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It was late morning now and the sun was hidden behind dark grey clouds. I'd spent days at Ivar's side by now, listening to his plans as he asked for my opinion. It was a strange feeling, in all honesty, knowing who he was and that he still wanted to hear my opinion on things. No matter how excited I was by each day, how fascinated I was by these people and their customs, I couldn't help but long for home though.
Hvitserk had spent many evenings talking to me as I felt rather lonely after dark, and that I appreciated greatly. Ubbe and I would usually spend the mornings together. It seemed, I was never truly at a loss for company, except in the long nights as I sat awake in darkness.
"I'd choose Edward IV over Richard III any day!" My best friend, Jill, protested loudly from the back of our history class. We sat laughing as our teacher glared at us again.
"No way!" I responded sharply. "Richard was for sure the brains!"
"But Edward was the charming one." She smiled, green eyes glistening. "Richard was just the angry little brother."
"Well I'd take the angry little brother any day!" I laughed, knowing it was an utterly ridiculous debate. It wasn't like either of us would ever have a shot with one of these centuries old kings. Still, we liked to discuss such topics.
I missed such juvenile conversations now, such stupid and meaningless words. I missed Jill and her awful taste in men, her sharp laugh as she threw balls of paper at me from across the classroom. I missed everything. I missed waking up each morning to see my stupid classmates, a ritual that was once the main annoyance of my life. Other than that, I'd never really known this kind of anguish. This kind of solitude. This kind of pain.
And no matter how kind the sons of Ragnar were, when the cold night air shook my bones, I was reminded of how alone I was in this world. No family. No friends. I was the odd one out, the outlier. I was trapped in this solitude with no escape.
As I pulled my cloak over my head and stepped outside, I almost crashed straight into the figure standing at my door, ready to knock. Hvitserk steadied me, laughing at my startled expression, and as soon as I realised that it was him I gave a small sigh of relief.
"Gosh Hvitserk, you scared me half to death!" I exasperated tiredly, chuckling slightly.
He gave a small nod, acknowledging just that. "I came to see if you'd seen Ivar."
"I'm just on my way to meet him." I answered nodding, gesturing for him to follow along as I walked towards my destination. For a moment, we were in silence - the comfortable kind that one can have with those that they are close to. But the silence didn't last. It never does.
"You two have been spending a lot of time together recently." He spoke up from one step behind me, watching to see how I would respond.
Naturally oblivious to any and all insinuations, I gave a small nod. "I suppose so." Was my only response.
As we continued walking, there was some smalltalk but nothing serious or engaging. I wasn't sure what was off with him, perhaps it was Ivar, but as Ubbe approached I became very aware of their situation. While I'd been spending every day with their little brother, they certainly hadn't.
The two seemed exasperated with their little brother's antics. With that, I understood completely. Although I myself was on fine terms with Ivar, it didn't at all surprise me that he was being a pain in the arse with his brothers.
As we approached the door, me behind Ubbe and Hvitserk so that I was now barely visible as they stood in front, I watched from over Ubbe's shoulder as Whitehair stood in the way. As the three of them began to dispute the logic of the large man guarding Ivar from his two big brother's when the only one of them that had ever killed a brother was Ivar, I began tapping on Ubbe's shoulder so that he would let me in front. As he turned around, I gave him a small smile and stepped forward.
In the days prior to this, I'd noticed that Whitehair had not really taken any breaks while guarding Ivar and I couldn't help but feel rather sorry for the man. He knew me well now, and knew that I was the one who'd spoken so highly of him to Ivar in the first place, and so we remained on rather good terms.
"I brought you some bread, Whitehair." I spoke calmly, passing him the loaf with a bright smile. "Ivar knows we're coming, don't worry."
And, with a small nod and no blood spilled, I walked inside - the two Ragnarssons trailing close behind me with wide eyes. It was a gift my parents had noticed that I possessed from a very young age, persuasion through kindness. One didn't need, in most situations, to yell and raise a sword. You only needed to be calm, collected, and to speak to your opponent with decency.
When we entered, and a man was stood behind Ivar tattooing him, I instantly felt the need to look down at the floor - as though I was in the wrong place. A bright blush covered my cheeks, and I became very aware that Hvitserk was still looking at me. Still, I didn't look up, eyes trained on the floor, as the two of them began to argue with their little brother over the need for armed guards at his door.
I shifted nervously, wondering whether I should go or not - their dispute seemed rather personal. I shared my glance with the man tattooing Ivar briefly, but he himself was quickly dismissed.
"Iris could you give us a moment?" Ubbe asked calmly, making me nod with a sigh of relief. I'd never been much good in these kinds of situations.
But my breath caught when Ivar's stubborn voice sounded out again. "She's staying here." He dictated, glaring at his older brother, as though telling him not to question his authority.
I stood in the corner, not sure if I should stay or leave. On one hand, I didn't wish to cause anymore problems between the brothers than there already were, but on the other I didn't want to step out of line and end up ruining all I'd done to earn Ivar's trust. So I just stood in the corner as their argument continued, holding my arm and looking outside.
As Ivar explained the fact that him being crippled meant that he had to do better than his brothers, and Ubbe retorted that he didn't need to prove himself to them, I contemplated my own brief problems. I suppose it is selfish of me to think about myself while they argued, but I didn't particularly want to listen into their family dispute.
When Ubbe and Hvitserk walked past me, the two of them both sent me pleading looks, as if asking me to leave with them. As if asking me to choose their side. But as soon as they did, I looked back at Ivar - who was watching, almost waiting for me to follow them - and then back at the ground as I stayed put. It was a decision that I was certain I'd come to regret at the time, but a decision that I don't think I, myself, made. If there was something divine, some purpose to all of our lives, then every day I became more and more certain that mine was here with Ivar.
Why else would I have been hurtled back a thousand years in time?
