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It had been far too long since Alfild's sharp blade had tasted the sweetness of blood upon its steel lips; Since Alfild had smelt the fresh scent of death in the air as she took yet another life swiftly away. She longed to hear those final crimson choked breaths of a man entering Odin's Hall. She craved war, the opportunity to take lives. It was her calling. It was why she was here.
She was ecstatic as York entered her line of sight, preparing herself for the battle that was to come. But all that joy was torn away when Ubbe informed his brothers of something his father had told him. Strike on a Saints day. And all of a sudden, they had decided to wait another day.
Alfild didn't wish to wait. She didn't wish to strike when these men and women were weak and unprepared. In her eyes, it was a cowards move. She understood it strategically, but morally she could not approve. In her eyes, even Christians deserved the opportunity to fight back.
Nevertheless, it was decided.
Alfild sat against a tree, a fair distance from the other Vikings and their celebrations. She didn't feel like celebrating. What was there to celebrate. Her mother's Kingdom was taken and she could only regain it by siding with her mother's killer. Worse still, she wasn't sure she even hated Ivar. She daren't admit it but she found him intriguing, perhaps to the extent where one could say she liked him. Though Alfild refused to admit there was anyone in the world she liked, only that there were those she tolerated.
Moreover, she preferred to drink alone. Most Vikings became jolly and sang together. Alfild was more the sort to sit in a dark corner in a morose silence as her thoughts slowly fell into a deep abyss of sorrow and then she fell asleep. Perhaps she was a negative person, but that was merely how she operated and she could not change that. It was a few cups in and she knew that if she stood then her footing would be sloppy and eyes drowsy. Nevertheless, she continued.
She was broken from her thoughts when someone nearby cleared their throat. Great. It was Ivar. What could he possibly want from her.
"What?" She snapped, perhaps a little harsher than intended.
"Your people are looking for you." He commented, seeming like he couldn't care less.
"And?" She replied, landmark brow raise making her tone seem even sharper.
"What were you thinking about?" The Prince changed the subject, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly with intrigue.
She shrugged, her eyes like the leaves beneath her, "My mother."
"Which one?" He responded, a sarcastic tone to his voice.
Despite his 'humour', Alfild was not entertained. She glared at him, her eyes shooting arrows, "The one you killed."
The forest was still and silent. Distantly, there was the hum of life and drunken men. Both avoided eye contact, staring at the ground as though they could create an earthquake. Perhaps if they worked together, they could. If they worked together, they could do a lot of things.
"I'm sorry." Ivar spoke in almost a whisper. It was so quiet, Alfild barely heard it. But she did, and her eyes shot from the ground up to meet the ocean within Ivar's eyes.
"What?" She gasped in shock at his words. She wasn't even certain Ivar knew the meaning of the word apology, and yet he sat apologizing to her.
"I'm sorry for killing your mother." He answered. "I wanted to defend my mother, but I couldn't do that either."
"It's not your fault, you know?" Alfild spoke softly. With words as simple as sorry, his sins were almost washed away in her eyes. "You couldn't have done anything."
"I could've blood eagled Egbert and killed Lagertha." He shrugged.
A soft smile crossed the girls lips as she looked at Ivar, "There is still time to kill her. And, when you do, you will be King."
"King Ivar?" The girl heard the faintest chuckle leave Ivar's lips. "My brothers would never let that happen."
"Oh, screw your brothers!" She grinned, her eyes gleaming. "What will they be able to do to stop you? My Kingdom is allied with you, not your brothers."
"It's also allied with Lagertha." He reminded. Alfild noticed the mistrust and doubt upon Ivar's face when she spoke of being his ally.
She smirked devilishly, a devious spark in her green orbs, "Then I suggest you stay on my good side."
He stifled a laugh, noting that Alfild had likely drunk a little more mead than usual. "I'm on your good side?
"So long as you don't go into battle and mess that face of yours up." She shrugged, finishing off her horn full of alcohol. "We should be just fine."
"My Queen!" Erik yelled, before either could say anymore. "We've been searching all over for you."
"Oh, you mother hen." She grinned, "Stop fussing." With a small stumble, she stood and held on to her loyal companion. "Goodbye Ivar."
And, with that, she returned and left Ivar sat dazed and confused by her strange words.
