Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

15- York

Crete was an island of fame in the Greek world.

It is said that Zeus, king of the gods, was conceived and raised there, on an obscure mountain, in an obscure cave. It is said that the fiercest warriors were bred there, fiercer than any Spartan or Athenian. It is said that Crete was the first Greek island that bore civilization in the Mediterranean. They were proud islanders, and yet, it had produced such a stupid woman.

The islands of gods and heroes, of myths and legends, could not have helped such a sorry soul. Such a pity, to have a woman named after a powerful goddess, only to be caught in the web of a heathen from of the North.

She was sure she'd never see her home again.

There was a strained silence despite all the noise they were surrounded by. When Ivar spares her a glance, she tenses at his expression.

"Surely you have an explanation for your actions, hm?" He grits out through clenched teeth.

"I-"

"I haven't given you permission to speak." He spits. Obviously displeased, his brows twitch in irritation and his pink lips were pulled back into a snarl like an angry dog.

"You gave me your word that you would not do this," His rage continued to build up behind his words, "I've given you privilege above all slaves, yet you attempt to betray me?" Artemis's face collided with the side of the chariot when they pass over a particular stone across the road. She groans, clutching her head to soothe the pain.

"You are foolish." She hears the last part of his mutterings, remaining silent as he kept on with his berating. As he steadly rambled on his grievances, Artemis buries a hand within her wild mane, hissing when she touches the tender spot on her scalp. There were traces of dried blood on her fingertips.

"Bjorn must have fed you such pretty little words, hm?" Ivar barks down at her, "You danced right into his grasp." She goes on staring at her stained fingertips, only coming back to focus when Ivar tugs at a strand of her hair.

"I'm talking to you, Artemis." He seethes.

"He offered to take me home." She says with fluttering eyes. Small dots danced across her vision.

"For a price, I'm sure."

"He needed a translator."

"So he gifts, only to take back." Ivar scoffs, worrying his lip out of habit.

"He said he wanted to right his wrongs." She repeats Bjorn's words sadly.

"You want your freedom. You want to go back to your little island. I understand," Ivar's tone was anything but understanding, yet he continued, "But it will be done when I say." She hears him without processing his words. Instead, she lays her head against the side of the chariot, her knees tucked under her chin. Her eyes began to flutter as sleep tried to claim her. She was far too tired and disoriented to fear whatever consequences she may face.

"Hey!" Ivar yells, pinching her cheek a few times, "Stay awake. You are no use to anyone dead." He jerks the chariot to a stop with a tight pull of the reigns, grabbing at her collar to secure her before she could meet the ground.

"Hvitserk!" Ivar barks, "Help her up. She needs to walk the sleep off, no thanks to you."

"You could not bare to live without her, could you Ivar?" Hvitserk jokes, quickly going over to help her up so that the procession may continue. Ivar doesn't grace his brother with an answer, keeping his eyes focused on the passing meadows and the road ahead.

Artemis stumbled into Hvitserk before catching her own footing.

"I hope I did not hurt you too bad." He tells her, waving his axe about by the blunt end. His lopsided grin sent a fury in her bones, and her hands balled into weak fists.