"I bid you to remember the words of our forefathers. Fear nothing. Survive. Conquer."
Rated M: Violence and Mature Themes. Please be advised that this book may have graphic depictions of violence.
"She is an honourable woman, she will do what is right."
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Ivar twirls small blade in between his fingers. His mind is clouded. The same thoughts that had circulated through his brain still remain unprocessed. The memory of the day she left still in the front of his mind, diminishing every other thought but that of her. He flips the knife over again, repeating the same twirl, toss and catch routine had been doing for the past hour. The words she uttered minutes before she set sail for Greece seem to be whispered into his ear with every crash of a wave.
"May we meet again, Ivar Lothbrok."
He remembered everything. Her smile. Her laugh. Her touch. All things he had foregone since she left. His skin was left cold and lifeless much like his heart. His ears were left numb to conversations and humorous banter. And worst of all his hands. His hands were so empty, with nothing to behold besides the small blade of hers that had now become his constant companion. But no matter how hard he tried to move on, to accept the fate the gods had bestowed upon him, he could not. And perhaps that's what hurt him the most. That he would never see life the same without her.
"Ivar," Hvitserk calls out to his brother, "I have something for you."
Hvitserk guides a young slave girl by his side and presents her in front of his brother. Her pale skin contrasts against the bleak surroundings of Kattegat. Her lifeless blonde waves sit in rough tangles on her slumped shoulders. Her green eyes are cast to the ground, not daring to meet the eyes of the ruthless prince that sits before her.
Ivar exchanges a disgusted glance between Hvitserk and the unkempt woman. "Do not mock me by bringing me cheap whores, brother." Ivar snarls, turning away from the two.
Hvitserk sends the young woman away with the flick of a hand and strides over to stand beside his brother. His eyes follow Ivar's gaze across the glistening waters.
"Ivar, it has been months without word from Greece," Hvitserk comments. "Since father's passing you have been raiding relentlessly. You have done nothing else besides that and awaiting word from Torhyl. I simply meant to give you an outlet to clear your mind."
"My mind is perfectly clear without your constant distractions, brother." Ivar replies.
Hvitserk looks down at the small blade in Ivar's hands and lets out an amused breath. "I know you thought highly of her, Ivar, but at one point or another you have to face the fact that she's not coming back. I'm simply trying to give you another bearer for your legacy and perhaps you should consider accepting at least one of my offers before your time runs out."
"You think by bringing every girl in Kattegat before my bed you can get me to forget about her?"
"I would not have to bring so many if you would but set your affections on one that I may bring before you."
Ivar's eyes meet his brother's glance with a cold stare. "You know where my affections lie, brother and you would be wise to realise your place in my personal affairs if you value your life."
Ivar turns away and continues to twirl the knife in between his fingers.
"You have not heard from Torhyl in months, how do you she is even still alive?" Hvitserk snaps.
A small smile works its way onto Ivar's lips. "She has braved these seas more than one time, Hvitserk. She has faced the fury of war and laughed in the face of death's cold mercenary. Death does not dare try to fight her for her own breath, for she will win every time."
Hvitserk snarls at his ease to brush off such an accusation. This woman has made him soft. "What if she has found another, hm? Another man in her homeland that can provide for her...love her as she desires."
Ivar's face falls at the thought of Torhyl in the arms of another man. A heated rage pools at the base of his stomach as he ponders such statements. She is a beautiful woman any man in a million moons would suffer great tortures to behold, why would she withhold herself for such a man as he? He feels a sharp pain in his palm and looks down to find Torhyl's blade gripped tightly in his fist. He remembers how she gave that piece of her life to him and how that small piece of forged steel had created a silent vow between the two of them.
"She is an honourable woman, she will do what is right." Ivar replies.
Hvitserk shakes his head, his patience for his brother wearing thin with every persistent attempt to shift his attention away from the exotic woman of Greece.
"Since I cannot persuade you to take on another woman, perhaps you would like to discuss the location prospects for the upcoming raid." Hvitserk crosses his arms across his chest, following Ivar's line of sight over the crystal clear ocean. "The men have loaded the ships per your requests, we will be ready to sail at sunrise, but we still do not know in which direction we sail."
Ivar nods, his eyes not shifting from the water in front of him as he replies. "Tell the men to sharpen their blades and farewell their loved ones. Tell them we sail at daybreak," Ivar tears his gaze away from the water, his blue eyes now piercing through Hvitserk's blank stare. "Tell them we sail east...To Greece."
