Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

19- Ragnarok

AN: I don't usually put disclaimers, but I thought I should since there's violence in this chapter.

I apologize for the wait! Also, this is a very lengthy chapter, the longest so far.

9088 words. Prepare yourselves 😅

...

Ivar had always been a light sleeper, so it was no surprise to him that the smallest of noises made his eyes crack open in his dimly lit chambers. Recently, sleep came to him easily, despite the aches. After a long day of constant strategizing and training for the battle to come, slipping underneath the furs on a cool night was just enough to lull him into a dreamless slumber.

He never had a problem sleeping alone. It had allowed him to be alert if need be, but now, laying next to a much welcomed heat, Ivar had no problems drifting away, so long as Artemis was beside him.

Ivar made no movements, but his eyes scanned the perimeter of the chamber out of habit. There was a table with parchments littering its surface, a large changing screen, a fireplace not in use, and some candles scattered about to illuminate the area. Nothing seemed out of place, and nothing seemed to hide in the shadows. He looked over at Artemis who had her back towards him, and he decided nothing was out of the ordinary.

He shifted under the sheets, drawing closer to the woman beside him, his eyes slowly drooping until he heard it again. It was more distinguishable as a whimper, so low, yet loud enough for his trained ears to detect.

Ah. He should've known.

Artemis was having another nightmare.

He'd seen first hand how often they came to her at night. While his sleep had always been limited due to the constant pain in his legs, her sleep was always interrupted by terrors of some kind.

He runs a finger down the center of her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. He didnt consider himself to be the first choice of comfort, but it was a start.

It seemed to soothe her for a moment as she stopped her whimpers. Satisfied, Ivar curves around her, careful with shifting his legs. He then moves his hand into the mass of her dark hair, fingers gently caressing her scalp in gentle motions.

This was oddly domestic.

But it was nice. He finds himself devoted to her, like a husband would to a wife.

Ivar bites his lips, suddenly aware of his heightened sensitivity. He felt he was a bigger mess of emotions when it came to Artemis, more so after their first night together. He knew who he was, embittered and rage filled. Such angry feelings within and yet, he melted at the sight of her.

No matter, there needn't be justification for things such as love or feelings or anything that related to matters of the heart. Only the gods knew, and Ivar was fine with that.

He continues to gaze at her, his lazy eyes mapping out her small form.

Suddenly she turns over in her fitful sleep, facing him now with arched brows and eyes screwed shut. Her lips were tightly sealed, set in a frown.

Ivar sighs, carefully sitting up against the soft pillows. He places the back of his hand against her cheek, gently rubbing a knuckle across her smooth skin in soothing motions. Then he runs a finger over her brow in an attempt to smooth them down and ease her tension.

Ivar frowns.

He had caused her such strife. He didn't have to be told what plagued her mind. Behind her lids he knew she replayed the images of blood, death and destruction. Subjects that he couldn't be bothered with ate away at her soul. Artemis was no fighter. She was a Christian, what he saw as an everyday occurrence was utterly disturbing for her.