Merciful || Ivar the Boneless

t e n

The air thickened by seconds as Eira took a deep breath. She cleared her throat, trying to put sentences together in her head before saying them out loud.

They were sitting on the ground by the fire which was throwing shades and dancing beams of light on them. Both men were watching her every move, making her even more anxious. The blood on her face was almost dry by the time she started to talk. It took her a time to finally speak up. She was careful with each word, sometimes not making proper sentences. Ivar didn't mind, he understood it's been a while since she has talked.

It was quiet before she got the courage to open her mouth and let her story be told. Her voice was cracking up here and there, cutting the silence that was surrounding them. Ivar and Ubbe were hanging on her each word. Few times they weren't almost breathing, few times their eyes were showing a passion for Eira.

This is how it went.

"I-I," she began not able to hold her tone straight. She shook her head and tried again, different approach. "A jarl wanted to marry me. He was cruel, big and old. One day we went to his town because he invited us. He asked me there to marry him, but I said no. I," she pointed at herself and continued, "honest. Too much. I said he is too old for me and he is a fool to think I would marry him," she looked at her hands. Her nails dug into her palms.

"People laughed at him. He told me I would regret it. My father took me and my mother back home to pack some things and leave for safety." Eira closed her eyes harshly, creases showing off on her forehead.

"When we back home, we packed. Then he came," she swallowed remembering his face and what he did afterwards. "The Berserker. My father tried to fight him, but he was bigger and stronger. He cut my father from the stomach to throat. Mother screamed. Run, she said. I jumped out of the opened window. When I looked back, he was holding my mother. She was looking at me and he slit her throat," with the last word a single tear ran down her cheek.

Eira remembered the last conversation she had with her parents. How her mother was yelling at her, how her father was trying to calm her mother down, reassuring that they will be okay. They were not okay. "I ran and ran. He was hunting me like an animal. For a long time, I was ahead of him. I wanted to kill him, but I didn't have the time to prepare. I was on the run the whole time. He was one step behind me. Until you," she looked at Ivar, "found me in the woods."

She thought this would be enough of explaining. But she was wrong.

"What about your scars? You said something about men," Ivar raised his eyebrow not looking anywhere but Eira.

The sick feeling in her stomach was back. She hoped she would never have to remember that time.

It changed her so much, she didn't recognize herself since then. Not physically, not mentally. The young, innocent farmer girl was gone. Instead of her, there was a cold, broken killer with only one goal. Revenge.