Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

6- Trapped

Helga's normally nimble fingers struggled to work intricate braids into Artemis's hair. The girl sat sulking at the older woman's feet, watching the dancing flames of the hearth in a trance like state, her mind voided of all thought.

Helga and Floki had a humble home. It was by no means as extravagant as the home of the Prince's or the Queen, but something about it put her in a calmer state. Perhaps it was Helga's motherly warmth, or the soft furs arranged across the floor, comfortably tickling her palms.

Or perhaps it was the view of the sea, and how close to an escape there was.

Artemis snorts to herself. Impossible.

"Really child, you have wild hair," Helga interrupts her thoughts with a tug of her hair. She uses her fingers to separate the knots before tightening the braid, making Artemis howl in pain.

Helga insisted on these hairstyles. Why? She thought them more pleasing to the eye. That was enough to make Artemis scoff. She clearly didn't care about her hair. What slave would?

Another knot was separated followed by another whine of pain.

"Keep still!"

"That hurts!" Helga clicks her tongue, swatting away at the girls probing hands.

One could say they had formed a relationship, as bizzare as it was. Helga was renowned for her nurturing soul, and after the death of her daughter Angraboda, she wanted so much to give that affection to another. No one could ever replace her late daughter, but she had grown a fondness for Artemis, even if the girl fought against it.

After a few moments of bickering, Artemis finally relents, letting Helga continue to finish her braiding.

"There," The older woman tells her, "You now look like a proper Viking woman," She spoke with pride, examining her work.

"I'm no Viking," Artemis mutters, renouncing the idea. She felt she was slowly losing herself.

"Well, you're close enough to it now. You look lovely," Helga ignores the bitterness in the girl's voice, moving to reach for a well polished copper plate. She holds it in front of her so that she may inspect the braids properly.

Artemis blinks, her eyes following the blurred lines of her reflection on the tinted copper. It had been so long since she'd seen herself, she almost didn't recognize her own face. At first glance she noticed her cheekbones were much more prominent than usual. She brings a hand to her face and touches her oddly pale skin. There was a darkness under her eyes, revealing her many sleepless nights. The only beauty she could see was her hair, pulled to the side in little neat braids right above her ear. It was the neatest her hair had been in such a long time.

"How do you like them?" Helga asks, a smile stretching over her lips.

"They're...nice," Artemis replies sadly, turning away from the copper plate, "Thank you." Helga nods, standing to go and tend to the dying fire.

"I'm surprised Ivar allows you to come visit," Helga comments, adding a log into the flames, "Ivar can be quite...unpredictable."

"He doesn't know I come here," The girl mutters her reply, knowing she'd be remprimanded, "The Prince is an absent master." Helga slowly turns to face her, bringing a hand to her hip as she makes a noise of disapproval.

"You're looking for a scolding. Edda doesn't look for you?"

"If she can't find me, she can't bother me. She doesn't like me very much either,"

"And you wonder why?" Helga questions. Artemis looks away from her stern look, not wanting to see the disappointment in her eyes. Instead she stands and stretches her aching bones from another sleepless night plagued by the usual thoughts, except now they included Ivar.