Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

14- Propositions

It was the first time Artemis witnessed the funeral traditions of the northmen. One of Floki's ships was used, and Sigurd's body was carefully placed inside, along with his lute and other items of his that he may take with him in the after life.

He appeared to be sleeping. His hands rested gently on his stomach, his sword placed in his lifeless grip. His flaxen hair was braided beautifully, revealing a face of tranquility. It was as if he hadn't met a tragic end.

It was the second funeral she has witnessed in two days. Two innocent lives taken so easily and brashly.

Ivar had tears in his eyes, real tears of guilt and anguish that he fought to hold back. Surrounded among the others, he looked utterly defeated and lost, two things that Ivar never dared to express. Bjorn, Hvitserk and Ubbe mourned, their features stone cold. The ship Sigurd peacefully rested in was set to sail, engulfed by an arrow of fire as it trailed down the river Thames, away from his family.

There was complete silence after that.

The crowd erupted into low murmurs and slowly departed, leaving Artemis to stand next to her troubled master. He sniffled loudly, turning his red rimmed eyes to look at her before glaring and crawling away hastily into the settlement.

He needed time on his own.

...

"Floki has left."

Ivar crawls into the forge, eyes red lined and watery. He throws himself into a corner like an old sack, his chest rising and falling rapidly from his rage, and perhaps from crying. Artemis was alone, much to his relief. Arvid was nowhere in sight, and Ivar felt more comfortable to drown himself in his self pity in her presence.

She sits on a stool far from the the dying flames of the hearth, working in silence. She quickly acknowledges him with a glance before continuing her work sharpening a mighty sword belonging to King Harald.

"Did you hear me?" Ivar demands, "Floki has left! He has left me!" He chokes, lowering his face into his hands, defeated.

Artemis frowns, pausing her use of the whetstone to take pity on him. Floki was the only other person who regarded him as more than just the boy who couldn't walk.

"I've heard of his departure," She answers softly, "He mourns his wife. I mourn her too." Ivar sniffles, noting her sad eyes. She was indeed mourning.

"Where has he gone?" She asks him.

"Somewhere," He chuckles bitterly, "Anywhere. I dont know." He picks up a random stone beside him, chucking it across the room, successful in knocking down a few tools. She jumps, the noise startling her.

"They are angry with me, all of them." He mutters, keeping his eyes low. He was not wrong. His brothers regarded him with a cold shoulder now. What Ivar viewed as an accident looked deliberate to the rest.

Artemis listens as usual while he prattled on with his excuses. She never really did care for his excuses, but she did sympathize for him.

"I did not mean to do it, surely they know that." Ivar continues, turning his eyes to her again. Her silence bothered him immensely. She too hadn't uttered a word to him since the disastrous feast.

"Have you nothing to say?" He growls, manuvering himself to settle directly in front of her. He springs forward, using a hand to place it atop of hers, stopping her movements. She swallows thickly, and their eyes meet.

Something about her eyes spoke volumes, causing a fluttering feeling to invade his abdomine.

"Last I spoke out of turn, I was beaten." She finally says, her tone bitter. This was the last situation she should give an opinion about.