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It was the morning of the departure to Kattegat, and Alfild was contemplating leaving with them. Her people would follow her, they had no choice. So, if she left, they would too. All that stood in her way was the alliance with Ivar.
That being said, such things could be easily remedied. She could travel to Kattegat and strike up a new alliance with Lagertha. Tell her that Ivar planned to take her throne as well as King Harald (though she probably already knew of Harald's plot as he wished for all of our thrones). Alfild would help defend the queen from attack and, in return, Lagertha would help Alfild take back her kingdom.
Or Alfild could attempt to do it alone. Her forces were still strong, though she knew they'd still be outnumbered massively. She'd only taken two ships of men. Her Kingdom had enough warriors to fill ten left behind.
So, she sat contemplating before it came time to see her friends off. Would she stay or would she leave?
The door opened suddenly. Light rapidly filled the room so that she couldn't make out the figure at first, but she soon recognized him. How could she not? Ivar was always rather recognizable.
"What do you want?" She snarled as he closed the door. Though she refused to look at him, Ivar could see that familiar hatred in her eyes. They'd come so far and now she was right back to hating him all because of his brother's. Or was it because of him?
"You're wrong." Was the first thing he thought to say. It made the girl look at him, but perhaps not in the way he was hoping for. Alfild had always loathed those two simple words. And so, he digressed. "I-" But the words got stuck in his throat and refused to budge.
Alfild watched and waited before speaking. "You what, Ivar?"
She almost felt guilty when she saw the fear in his bright blue eyes. He wanted to say something, but it was as though he doubted he could. Finally, he whispered something that Alfild barely heard.
"What?" She asked, urging him to repeat.
The Prince gulped, looking up to her aggravated emeralds. "I love you." He said more firmly this time.
The girl swore that her heart stopped beating. Barely a breath left her lips. She understood now, why he was so afraid to say those words. She'd been holding them back for so long now too. Slowly, she stood and walked over to him. She could hear her heart begin beating again, but now it was so loud she feared it would burst. Her knees were weak, as though she could fall at any time. But her eyes.
Her eyes weren't cold or filled with rage now. No, now her eyes looked deep into the ocean before them with passion, and something else that Ivar couldn't place. But when her words left her lips, he finally understood.
"I love you too Ivar. I always have."
Again, the girl kissed him and she noticed that familiarly arrogant grin spread across his lips. "So you're not leaving?" He asked as they parted.
"Not yet." She smirked with a playful glint in her eyes.
"Good."
And, in an instant, that previous vulnerability in his mannerisms had gone. As she kissed him again, Ivar felt stronger than ever before. Where all his brothers had failed, he had succeeded. He had led the army. He had taken York. And now, the girl that all his brothers had lusted after - in fact, every man in Scandinavia had wished to bed her - had fallen in love with him. Not them.
He'd forgotten completely, if only for just a short moment, about his issues with women. About Margrethe. He was certain that Alfild had no idea. Why else would she go near him? Would she even still love him if she knew?
But Alfild knew all too well. Sigurd had already made sure of that. If it were any other man, perhaps she would've left. But it wasn't.
