The Mistress (Vikings)

30. Blant konger

Among Kings

As I lay in the grass, I look up at the skyline. There is a storm headed our way. The clouds grumble fiercely, and I remember Ivar saying that it meant Thor was on our side. I am not sure if I believe in the Norse gods yet. My upbringing as a Christian is heavily rooted. Still, I have always felt drawn to the forbidden. Maybe that is why I am here, in the hands of the enemy, praying for them to win over my so-called countrymen; the Saxons. The damage Alfred inflicted feels too great to forget, and yet I find myself wishing to see him one more time. Perhaps love is madness, just like the nuns suggested while they whipped me. It does not matter now. The expectancy of battle hangs in the air, heart affairs should be the least of my concerns. And yet... I can not avoid holding my breath as I hear him approach. His crutches sink heavily on the ground. I know that he has come to get me ready. The weather of weapons is on the horizon.

"What are you doing out here alone?" Ivar's voice is softer than I have ever heard, it is not unpleasant, it is simply incredibly uncharacteristic of what I know of him so far. Ever since the kiss, I do not know how to act around him anymore. There is a part of me that still resents him for all the death, and there is another that only wishes to repeat what we did. One thing is clear, though, I can no longer run away from my feelings.

"I just needed some time away from everyone," I murmur, still looking at the sky, trying to cling to whatever speck of peace I can.

Ivar steps closer, but he remains standing. "You know I can not keep you safe if you run to the woods every chance you have." There is a trace of reprimand in his tone.

"Ever since you did... that," I can not say it out loud, "to the guard, people have been treating me better." It is true, now Vikings look at me with a hint of fear. Almost as if saying the wrong thing to me will condemn them.

Finally, Ivar sits next to me. I do not dare to glance his way. "Good. It is the way they should have treated you from the start." I can almost picture the smirk on his face. "You are my guest, after all."

"Guest?" Even I can notice the disappointment. Before he can comment on it, I sit and resume speaking, "First, I was your prisoner; nothing more than leverage against the Saxons. Now I am your guest? Do you kiss your guests often?" I flush at my own words. So much for not wanting to bring it up.

To my surprise, Ivar looks away. "No." He does not say anything more.

I am torn between remaining quiet and speaking my mind. Mother always used to say a lady should never refute a man's word, a lady should never say what she thinks because it does not matter. So, I decide to let Ivar know what I have been pondering.

"I am not a whore, Ivar the Boneless." The brash word has the Prince looking my way, surprised. "Men, and even women, have thought I was, but I am not. My relationship with Alfred was built with love and friendship." Even if that love was my undoing. "If what you seek in me is what that thrall gave you, then I can not give it to you." Right now, saying such a remark to a fearsome Viking is the strongest I have felt in months. I might not have control over my life, but I shall always have control over my yearning.

Ivar is staring at me with some newfound understanding. "I see why Alfred chose you to be his Queen," there is a sense of respect in his tone. "You are a wolf among sheep, Leofflaed." My name in his lips sounds like a sin, one that I would gladly commit. I do not correct his misinformation of Alfred marrying me. I am no Queen, and I shall never be one. Instead, I focus on what I need to know.

"What do you want from me, Ivar?" Before he can give me the usual response, I clarify, "and I do not mean of my connection to England, I mean what do you want from me?"