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I looked up at Ivar, my heart catching in my chest as I contemplated what to say. What had happened? More than I could fathom. More than I could say then and there.
"I-" I began, my words stopping half way up my throat. "I- I'd barely left, I swear." I whispered, tears filling my eyes oncemore. "But he- he was there and he grabbed me and-"
"A Saxon?" Hvitserk asked, earning a nod from me before I continued.
"I didn't fight him hard enough." I spoke into a middle distance, unable to loo at either of them as I admitted what had happened. "Why the hell didn't I fight him?"
As the situation dawned on the pair, I didn't notice Ivar subtly telling Hvitserk to leave. Immediately. I didn't notice him move closer, or the pang of guilt that leapt from his heart to his eyes.
"And he's dead?" Ivar questioned, biting back the rage in his voice. I could only nod, looking down at my bloody hands. "Good." He answered calmly, taking my hands in his and so removing them from my sight. As I looked over at him, I could see so many different emotions behind his eyes. Everything all at once. It was as if seeing me here, like this, had sparked something. But I couldn't quite place what. "I'm sorry." My brows furrowed in response, not understanding why he of all people was apologizing to me. He'd not done anything, he'd not hurt me. Actually, he'd never hurt me. Not once. "I should've been there to protect you." He answered my blank expression.
Slowly I shook my head. "You were the one that taught me how to use that knife." I answered, glancing over at the bloody dagger that lay flat upon the table. "And it saved my life."
"Still." He returned, still holding onto my hand. "I'm not letting you go again."
As he said those words, something within me paused. For a moment, the whole world stopped, and all I could think about was what I'd say next. "Ivar I-" I began, quickly stopping myself before I said too much. There was so much that I wanted to say, so much I had in my mind that simply wouldn't budge. "Thank you."
Slowly he sat back, and let go of my hand, his jaw clenching as he looked over at my bloodied face. I reached up, wiping away the blood that was still gradually dripping from my nose.
"Ubbe wants to make peace with the Saxons." He stated simply, but I knew what was coming next. If there was even a single second's doubt about his ongoing war with the Christians - which I doubt there ever was - it was certainly gone now. Perhaps his hate was simply cemented. "I'll kill them all." He caught my attention, though I felt he was more talking to himself at this point. When he looked back at me, I wasn't sure what to say. "I promise."
Kill all Saxons? But most of them weren't like this. Alfred The Great would shortly become King, changing England forever for example. But how could I say that now? After everything, peace had slipped through my fingers like grains of sand. Peace was something I couldn't do anymore. He was right.
I wanted revenge.
No matter how much I hated to admit it, I wanted revenge.
