The Mistress (Vikings)

25. Dronning av Wessex

Queen of Wessex

After seeing the new side of Prince Ivar, I tried to stay away from him as much as I could without causing his displeasure. It is true that I have always known Vikings are violent people, but I had never expected to witness something like that day. Murdering a stranger is one thing, but killing your own brother is nearly unforgivable. And Prince Ivar did it without breaking a sweat. I look back on the young boy I met when I was fifteen. I remember his quiet but deadly demeanor, his sharp blue eyes, and the distasteful grimace that he would direct at everyone. However, my memories clash as I also recall his tender hands, curious eyes, and clever smile. How come, by combining all of those things, you can have a kinslayer? The weird mixture of emotions that I feel toward the Prince pull me in different directions. Am I supposed to hate him, pity him, or be even more attracted to the danger? I am not sure, but while I fight my confusion, the best thing I can do is avoid him. Luckily, for me, there is no reason to be in his presence while we remain in Wessex. We have taken home in the King's Villa while the heathen army decides on their next move. Now that the revenge is finished, the brothers have different plans in mind.

Bjorn Ironside wants to seek adventures in the Mediterranean, Ubbe Ragnarsson thinks it is better to settle down and plow the land, Ivar wants to continue his conquest of England, and Hvirserk seems to be waiting for the better offer to drop. Independent of the fractures within the group, my future is in the hands of their decision, and I fear Prince Ivar has the last word. Bjorn has claimed his desire to send me back to Alfred, and Ivar says to use me to take over the kingdom. Neither option sounds promising. Ever since realizing that my love for Alfred was worthless, I have been wandering aimlessly in life, and now it is no different.

It has been a day since Sigurd's death, and they are hosting a Viking funeral for him in the forest. Egadyd and I were not permitted to attend because we are not Viking. We were ordered to remain in our assigned house unless told otherwise. As always, there is a guard posted outside our door for protection -and in case of escapes-. They had been out all morning, so people should start arriving any time now.

"Leofflaed," Egadyd calls me while I continue to stare out the window.

"Yes?" I do not turn around to respond.

She sighs heavily, "what are you doing, Leofflaed?" Her tone tells me she is not referring to my physical actions, so I turn around to look at her. There is something akin to disappointment in her eyes. "Are you waiting for him, sister?" I am not stupid, I know what she is talking about, but acknowledging it means it is real. I refuse to do so.

"I am merely looking at the sky... it appears as if it is about to rain." I do not fool her, but she does not question me anymore, instead, she goes back to cradling her belly with gentle hands. At least without the Duke's presence, Egadyd has learned how to breathe in freedom from the oppression of a demanding husband. It almost looks like she wants to have the kid now.

With one last glance at my sister, I turn back to the window. The mixture of emotions that I feel towards Prince Ivar isn't only about the murder of his brother. I should feel completely repulsed by him and his actions, and yet I feel a lot more than that. His presence terrifies me to no end, but he also inflicts a desire for the forbidden. Ivar The Boneless, as I have learned they call him, is a monster that has no qualms about taking a life, though he is also what keeps my imprisonment interesting. Vikings are fascinating people, but Prince Ivar is even more so. How can he kill his brother without blinking, but at the same time possess hunted eyes by his actions? Because I saw it, I noticed the shock in his eyes after he murdered Prince Sigurd. He was not expecting to do it, he did not want to do it. Why else would he look that desperate after Sigurd's body hit the ground? He is indeed a fascinating man. The promise of knowing more about him is almost enough to distract me from my heartbreak. Almost. Alfred's memory is still too fresh in my mind. As such, I am in between running away from Prince Ivar, or running toward him. These feelings mixed with my past bring no good to my head. Perhaps it is the pregnancy's hormones, oh, I wish.