Bound - Ivar the Boneless

4

[ M A T U R E S C E N E ]

Thyra paused against the tree line, staring at the Lothbrok brothers as they pulled Ivar across the river to the, once abandoned, cabin. Toward where Margrethe stood, her face a cluster of nerves and unwillingness.

Thyra moved with the grace of a wolf, slow and silent. She stood against the wall of the cabin, eavesdropping on the conversation between the brothers.

"Do you think he can even do-"

"Enough, Sigurd." Ubbe snapped, "we need to help our brother- with whatever he may ask."

"And you are just fine with this?" Thyra heard Hvitserk ask, her curiosity sparking as she stepped towards the edge of the cabin peering around the corners to the brothers, "we know you favour Margrethe."

"I do not have her. She is not mine, she hasn't said she wants to be. So until that day, it is not my choice. Be thankful brothers, our little Ivar becomes a man." Ubbe said, standing before his brothers with his arms opened wide- a bright smile on his face.

What.

Rage. Betrayal. Jealousy.

Thyra shouldn't have these feelings, Ivar is not hers. But it didn't matter to her, she had said it to him all those days before that she was bound to him. She was furious of whatever motives he may have- and knew she would not take this rage out on Margrethe. The poor slave girl is only doing what she is asked.

Thyra sucked in air through her teeth, steeping around the corner and stirring a panic between the Lothbrok brothers. She watched the energy flick between them all, one she could only assume came from her murderous gaze. She gritted her teeth, palming the daggers strapped to her sides and made for the door of the cabin. It felt as if she was not in control of her body.

"I told you she would find out." Sigurd said under his breath as Thyra stood back on one leg and used all of her strength to kick open the wooden door.

There she saw her, standing over him naked and kissing him gently. Ivar's eyes were wide open, his hands by his sides and pulled back from Margrethe.

Not her vision. The thought swirled for a moment.

The slave girl stood, in all her beauty, and threw herself to the other side of the room from Ivar. Thyra's eyes follow her, with every step- with every motion to cover herself. She had told herself that Margrethe was just doing what was asked of her, but by the gods- Thyra wanted to lodge her dagger deeply into the nape of the girls neck.

Margrethe grabbed for her dress, slipping it over and mumbling words of apology. Thyra moved with lethal grace and grasped Margrethe by her elbow and dragged her to the open front. Thyra noticed that the slave girl was not resisting her as she threw her to the arms of the wide eyed Ubbe.

Thyra took a deep breath in, placing both her hands against the frame of the door, and releasing the breath once she had steadied herself. But she knew that she had no control, she would not gain that back for a while now.

"Take her away, and take care of her. I will bring Ivar back to the hall myself" she rasped, not waiting to see if the brothers would accept as she stood back to slam the door shut- propping it to stay that way with a chair. She then turned to face Ivar, who was propped up on his elbows between the furs on the beds and a blanket across his naked lower half.

- - - -

Ivar was careful of what he done next.

Perhaps it was the fact that he felt nothing when he was kissing Margrethe, but he was certain it had much to do with the hauntingly beautiful shadow in front of him. Her eyes seemed to glow with her rage, and bitter feelings as she looked down at him- still by the closed door.

He cleared his throat, propping himself up more and holding her gaze as he began to speak.

"I just wanted to feel something, or see that it would work. I didn't mean to-"

She started to walk towards him. His heart hammered within his chest, and his arms began to shake as if the task of holding himself up was a chore. Thyra looked hurt, but not in the way he has seen before. She looked murderous, angry and positively everything he wanted.

A feeling he hasn't been familiar with ever in his life came through him. It caused his eyes to flutter as he considered exactly what it is. Fear.

"Thyra-" he wanted to speak, to fill whatever silence this was. But the words were ripped from him as she crawled over his lap, pressing her hands to his chest and pushing him down to the bed. He hoped she did not feel his pounding heart beneath her palm. He obeyed her guidance, lying back down against the furs of the bed and looking up at her.

Her raven black hair hung in a braid, as it usually done with some whispy parts framing her face. Her green eyes, although speckled with brown, shone like a gem. The most precious gem to ever exist.

She lowered herself to him, her legs braced on either side of his waist and her chest meeting his. She pressed against the very thing he convinced would never work, and a thrill went through him.

She ran her hand over his chest, bringing both of her hands up to his neck and gazing deeply into his eyes. Deeply into his very soul.

"Please make me feel something, Ivar."

Her voice was almost a whisper, but the words roared in his ears. He waited, on edge as he listened to her.

"I am tired of feeling rage with you these past few days. Please make me feel something else, anything else. Break my heart, cut into my skin, kiss-"

He didn't let her speak anymore words, she was already too close for him to be wanting anything more in that moment. She had gotten this close to him before, and he had not kissed her. She was asking now, and he would not give this up.

With his body skittering with panic and fear, he pressed his lips to hers. His shadow. It was like being awakened from a hopeless dream he kept falling back into, the moment he felt her lips truly against his own was what he hoped Valhalla to be like when he does get there, to feast among the gods.

He heard the moan in her throat and her back arched as his hands flung around her- allowing all of her to be on top of him. One arm flung across her shoulders, the other going to the low of her back. He wanted to explore, wanted to touch her. Wanted all of her clothes gone and to feel every inch of the skin of her body. He wanted her, and whatever rage came with that.

He pushed his lips deeper into hers before he felt her tongue swipe his lips- begging for more of him. Ivar was happy to oblige, to taste her even though he was not worthy enough for it. His tongue met hers and a moan escaped her throat, making Ivar flex his hands with impatience. He went down from her lower back and grasped her plump ass in his hand, eager to hear more noises come from her. She let out a muffled groan through their kiss as she turned her head to the side to deepen their kiss even more.

Ivar pulled away, breathing into her mouth as Thyra done the same. Her eyes looked cooler and perhaps even calmer but it seemed like the emotion was replaced with hunger.

"Make me feel something, anything you want." Thyra said as she gently traced his jaw with her index finger. His hands remained where they were on her body, and he let out a breath.

"No." Ivar said, sitting up with Thyra straddling his lap. His hands moved to sit at her waist, which was clothed way more than Ivar was. He seemed to forget entirely that he was naked under the blanket.

"No?" Thyra cooed back, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"I made you feel something. Relief. That will be it, Thyra. I cannot do anymore and I am asking you not to make me." Ivar was rather shocked with himself as the words came out of him, something that he thought he would never be saying to someone. Thyra's eyebrows furred and she lifted herself from him, hands braced around his neck.

"Forgive me for every making you feel forced, Ivar. I may have read everything wrong between us, if this is how-" She didn't finish, and slid from him. Ivar immediately missed her warmth.

"I am not worried about your...lack of man hood." She began sarcastically and looked down to Ivar with a sly smile, "there are other ways to please a woman and I think you know them well."