Bound - Ivar the Boneless

5

"Would you care to bring your mind back down from the clouds, Thyra." Floki asked Thyra as he began to lift the heavy beams in her arms. She was helping him carry them, and must have gotten caught in her day dreams to notice she was failing to hold up her end.

"Ah, right." She said, hoisting the beam back up over her shoulder and following Floki along the beach to an unfinished boat. He would be done soon, and Bjorn would have his wish to sail to the Mediterranean. Thyra knew that Floki and Helga would be going with them, and hoped it would be a safe passage- with all of her heart.

They walked some more, struggling slightly against the sinking sand before placing the wooden beam down in front of the hoisted ship- ready to add the final plans for completion.

"You know you can tell me anything." Floki said, dusting his hands against his tunic and turning to face Thyra, his eyes holding a glint of mischievousness and his smile spreading with curiosity. Thyra studied him for a moment, noting the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled.

Thyra felt very selfish in that moment, as the familiar thought crept into her head once more. She wanted a father and a mother, and she wished they would have been Floki and Helga. Perhaps in another life, she wouldn't have to wish for this. Maybe it would just be true, if the gods will it. But she didn't want to think about it in that moment, and shook her head- stepping towards Floki.

"I know." She said, raising her fist and punching Floki in his side. Her fist bounced easily, partially from the leather protecting him but also form the fact she didn't put too much force behind it. Floki chuckled and spun on his heel to kick sand at her shins, and Thyra knew that was the end of that conversation until Floki began another- one she didn't think would ever come from him.

"So you and Ivar, hm?"

Thyra snorted, but she felt her eyes widen ever so slightly as she met Floki's gaze.

"What about him." She stated, dusting her palms on her thighs. Floki chuckled and leant against one of the supporting pillars holding up the unfinished boat.

"Don't take me for a fool, I have seen you both grow up. You were both taught about our gods by me, remember? I've seen you both together since you were children." Floki says, a reminiscent glaze overcoming his eyes as if he remembered the simpler times.

"Yes, well, when you are the village's stray dog- you have a tendency to linger in warm places." Thyra said, turning to the pulleys in front of her and re fastening the ropes.

There was a beat of silence between the two.

"You know that no one believes you to be like that," Floki began, "Helga and I-"

"I know how open you and Helga were. I am not a fool and I know good people when I see them. What I don't need, is your pity Floki. Out of everyone is the village- you are the last I want to tell me empty words."

Floki's eyes hardened as he stepped towards Thyra.

"How dare you say these words like I would ever stoop so low." He snapped, grabbing Thyra's attention immediately. She realised it was quiet rude of her to speak this way to the man that only ever gave her things to live and survive.

"You aren't worthy of pity, Thyra." He began, "because those who are pitied mean that they have lost. You haven't lost anything. Not your worth, your light or your love. I feel bad for you if you thought I would ever pity you, dear girl."

His words hit deep, but for the right reasons. Thyra faced Floki and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his back and placing her face to his chest. She felt Floki stiffen for a moment, before raising his hand and pushing her head further to his chest- as a father would his child.

"Well, this is a lovely sight."

Thyra turns to see Helga with a smile plastered across her face, with Ragnar Lothbrok at her side.

-

"Ivar is coming with me to England."

Thyra watched as Ragnar draws lines in the sand beside him with a stick he must have picked up on their walk to the beach.

"Naturally." Thyra said, turning to throw another stone across the water. She didn't know how to feel about Ragnar at that moment. He had disappeared and has only now returned when the rumours of his knowledge about the destroyed settlements arose. And the man he killed with Floki's help when he threatened to tell the village. Why would he come back when he is favoured so low?

"Do you know why I want to go?" Ragnar asks her, turning his head slightly, as if trying to spot Thyra's reaction before she gave it.

Thyra paid him no mind, shrugging instead. She knew that Ragnar knows about her visions, and how his wife had been coaching her since she was a child. What was meant to be a secret, cannot be when Ragnar exists.

"I will follow Ivar," Thyra began, looking down at the smooth stone between her fingers. She rotated it, examining it, between her fingers, "and in following him- I have no choice but to be following you too."

Ragnar nodded knowingly, palming his hands together as the corner of his lip turned up.

"I remember the day I found you."

Thyra stopped turning the stone, and looked at the fallen king from the corner of her eye.

"You were so tiny, I was worried I had actually found a blanket with a rat in it then a child. Small noises came from within the bundle, but I had to push back some layers to find you," he stood, walking to her side- now holding his own smooth stone.

"I searched for villagers who looked like you. Whether that was to return you, or kill them for abandoning a little girl- I wasn't sure. But you reminded me of my-"

He paused, letting out a slow breath as his feet sunk into the sand. It was as if Ragnar was grounding himself from some far off memory.

"You were strong. Such wise eyes for such a young face. I look at you now and know that, wherever you were truely from, you were meant to cross paths with the people of Kattegat. However, I don't think they were prepared for how you made them feel."

Thyra looked to him now, fully taking him in since their conversation started. She saw his age, his wisdom, but also his fear. Something she never thought she would see on the face of Ragnar Lothbrok.

"How I made them feel? I cannot understand you, it feels like you are speaking riddles." Thyra said, earning a half hearted chuckle from Ragnar as he turned side on with his back to her, slowly raising his right arm with stone in hand.

"You make people feel safe. At ease, like they can tell you anything. Which is dangerous, Thyra. You will be used, and your trust will be broken over and over, but you will survive." Ragnar looked out of the corner of his eye, over his shoulder to Thyra before skimming the stone across the water. 

It skipped once, twice and a third time- before sinking down to the bottom of the lake and becoming lost among the countless other stones there.

"Are you trying to ask me something, Ragnar?" Thyra asked, holding her hands at her sides as she watched the man turn to face her with his signature smirk. A gesture that could convey countless meanings.

"Yes, I guess there is no games when it comes to you. I want you to come to England. Not just because Ivar is going, but because you may be surprised what you find out about yourself on the way."

Thyra stopped to consider his words, struggling to think of a reason to do anything of the sort. But she remembered her anger, the fury that simmers just below the surface of her skin- itching for a fight.

"I will go, Ragnar. I will go."