Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

10- Requests

The axe glimmered in the light, shinning fiercely in a way that resembled the northern star. It was a thing of beauty, a foreign styled weapon held in the hands of a vengeful son. She knew it would soon drip the blood of the foreign kings.

It had taken a few days, just as she said it would, but it was worth all the time in the world to her. It was like a child she had to give away into uncaring hands. Leather strips were woven strategically around the wooden handle in the viking fashion, thanks to Arvid.

Artemis watched as Ivar's thumb grazes over the runes carved into the wood. He had it blessed by their own priests for battle as soon as he could.

The sun filtered through the branches perfectly, melting away the snow caught on the leaves. It was where the brothers had their training ground, and they were all determined to test run the axe. Ivar sat on the old tree stump, a haughty smile playing on his lips. It was an axe that any warrior would envy.

"I think he is quite impressed with your creation," Arvid says to her as they watched the brothers from a distance. Like children, they circle around Ivar to get a chance to glimpse at the weapon.

"The only good I've been able to do it seems." She mutters with a shrug, bringing her new fur cloak tighter around herself when the winds picked up speed.

"You know, you do not look like much of a slave." Arvid remarks, casting her a curious look. He was quick to notice the fine cloak she wore.

"No," She responds, "That is because I was never meant to be one." She says with such honesty, turning to glance up at him. Arvid's blue eyes clashed with her gray in a playful battle. The young blacksmith had always treated her differently, and it didn't help that he was strikingly handsome. Artemis never thought she'd think of a northman as attractive, but it was something she could not deny, God help her.

"Artemis!" Ivar hisses her name, glaring at the pair with daggers for eyes. He called her over using the axe as if it had replaced his arm, "Come here!"

"Your master awaits," Arvid holds back a laugh when she rolls her eyes, slowly trudging through the melting snow. Ubbe and Hvitserk were smirking while Sigurd stood neutral, looking at her with stone like eyes.

"Yes, Prince Ivar." Somehow the snow had gotten into his hair, melting onto the brown stands that grew longer by the day. His eyes were a pretty pale blue that day, a sign the he wasn't in any particular pain. His brow was wrinkled in displeasure, and pink lips set in a pout. Artemis glanced at Ivar's lips before looking back into his eyes.

"You must have the first throw," He grunts, handing her the axe.

"The first throw, Prince?"

"Mhm," He hums, pointing towards the target placed high on the tree a few feet away from them, "You made it, you get the first throw." Hvitserk laughs at her expression as it was one of pure horror.

"Come now, Artemis, surely you can throw an axe?" Hvitserk taunts, and Ibbe laughs along with him.

"I can make them, but I was never trained to wield them." She responds, slightly embarrased. She knew some of the women in their culture were known as shieldmaidens, and that they were held in high regards. Generally, it seemed the women of the north had more liberties than the rest of the known world.

Artemis remembered watching her brother fight with father, makeshift training for any future defenses. But that was all she did. She watched and was never allowed to engage. It was one thing for a woman to work with metals, but something entirely different if she could fight. She would have never been married off, not that it mattered anymore.