^^Evermore Fashion Marchesca Spring 2020 Ready-to-Wear Collection
"Is this dress for the bedroom?" Millicent asked me unsurely, eyeing the fabric. It was a sheer sort of silk, the closest thing to chiffon that I could have gotten my hands on. I had initially purchased 200 yards of varying shades of blue, white, purple, and pink for that same type of fabric. It was difficult to come across the fabric because it wasn't so common, and it was an obscure sort of fabric. When I asked the merchant about it, he had blushed heavily and scoffed. When I squeezed the answer out of him, I realized why he was so embarrassed:
Low grade whores brought such fabrics to display their assets.
But really, it was a wonderful fabric and honestly, the tailor didn't know how nice it was, otherwise he wouldn't have sold me to me for such a cheap price. It was almost criminal how stigmatized the fabric was. So, I took advantage of the price and ordered two hundred more yards. It didn't hurt to have more, especially since it was so sheer. But it flowed so delightfully. It was either impress or scandalize everyone at our wedding. I had purchased silver thread, the bawdiest sort of silver because the merchant's definition of silver was laughable. Safe to say, the merchant was scandalized. He even went as far as to offer me silk at the lowest cost for which he could go. I bargained harder and got it for even less. So now I had 400 yards of chiffon-like material, 20 yards of silk, and a silver thread. Having a whore's fabric was cheap. It gave me spending money to buy a few rolls of cotton to make more day-to-day clothes.
"No," I insisted, "It is for the wedding."
"Then you want everyone else to know what colour your nipples are as well?" Millicent asked me delicately, as though she thought that such a thought would not have crossed my mind. I gave her a droll look.
"No," I said slowly. "I will layer that fabric so that it isn't so sheer, or I can put that silk beneath it. But this is how I want my dress to look. Besides, my nipples are brown."
Millicent did not appreciate my joke as much as I did. Tough crowd.
I pulled out some hand-drawn concepts I had based on my figure. I was wondering if I should put on a leather corset to honor the Viking part of my culture but then I decided against it. It didn't go with the look. I will consider metal plating though as my nod to the Viking-culture. Maybe some shoulder pads or necklaces or something. But it had to match the color schema of my dress. Or it could be included in my feast dress...
But this is how I needed my dress to be.
"It is pretty," Millicent conceded. "It will get dirty easily."
"Yes," I agreed, wondering how Millicent felt about wearing white wedding dresses. No one wore white wedding dresses, and no one wore red either. I wanted to wear red, but I was nervous about being associated with a harlot. Not a good look. "But I like it."
"Then let us begin," Millicent said. "You will have to stand for me," she added, and I paused.
"No," I said firmly. "Are there no mannequins?"
Millicent stared at me blankly. Mannequins are not a thing here, yet. Got it.
I guess I really did have to stand for this. Ouch. "Never mind, I'll stand."
"It will be torturous," Millicent warned me, looking concerned. I nodded bravely.
"It will be," I agreed, "Let's get started, the sooner the better. I'll help you get all the things you need."
"Thank you," Millicent said.
*
"Are you sore?" Ivar asked me, eyeing my still body as he plopped next to me in the sauna.
I nodded tiredly, wincing at a snag in my neck.
"Why are you still dressed? This is a sauna," Ivar scoffed, tugging at my dress. I shrugged him off. I was toasting in this oven of a sauna, but I was also sore from holding one position for over four hours. I wasn't sure how I did it, but I was determined to let Millicent pace herself. I wanted the dress to be perfect. Big regret. Kind of? Yes, big.
"I am too sore to move," I whimpered. Ivar stood in front of me and began unlacing the front of my dress. "Why?" he asked me.
"Dress making," I said sourly.
"Ah," Ivar nodded sympathetically. "Come, bear with me and take off your dress. Then I will show you the healing wonders of a sauna."
"God," I groaned when I hit a snag in my back. Ouch.
"Hurry," Ivar insisted, helping me up and helping me strop. He brushed my hair aside, softly stroking my soaked neck. "Your hair grew a lot, it is almost at it's original length."
"Yea," I agreed. "I like it like this when it is long."
Soon, I was just as naked as he was, with my clothes gently tucked away in the corner next to his. "At least you took off your boots," he murmured.
"Of course," sauna etiquette...we weren't even supposed to enter the sauna clothed but Ivar let me do it because he understood that my modestly was a big thing for me.
"In the water?" I asked him, leaning my head against his chest, and smiling a little when shifted.
"Yes," Ivar nodded, scooping me up quickly and setting me in the boiling water. I yelped trying to move back but Ivar held my body in place, holding me tightly so that I was soon on his lap, struggling like a fish.
"It's too hot, Ivar!" I grouched. "I'll boil like shrimp!"
"It's not hot enough," Ivar bared his teeth at me. "I'll remove a hot stone, if that is what you wish."
"Please," I moved aside for him to do so. Ivar reached and pulled a long pair of metal thongs, dipping it in the fiery centre of the pool and pulling out a large, red, steaming hot stone.
"One more," I insisted, intimidated by how red it was. Ivar shot me a filthy look but complied.
The greatest thing about Ivar was that there was little he would refuse me. It was extremely pleasing to me that he would do that. Ivar was one of the few open-minded men of his time, even progressive. I thought that was really impressive. He is so unlike when I first met him. Before Ivar was always so violent. Even unrepentant about it and it was an aspect of his personality that I was sure he hadn't changed completely. He has since never showed me any form of aggression outside of pillow talk (his way of seducing me was by making me do things for him, in that British manner of his, that I already do because I like doing it). There were still some unavoidable, sexist qualities about him that I make my best efforts to correct.
In a matter of minutes, the water became bearable and I even began enjoying myself. Ivar was kind enough to let me crawl onto his lap and wrap my arms around his neck while he relaxed. It probably wasn't relaxing to have someone on top of you while you were relaxing but Ivar seemed fine with it. It was a nice atmosphere once I stopped looking at the centre of the pool that seemed to be wanting to pull me in.
"Where is the bracelet, the one I gave you?" Ivar asked me quietly when we were both completely relaxed. The bracelet that he gave to me before I left for Kattegat was something that I wore often but it hurt to sleep with it. I always woke up with an aching wrist.
"In the jewelry box in our room," I hummed.
Ivar grunted. "Wear it always. It is my sigil."
"Alright," I nodded. "Then wear something of mine." Ivar opened one eye and glanced down at me, shifting me so that I sat on his other thigh.
"What do you want me to wear?" he asked me.
"A ring," I decided. "At all times unless it will kill you to wear it."
"Your rings are too small," he dismissed.
"The silver ring you brought for me can fit on this finger," I pointed at his thumb. He glanced down and then back at me.
"Too womanly," he said, and I pouted harder.
"Well something," I insisted.
"A necklace," he offered.
I shook my head, "You can hide that underneath your clothes. Those Valkyrie are vicious, just yesterday I heard one of them plotting in the market to swive you at your wedding feast."
That was a partial lie. It wasn't yesterday that I heard it. But I did hear it from a tall, strongwoman who intimidated me to no end. I therefore wanted to avoid her.
Ivar opened his eyes and watched me through his lashes. "Are you jealous?"
I flushed, feeling strangely offended. I was proud of the trust that Ivar and I had in each other. The female species, to Ivar, was an abhorrent mystery and one woman was plenty for him. But I was not going to spin a lie on how I was confident that, if Ivar were any other man, that he would choose me over the strong woman. She was tall, almost as tall as Ivar which was saying a lot because the man could not be less than six foot four at the very least. The advantage of her uncommon height put all her attributes on display: stick-thin waist, small breasts, wide hips, and strong arms. She was absolutely gorgeous. He hair was blond and down to her knees and that was her signature hair. Everyone in Kattegat nobility knew Herfna Goldhair. And I was no match for her. Ivar will certainly not be getting any NBA kids from me.
"No," I said shortly, flushing under his intuitive gaze.
"Herfna is pretty," my eyebrows shot up in dismayed surprise. How did he know who I was speaking of? Why would he call her that?
The irrational little jealousy inside me left me feeling frustrated at an unreasonable level. I hid my face in the side of his neck to hide the fact that I just swallowed what felt like a pound of sand in my mouth. Ouch??
"And tall," I added in his neck to hide my jealousy. Ivar would make fun of me for it.
"A fine shieldmaiden," shieldmaiden, that is the term.
"Yes," His hand came around and grip my butt cheeks, kneading them and making me squirm. What does he want me to say?
"A foul whore, as well," Ivar suddenly said, dropping my stomach at his crass words. That was a little extreme.
"I don't think she is like that," I began, but Ivar shook his head, cutting me off.
"The shieldmaidens are similar to our Norsemen," I can hear Ivar's sneer. "They keep track of their conquests. Herfna must be diseased from all of her conquests. You would have to kill me to tup the sow."
I wrinkled my nose. He was saying she had STIs and that kind of didn't sit well with me.
"I think she should be free to sleep with whoever she wants," it was a half-hearted defense for the sake of my gender.
"Hmm, she has the right," Ivar said thoughtfully. "Just as I have the right to reject her advances."
I raised my eyebrows. "Advances?"
Was there something about which I should know? Clearly an encounter, or two, or more, took place behind the scenes.
"Yes," Ivar said, "She is not shy of making her intentions clear."
So, she approached Ivar. Why was I only knowing about this now? But thinking on it, it was an added stress I didn't need.
"Oh," I was a little hurt, not going lie. "And you rejected her generous offer?"
"Yes, but some people are insolent and shameless," Ivar sounded annoyed and when I pulled away to look at him, he looked livid. "She used to be someone I fancied but she rejected me on multiple occasions for my deformities. She is a narrow-minded woman."
I was a little upset that I just heard this now. It never really came up so I knew I was being silly but what angered me a little was that she felt entitled to Ivar because he used to like her. But she rejected him at his lowest and now pines for him at his best. There was something satisfyingly ironic about the outcome of events.
"I used to like a boy," I said randomly. It felt awkward that Ivar's first crush was now pursuing him, and he hates her guts. It felt safer to talk about something sillier. "He was an active guy, but he never knew that I even existed."
Ivar pulled me closer, something in his eyes flashing, a smug quality leavening his face. "You never introduced yourself?"
I smiled sheepishly. "He was really mean. He was rich and cruel. I never knew until after I lost feelings. I was always intimidated by him anyhow."
Ivar exhaled softly. "Good. Now get off me, you are like a slab of heat against me."
I complied but was never able to get too far because Ivar caught me by the back of my hip and pulled me closer to his side.
"That boy couldn't have made you happy," Ivar declared to me confidently, as if he knew how it would have turned out if I, by some miraculous reason, ended up with him.
"On what assumption is that?" I was a little amused by this.
"My intuition," His blue eyes gleamed at me wickedly. Ivar leaned down and kissed me and I melted into him with a sigh. I was too much of a marshmallow with this guy.
"Not here," I gasped when he bit down, hard, on my nipple. "This is a communal area."
"My fucking sauna," Ivar said carelessly. "No one comes here but by my invitation. I'll do as I please."
I rolled my eyes and pulled his head back. Pressing a kiss to his forehead and getting up to step out, but his hand firmly on my butt stopped me.
"Where do you think you are going?"
I raised an eyebrow at him; "Back to our room, any longer and I will turn into a fish."
"I will stay a while longer then, I think," Ivar sighed and reclined against the edge further.
"Alright then, see you then, or in my dreams," I said offhandedly. It was a little bit of a lonely thought that he wasn't going to join me in bed but I was alright with it. Ivar was his own person, and he gave me the same respect. Sometimes when I wanted to do something that went against his social norms, between us, he was open to it.
I put on my dress and wrapped myself tightly in my fur cloak. The walk back to the long-house was kind of cold and awkward, as if it was a walk of shame. But by the time I reached my room, I was cold and shivering. I manged to sweep out the fireplace and put in new longs, courtesy of Taf, our servant who was very polite and educated, but not very sociable.
Once I got the fire roaring, I combed my hair and lightly went over it with rose oil, which was a little pricey but when I asked Ivar about it (it was his money), he was fine with it. The thing is, I didn't really earn the money I was spending. I didn't have a family or a dowry. My wealth came from Ivar's pillaging and even then, it was technically his. So it wasn't right of me to spend it. Ivar was pretty generous with me and he even insisted that I use the money to display his wealth, because he wasn't one for bawdiness and gold. I still appreciated it.
I was about to finish braiding my hair and get on the bed when Ivar came in. His eyes were glowing in the firelight and he gave me a pensive look.
"Are you alright?" I asked him distractedly, appreciating that he took off his shoes and set them aside . "Tired already?"
I was feeling invigorated. Otherwise I wouldn't have bothered cleaning the whole room at this time. I didn't hear him answer me but I felt him come up behind me and wrap his arms around me. "Or not?"
"Not,"Ivar confirmed, "I don't want to be in your dreams tonight."
My heart stuttered still, that was either a really romantic phrase, or a really cold rejection, without even an offer.
"Oh, do you prefer--"
"I don't want to sleep tonight," Ivar clarified. "I want to love you tonight."
I felt myself smile. Yes, I can do that.
*
Now that Herfna's interests came to light, I unintentionally began observing her more. I wasn't sure why she would reject someone like Ivar. He was one of the few men in the entire village who was more that a head taller than her. He was also intelligent and definitely not lacking in the looks department. Not to mention, he was infinitely more powerful than Harald Hardrada, who was the King of Norway, even though titularly speaking, Ivar was less powerful. Ivar had enough wealth to feed the entire country twenty times over and even then, have enough leftover to buy a summer castle or two. Even when his legs were not fully formed, Ivar was a truly impressive specimen. I have seen him crawl on the ground before and he was no less intimidating than when he was standing up.
So why the sudden interest now? Ivar's essence never changed. Aside from his eerie thirst for bloodshed, he was everything a viking woman would find desirable in a viking man. Was she really such a shallow woman or did Ivar's sudden success cast him in a different light? Going from an exiled warrior to the Prince of Kattegat was no small feat.
"What do you think of her?" I asked Millicent one time when we were weaving a tapestry together. It was surprisingly easy but I wasn't so good at the fine detail as Millicent was so I settled for the back ground. It was a relaxing, time-consuming hobby.
"Who?" Millicent asked me, glancing at me and then at the fine detail she was rolling at with her small, deft fingers.
"Her," As discreetly as I could, I cast my eyes towards the woman in question and back again. Millicent caught my eye movement and thankfully, took a minute to turn to look at her. Herfna was with three other handmaidens, and the handmaidens in question were sitting in a circle with some fifteen other viking warriors. I was pretty sure it was some kind of informal meeting. Those happened often and I learned to see many of Kattegat's finest warriors, including Ivar's brothers on occasion, attend the meeting.
This time, only Hvitserk was here. And unfortunately, Herfna. I could see how she chose the closest placement possible to Ivar, and it made me boil on the inside. She looked perfect next to him. They were both tall and strong, polar opposites with regards to looks. Herfna was tall and blond, with eyes the color of wood while Ivar was dark-headed and blue-eyed. His features were sharp while hers were rounded and small. I looked away quickly, tugging on a thread more aggressively than I should have.
"I never really spoke to her," Millicent shrugged, looking at me apologetically. "I wouldn't want to anyways, she seems mean."
I wasn't sure if she was a mean person or not but she did seem to love herself a lot. I remained silent. It wasn't my place to make baseless assumptions without at least speaking to her. Ivar's experience from Herfna might be different from mine but one thing I definitely did not like was her shamelessness. She was all pressed up against him. Why wasn't he scooching away?
I set down my weaving spindle and walked over to the jugs I prepared for the mead that they normally take after these meetings. I knew they were over because Ivar turned his head and signaled me with a nod. As lady of the house, despite the sexist role of it, part of the hospitality owed to my guests was a show of humility, the lady to serve her husband's guests.
I nudged Millicent and she helped me and together, we filled up the ale and mead and we passed out the jugs. I came and squeezed in my customary place next to Ivar and to my utter satisfaction and terror, with Herfna on the other side of me. I could feel her tense next to me, being forced to school back to make space for my big butt. Ivar wrapped one arm around me and squeezed me even closer to him so that I was halfway on his lap. I looked at Millicent as she handed the last ale jug to Hvitserk, who pulled her down to sit next to him. I was surprised at how compliant Millicent was. Now that she was slowly learning Norwegian, the language barrier between them was decreasing and I think they understood each other more.
"Thank you," Ivar murmured in my ear, pressing a kiss where his breath touched. I shivered, resisting the urge to glance at Herfna. I couldn't resist turning to him and pressing a kiss to his lips. He pecked me back and then pulled away, unwilling to parley to a deeper display of affection so openly. It wasn't like us and I didn't want to purposely provoke Herfna, but I did want to set some boundaries with her. Only, I was too cowardly to actually, verbally express them to her.
"Finished," I asked him softly, watching as everyone shared their jokes and laughed raucously. I turned to Herfna next to me, as well as the three other viking women. I also could not ignore them. It was discourteous.
"Hello," I nodded my head. It was the same greeting every time. "All is well I hope?"
"All is well, Yasmeen," Herfna said.
"All is well, my lady," the other three women echoed. I found it strange that Herfna was the only person who addressed me by my personal name while all else addressed me with the 'my lady' title. I felt uncomfortable with the address but in this scenario, it felt distinctly like Herfna was trying to put me in my place. She was good at it because it felt awfully humiliating. I could feel Ivar tense against me. I tried to discreetly pat his arm. I avoided glancing at him but I already knew he was pretending to be focused somewhere else. He was very much in tune with our conversation. He was ready to lash out and I really did not want that. I hurriedly changed the subject.
"Would you like to see how far we have come with our tapestry? I hear you are a fantastic weaver, Mildred," I addressed one of the other viking women and Herfna tensed.
"Mildred will be too busy hunting," Herfna cut Mildred off, "Us sheildmaidens, we do not parley our time with such frivolity."
Whoops, I guess Herfna really was defining gender roles. Not a bad thing in any other circumstance, but it really infuriated me. It was senseless. "I see," I nodded, sliding my eyes back to Mildred, who kept silent, her face flushed. "What do you think, Mildred?"
I was trying not to let my face flush but my ears were burning. I was embarrassed by Herfna's abruptness. My embarrassment turned into annoyance. That wasn't a very feminist response to the question directed at Mildred and I was disappointed by Herfna, who defied gender roles so easily. She should know better.
"As it happens, I do not have the time today to look over your tapestry, though I am sure it is fine," Mildred demurred diplomatically, rolling her powerful shoulders.
"Thank you, Mildred, I appreciate your confidence in me," I said diplomatically, turning my, hopelly muted, stink eye at Herfna. "Herfna, do you think it is shameful that a woman take up more than one occupation?"
I heard the talking kind of stutter around us. Like the champ he is, Ivar persevere on and kept his side of the conversation going. His muscles were still coiled to an unbearable tenseness.
Herfna glared at me. "I think that if a woman has a strength, she should focus on it."
"Hmm..." I pretended to be thoughtful, but I was really annoyed with her. I really don't think she believed her own words. She was just doing it to spite me but I was not about to let her off the hook so easily. "I think Mildred here has several strengths. They will serve her well out of a battlefield and in a battlefield. I think it is admirable, Mildred, that you know and practice so many talents."
My words, directed towards Mildred, made her flush awkwardly under the competitive praise. "Thank you, my lady."
"There is no shame in a skillful woman," I turned to Herfna, making sure my tone took on an admonishing tone and surely enough, the larger woman flushed. "An accomplished woman is prosperous. If a woman can weave, hunt, write, read, fight with several different weapons, cook, and manage her own business, she can surely live on her own. She can prosper on her own or make her own family prosper with her. And just so, a woman who can only cook or can only fight will also prosper in her own way. Whether a woman knows one skill or a hundred, there is no place for shaming her."
Well that came out easily. Not it was time to face the consequences of my words, even though they were not wrong. Surely enough, the sharpness of Herfna's gaze hardened into dry ice.
"I misspoke, Yasmeen," Herfna finally bit out. "I meant no offense."
"I am not the one you should be apologizing to," I said pointedly, looking at Mildred who now looked really uncomfortable. I kind of felt bad for putting Mildred under so much pressure but at the same time; beware of the company you keep. Herfna stiffly bit out an apology and excused herself. Shortly after, the other three shield maidens quietly made their own exit.
"Good girl," Ivar murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "She has no place here to speak thus to you."
"Thank you for letting me handle it," I muttered, watching as Ivar lost all the attention in favor of Floki, who was telling a story about tupping a Valkyrie and finding out it was his wife, Helga. It was such a laughable story that it was actually enjoyable. I also liked the fact that Ivar lost his tension.
"If I had interfered, you would have lost your chance to gain anyone's respect around here," Ivar said. "They are already dealing with the fact that you can't hold a knife to a squirrel."
I giggled, and thankfully, I giggled appropriately because everyone else laughed at Floki's punchline at that same moment.
"Kiss your bride," I heard and then I turned to see the source of the demand. It was Floki, with his crazy eyes and he was smiling crazily, with his filed teeth. I resisted the urge to wince.
"You lusty dog," Ivar snarled at him, revealing his sharp canines. His words were biting but his tone was humorous. Compliantly, Ivar grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a scorching kiss that had every single person whooping to the skies.
I pulled away, breathless and flushed, trying to give a placating smile to the rowdy crowd but to no avail. I certainly did not feel placated. I felt as if someone had set my innards on fire. It was a nice kiss. All the stupid, silly, and embarrassing emotions of jealousy, annoyance, and anger melted from me and I was kind of surprised at myself for feeling so much towards one person who didn't even know who I was, but still mistreated me. It was immature in me and I was disappointed in myself.
That night I stood in the little enclosed area in Ivar's longhouse where Mildred and I were using it for sewing and preparing the wedding dress. I had commissioned a mannequin from the carpenter in Sigurd's district to create it for me. I had given him designs and measurements that were a little larger than my own body measurements. I had asked him to fashion parts of the mannequin and then nail it together. I given him blueprints of what I wanted. The man had never done this before and insisted he was not one for sculpting but upon seeing my specific measurements that I had gotten from a seamstress he acceded to it. It had turned out better than I expected and for his open-mindedness and goodwork, I gave him a small tip. There on the mannequin was the dress that Millicent and I were working so diligently on.
It was gorgeous. It was like haute-couture. It was unconventional in an age like this. It was almost scandalous how different it was. But I loved every yard of it. it was already coming along so nicely. All that was left was to sew parts of the chiffon on better. It was such a unique blue color. Mildred and I dyed it many times to perfect the shading. I closed the door slowly and locked it.
"Everything alright?" Ivar asked me, limping towards me. During the night, he kept his braces on, and it was difficult to walk in them. But it was doing him well, I suppose.
"Yes," I said, latching the door loudly, and purposely. "You can't look. You will see it all when we get married."
"I already saw the color," Ivar said, slapping my butt loudly. I glanced around, embarrassed. No one was here. All the servants were asleep and Millicent had departed with Hvitserk for a few days. It was a well-deserved break for her. Besides, she seemed to be much warmer towards Hvitserk, who must have finally learned how to actually court a woman.
"It's bad luck," I admonished him, pushing him away playfully and going to the other enclosed quarter of our house. Walls were sparse in the long house so it was imperative that everything was kept clean at all times.
"Bad luck," he snorted derisively before wrapping his arms around me, mid-walk, and lifting me in his arms, carrying me to the bed. Ivar gently set me down and pressed a kiss to my lips. "It would be bad luck for you if you can't walk properly tomorrow."
I glared at him playfully before grabbing his hand. Ivar did that to me a few times. He was rough enough to make it a sore journey to walk the next day. It was amazing, but still. It was hard to concentrate the next day on important tasks when I can clearly recall everything that happened everytime I blink. I pretended to be annoyed but it was hard to be annoyed on the inside because I was jelly on the inside. No space for hard feelings there.
"Do you promise?" I teased him, sitting on the bed, taking his hand, kissing his knuckles and going to unlace my dress. I enjoy my intimacy with him. I read somewhere, in a statistic, that 82% of women could not reach a vaginal orgasm. The thought scared me witless at the time but now, with Ivar, I could do it with him knowing he would take care of me every single time. He always made sure I came first before he did. Big daddy, big man, big dick energy.
Ivars eyes flashed before he leaned backwards, his knees set on the edge of the bed. I sat up, unlacing my dress and shimmying it down my shoulders. I knew he preferred me doing that rather than lifting my dress over my head. When my breasts came into view, I leaned back on my elbows to let him admire.
"I love your breasts," he murmured hoarsely. For that very reason alone, I always started off our foreplay like that. He leaned down and pressed a scorching kiss to one raised tip and then another to the other. Ivar caressed my rib cage and watched further as I shimmied my dress down my hips.
"How the fuck do you even have a body like that?" Ivar muttered stroking my stomach, his eyes caressing every single inch. "It is a body even more wondrous than a third breast." His attempt at a joke and a compliment, dually, was laughable. But it made me fuzzy inside. But he was being ridiculous.
"I can't be the only woman you have ever seen," I told him dryly, letting him spread my legs.
Ivar glanced at me sharply. "Not the only woman, no. But you have a body unique to any woman I have ever seen. No woman in Kattegat can boast of a thick ass and large breasts at the same time."
"Thanks," I said dryly, resisting the urge to laugh. "You are unique too, only Bjorn is taller than you."
"Bjorn is thirty palms worth of infidelity and idiocy," Ivar's eyes darkened maliciously at the mention of his step-brother. "He sours my disposition, do not mention him."
"Sorry," I muttered petulantly. Ivar eyed me, kind of coldly, before rolling his eyes and giving me a forgiving kiss.
"I'll settle for being 27 palms if it can make me a good leader," Ivar muttered.
"Palms?" I was curious about that term. Unfortunately, google wasn't around to help me convert it to feet. "How tall would I be then?"
Ivar leaned back, incredulous. "You don't know how tall you are?"
"Not in the way you would understand it," I told him apologetically. Ivar leaned back and frowned.
"Around 22 palms, I would say," Ivar said, before grabbing my torso and pulling me up to him. I barely had the time to contemplate that in feet before he impaled me, standing up. I cried out at the awkward positioning. That hit different. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad.
"Hold on to me," Ivar grunted. I firmly wrapped my arms around his neck, letting him maneuver me so that I was straddling him. He then stood up, kissing me. I felt dizzy with list and I moaned as he pressed my back against the wall, entering me, and beginning to thrust. It was beautiful. It was so good in fact, I felt my eyes well up in tears. Ivar kissed my tears away before moving backwards with me, still inside and gently sitting himself down on the foot of the bed again. I positioned myself so that my knees were on either side of his hips. The man absolutely filled me to the rim, and then some more. Being in this position made him go uncomfortably deeper so I raised myself on my knees, inhaling a shuddering breath from how good it felt.
"You set the pace," Ivar whispered breathily in my ear. I gave him a weak, shy smile. Then the skin on my arms prickled.
"Ivar--" I began but Ivar was quicker about it. In one swift move he, yanked the furs so that they were covering me from shoulder to heel, just in time for, I don't even know who, to barge right into our private space.
"My Lord," the male voice said, urgent and panicked.
"What is it?" Ivar snarled, holding me tighter through the furs. I buried my face in his shoulder, my muscles squeezing around Ivar. I was mortified.
"The Allting requires your presence," the man breathed, "Urgently."
"The Allting is only summoned when all the Leaders are present," Ivar snarled.
"And they are, my Prince," the man said. I couldn't see who it was but I was so embarrassed. "Your betrothed is also required to attend."
"By whose decree?" Ivar never sounded so furious. I was concerned.
"King Harald, my prince," the man sounded regretful.
"I will be out soon," Ivar said. "You will lead us."
When the man was gone, Ivar gently guided me off of him. I whimpered at the loss of him. "We weren't done," I pouted, my inner core raging with ungratified release.
Ivar turned me a sour eye and then glanced down at his own, impressive and glistening erection. "The Allting calls, mine lile fugl."
His pet name for me made things a little easier to contend with. So I quickly cleaned myself and put my dress back on. On our horses, we followed the messenger boy with a surprisingly deep voice to the centre of Kattegat, where the Allting was.
The Allting was a council, called by the elders, where all the Leaders, Jarls, and Kings of Scandinavia would ideally attend. The Allting was a council of judgement, a council of trade, a council of all the important matters. Issues were settled in the Allting. The law happened in the Allting.
It was also usually seasonal or planned ahead of time. Something so last minute was unfair and I can tell that Ivar was surprised by it.
"What is it, brother?" Hvitserk asked as h greeted us, jumping off his own horse. Millicent was not with him. "This is unexpected."
"And unlawful," Ivar said grumpily. "It was prepared in secret and out of season. Either the messenger failed to reach me in time, or I am being conspired against."
"You are being conspired against," Hvitserk said solemnly, "For I too, never received the messenger."
"Nor I," Sigurd's voice said from behind us. I turned around quickly, to keep my heart from racing. It has been a while since I had seen the second-youngest. Our interactions were scarce to none. He gazed at me with an intense, hawkish look. "What is she doing here?"
I wasn't really offended that he chose to discount me as a human. He was just as unpleasant as he found me. Better that he didn't speak with me.
"By command of the King," Ivar siad derisively, unimpressed, "She must attend."
"Then let us get this over with," Ubbe said, patting Ivar and I on the shoulders. "All will be well."
I didn't know enough to feel nervous or scared. In hindsight, those emotions might have been more useful, because then I kind of knew what to expect.
"She is beautiful," Sigurd said, inclining his head to me. I didn't have it in me to feel flattered at the unexpected compliment. It didn't sound like a compliment, more like a fact. A despicable one at that. Ivar tensed beside me and Ubbe let out an unsure chuckle.
"Brother--" Hvitserk began, his smile strained.
"Prince Halfdan has expressed his desire for her on more than one occasion," Sigurd continued. "He boasted of her beauty and sexuality. He might have orchestrated this unlawful Allting to make her his own. Beware, Ivar."
My stomach hit the floor from a thousand feet and my world swayed. Ivar tightened his hold on me. My worst nightmare. I heard all the rumors about that particular prince. I heard what he did to the women in his life; his wives, his daughters, and his servants... he was abusive and sadistic. I whined in alarm.
"Shhh...my love," Ivar murmured in my ear, squeezing my hand. "I will not let him take you."
"How can you be sure?" I squeaked, horrified.
"I can't," Ivar frowned, "But I can make him regret his intentions."
That did not assure me at all.
"It might not be the purpose of the Allting, sister," Hvitserk gave me an assuring smile but it was strained. I never heard Prince Halfdan comment on my appearance or my sexuality. Yes he always looked sleazy and dangerous, but that was it. But apparently, the brothers were privy to something I was not.
Now all the brothers lost their uneasy humor. Instead, it was replaced with sombre menace. "He cannot covet another Jarl's woman, or a Prince for that matter. You rank equal to him Ivar. He may not challenge you under the Allting's Law."
Ivar never lost his composure and I envied him. I felt like a quivering mess.
"Let us go inside," Ivar said calmly, his vice grip on my waist unfailing and intensely assuring. He can bruise me for all I care, but he can't ever let go of me.
When we entered, the large, longhouse was already half-full, with more people filing in. They were all predominantly men. I spied a few women. They were all dressed in fine furs, with fine facial make up and fine gold, displaying their wealth.
I felt slightly underdressed. But thankfully, Ivar insisted that I wear my finest dresses and the gold that he gave me; "Wear your finest dress to the Allting, wrap yourself in the white fur that I hunted for you. Put on your Kohl and carmine and wear all the gold that you can, tastefully," Ivar had insisted. "You must appear as though you are the wife of Prince Ivar Ragnarsson Lothbrok."
I had complied. I tried to be quick about it since the messenger made it sound so urgent, so I was confident that I looked no lesser than they did. The only thing that intimidated me was the fact that I was the only one who looked out of place because of my ethnic coloration.
Ivar wrapped one arm around me, bringing his own fur over me and brought me forward to the very centre of the Allting. "Sit here, Yasmeen."
"No," a loud voice boomed. My stomach somersaulted violently. I looked towards the source of the voice and saw that it was King Halfdan and he was pointing an accusing finger at me.
"Seize her!"