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It had been a few days since Sigurd's death. Bjorn and his men would be leaving soon, splitting their forces even more. But Alfild still stood strong, knowing that her men wouldn't dare defy her orders to go to the Mediterranean. No. They would remain here as long as she did. And she wasn't leaving.
In the previous days she'd thought of killing the raven haired boy with eyes that held as much pain as hers. She'd thought about how easy it would be. After all, he wasn't exactly popular right now. He'd just killed Sigurd. Perhaps she could make it look like a suicide. No one would suspect a thing.
And then her thoughts wandered to the expression he wore. The pain, the grief, the regret. She thought about the words she'd spoken to the boy shortly after, about her beliefs in him. In all honesty, she wasn't sure why she'd said such things. Still, she loathed him. Still, she found him obnoxious and dishonorable.
And yet, she could feel her hatred doing something that it'd never done before. It was melting away.
Even so, the girl did all in her power to keep a tight grip on her rage. It was all she had now, and she refused to let go.
She was walking through the moonlit streets of the Saxon Villa. Her armour clattered softly as she walked, ringing through the town. However, she refused to be unprepared in case of attack. It was often like this for her. She rarely found the ability to sleep throughout the night. Nightmares tended to haunt her dreams and fear of attack kept her adrenaline pumping.
Her boots pressed into the muddy ground, mind racing with thoughts and schemes. But even her busy mind was dragged from thoughts when he walked past one of the homes. Ivar's to be exact.
Loud sounds echoed from inside. Alfild could recognize those sounds anywhere, because she was often awoken by them herself. The sounds of guilty dreams being drowned by blood. The sound of remorse, of fear, of pain.
Without a thought, her hand pressed against the wooden door and she pushed it open. There was hardly any light in the room at all, but she could make out the faint glimpses of the man squirming in his sleep. She understood.
As strong as one person is, they cannot battle the world alone. Everyone needs some support, and Ivar The Boneless was no different. In fact, from what Alfild had seen, he held far more emotions than even his brothers. She didn't believe he was heartless. Far from it in fact. So she knew that all that had happen in the previous months would haunt him. His father, mother, home, and now his brother. Not to mention the agony of his lower limbs. But what Alfild had no concept of, was that she was just another person on that list. Another reason for Ivar's remorse, a remorse that he did not offer to many.
Gently, she sat beside the Prince. She hadn't yet even thought of how odd this would seem, she'd only thought about her own nightmares. How she would wish to be taken from that awful dream. And so, she had a choice. She could leave him to suffer, or she could do for him as she wished someone would do for her.
Her hand hovered over his arm for a moment, unsure on whether or not she should wake him. And then, something unconscious in her mind pressed her hand down to shake the Prince into the land of the living.
In an instant, a dagger was at her throat as the boy's eyes illuminated the dark.
"It's okay." She said with a gentler tone that she had expected. "You're safe."
The dagger moved back ever so slightly, but it still sat at the skin of her neck. The boy looked at her, his gaze shifting to curiosity. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard you stirring and decided not to let you suffer." She answered. Both their brows furrowed at her words, neither of them expecting them. And still, she allowed herself to continue speaking. "I know how you feel, Ivar."
They both sat in silence for a moment as Ivar pulled the dagger from the girl's throat. Sapphires shone against emeralds as they stared at eachother for what felt like forever. It was a silent conversation, and both of them realized far more about the other without words than if they'd sat making snide remarks as per usual.
Slowly, the girl stood. Her brown locks swayed with her action, braids falling loosely over her shoulder. Slowly, she walked towards the door, her hand gently gripping the edge of the wooden panel.
Her emeralds moved back towards the boy, the rage in them turning to a warmth he had never before seen. "Goodnight Ivar." She said before closing the door quietly behind her.
Darkness filled the boys room once more. And, again, he sat there thinking about that odd interaction and what it could mean.
