"Iris, I don't think that's a good idea." Hvitserk spoke from beside me, but his voice was a drowned out sound that could barely be heard from behind the loud fuzz of my thoughts. My gaze was focused solely on my husband, and his was fixed on me - both of us refusing to break eye contact.
He understood. I know he understood. I knew that if anyone in this shitty world knew how it felt to fiercely want revenge, Ivar did. And he watched me carefully, trying to figure me out, trying to see into my mind as if he could hear my thoughts by simply staring at me for long enough.
"You'll be alright?" He stated more as a question, trying to make sure that I wasn't going to fall apart as soon as I came into contact with the woman that I once called a friend.
"What is she going to do?" I answered flatly. "Stab me?"
The brothers, of course, didn't exactly find the humour in this. They were worried about me, I knew that, but I wasn't some fragile little girl. I wasn't afraid of some cowardly woman that stabbed her friends in the back and killed babies. I wasn't afraid of everyone. And, after all the shit I'd been through, the hate and anger that began to bubble in my chest reminded me of who I was.
Lilies are one of the most beautiful flowers, but they grow amongst the harshest thorns. I was no Lilly, but that's not to say that Irises don't have thorns of their own.
"You're not going alone." Ivar retorted.
"And I'm not going with you." I narrowed my eyes at him, gesturing to the rest of the room. "You have to stay with your people for at least one night, my king. Besides, you and I both know you'll be just as angry as me when we see her." He sent me a look that told me he was not at all happy with the idea of me going to see Frida alone. I knew he wanted nothing more than to execute the woman that had murdered our child and almost taken me from him as well. But I needed to see her before he did. For my own closure, I had to see her.
"Take someone with you at least." He pleaded, a tenderness in his voice that was reserved solely for me.
Both Harald and Hvitserk stood, Whitehair lingering close by us. I was grateful for all of them, the family I'd created here in this distant world. I knew I was lucky, very lucky indeed, to be so cared about by such people. People I'd spent my life reading about in dusty old books. If nothing else, that alone was enough to make me feel valuable - even if a part of me knew that my great tale was nearing its grand finale now that I couldn't fulfil the stories. Stories of Ivar's children.
"King Harald, you should be celebrating your victory with my husband." I told the other King gently, sending him a small smile of appreciation. Both of us missed Astrid, and since she'd been gone he'd been a true friend to me. He'd come to visit me as I lay in my death bed, making sure I was still alive and kicking and urging me to keep fighting. Even though I knew that their victory now made Harald and Ivar enemies, both searching for opposing things now the war was won, a part of me was glad that he remained here with us.
I turned to Hvitserk, a small smile. There was no excuse that I could think of for leaving him behind. And, if anyone was going to be there by my side, I was glad it was him. After all, he'd been there for everything else. Every step of the way.
I gave Ivar a short kiss, feeling him slowly reach up to cup my face in his hand. As we both parted, his touch lingered as he contemplated simply not letting me go. He wanted to protect me, I knew that, but I had to face her. Just to ease my own mind, I had to. And he knew that. So, slowly but surely, he let me go.
"Protect her with your life." I glared daggers at his older brother, who now had taken my arm in his as I tried my best not to limo out of the Great Hall. I was still in pain from my injuries, and walking wasn't the easiest, but I did all that I could do to appear as graceful as ever. I didn't want their pity. I didn't want to be the poor queen that everyone feels sorry for. I wanted to be a queen to match my husband - strong, fierce, steadfast. And I'd not let them see me weak.
Hvitserk and I left, departing into the dark shadows of night, and as the volume of crowds died down into the distance I felt myself release a loud breath from the constrictions of my tight chest. She was there, Frida - the woman who killed my child and left me permanently damaged. Permanently unable to give Ivar the one thing he wanted more that anything in this world.
"Are you going to be alright?" Hvitserk whispered as we stopped outside the old wooden doors that led to the woman that I'd dreamt of every night for months. The woman that tore my world apart. The woman that I'd once considered my closest friend.
I glanced back at him, my stoic expression never faltering and my chin lifted high. "I always am." I answered coldly, strolling inside ahead of him. It was true. Everything I'd ever faced, I'd survived. I'd always been good at locking away my feelings and just carrying on - no matter how hard things became. Why should this be any different? I'd been broken by her, that was true. She'd done what everything previously in my life had failed to do - she had shattered me. But I had a choice. I could remain shattered forever, never moving on from this tragedy, or I could pick up the pieces and rebuild myself. And I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me broken.
"My queen." The two men guarding her bowed their heads respectfully, watching as I slowly approached the disheveled woman. There was something in their eyes, something I'd noticed in the eyes of everyone that I'd passed today, a strange mix of empathy and admiration as they watched me. Perhaps because they knew all that had happened to me, and knew that I'd never let it stop me. Or perhaps because they simply shared my agony - a child of the great Ivar The Boneless murdered, and for what? What did it achieve? Ivar still won. It was needless.
"My queen." Frida echoed the greeting from the floor, her arms outstretched above her head - chained to the wall. She'd been severely beaten, but I could make out her every feature in the dim candlelight. She was smirking. Smirking right at me.
"Frida." I folded my arms in return. "Enjoying your dungeon?"
"Very much so." She answered. "I enjoy everything knowing that I succeeded."
"Succeeded in what exactly? Killing a baby? Well done." I scoffed, voice laced with sarcasm. "Congratulations, what an achievement. You're officially a cowardly baby killer. You must be so proud."
"Oh I am." She grinned back, pearly teeth glimmering in the flickering light as she stared up at me. "Because I heard a rumour." Her laughter made me twitch with rage, an unfathomable rage that I'd never before felt. A rage that burned like the fires of hell within my soul. A rage that would never go away. "Rumour has it, you can't have anymore children."
My jaw clenched, hands tightening into balls at my side as I stared back at her with a fury that she'd mistook for annoyance. This wasn't annoyance. This was much much more dangerous. This was grief and hate and pure unbridled rage.
"Mmm you seem upset." She beamed, inching closer. "It's too bad."
"It doesn't matter what you heard." I spat back finally, brown eyes flickering with death. "Ivar won. You lost. He is king no matter what you did. Your little plan failed."
"Oh did it?" She responded quickly, amusement lacing her voice. "And do tell me, dear sweet Iris, what good is a King without an heir?" I stopped in my tracks, face pale as I stared back at her in the darkness. Again, her face cracked into a bright beaming smile as she watched my calmness fall away like a crumbling old castle. "That's what I thought. No heir, no great dynasty. So, if you think about it, you and your husband still lose. Because the two of you won't ever have a child. Not from your barren womb."
"Well it doesn't need to come from my 'barren womb', now does it, Frida?" I spat back quickly, feeling the heat rising within me. I could see Hvitserk shifting his stance out of the corner of my eye - he wanted me to leave, I knew it. But I wasn't going to. Not yet. Not like this. I wasn't letting her get the better of me. Not again. Never again. "As long as it's Ivar's child, it doesn't really matter where it comes from?"
"Ah, brave little girl, willing to give up the man she loves to someone else all for the greater good. But would your husband give you up? Do you think he would turn his back on you, my queen?"
I froze once more, staring back at her blankly as a sly smirk twitched up the corner of her lip. Would Ivar give me up? Would he go to someone else to father a child, an heir? In my mind I'd just assumed that he would have to, I'd not even thought of Ivar and his plans. And, as I stood face to face with her, I realised that she was right.
Ivar wasn't going to turn his back on me for a child. Even if he wanted one more than anything, he wasn't his father. He was loyal. It was something that I'd always loved so much about him, but what was that going to cost him? Everything? Was I going to change the course of the future, erase his descendants from history?
All for me? I knew it was likely a sacrifice that Ivar would be more than willing to make. But would I be willing to let him? Was I really going to let that happen just to spare my own feelings?
"You hadn't thought about that?" She smiled, leaning closer to me again. "Well I'm so glad your sacrifice was worth it, Iris. A dead baby and a barren womb and yet you still lose."
For some reason, this was the straw that broke the camel's back. Without even thinking about my actions, my fist had collided with the older woman's bitter face. Before she could get in another snide word, I'd jumped on top of her. Again and again my fist pounded into her skull, blood splattering my face and the walls. I could hear her gurgling for air, just as I'd done when she'd left me for dead on the docks. The guards watched us in shock, not sure what to do or whether they could or should even stop me. Hvitserk was trying to plead with me, calling out my name and telling me to stop. But I couldn't. Something had taken a hold of me and it just wouldn't let go.
I felt Frida's skull crunch beneath the heavy pummeling of my fist, the bones smashing away, the skin deflating, her brains mixing with the crimson colour of her own blood on my knuckles. But I just kept going, kept hammering her face into the ground until nothing was left of her head, until all I was punching was the floor below.
I let out a loud scream, my tears falling down my cheeks as I slowly murdered the woman that I'd once fought so hard to protect. And finally, there was nothing left.
The dark room was silent. All that could be heard was the distant chatter from within the hall, the music playing loudly into the night. Hvitserk stood by the guards, staring at me in utter silence, while I stared down at the bloody mess that remained on the floor.
A feeling of relief washed over my body as I heaved out a sigh, slowly standing and dusting off my skirt. Still, the men stared at me - mouths slightly agape. It came to my attention that no one bar Frida had actually ever seen me kill someone before. And I'd never killed an unarmed person, or for any reason other than self defense. This was different.
Everyone was right. Something in me had snapped as I fought for my life in the sewers of York. Something in me had snapped when I'd been chained up and persecuted. Something in my had snapped when I'd been raped and all I could do was weep and lie still in fear. Something in me had snapped when my best friend had died. Something in me had snapped when I had to leave everyone I knew and loved behind. Something in me had snapped when I'd lost my child.
But none of it had anything on what I felt in that moment. Because as Frida's headless body lay lifeless on the brain covered floor, I felt like an entirely new woman.
I wasn't the same Iris anymore. I never would be again.
I stared her down - or at least what was left of her. "I win." I spat back in response, before finally storming outside without ever looking back.
Oooo shit has gone down 👀
I'm back! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter :)
-Rhi