The lovely fire burning in the fireplace was making the room warm enough that you were alright with only a fur thrown over your thin nightgown. You yawned as you grabbed the next book on the table and brushed a hand through your hair, it was way too early for you to fix it right now. Not even Ivar, who usually left the room before you could even wake up each morning, was awake yet. He slept peacefully in the huge bed across the room while you kept rubbing your eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep clinging onto your eyelids.
It had been a month and you were still clueless about most of the things here, their language included. If your mother were there, she'd scold you so hard.
Even if you tried to focus on the lines, your mind wandered off to the bloody face of your brother's messenger just when Ivar killed him, and you felt the goosebumps rising on your arms.
"Viking way", your brother had called it. "They're savages, their traditions are much different than ours. Do not embarrass me, or my court."
No one had ever killed anyone in front of you before.
You had always thought it would be such a great burden, to kill somebody. Or that everything would slow down, and it'd be more dramatic, but the way it had happened and Ivar had acted...
It was almost too simple. Too normal for them.
Viking way.
Oh God, your brother was going to be furious when he learned Ivar had killed his best friend and messenger. It was no doubt that he'd take it as an offense to his kingdom and-
And what?
As you thought it over, you couldn't help to feel a spark of a victory towards your brother's fury. Hvitserk was right, the Great Heathen Army was the biggest and the most powerful army in the entire world, and no one, not even your brother could do anything about that. He would feel anger, he surely would, but he would be unable to do anything about it, for the first time in his life.
Just like how you had felt when you first heard about your marriage.
Your chair squeaked softly when you shifted your weight and went back to your book, but-
"What are you doing?"
Right. Ivar was such a light sleeper that you sometimes wondered if he even slept at all.
Your head shot up and you looked at Ivar who was watching you with a frown.
"Did I wake you?" You asked, "My apologies."
He nodded, "What are you doing?"
"Reading."
He looked confused, "The sun is barely out."
You still couldn't push the image of him with blood splattered over his face to the back of your mind, so you gulped thickly and went back to your book, but he seemed to have other plans because out of the corner of your eye, you saw him sitting up in the bed.
"What are you reading?"
"The- the legends."
"Of?"
"Aesir." You answered and that seemed to make him chuckle.
"Why?"
"I don't know anything about here," You said slowly, "I need to start learning such things."
Ivar hmmed, "And what have you learned so far?"
"That they have a complex family tree and stories." You turned to him, pursing your lips, "I do wish that I had brought some books from my country, I can only understand the half of this."
Ivar kept his piercing blue eyes on you for a couple of seconds before he made a come hither motion, making your cheeks burn. So far, he had only come to bed when you were already asleep and left before you could wake up, so this was highly unfamiliar.
"What?" you felt the need to ask and he shot you a look.
"I don't feel like yelling all the way there, it's a big chamber."
"But Ivar, I'm indecent."
He rolled his eyes, "Yes, very. Come here, bring your books too."
You hesitated only for a couple of seconds before you grabbed your books, hugged the fur around you tighter and walked to sit down on the foot of the bed, a bit further from him. His eyes focused on your almost transparent nightgown only for a moment before you shifted your weight, pulling at the fur around you and he averted his glances to grab one of the books.
"How about I ask you things?" he asked, "Then you can see if you understood it or not?"
You pushed your hair behind your ear and nodded, nervousness filling you. You never liked this, not even when you were a child and your tutors were intimidated by your parents, and now...
Well. There was no one in the world that Ivar was intimidated by.
"Those two pages only though, for now." You showed him the pages, making him nod and he leaned back,
"Who's Odin married to?"
"Freyja."
He shot you an almost amused look, "No he's not."
"Yes he is."
Ivar chuckled, "I think I know Aesir a bit better than you, little shark."
Little shark.
Right.
You had almost forgotten about that.
You hated the sea. You had been at the sea for days now, and just when you thought you couldn't get any more seasick, your stomach would start flipping inside your belly again, making you throw up. Thankfully, you were left alone with some shieldmaidens and they honestly looked either amused by your reaction to the sea, or took pity on you. Only about three of them knew your language and one of them had said fresh air would help, so you had gone up to the main deck of the ship. You gripped the taffrail as tight as you could to look over, standing on your tiptoes, a childhood memory hitting you with its full force. Not far away, Ubbe and Ivar were arguing very loudly in their own language –which you had no idea about- and you sniffled. The constant seasickness along with crying whole night was taking its toll on you but you kept your gaze stable, your eyes searching the waves. Ubbe pinched the bridge of his nose as Ivar snapped at him, then he shook his head, apparently out of patience.
And now you were trying to understand what people were saying due to their gestures.
Barely anyone had talked to you since you had left your country.
And God, you missed home.
"Careful there," Ubbe's voice reached your ear, "If you fell down the sea, we wouldn't be able to find you in these waves."
You looked over your shoulder, blinking a couple of times, "Me?"
"Yes, you." Ubbe's eyes were soft, much softer than Ivar's- who seemed to be glaring at you.
"I'm not going to fall." You shook your head, still leaning over the rails "I'm trying to see something."
"What?"
"When I was a child, a wanderer swore to me he saw a mermaid in the depths of the sea."
Ubbe pulled his brows together, "A mermaid?" he asked, the word foreign on his tongue and you turned to him.
"It's- um..." you tried to gather your thoughts, "It's a creature that lives in the sea, looks like a beautiful woman."
"Selkie." You heard Ivar's voice and your eyes snapped up to him, "She's talking about Selkies."
"Oh," Ubbe laughed, "That's why you're shedding tears into sea then? To meet one?"
"I just want to see if he was telling the truth," You said silently, turning your gaze to the waves and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Ubbe walking away. You felt tired, almost as tired as the ship herself but stubbornly refused to lift your glances.
"Your wanderer is mistaken." Ivar spoke after almost a minute of silence, "He's seen a shark, most likely."
You withdrew your hand from the deck, "Are there sharks here?"
"Yeah."
"Why is no one scared?"
Ivar stared at you, "Of a shark?"
"I heard that they're huge. They sink ships."
"You've never seen a shark?" Ivar asked, dumbfounded and you shook your head,
"I've seen the paintings."
"Gods..." Ivar shook his head, "A shark isn't big enough to sink a ship. Your painters have quite the imagination."
"Oh..." You mumbled, holding onto the rails again as the ship rocked, and Ivar looked amused for a second.
"You were hoping the ship would sink, hm?"
You shook your head "I just thought sharks were more dangerous."
"They can be dangerous," Ivar shrugged, "Depends on the person."
You thought for a second, then leaned over the rails again,
"Then I want to see the sharks."
"Not the Selkies?"
"No," You muttered, "Selkies are just pretty. I like dangerous things better."
You snapped out of your thoughts when you realized Ivar was staring at you and you licked your lips, trying to focus.
"It was something similar though," you insisted, already frustrated with yourself, "Frey- Fr- Frigg!"
Ivar looked like he was struggling with a smirk, "So Odin is Frigg's..."
"Husband."
"And husband is...?"
You scrunched up your face, "Husband is- don't say it, I know that one," You pinched your lips and looked up, "Verr?"
He looked almost impressed, "And Thor?"
"Odin's son." You said quickly.
"Thor's mother?"
You shrugged, "Frigg."
"No."
"But you said-" you huffed out, "You just said she was his wife, Ivar."
"Yes, but Thor's mother is the Giantess Jörð ."
You gawked at him, "Giantess?" You repeated, and leaned in closer to see the page, "Where?"
"Here, see? Gýgr is Giantess."
You heaved a deep sigh, then leaned your back to the poster of the bed, "This is really different."
"There is no family tree in Christianity?"
"There's Jesus. Mary-" you counted with your fingers as you pulled your knees up to your chest, "Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus-"
"A virgin cannot be a mother," Ivar scoffed, "That's not possible."
You stifled a laugh, biting your lips and played with the hem of your nightgown, resting your chin on your knees. A silence fell upon you before your pillow caught his eye and he tilted his head to the right.
"You don't cry anymore?"
Your head shot up, "Hm?"
"Your pillow would be-" Ivar hesitated, as if he was regretting talking about it already, "Not anymore."
Oh God, he had noticed that.
And you had thought you were being very discreet.
"I thought..." You started, "Everyone has said so many fearsome things. I thought I'd be subjected to...what they said. Cruelty."
He looked honestly embarrassed of his comment on your pillow by now and you could swear something in his eyes just shifted, making him scoff.
"Being married to a cripple isn't cruel enough for you then?" his voice was cold all of a sudden and you frowned.
"What?"
"Because with the way your brother is, you'd think you're used to cruelty. It was your brother who has doomed you into this," he motioned between you before he closed the book and tossed it on the bed, "Maybe he hates you as much as my brothers hate me for the same reason."
Your eyes whipped up to his, his bitter words stinging you more than you would expect them to. You could feel the burning behind your eyes but you blinked them back, clenching your jaw.
Sometimes you forgot he was possibly forced into this as much as you were.
"Excuse me," you said before you grabbed the cloak lying on the chair and walked out of the chambers as if the devil himself was chasing you.
"Y/N, is he awake-" Hvitserk started but you paid no attention to him as you walked past him, desperate for some fresh air while hugging the cloak around you tighter. You heard him calling out your name but you pushed the heavy door open and stepped outside, harsh wind giving you shivers before you exhaled, seeing your breath.
It was always so cold here. Both the weather and the people.
"What did he do?" You heard Hvitserk before he stepped to stand by your side, leaning in to rest his elbows on the wooden railings. You kept your eyes on the people, watching them silently.
"Y/N. What did he do?"
You swallowed thickly, "I thought that maybe he could..." You trailed off, "That it'd be different."
"What would be different?"
You shrugged slightly, pursing your lips.
"Ivar doesn't... like people," he stated when you didn't answer him. "If you were hoping that he would like you, it's not-" he shook his head, "It's not about you, not at all. He just doesn't like anybody."
You couldn't help but to let out a bitter laugh, "That sounds lonely."
"It is. He likes to make everyone around him unhappy," Hvitserk shrugged, "So that they will feel like how he feels, I guess."
You nodded slowly and Hvitserk's eyes focused on you. He seemed hesitant for a moment which was very unlike him, but you nibbled on your lip, keeping your gaze stable.
"I wish that you would-" Hvitserk muttered, "That you could be happy, Y/N."
"That's what you wish for me?" You asked your brother as he glared at you, leaning back on his throne. You were shaking from head to toe, and you thought you would actually pass out from both fear, and disbelief. There was no way your brother would ever-
Could ever suggest-
"It's already done, sister."
Your ladies in waiting gasped beside you and you could only stare at your brother as he looked completely oblivious to your distress.
"What?"
"The king has already decided," Rowan's voice was completely calm and collected, as if it meant nothing to him.
It probably meant nothing to him, just like it meant nothing to your brother.
"I don't get a say in this?" You asked, your voice trembling and your brother rolled his eyes, as if he was bored and then looked around the room.
"Leave us, all of you. Rowan, you can stay."
His men and your ladies in waiting cleared out the room and Rowan motioned for a glass of wine, while you just stood where you were, completely frozen.
"But-"
"Y/N," your brother cut you off, "Enough. You want to protect your country, do you not? Your land, your people?"
"They kill people," You said through your teeth, "They're heathens, there's no one in that- in that army that has one ounce of compassion, and your suggestion is to marry me off to-"
"Do you have another solution?" Rowan asked and you turned to him,
"What?"
"He's right, sister. Give us a solution that will outweigh this one and we will actually consider it."
To that, you had no answer to. Your brother grabbed a chalice to sip his wine, then stood up from his throne as you sat down to the chair, your corset suddenly feeling too tight and you pressed a hand over your stomach, trying to calm yourself down. Your brother approached you, then handed you the chalice.
"Drink that. It should help with your nerves."
"My nerves-" You shook your head, "Please don't do this. Please. You said- everyone says they're savages-"
"And everyone is right." Rowan said, "They are savages. They do not take pity on their enemies and that is exactly why we should make sure not to be their enemies."
"But-"
"You have no reason to worry," Rowan said, "As long as he likes you."
"And what if-"
"Y/N," your brother said "Do you remember the king that wanted your hand in marriage last month? I said no, because you didn't want him."
"He was decades older-"
Rowan scoffed, "Yes, see? Ivar is young, around your age actually."
Your head snapped up as you recognized the name and the stories that followed his name. "Ivar?" you repeated, "Ivar the Boneless?"
Your brother eyed you up and down, and ran a knuckle over your cheekbone, "You're beautiful enough," he commented "That should make things easier for you."
You shook your head to snap out of your thoughts,
"I'm a terrible student," You muttered, "And it takes a lot of time, but I'm learning."
"Learning what?"
You exhaled again, watching your breath turn into a small puff of fog before it disappeared and you blinked back the tears, then shrugged.
"Not to be naïve," You mumbled, "You don't marry a Viking to be happy."