In This Life (Ivar Lothbrok)

Chapter 6: In Another Life

Winter is freezing as always, you're used to it, you've been living in the woods near Kattegat since you were a babe. Your family had moved from the South seeking a better life, and living under the rule of Ragnar Lothbrok seemed like a good idea. At least until he disappeared after his defeat in Paris. Now things are precarious with Queen Aslaug's ruling, but your father is optimistic. He hopes, either the King will come back soon, or one of his sons will take the position. His hopes are on Ironside. As for your mother, she doesn't care nearly as much about who rules Kattegat. According to her, because you live outside the place, their rules don't apply to you nearly as much. Like your mother, you don't care about politics, but not thanks to her reasoning. In your ten-year-old mind, there are more pressing matters, like becoming the best shieldmaiden Norway has ever seen.

A strong gust of wind almost knocks you off your feet as you walk through a small clearing. You groan in annoyance, but keep heading for your destination. If your father doesn't allow you to practice with your wooden sword, you will do it on your own. The best place for it is by the run-down cabin that seems to be abandoned. With said purpose in mind, you don't intend to stop, at least until you hear a faint crying coming from your right. Curiosity gets the better of you and you turn that way.

You don't see him at first, he's hiding in between some bushes, sitting on the ground with a sharp dagger in hand. A dagger he uses to threaten you as soon as he hears you approach. "What do you want?" The boy's voice shakes, he doesn't even acknowledge your introduction when you utter your name.

"I just wish to know if you're ok?" You have half a mind to point him with your wooden sword, but he doesn't even stand, so you remain calm.

"Does it look like I am ok?" The kid, maybe the same age as you, throws in your face sarcastically. You don't answer his question, instead, you ask for his name. He hesitates for just a second and then murmurs, "Ivar Ragnarsson."

...

The ocean breeze is nice as you expect it to be on a cloudy day. Even though the weather is chilly, you feel warm in the arms of your love while you both linger sitting on the beach. Normally, at this hour, you would be in the yard training with the rest of the shieldmaidens. Not today, though, today is only you and Ivar. You, and your husband-to-be. Well, perhaps saying husband-to-be is too soon, but you know that's the path you will be taking in a few years. You're still young, yet there's no one else out there for you, only Ivar.

"What are you thinking about so intently?" He interrupts with a soft voice rarely used on anyone but you. Ivar's warm palm on your bare shoulder distracts you deliciously.

"You, us." Your soft murmur raises shivers on Ivar's spine. "Father wants me to marry soon." You drop almost inconspicuously, testing the waters. You know what is to come for you, but he has yet to make a direct proposal.

"Ummm," Ivar hums con-committal. Aside from that, he doesn't add anything else. You wait, but he merely continues to hold you and look at the horizon. One second, thirty seconds go by, and Ivar doesn't say anything.

It's then that you finally snap. "Ivar!"

He laughs, his intentions clear as day in his handsomely mocking face. He was clearly waiting for you to break, to fall into the trap, and you did. How could you ever doubt his intentions to you? He loves you, and there's nothing he desires more than to be with you in this life and the next. With a tender hand, he guides you closer to his body.

"I guess I shall make an official proposal tomorrow, then."

...

The crying won't stop. You have done anything imaginable to quiet the babe in your arms, but she won't calm. It doesn't take a genius to notice what's wrong, the deformed legs that cause her pain and remind you too much of your husband's. Ivar has taken it upon himself to sleep in the guest room whenever the baby is restless. You can't really blame him, you'd want some peace and quiet too if you were the ruler of Kattegat. And in all honesty, even if you wish he would help you more, you understand the sight of your daughter's mangled legs causes him distress and painful memories. You get it, even if you wish it wasn't the case. You can only be thankful he listened when you pleaded not to get rid of your little girl.

"I can hear her from the other room," Ivar's voice comes from the door as he struggles to walk without his braces. Your awakened motherly instinct tells you to help him, but you know better than to treat Ivar as a cripple.

"This time she didn't quiet with the milk." You explain to your husband as you continue to pace through the chamber.

Ivar sits on the bed and wordlessly extends his arms. You're surprised by the gesture, but don't hesitate to place your child there. He immediately starts to work. At first, you believe he might not know how to carry a baby, but when your daughter starts to slowly stop crying, you realize what he's doing. The massage is odd and almost rough to some level, but it appeases her in a way you haven't been able to.

Slowly, the baby begins to quiet down and even makes noises of contentment, finally, she sleeps. It's something truly amazing to witness, and as a mother, it quells your heart. The headache that you woke up to dissipates, and it leaves a light heart. Ivar holding your daughter, or better yet, loving your daughter, is something you never knew you needed to witness.

"She likes you," you whisper into the night air, a loving smile on your face.

Ivar doesn't glance up from the baby, he remains looking down at the tiny creature in his arms as he speaks. "She likes I took away the pain."

"How did you do that, my love?" You have an idea of his answer, but you want to make sure.

"Experience, mother wasn't good at taking away the pain, but I learned to do it for myself."

You sit on the bed next to him. "Show me?"

Your husband glances at you, frowning. "That's not necessary, I'll do it whenever she needs."

Warmth spreads in your heart, and you chuckle. "I'm glad, but I would still like you to show me... perhaps I can also do it for you."

Ivar nods, and you see nothing but trust in his eyes. "Of course, wife."

...

The scenes don't change fast, they transpire slowly, as if you're reliving them for the first time. Yet, you don't get to see it all, only the most important moments with him. So, happy memory after happy memory trails in your mind, all with him, and for those precious moments, you belong in another life. A life when the Viking Ivar was your husband, when you had beautiful children, when you were a Queen. It's you, but it also isn't. It's him, but also isn't. You are the same souls, with different lives, and different destinies, but always intertwined. Or, at least, you hoped so.

...

Along with everything else, you also see the end.

It's not romantic, or poetic, it's tragic, but also very Viking. It happens during a battle, you can't see against whom, it doesn't matter, really. One moment, you're fighting side by side, the next, Ivar is lying on the floor with a deep wound on his side, face covered scarlet. The pool of blood underneath him grows with each second that passes by. You're crying, your swollen belly with your second child hurting alarmingly, but you barely pay attention to that pain. The hurt of watching your other half take his last breaths is stronger, more horrifying. He tries to speak, perhaps to tell you that he loves you, perhaps to warn you of the person looming closer. Blood constricts his throat, and he can't speak. Tears well up in your eyes and for a second you can't see him. You're babbling something, or maybe you're screaming, or maybe you're already dead. Your only mercy in those moments is that shortly after he dies, a sword pierces right through you. A tragic, viking death. Your year-old daughter doesn't survive long without her parents.