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The queen woke up with a jolt and a scream, desperately ridding herself of the bloody memories of a violent past. Her heart raced in her chest as she recounted her previous dream.
Blood. Death. Everyone gone. The stench of decay. A Pyrrhic victory. A crown of thorns.
Slowly, the girl's hand reached up to touch her face. She felt blood from her nose, quickly wiping it away. Was this a vision from the gods? Had they shown her something that she should not see? Alfild didn't know.
She sat in a stunned silence for a moment as she thought about what it all could mean. Unexpectedly, her first thought was of the crippled Prince. Fear rose through her chest as she thought of the concept if his death. Before she could scare herself any further, she heard a loud noise and was snapped back into reality. She shook away the fear, wondering why in Hel she thought of Ivar.
As the noises grew louder, Alfild's dissatisfaction grew. It sounded like yelling, though she wasn't quite sure.
Without a thought, she moved to stand up. The agony from her wound shot through her, though she refused to let that stop her. With a furious look in her eyes, she pushed past the wince from her pain and moved into a sitting position. Her legs hung numbly down from the bed. She stared in awe as she noticed their lack of movement.
But she refused to give up. With a deep breath, she glared down at her limbs. She began trying to now will them out of entropy.
After losing the patience to sit any longer, Alfild pushed herself off the bed. Weakly she stood, legs trembling under her. She grasped whatever she could. Bed, wall, anything to keep her on her feet. With slow and unsteady steps, she made her way to the door. That's where the yelling came from. Just outside the door. She knew she could make it.
One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Gripping the door frame, she shoved it open with her shoulder.
"There are people dying!" Ubbe yelled, but Ivar was no longer listening. His eyes met Alfild's, warmth spreading through them as he noticed that familiar rage.
"Those people will be the two of you if you choose to continue this quarrel any further." She spoke up, voice as stern as ever. It was as though nothing ever happened. She bounced back with that familiar ferocity that drew Ivar to her.
"Alfild." Ubbe moved closer, helping her stand.
She smiled gently. "It's good to see you too." Ivar simply watched as the young woman made her way to a seat, assisted by Ubbe. "So," She began. "When do we fight?"
The boys couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm to continue raiding. Even in close encounters to death, she seemed unafraid. Even when weak, she seemed powerful. Truly, the girl was something else.
"We should do something soon. The Saxons are killing our hunters to starve us out. There's already sickness in the town." Ubbe explained.
Both Ivar and Alfild listened patiently, thinking on a response. Though Ivar seemed uninterested in giving an answer, which made Alfild curious. She knew he had a plan. She could always tell.
"I agree, but we should not be hasty. It is more favorable to have a strong mind than a strong soldier. For, no amount of training can defeat a perfect plan." Alfild said warmly, Emeralds moving over to Ivar as her words ended. "Do you mind if I speak with your brother for a moment, Ubbe?"
The elder brother seemed a little confused, but soon left when the girl sent him a pointed look. As the door closed behind him, Alfild's gaze shifted back to the Prince.
"You're uncharacteristically quiet." She pointed out. Soon Ivar's stormy Blue eyes were aimed back at the girl. Sapphires met emeralds in a raging inferno. A small smirk twitched upward onto Alfild's lips. "What are you planning?"
"I'm still thinking. My mind's been a little preoccupied for the last few days." The boy answered sharply. His tone was harsh, making the Queen squint in disapproval. But then she replayed his words, and an odd memory surfaced.
It was faint. So faint that she barely even heard it. The world was turning black, her mind slipping away. When, in a quiet whisper, she heard a voice.
"Don't leave me."
"Do not be afraid." She repeated the words she had uttered when her wounds seemed mortal. A small flicker of something shot through Ivar's eyes when he looked up at her. Gently, she reached out and placed her hand on his. "I'm not going anywhere."
