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"Well?" Ivar looked over at me, as if urging me to leave with his brothers and prove his suspicions correct.
"Well?" I responded stubbornly - a trait that Jill always found rather amusing about myself. My mother told me, when I was a girl, that I should never back down. That I should follow my gut and do what I truly believe was right. So that's what I'd do, to the bitter end.
"Are you going to tell me that I should be nicer to them now?" He rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair with the same stubbornness.
I shrugged, giving a small smile. "Perhaps a little, but who am I to judge? They're not my brothers." I walked over slowly, pulling out a stool and sitting beside him - not noticing that with every step closer my crimson cheeks darkened by another shade.
It was true, the sagas that my father had gifted me for my birthday at 13. They'd all said that he was handsome, and I could do nothing but heartily agree. Oh how Jill would be jabbing my arm now, telling me to say something to him. We'd spent so many nights reading those damn books, wondering what all these people must've been like but knowing that we'd never meet them. And yet, by some miracle, here I was.
I had no clue that he was looking over at me with similar thoughts, no clue that he noted the blush on my cheeks and smiled gently for the briefest moment. And sometimes I wondered whether it even mattered. I only planned to leave anyway, so why would it? What was all of this even worth?
"I want you to stay, permanently I mean." He spoke finally. "We'll pay you well and I'll look after you. But you can't leave."
As I looked up at him and his hypnotic blue eyes, it was like I could see my future playing out before me. I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, something that I knew he hid so often. But in this one moment, it was like there was only us in the world. Not Ubbe, not Hvitserk, not Lagertha. Not my parents, not Jill, not my time. And without a second's thought, I answered. I answered without even really meaning to. It just sort of fell out.
"I promise you Ivar," I answered, looking up at him gently. "I'll never leave you."
And my fate was sealed just like that. I internally kicked myself for speaking, for saying what I hadn't thought through or meant to say, but I couldn't help it. I saw how difficult it had been for him to trust me. And as I looked at him, I couldn't fathom telling him that I planned to run back to where I came from. The truth was, I didn't want to leave.
For a moment after I'd spoken, I saw a look of relief wash over him and I couldn't help but smile. God, what was I thinking? Promising him that I'd stay and leaving anyway was arguably much worse than simply telling him that I wanted to go. But I think that was the issue. I didn't want to go anywhere, and I felt awful because of it. At home was everyone I knew, everyone I loved. There was electricity, medicine, running water, toilets. At home there was peace, hope, a proper life for me.
And I didn't want any of it.
I wanted Ivar.
"Well," He began again, leaning back away from me. "You're a Viking then."
I smiled, giving a small shrug, "I'm terrible with an axe."
Ivar gave a short laugh, smiling as he watched my eyes brighten with happiness. "I guess I'll have to protect you then."
I nodded, chuckling in response, "I guess you will."
