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Have you ever loved someone?
For everyone it starts in different ways. Yet, to each of us, it always appears so unexpected. One moment you are merely living your life as you would, the next you live and breathe for someone else. To know that they are content and happy is all that you need. You'd do anything for them.
At present, Alfild felt much the same. She wished she could control her emotions as she had for all those years. For most of her life, she questioned whether or not she truly could feel love. But, now that she did, she wished she was incapable. She wished she'd never uttered the words "allies" or step foot in Kattegat to see those ocean eyes. For, she could feel her self slipping completely into his hands. He made her weak. But he also made her the strongest she could be. It was this strange sort of limbo in which she was eternally stuck, never knowing which side was good and which was evil.
At present, Alfild found herself battling with the conundrum. Yet, more pressing, was the situation between her and the person in question.
Ivar hadn't spoken to her in days. Neither of them had really attempted contact with the other. Instead, there was this mutual brooding that stood with Hvitserk trapped between. He tried reasoning with his little brother, but reasoning with Ivar had never been a simple task. It seemed the only one who ever could was Queen Aslaug. And then, for a split moment, it seemed that Alfild could too. But now such hope had dwindled.
Alfild listened as Hvitserk vented to her. He was angry with Ivar, torn between two states of being. He had something to prove, and yet every part of him clawed against it. His morality said to stand by Bjorn and Ubbe, but he had to prove that he didn't need them. That he wasn't some servant that they could take for granted. Of course, neither Ubbe or Bjorn saw him as such. Still, it was something Hvitserk needed to do, a mistake he was destined to make.
And, in the company of his brother, Hvitserk would also remind Ivar of Alfild. He tried to push his brother towards the girl who could think of nothing but the dark haired genius. But Ivar had new things on his mind now.
Though Ivar yearned for the comfort of the Queen's gentle smile and the small spark within her vibrant eyes, he had set his mind to other tasks. He refused to let anyone stand in the way of what the gods had planned for him. He refused to lose all in the name of some girl. And so, as the days progressed, his sorrow turned into a burning rage that swept across England.
"Does he speak of me?" Alfild asked, gaze hesitant yet curious.
Hvitserk froze for a moment, unsure how best to phrase his answer. "Sometimes." He shrugged, praying that she would leave it at that.
"What does he say?" She persisted, unable to let the question slide.
Again, Hvitserk wasn't particularly sure what to say to the girl. In all honesty, he wished to simply be left out of their odd relationship. "I don't know." He lied. This time, however, Alfild took the hint. She realized that she didn't want to know what was being said. After all, who would want to know that the one they loved was contemplating many such plots against them?
"Do you want to speak to him?" Hvitserk asked, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen once more.
The girl smiled bitterly, her eyes as cold as ice and her heart becoming stone again. She shook her head, "No." Hvitserk looked over in mild confusion as she continued. "I don't wish to see Ivar."
"So what do you wish for then?" He persisted, curiosity glistening in his eyes.
Alfild grinned, a deathly spark jolting through her emeralds. Her armour clanked as she shifted to sit straight upon the throne. "I wish to be a queen."
