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For some unknown reason, I felt oddly compelled by the Ragnarssons, and rather felt the need to aid them as subtly as I could. If I was stuck here, I might as well make a difference. After all, none of this would matter in a few hundred years after St.Brice's day massacre and then later the Norman conquest which would wipe England clean oncemore.
Though my Old Norse was still rusty, talking to these people each day truly helped me to gain a much more detailed understanding of their language. I think when my father said "the easiest way to learn a language is by submerging yourself in its culture" this was not exactly what he had in mind, however.
When I first arrived in this strange place, it was the single most terrifying experience of my life. Still in this moment, I found myself constantly on edge, but knowing that I was somewhat protected by the sons of Ragnar eased my mind ever so slightly.
In the two weeks following my last conversation with him, Ivar had slowly become the main person with whom I spent my time. I found his mind never ceased questioning and problem solving, and every piece of information I shared with him was power. He knew that far better than his brothers, and perhaps that's why he would later become so famous. Though I wasn't sure I'd yet gained his trust, I was glad to know that he valued my council. And, for now, that was all I could ask. I was well looked after, warm and fed, and I hoped that soon I could gain enough trust to be let outside the walls of York so that I may return home to my own time.
"And Ubbe?" Ivar persisted, his curiosity never dulling.
I smiled slightly, nodding. "Ubbe will be remembered for many years to come. He will be king as well, and bring great stability to his people. Some will even call him the founder of future countries, ones that don't yet exist." By future countries, I meant those of Scandinavia whose names had not yet been created. I wasn't sure of the exact timeline, but I knew that Ubbe was often credited with creating modern Sweden and its future culture and society. Nevertheless, he was often overshadowed by his younger brother, purely because of the genius that rested in Ivar's mind. He was, even by my time's standards, a first rate military mind.
"And Hvitserk?" He asked. "Should I trust him?"
I pulled a face, "You don't trust Hvitserk?" But, upon recieving only a cold glare in response I thought about all that I knew. In all honesty, I wasn't too sure what happened to the rest of the Ragnarssons following the heathen army. I'd always followed Ivar's exploits, as one does with specific historical figures whom they favour, but the others were somewhat of a mystery to me. "For now," I nodded. "I don't think he plans to betray you, I haven't been shown that."
Ivar watched me for a moment, before deciding that my response was adequate and nodding along. His gaze followed many of the men, asking me of their loyalty and notability. Upon hearing the name whitehair, I recalled the stories of one of Ivar's trusted friends in the sagas. I told him of how whitehair would help him raid new lands, Celtic lands, and I suppose he must've taken that into consideration. But, who can really tell in all honesty?
As time persisted, so did his curiosity. Though part of me wished he'd stop asking me questions, another part couldn't help but admire him for it. Again, however, I found myself having to force back my inner history student as I recalled that he was a real person sitting beside me, and not a book that I was reading.
"And what about you?" He asked, folding his arms over his chest as his ocean eyes focused in on me. "Should I trust you?"
I looked back at him, certain to never break eye contact so that he knew I had nothing to hide. "I have no reason to betray you." I answered. "I owe my life to you and your brothers, and I will help as much as I can. Even if I do wish to return home."
"To your family?" He concluded, making me sigh and shake my head.
To my family. But in my web of elaborate lies, I knew that this character of mine had no family left. And so I must play that role. "I have no family."
"Then you will stay with us." He decided, finally. Stay? With them? Had I not already proven myself loyal? Had I not told them all I could? What was his reason now? What more could he possibly want from me? "You escaped the Saxons once but next time you might not be so lucky." He shrugged. "And if anyone is going to kill you then it will be us, not them."
For some reason, I knew that his words should've filled me with rage - the fact I couldn't see my family for lord knows how much longer, if ever again at all - but it didn't. His words were oddly comforting, and in a strange way made me feel secure. Perhaps it wasn't gently phrased, perhaps it wasn't kind like Ubbe and Hvitserk had been with me, but it was something. It was a step in the right direction, at very least.
I gave a small chuckle, shrugging, "I can protect myself."
At this the usually bitter and angry Prince cracked a small smile. A genuine smile. Something real and human. "I know." He answered, forcing back his smile. "But I-" He paused, as though thinking how he should rephrase his words. "You're safer here."
At this, I gave a small smile in return. A genuine smile. Real, for the first time since I'd arrived here in this godforsaken place. "I know."
Sorry for the slow update, I just started Sixth Form a couple days ago and it's been a bit hectic!
