by T S Florence
Her back ached, and she needed desperately to go to the toilet, but she was afraid to ask, for fear of Ivar’s reaction. She glanced sideways at Ragnar, trying hard to keep a strong appearance. He noticed her glance, and as if reading her mind, called too Ivar in their native tongue. They argued back and forth for a short while, before Ivar pulled hard on his reins ordering the rest of the band to a stop.
That night, instead of holding her, he kept her tied. The ropes were beginning to chafe against her waist.
“You’re a horrible brute” Isla said, exasperated at his change of attitude.
“I’m glad you can see that” Ivar tied the other end of the rope to his own waist.
“Tell me, what is the purpose of using the rope tonight?” Isla yanked on the rope, causing the rope to fall from his hands, making him re-start the tying of the knot.
“To stop you from escaping again. I see you hatching your plans, princess”
Ivar continued to tie his knot, before Isla yanked harder, causing the rope to fall loose again around his legs.
“Stop calling me a princess, I have a name, Viking” Isla felt her face going red with emotion.
“What else shall I call you then?” He said, picking up the rope patiently.
“You could use my name, for one” Isla said.
“I don’t think so, princess,” Ivar said.
“I hate you, and I hate everything you stand for” Isla said, pulling the rope with all her might, causing it once again to fall loose, and this time, causing Ivar to look up at her, though not with anger.
“And what do I stand for, princess?” Ivar asked.
“Have a look around. You take people’s lives and freedom for money. There are other ways to live” she said.
“You can hate me all you want, princess, but let me tie this damn knot” Ivar said.
Isla tried to pull the rope again, but this time Ivar was ready, and pulled at the same time, causing Isla to fall onto the bed of furs. He moved towards her, putting his hands on her shoulders, straddling her and pinning her down.
“You see, when you act like this how could you expect me to simply leave you untied?” Ivar said.
“I’m acting like this because you decided to tie me up in the first place you stupid barbarian” Isla wriggled underneath Ivar, frustrated at her inability to move his huge frame. She hated that she had no control over her movement, her freedom, or her happiness. Everything that was rightfully hers was now Ivar’s.
“You’re nothing more than a thief” Isla puffed, giving up on resisting.
“I’ve been called worse” Ivar said mildly, as he finished tying the rope, while he kept her pinned under his weight.
He lifted Isla and put her on the other side of the bed, making the rope taut, so he could feel her movement, and lay down to sleep.
tug, tug, tug. Isla pulled at the rope, determined to make him as uncomfortable as she felt.
“What are you doing?” He asked, a frown darkening across his brow.
“I will keep you awake all night if I have to” Isla continued tugging on the rope.
“You will get tired eventually”, Ivar yawned.
After five minutes of tugging not he rope, Isla’s arm began to ache so she crawled over the top of him, slipping as she did, landing on his chest.
“Well I was going to wait a night or so before I attempted to make love to you, but if you insist,” Ivar said, laughing, Isla slapped his chest, huffing, as she made it to the other side of him, and began tugging on the rope from the other side. After another ten minutes, Ivar relented.
“I would make a deal with you, if you would like, princess” Ivar said, his voice tired.
“You can start by taking off this rope” Isla said.
“That is my only bargaining chip,” Ivar said.
“Of course, how could I forget, you are quite ruthless when it comes to making deals,” Isla clipped.
“Promise to me you will not escape in the night, and I will leave you untied. However, just to be sure, I will need to keep an arm around you,” Ivar said.
Isla thought for a moment, the idea of this handsome warrior touching her body made her… feel things… she hadn’t felt before
“Very well,” Isla said, a little too enthusiastically, wriggling in closer, so Ivar could put his arm around her. When she stopped wriggling, she felt a muscled, heavy, arm drape itself across her stomach. Before she could think any more, she found sleep.
Isla woke the next morning to an empty bed. She stepped out of the tent to see Ivar training his sword fighting with Ragnar. The two of them would parry back and forth, attacking and then retreating. They did not use shields, but used one hand for balance. Sweat covered Ivar’s face, as he darted in and out, striking and backing off. His movements were strong and smooth. Despite her annoyance with Ivar, she couldn’t help but admire his naked torso, slick with sweat. His power, in the way he used his sword. Despite his treatment of her, Isla couldn’t help but long for him, Ivar the Cruel.
Her feelings came back, something deep in her core stirred, and the thought that this man was in her bed last night caused her to feel heated. This huge, intimidating, handsome brute of a man, who could so easily take her and do as he pleased, wrapped around her like a blanket. A gorgeous, scarred, angry blanket.
Ivar
The blistering Ivar had set for his men was causing even his more experienced riders to complain by the time they had stopped for lunch that day. Ivar looked over at Isla and her face told a story of exhaustion. He sat by his horse, away from the group, watching them talk amongst themselves.
“This princess is causing you anguish” Skald surprised Ivar, who had been behind him without making himself known.
“Don’t just sneak up on people like that god damn you” Ivar snapped at Skald.
“Like I said, this princess is causing you anguish” Skald said.
“This is temporary. We will make the deal and then we will go back to Scotland,” Ivar said.
A smile played at the corners of Skald’s lips. “You know I hear that there is another clan of Vikings who are in the highlands, they are led by a woman.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, why would a clan of Vikings follow a woman” Ivar said.
“They call her Freya the Goddess of Death. They say she fights like Thor possessed with demons,” Skald said, watching Ivar with his cold eyes.
“Then maybe she will make a good match for those damn Scots” Ivar said, packing away his food, and getting his horse ready.
“I would like to meet her,” Skald said, his eyes twinkling with lust, something Ivar had never noticed in his comrade.
“You want to conquer this woman, don’t you?” Ivar said, laughing.
“Well it would be a challenge, and an exciting one,” Skald said.
Isla
This man is riding me to exhaustion, the brute. Isla was struggling to hold the pace with the rest of the warriors. She beginning to slip in her saddle and failed to stifle a scream as she almost fell from the horse by mid-afternoon.
That’s it, she wasn’t going to allow this man to ride her any harder just to get his gold half a day earlier. She yanked on her rope, making Ragnar follow her to the front of the pack, to Ivar.
“I cannot ride any longer, I’m going to fall from my horse” Isla said to Ivar.
He looked at her, as if weighing the truth of her words, before slowing his horse.
“Very well” he said, barking orders at his men. He took the rope from Ragnar and tied it to his waist.
Ivar
That night, as Isla was changing in the tent, Ivar caught a peek of her waist. It was red and raw, something she had not mentioned to him.
“Why did you not tell me the rope was burning your skin” he asked her.
“Because you wouldn’t care, you’re a beast” she said to him, without anger.
“Very well, we will sleep without the rope tonight.”
“How kind of you, my knight in shi
ning armour.” She said.
“I don’t understand” Ivar replied.
“Of course, you wouldn’t, you’re a Viking” she replied, her temper beginning to rise.
“We will ride slowly tomorrow, and without rope” Ivar continued, feeling guilt for his actions over the past days.
“Don’t slow down on my account, if anything, I would prefer to meet my future husband sooner rather than later. The quicker I’m away from you, the better” Isla said, turning away from him in the bed.
“I did not want to cause you pain” Ivar said, touching her waist.
She flinched at his touch, but whether it was from pain, or merely not wanting to be touched, Ivar was not sure.
“Well you did” she responded; her voice pained. “You know, I’ve lived the last 3 years of my life with a man who didn’t care for my happiness or safety, I don’t need you caring for it, so stop worrying about me” she said, her voice laden with emotion.
Ivar’s actions over the past days caught his conscience, breaking down the brick wall around his heart, that he had tried to build in an effort to keep Isla out. Ivar rose from bed, and went to Isla’s belongings. I know she’s a healer, why hasn’t she tried to heal herself? “Where are your healing herbs?” Ivar rummaged through her belongings.
Isla jumped from the bed, stomping over to Ivar. “If you want to steal my belongings, you’ll have to kill me like you kill everyone else you steal from, Viking” she carried her belongings back to her side of the bed, laying them out of his reach.
“Did you speak to your King like this?” Ivar asked, getting back into bed, besides Isla.
“No” Isla said quietly.
“So I must be worse than your dead King?” Ivar tried to put his hand around her stomach, but was slapped away.
“You have been behaving worse these last days, yes” Isla said.
“And before that?” Ivar asked.
“Tomlin was cruel man. He would beat me often. I spoke out against him shortly before you arrived, and he almost drowned me for my efforts. You might not be as bad as him, but you’re still not a kind man. I feel sorry for the wife you choose one day.” Isla said.
“So you speak out to me because you don’t fear me beating you, is that correct?”
“I haven’t thought about it, but I guess so,” Isla said.
“Would he take you in bed unwillingly?” Ivar asked.
“He never took me at all” Isla replied.
“So, you have never been with a man?” Ivar asked.
“No. And I don’t plan to, so get it out of your mind.” Isla replied.
The next morning, while Isla slept, he raised her dress gently, not to peer at her, but to apply the herbs that she had neglected to apply to herself. He applied the herbs gently careful not to wake her. He then pulled her dress back down and left her to sleep, as he went to train swords with Ragnar.
Isla
Isla awoke to Ragnar touching her. She almost jumped, until she realized what he was doing. Her heart began to beat harder in her chest, and she was scared it would show she was awake. She lay still, letting Ragnar apply the herbs to her raw waist, before leaving the tent. It didn’t matter what Ivar did now. He had shown Isla that he was a hard man, and she could not abide to let a man like that control her emotions. She had survived the last three years, so she can survive another week with this beast, no matter how he made her hart flutter or her stomach twist itself in knots.
That day, they rode slower. Isla noticed that Ivar never allowed his horse to be more than a pace away from her, obviously still worried that she would attempt to escape again, the little good that had done her previously.
“Are you doing well, princess?” Ivar asked, as the sun was getting close to the middle of the sky.
“Stop pretending to care, Viking,” Isla replied, building a stone wall of her own, around her heart.
Ivar did not attempt to talk again, instead ordered his men to make camp for lunch. This time, Ivar sat with the rest of his men, again, making sure to never be far from Isla.
“Would you like some cooked meat?” Ivar asked Isla.
“Cheese and bread is fine” Isla responded, trying to shut Ivar out. Why is he talking to me now. What has changed in his mind that has made him kind again? This man will drive me mad if I let him.
The rest of the day was spent with Ivar trying, and failing, to engage Isla in conversation. By night, Isla’s waist had stopped hurting, and the redness was beginning to subside. She was observing herself when Ivar entered the tent, his eyes widening and then averting as he saw between her legs.
“You could give me some notice before you enter, you know” Isla said, her face flushing with embarrassment.
“I did not think you would be looking at your womanly parts” Ivar said, his own face going red.
“I was observing the marks on my waist that you caused” Isla huffed, annoyed at his misunderstanding of the situation.
“I’m very sorry” Ivar said.
“I don’t want or need your apologies.” Isla said.
“Very well, I will let you sleep.”
Ivar laid down next to Isla, and soon began snoring. For the first time in days, he had shown that he trusted her not to attempt another escape. And Isla felt her heart’s wall beginning to crumble.
7
Isla
They had made it half way to Newcastle. They arrived in a small Norse village, in a valley amongst mountains, close to a fort called Appleby. As they came close to the village, children began running alongside the horses, asking yelling to their fathers, asking to be lifted up onto their laps. Most men had a child, Isla noticed. She rode alongside Ivar, who had children calling his name, begging for gifts, grabbing at his feet. They were not afraid of him, in fact, it looked like these children loved Ivar, the way they yelled his name, the way the women of the town gazed longingly at him. When they finally arrived at the village’s center, there was a cheering and chanting of Ivar’s name.
Ivar dismounted from his horse, taking Isla’s hand, and lifting her down. The town cheered loud. IVAR… IVAR… IVAR. They yelled, men, women, and children alike. He was their hero. He untied bags that were on his horse, and opened them, handing out small wooden toys to children, playing games, and showing magic tricks. He smiled a genuine smile, something Isla had not seen on his face the day he had arrived at the castle. He had smiled, but differently. Isla felt that she was just now seeing who Ivar truly was, not the man who had been assigned the name Ivar the Cruel, but someone different. Someone real.
Ivar then stood, his voice proud and booming, speaking first in his mother tongue, and then in English.
“This is Princess Isla. She is our guest during her stay here, so I want everyone to treat her as such.”
His proclamation was met with more cheering, the people readily agreeing to anything he said. He was a true leader, not like Tomlin, who was riddled with insecurities, needing to rule with fear. Ivar took her hand and walked her into the main hall, where a fire was burning in the center of the room. Men were already carrying a carcass to put over the pit for a great fire.
“You will have your own private room here, princess,” Ivar said to Isla quietly, only for her to hear.
“I might try to escape,” Isla said.
“I would have to keep you in my room if you are planning another escape,” Ivar said, with his eyes light with joy.
“You wouldn’t be Ivar the Clever if you didn’t,” she replied, touching his hand lightly, as they sat, looking over the men women and children rejoicing in the great hall.
Isla watched Ivar that night, loved by his people, treating each and every one of them like his family.
She watched the affection he had for his handmaid, Sigrid, in particular. She was tall with ginger hair, many of the men around Ivar gazing at her beauty. She looked only to Ivar, her eyes sparkling as he joked with her in their native tongue.
Isla couldn’t help but notice, now more than ever,
how truly ruggedly handsome Ivar was. His devastating glare, his normally guarded, hard face was open now, his threatening scar now simply a part of his face. His tensed, muscled, war-hardened body was now relaxed and playful. She watched the way he would interact with the children, and the way he would talk with the women. She realized that now they were no longer on the road, he did not need to keep such a close eye on her.
