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In the days that followed, Ivar was distant. She'd seen so much change in him before they left Wessex, and now it was like nothing had ever happened. No, it was worse than that. It was as if she never even existed.
"Don't think about it too much." Ubbe spoke sympathetically as they rode North. "My little brother is impulsive, he does things without thinking. By the time that big brain of his catches up, he's already hurt someone."
"I can't just pretend that nothing happened." She protested. "I thought-"
"I know." He answered, praying to app the Gods that she didn't say what she felt for Ivar. All their lives, the brothers had wondered whether he was even capable of love. He knew that Alvina would only end up miserable if she went down that road. "Just be patient."
And so she was. Patience is, after all, a virtue. As the group of bloodthirsty heathens marched across England, Alvina looked out across her home with a mournful look. These were people, those that she ought to be protecting, and yet she watched as they ran from their homes and assisted in the capture of yet another settlement. What had the people of York ever done? Nothing. Her quarrel was with those that had lied to her and aided in the murder of her mother, not the innocents that were once under her mother's rule.
After a few days of riding, and an overall lack of sleep, they finally arrived on the hills outside York. They'd set up for the night, out of sight from the people of York, and Alvina was most grateful for the rest.
As the sun set, she refused to eat or sleep. She couldn't. Of course she was tired and hungry, but how could she? Her mind buzzed with guilt, her soul screaming at her. No matter how welcome the Northmen had made her, she knew that her presence was wrong. And deep down she would always be that sweet Christian girl that she hoped had died with the capture of Wessex.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen." She repeated on loop, clutching the small crucifix that hung around her neck. Her eyes were closed so that she may concentrate on her prayers, a singular tear slipping down her cheek as she spoke her words over and over again. Finally, she opened her eyes and turned them towards the vast darkness of the sky. The moon was clouded, giving a haze of misty light that seemed almost drowned out in all of the intense darkness. "Forgive me father for I have sinned." She began. "I have no priest so that I may confess, but I have you as my light even in such shadowed times. I know that my actions have been wrong, that my being here goes against all that is right, and yet I rather enjoy the company of these devils. Why do you test me, Lord? Why did you send the devil to me? And why do I miss him? Give me a sign father. Please. I don't know what to do."
"You could start by not talking to yourself." Ivar's voice made her jump up in utter shock, as she turned to face him with wide eyes. Of course, this made him smile wickedly up at her, enjoying the flash of terror that shot through her icy eyes.
"It's called praying." She answered, slumping back down with a frown.
"Do you really think I'm the devil?" He spoke up again as soon as silence fell, an amused expression adorning his features.
Alvina's face fell as she wondered how much of what she'd said he'd heard. "You're the one who's temped me away from my God, are you not?" She shrugged, trying to maintain her composure.
"And you missed me?" He grinned, enjoying the blush that covered her.
She glared at him, heaving a heavy sigh, "What do you want, Ivar?"
"Fame and glory in the eyes of the Gods." He shrugged, still taking none of this seriously.
Of course, Alvina rose with anger, shaking her head and sighing once more. "You haven't spoken to me in days and now you act as though nothing happened."
He didn't answer, for once he had nothing to say.
"Well?" She rose her voice, looking to him in a mix of anger and anguish.
Still nothing. He just avoided her gaze, his smirk gone, and those big blue eyes focused on the ground awkwardly.
"Nevermind." She exasperated, storming away and back towards the camp.
Was this her future? And if so, how long would it last? How long until Ivar got bored? How long until she was just another Christian that he could sacrifice to his gods?
