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I stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to say or do. Two days ago, I was stood telling my mother that Ivar The Boneless was my favourite historical figure and now here I was stood in front of him. I suppose that basically summarises this whole experience pretty well.
As he continued to stare at me, I began to shift uncomfortably. Was I about to die? Maybe. I suppose I'd have to wait and see. Nevertheless, if he didn't kill me and continued to stare at me then I was seriously considering doing the job for him because the silent tension made me want to crawl into a dark hole. Keeping eye contact with people was difficult at the best of times but this was a whole new level.
"Iris isn't a Celtic name." He spoke finally, decisively, blue eyes cutting into my soul with judgement - as if he knew my every thought.
"No," I answered honestly. "It's Greek, like the goddess of rainbows."
Again, he narrowed his eyes, trying to figure me out. He didn't trust me, that much was clear, and I suppose that was the smartest move. With so many people trying to kill him and his army, why would you trust some strange prisoner that you do not know? Nevertheless, I needed to find a way to earn his trust. How exactly, I wasn't sure.
"If you're a witch," He leaned back with folded arms and a voice full of skepticism. "Prove it. Do some magic right now."
Magic? Right... Because he was trying to prove that I was lying. Of course, I was lying but I had one thing on my side that he didn't know about. One thing that might, somehow, be able to help me. I sat down calmly, my dark brown eyes never leaving his as confidence oozed from my bones. "I know about you." I answered, playing to the fatal flaw of all humans. We are all arrogant creatures deep down, and in our hearts we all desire to know what will become of us. Will we be happy? Will we be great? "I know that, one day, you will even surpass your father in fame. I know that the Gods favour you, that you will become King - and to many, even a God. I know the year of your birth and the year of your death. The Gods have already decided what will become of you."
I wasn't lying, and I think he saw that. I was telling him everything that I knew, but not because the Gods had told me. I knew because of my father's teachings. I knew because I was from the future. But how could I possibly tell him that?
Before either of us could say another word, Ubbe knocked on the door again. For once, since the first time I'd met him, Ivar wasn't looking at me like he wanted to kill me. Instead, I could see some semblance of humanity behind his façade. And that was oddly comforting.
"Ivar, we need to talk." Ubbe's voice sounded out from the doorway, pulling Ivar's gaze towards him. "The Saxons have arrived outside the city."
I looked over at Ubbe, knowing that I should make myself scarce, and stood to leave. Before I even reached the door, however, I could hear Ivar again. "I'm not done with you." He called out as I opened the door, and I once again felt like I was being assessed - like I was in imminent danger.
I gave a small nod towards them both before finally leaving and heaving a heavy sigh as the door closed behind me. It was all so much, too much, and all I wanted was to go home. I didn't want to lie to them or cause trouble, I just wanted to go back to my own time where all of this was nothing but a history lesson.
But for now, I wasn't in my own time, and I had to learn to play this game. No matter how long it takes.
