Vikings Imagines

Captive: Part 2

It had been two weeks since Ivar and I had made our feelings known, and despite still being a hostage by all accounts, I was blissfully happy. Every night since our first time together intimately, Ivar has come to my bed and showered me in his affections. I find myself yearning for his presence all hours of the day now. I think not of the future, but only the present. The next time I will feel his skin or taste his lips, the next time I will feel the warmth of his embrace and hear the whisper of his words skitter across the top of my hair while I lay in his arms. I had never known such a feeling to exist before him. Every part of me is consumed by Ivar. Butterflies take residence in my belly at every thought of him, my skin aches for his touch, my heart races at the sight of his gaze. How such a dark twist of fate had proven to be my own personal miracle was beyond me. Nevertheless, we had been brought together.

On the surface nothing had changed. I still have guards attend me during the day as I read, walk through the garden, or eat. He only glances my way when we cross paths, never publicly acknowledging me as more than what I was to the rest of them. He occasionally comes to my room during the day still, our friendship being the core of what we have, nothing out of the ordinary. We are careful not to allude to anything more. From an outsiders perspective we are just as we always have been; two people who take comfort in being the odd ones out. Nobody questions it.

"You are lying!" Ivar chuckles, leaning back in his chair as his soft blue eyes glitter happily in the sunlight, narrowing at me.

"I am not!" I laugh back, throwing my hands in the air. "I swear to you on the holy book, I pushed him off of his horse and in to the mud. He broke two fingers trying to catch himself."

"Prince Æthelred, bested by a woman. No wonder he's always got something to prove." He jests, widening his eyes in suggestion.

"Believe me, I paid for it." I raise my eyebrows and sigh, remembering the welts on my thighs that lasted a week. My father was furious when he found out, whipping me with a switch when we got home. It was still worth it.

"I'd love to have seen-" Ivar begins to respond but is cut short, the door opening quickly and with a bang.

Through the threshold strode one one Ivar's older brothers; a man with a boyish face, green eyes, and long blonde hair that was intricately braided down his back. His hand lays on the hilt of his sword as he scans the room, his eyebrows creasing and head tilting slightly as he inspected the casual nature of mine and Ivar's presence. He clears his throat and turns his eyes to Ivar, striding directly in front of him.

"What is it Hvisterk?" Ivar asks. His tone is clipped and his body had straightened to an almost rigid stance as he addressed his brother.

"Lady Ælfwynn." Hvitserk nods slightly towards me, acknowledging my presence before turning to his younger brother. "We have business at the gate, Ivar. You'll want to come immediately." His green eyes trained on Ivar's, the intensity making me uneasy.

"Where is Ubbe?" Ivar questions, the irritation in his voice more and more apparent.

"He is already there. This requires all of us." Hvitserk doesn't budge, but his eyes flit to mine for a fraction of a second as if he was trying to wordlessly convey something to Ivar. My stomach twists, and I know whatever it is, it's about me. With a roll of his eyes Ivar stands and leaves with his brother, not turning back to look at me.

*****

Ivar walked to the gate with his brother, the cold air of winter rolling in and biting at his cheeks and nose as he grunted forward, the pain in his legs intensified by the increasingly bitter conditions. He didn't pay mind to the pain though, his attention was elsewhere as he tried to ease the aggravation of being pulled from Ælfwynn so suddenly. As he looked around the grounds he realized everything had come to a still, the warriors had gathered at the ready along the towers and gate, archers stationed with their arrows nocked.