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Alfild had come to one singular but painful conclusion. She had deduced that, though she had tried to knock down the walls around her heart for Ivar, her feelings couldn't possibly be reciprocated.
He didn't love her. Not as she loved him.
Though, for many days, these feelings had made her heart ache and pound, she refused to allow weakness into her heart again. She'd spent so long believing that her love for him was strength, that all she'd been taught was lies.
But Brunhilde's teachings remained true. Love was weakness. And, if Alfild was going to rule, she could not show weakness any longer. Alfild had to take control of York and the heathen army. If she could, then they would bow to her and join her in taking back her kingdom. Then she would not need Ivar The Boneless. And if she did not need him, she could kill him.
Alfild had often thought in such a way. When you feel a weak emotion such as love, you must do all you can to burry it. She had killed before in fear of her feelings. This would be nothing new.
As Alfild contemplated Ivar's death, he contemplated much the same. Perhaps if she was dead, he would no longer feel this way. If he killed her, she'd be gone. Problem solved. Or was it?
All he knew was that he was distracted. At a time where he should be singularly focused on killing Lagertha and taking Kattegat, she was a distraction. Those smoldering emeralds haunted him, her sharp words that seemed to kill and cure at the same time. She was always there, even when she was miles away. He couldn't get rid of her. For, everytime he tried to think of alternative things she appeared. He yearned to see her again, to hear her witty words and feel her comforting touch. But he was far too stubborn and bloody minded to admit it. She would have to come back to him, to beg him for mercy. She was far to used to dealing the fates. Now it would be her turn to swallow her pride.
Unluckily for Ivar, Alfild felt much the same. And so, they were at an impasse. Both refused to budge. Their egos stood far too large, shadowing the tender feelings that crept behind. No matter how much they craved each others company, begging seemed quite impossible.
"Ivar you need to talk to her." Hvitserk pleaded to his brother, hoping to prevent yet another unnecessary war. A war that was caused because the two were in love but too full of themselves to do anything further towards it.
"And why would I do that, hm?" Ivar looked over at Hvitserk, his cold eyes scanning him with a bitter glance.
Hvitserk sighed, shaking his head, "Because you don't want to start another war?" He suggested.
Ivar laughed as though such a statement was humorous in some way. "She weak, brother." He commented with a shrug, but Hvitserk urged him to go on. He could not understand how his little brother could ever come to such a conclusion. "Most of her warriors remain in her kingdom and will fight for their new king. If we make an alliance with him, we can kill them with ease. It's not a war, it's a massacre."
"Do not understimate her, Ivar." Hvitserk warned. "She's not stupid enough to let that happen. All that you'd do is send her and her allies to Lagertha's armies."
"Do you not believe the Gods are on our side brother?" Ivar grinned slyly, but Hvitserk bought none of it.
"The Gods aren't the ones who will kill her, Ivar." He spoke sternly, gaining his brother's attention. "You'd have to do that. Do you think you could kill her? Do you think you could look into her eyes and take her life?"
Ivar paused for a moment. He knew that he could. Of course he could kill her. That was not the issue. The issue remained that he didn't want to, and he didn't have to. She had not betrayed him yet, it was only if she joined Lagertha that he would be forced to kill her. Even in such a circumstance, the concept of murdering her seemed rather unappealing. She was no Christian, no traitor. Even if she'd been some random civilian, he likely wouldn't of cared. But she wasn't. She was Alfild The Merciless. She was the girl he'd grown up hearing stories about. The girl who earned fear and respect in a world that shunned her. She was the only person that he believed truly understood him. She was the one he turned to when he thought that the odds were stacked against him. He admired her. He loved her. And never could he think up a reason to kill her without feeling that same death within himself.
"Of course I could kill her." He pushed out lowly, ensuring to keep up his arrogant and menacing persona. But, just as he spoke, a loud bang made the two jolt up.
One of the guards outside fell through the doors, blood staining the floor as his brains pooled out behind him. The brothers looked up from the dead man, eyes soon meeting with those of Alfild The Merciless. She sheathed her swords and stepped over the man without a care in the world. It simply did not phase her. Her soldiers followed in behind her, and Ivar noted the mass of men and women stood outside with swords and shields at the ready.
She didn't speak. Steady as she walked, she silently made her way over towards the brothers. For a second, Hvitserk feared that she had come to kill Ivar. Ivar was also sure that she was here for him. Instead, she walked straight past them, her eyes never leaving their one focus. Suddenly, the brothers clicked. She turned slowly and sat upon the large throne that Ivar had long since claimed for himself. A small smirk danced across her lips as she made herself comfy.
"Queen Alfild?" Hvitserk queried.
"Queen Alfild." She repeated. "I wasn't sure that many recalled my name of late." Her words were calm and meaningful, but Ivar could see the flames of a dragon in her eyes. He could feel it, as though they were aimed at him. "Queen. Do you know what that means?"
The brothers looked to eachother, Ivar tasting bitterness as he held back the urge to yell. Hvitserk spoke calmly with minor confusion, "It means that you rule over your Kingdom."
"Mm." She nodded, eyes closing and head tilting back as she thought. "So, if my job is to lead." She said calmly. "If I am, as we have established, a Queen." Her eyes opened and now they bore into Ivar. "Why is it that I have earned such disrespect?"
"Disrespect? You're the one that-" Ivar began in an infuriated tone. Alfild held up a hand, a silent and calm signal for him to cease. This simply enraged him further.
"I am not your equal." She spoke sternly. These were words the brothers had never heard her say, words they never thought she'd say. Her tone was frightening, her face like daggers. "Not yet. You are no King. So, until you become one, I am in charge."
"Is that what you want?" Ivar chuckled darkly. "Power over us?"
"Right now, Ivar The Boneless, I want you to understand your place." She answered.
He grinned back, though his jaw clenched as he did. "And where is that?"
