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I was happy to sleep that night, and to have my ankle properly seen to. And when I awoke, I was happy to change into fresh clean clothes. History had always recorded the Vikings as savages, but since I'd arrived I'd been treated with nothing but respect by them. Compared to the dark dank cell that I'd once been locked in, the warm cottage that I'd been left in was a vast improvement. Of course it wasn't home in the 1960s, it was a thousand years less advanced and less comfortable, but after everything that had happened I could've slept on a stone floor and been happy.
After two days without my hair straighteners, my hair had returned to its naturally curled texture and bounced like spirals of fire as I walk. Of course, this seemed to confuse those around me as they'd seen me with straight hair only hours before. To the Ragnarssons it was magic. To me, it was just infuriating to brush.
My small frame was wrapped warmly in a cloak that Hvitserk had kindly given me the night before as I shivered during our walk to find me suitable accommodation. It was a little big for me but I was thankful for it nevertheless.
As I walked outside, I noticed the sun shining oncemore. The birds sang as though nothing had changed. But everything had changed. Two days ago, I was walking down these very streets with my mother and father in the year 1965. Now here I was. A fake Celt walking around in a Ragnarsson's cloak. It was something I could've never fathomed, not even in a strange dream. Lord, dad was going to have such a heart attack when he heard about this.
Dad. Dad who was still in 1965. Dad who was probably holding my mother as she wept over my disappearance. Dad who was a thousand years away from me.
Dad who I might never see again.
"Iris?" Hvitserk startled me from my thoughts.
I turned, wiping a tear from my cheek as I did so and hoping he wouldn't notice. "Morning." I smiled calmly, hoping my eyes weren't too red.
He wasn't at all fooled with this act however, sending me a sympathetic look. "We lost our parents too." He answered my silence. Of course they had. They were here to avenge Ragnar and their mother had been murdered. However, I couldn't exactly say any of that without sounding like a stalker or a spy. "It's okay to be upset."
I smiled, wiping another stray tear away. "Ragnar was a great man." I nodded with a heavy breath. "My father really admired him. Neither deserved to die as they did." Hvitserk nodded and I took the moments silence to regain my composure. "Anyway, I wondered if I'd be able to leave soon... You know, and go back to Cymru."
His laugh was enough to make all my hopes of returning to the stone and finally back to my parents shatter in an instant. Quickly realising that I wasn't joking, however, he grew rather solemn. "I don't think my brother's are going to let you go anywhere anytime soon. Having someone with your gifts is quite rare... An advantage against the Saxons. Ivar's not going to just let you go home."
I tried with all my might to remain strong and composed, to keep myself calm and collected and to just nod. But how could I? All because of my stupid mouth, I was trapped here. How was I supposed to get home now?
Hvitserk seemed to understand my emotions rather well already, and in some ways it was quite comforting to know that at least there was someone here who wasn't trying to kill me or use me for whatever magic they thought I possessed. "You're not alone," He assured me. "And I'm sure Ivar will let you leave once we've taken York."
I nodded again, a grateful smile as I looked back at him shyly. Having a friend here, in this terrifying place, was a rather soothing prospect.
Before either of us could say anymore, however, an older man with white hair and a large scar approached us. He and Hvitserk seemed familiar, so I stepped back a little so as not to encroach.
"Ivar wants to see you." He spoke gruffly, with the demeanor of a man that spent his life serving Kings without ever feeling a sense of leadership himself. "And the witch."
Hvitserk nodded at the man, a gesture which seemed quite common among these people, and looked back at me before making his way towards the old stone church. I followed, of course, not really sure what else I should do. What could I do? Like he'd said, I was stuck here until York was taken. So, until then, I had to make sure that I was valuable enough not to die.
"So, if they keep attacking our hunters then we won't have any food!" I heard Ubbe yell before I even entered. They were arguing, that much was evident. By the reaction that Hvitserk gave, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence.
As we entered, the two brothers looked over to us - Ubbe at Hvitserk, and Ivar at me. Every time I looked at him, I couldn't help but want to look away. The intensity in his glare was more than enough to make me uncomfortable. However, I had to continue my show of strength. I had to be just as powerful as him. Earth and water clashed as we both stared at each other, both refusing to step down from the glaring match.
"Do you not agree, Ivar?" Ubbe pulled us both from our thoughts of eachother. They'd clearly been talking while the two of us had been squaring eachother up and neither of us had heard it.
"Yes, whatever, Ubbe." Ivar dismissed without care, as though his big brother's opinions and thoughts didn't really matter. As Ubbe looked between us, he took note of the situation and tapped Hvitserk on the arm. The pair left.
And I remained alone in a room with Ivar The Boneless. A sentence I never thought I'd say.
