplistic wedding, and they were married right before they departed to England. For such simplicity, Arvid seemed to be the star of the event. His dark hair was neatly combed with intricate braids styled down the front, and he wore his very best clothes.

Arvid was a good man, if he could treat a slave with respect, then he would no doubt treat Alfhild in the proper way.

"Does it upset you?" Ivar interrupts her thoughts, gazing at her through his lashes.

"Hmm?" Artemis turns to him, her eyes swirling with mixed emotions. She began to fiddle with her leather padded vest, hearing Ivar suck his teeth at her feigning confusion.

"Are you upset that he is now married?" He reworded his question, lifting the hood of his cloak to shield his face, "His wife is pretty." He says as an afterthought, resting his head on his hand. The nausea was coming back.

"He deserves happiness and a suitable companion."

"I asked you how you feel about it, Artemis." Ivar lightly scolds her, adjusting his lifeless legs. He waits for an answer as he watches his older brothers bombard the front of the ship, no doubt feeling as if they could conquer the world. Perhaps one day they will.

"It does not matter what I feel. A slave does not have that luxury." She handed over the cloth again when he suddenly lurched over the side of the boat again. Groaning, Ivar sits back properly, snatching the cloth from her.

"You are not wrong," He says in agreement after a moment, "But you are no ordinary slave. You are Ivar the Boneless's slave. You are not average. You may think yourself downtroddened, but the gods have blessed you. This is where you belong." Artemis says nothing, though her eyes said it all.

What was that? Where did that come from?

Ivar stares back, unmoving, his eyes solely on her. His brown hair, growing longer by the day, blew in the salty breeze, and although his cheeks were reddened by the constant vomiting, it did nothing to tarnish his pleasant features. He looked more a man by the day.

"Do not look at me like that." He says finally, breaking their gaze in favor of looking out towards the sea.

"Like what?" Her lips began to curl into a grin, and she leans back against the wooden rail with her arms crossed.