"I kissed her. She kissed right back. How perfect was the world then."
chapter VI, act III ✧ 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔
To say Ivar was completely fucked with his brothers was a misunderstanding. As each one of them lowered themselves to place a significant object into Sigurd's soon to be pyre, they stared at the murderer, their eyes filled with disbelief and anger.
Nero stood by Björn. She had pledged alliance to him and she wasn't there to support him after the death of his brother. She would be now.
Silent tears fell down Ivar's face and her heart clenched at the sight. Nero had bottled up all her emotions, all of them, she had not wept for Helga, she would not weep for Sigurd, not when the Ragnarssons needed her to be strong.
She had woken up to an empty bed the next morning. Ivar wasn't known for showing himself weak to others, so she knew it would take some time before he would come back to her, with his mind more at ease. It would be best for both, she needed time to process the events of the previous night. She knew he believed Sigurd's words, she knew that was what hurt him most.
The thought that his mom and she were the only ones who would ever appreciate him consumed the boy, enraged him to his core. The wolf barely noticed time passing as she found her hands clutching a mug of mead, sitting in a dark cabin.
"I know what you're all thinking," Ivar began and Nero sighed, allowing her head to fall on one of her hands. She sat next to Harald. The man was bringing her some sort of comfort as he was the only one who didn't act as if she was bound to break at any point. She had faint memories of Ivar whispering sweet nothings to her as he re-patched her wound, so in all truth, it was more than healing well, "but it is not true! I didn't mean to kill him."
The boy had cared for her through the night, but her sleepiness made her fail to remember their interactions. All she fully remembered was his wish to not disappoint her, and her holding him as he cried.
Harald slightly tapped Nero's shoulder causing her to raise her head from her hands, "Yes?" she questioned her voice low, not wishing to interfere in the parallel conversation that went on in front of the two. His gaze flickered to Ivar, signaling to him and she knew what the king wanted to know, "I believe him. They were brothers, yes, but what would you have done at the face of public humiliation?"
The king sighed, agreeing. Björn stormed in and immediately scoffed at his brother's excuses. He looked down at Nero who had stopped listening to the whole thing, the girl had been incredibly airy for the day, basking in her own pain and thinking of her life, of her death. Maybe Sigurd was right, maybe she would soon die.
She noticed the oldest Ragnarsson pacing back and forth angrily, and then her eyes trailed to Ivar, who was barking something at Ubbe. She grabbed onto Björn's wrist, knowing his uneasiness would only make an already bad situation even worse, "Stop."
Ivar crawled out of the cabin, knowing nobody believed his words. Nero groaned in annoyance, she didn't know what to do. How to help. Ubbe got to his feet just as Nero did as well. The boy placed his cup on the table and looked at Björn, his eyes filled with concern, "You cannot leave him in charge of the Great Army."
"That is your affair, Ubbe," the prince mocked, and Nero sat by Hvitserk, but she still refused to look at him, she realized she had loved him dearly as a friend, and that such love was enlaced with a bit of lust for each other, but that did not make whatever they felt to be romantic love, "you're his big brother. You take charge. I told you, this is none of my concern. I plan to return to the Mediterranean"
Nero's eyes widened, thinking he would ask her on about her promise of going back with him. She couldn't, she couldn't leave the sons of Aslaug alone, not now, and by the desperate look on Ubbe's face, he knew that too. Nero was the only one who still managed to not be scared around Ivar, and if she left with Björn, there would be no one to handle him.
"With Halfdan."
"Will you return first to Kattegat?" with the simple words that left Harald's mouth, his intention became clear to everyone. He was still Hel-bent on being King of Norway, his ambition thrilled Nero to no end.
"I have no intention of doing that. My fate is too urgent."
"Then I will go there. And I will tell Lagertha about the avenging of your father's death and the defeat of the Saxons. And the great gift of land to our people," he continued, his gaze latched on the wolf as he almost asked for her to follow him to Kattegat, her eyes glazed over in thought for a moment, considering her fate and her future, maybe she would follow him. But the thought of hurting someone dear to Ragnar cursed her mind and she shook her head to herself slightly.
They kept on talking for a while, but Nero was only brought out of her thoughts when Halfdan, Harald, and Björn left, shutting the door. Her eyes finally skimmed over Hvitserk and Ubbe, seeing right through their masks and knowing they were in pain, "How are the two of you dealing with it?"
Hvitserk allowed himself to stare back at the girl, loving the fact that for the first time in a while, her eyes were looking back at him. Across his expression settled a sad smile, ensuring that even though he wasn't okay, he would be soon.
"I am scared, Nero." Ubbe admitted and her eyebrows furrowed at the fact that that strong man confessed something like such, but she nodded her head in understanding. They knew there would soon be civil war. More losses then they could ever handle. His blue eyes gazed at her, noticing how she took tiny sips from her mead, not wishing to damage her already wounded body, "How are you?"
"I am handling as fine as I can," she sighed, allowing her facade to drop even if just for a mere second. Her tiredness got the best of her as her face hit the table, muffling her words. The girl had only managed to sleep well once Ivar was in her arms, "but you two know of what is to come."
"What do you mean?" Hvitserk's deep voice sounded like music to her ears, she smiled against the wood. Her mind more out of it than usual. The two boys changed looks between each other, understanding that she was incredibly smart.
"Ivar will conquer the Great Army, all by himself." she mumbled, bringing her face off the table and resting her chin on it, so she could look at Ubbe who sat across from her, "And once he does, there will be Hel to pay for all of those who did him wrong."
"Do you mean Lagertha?"
"Who knows who else has done the cripple any harm. The boy barely knows any love. He might as well declare war on the entire world."
"And where do you think you're going to sail it to?" Ivar questioned, his eyes not for once leaving the boatbuilder as the man simply continued with his work. Floki was building a one-man boat, and in truth, Ivar was the only one to know of it.
He wasn't entirely sure he would have the heart to tell Nero about his departure, but he couldn't stay, and he knew that with time the wolf would come to understand, even if it hurt her for the moment.
"To where the gods decide."
"I don't want you to go. I still need you in the fight against the Christians," his voice was becoming rough with angst, with the idea that this time, he wouldn't get what he wanted, he wouldn't get Floki to stay. His eyes widened and his composure became more and more aggressive as he was reminded of his wolf always feared people would leave her, she wouldn't be able to handle it if her father left, " my brothers are too soft and you know that, Floki."
"Nero will fight by you."
"She—My brothers... they don't believe that I didn't mean to kill Sigurd," Ivar cleared his throat, begging himself to not cry, yet failing to compromise. He needed Floki to stay, both for him and for her, "but I didn't want to. He was my brother. That is why you cannot leave."
Floki looked at the boy, but his mind was made, he would leave, he had to leave. The prince broke down, tears falling down his cheeks. Ivar was almost angry at himself for crying once again, but he couldn't help it, and deep down, he enjoyed it, it was the closest to feeling human he could get. Floki grabbed the boy's face in his hands, looking down at him with a soft smile.
"I will be too lonely."
"Oh, you stupid bastard," the boatbuilder smiled, giving the boy's face playful slaps, "you won't ever be lonely. Nero will always be with you. No matter what you do. No matter what you have done. I have to leave, Ivar."
"How can you be so sure?" he broke out, in between sobs. He couldn't believe the girl had held him after what he had done, he couldn't believe she had stuck by him. Part of him still thought it was all a bigger joke, but could he deny how right it felt to be so near the wolf?
"She loves you. She was always meant for you." Floki explained, forcing the boy to look up and meet his eyes. His tone making sure to force Ivar into understanding that Nero was never only Floki's sign, she was Ivar's, she had always been, no matter how they had grown apart, "That is why I have to leave, this world no longer interests me. There is nothing for me here. That's why I will submit myself to the tides and the winds, and the will of the gods, come what may."
Ivar's breath hitched in his throat, and he knew there was no convincing the boatbuilder out of this. Suddenly, the look on Floki's face became stern, serious, and filled with determination, Ivar furrowed his eyebrows at the man's change in demeanor.
"Promise me you will care for her."
Breathing in and out slowly, the Ragnarsson raised his head, staring into his mentor's eyes with just as much determination, honesty made his eyes shine, "I love her, Floki."
"You do?" and as the boy nodded his head, the man giggled. Glad that Ivar finally admitted it to himself, and hoping that he would admit it to the girl now.
Ivar cried, still nodding his head, his chest feeling lighter with the confession and with the thought of the girl with him.
The boatbuilder smiled kindly and pulled the boy into a hug, comforting him much like his daughter had done before, "My heart is broken."
"It will repair, Ivar the Boneless," he promised, resting his cheek on top of the boy's head, he had a soft smile plastered on his face, happy that the boy loved him so and knowing that the girl would devote her life to him, "scourge of the world... you don't need me, you need her."
As sad as Ivar was with the fact that Floki was to leave, he couldn't deny that the man was right.
He needed her, he needed more than anything, he needed her soothing touch, her gentle lips, her lovely eyes.
He needed her because she wasn't scared, he needed her because he had memorized her mannerisms and had learned to love them like no other, he missed the feeling of her tiny hands playing with his big, rough ones.
He missed the feel of her soft, scarred skin and her silky hair.
Gods, he wished his hands would never have to leave her. He wished he had never felt the need to leave that bed. He wished he could've stayed there, with her in his arms, her wound properly cared of, her hair brushed off her face, her cheeks slightly rosy from the warmth of his body, her eyelashes casting a small shadow just above the constellations of her freckles.