Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

24- Let Them Come

AN: You all can't even imagine the shock I was in when I saw all your comments. It warmed my heart, truly. Honestly I had no idea what to expect. I was unaware so many of you were enjoying this book. When you don't receive feedback, you think your work is trash, so naturally that's what I thought about my own work. Thank you to those who commented, I appreciate every single one of you. Please continue to support me as you all are the ones who encourage me and inspire me to keep writing!

Sooo... I decided to post another chapter. Surpise! It's far shorter than my most recent chapters, so I hope that doesn't bother anyone. If you like, please vote and comment. It means the world to me.
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The makeshift pyre was constructed in a matter of hours. Dabria was secured tightly against the wood with mountains of hay surrounding her corpse. Artemis's eyes followed the dancing flames as they licked at the dead woman's feet.

She stood beside Ivar and all the people behind them, to watch her burn. The colorful flames illuminated the night sky and the smell of scorching flesh lingered in the air.

Dabria's face was a mangled mess of loose beating red flesh. Her skull was visible under all the flapping skin, cracked and deformed. It did not bother Artemis in the least, not as it would have before. She assumed her heart would ache, or at the very least, grieve the death of a misfortunate woman. But she didn't. Her heart hardened and her eyes were blank. Perhaps it was because the woman was not alive, but merely a corpse. The dead could not feel anymore pain.

Ivar looked dissatisfied, almost disappointed, at the lack of torture and pain. He would have preferred the woman alive, begging and screaming for her life for daring to hurt his wife. Instead he watched a lifeless body become cinders. To him, it was a dull affair, but it was enough to send a message.

He turns to look at Artemis. Even with the hood of her cloak on he could still make out her expression in the night. Apathetic. It made him smile. She was becoming stronger.

"Let the people watch if they wish," She tells him, her voice low, "I tire of watching her burn." She absentmindedly places her hand on her wounded shoulder, the wrappings easily felt through the fabric of her cloak. Ivar nods, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

"As you wish, baby bird." The king raises a hand, signaling the guard of their departure. Walking away from the docks, Artemis takes one last look at the pyre. She was happy to see her burn.

...

"Strike me." Artemis raises a brow at Ivar, looking down at the sword in her hands. It was Hvitserk's, one of his prized possession. She's worked on it more than a few times, the handle already familiar in her hands.

It had been decided that she should receive training in self defense. So far, she had done well on her own, but it had been sheer luck, likely divine intervention from the gods.

"Well?" Ivar smirks. He sat upon the tree stump located in the old training grounds of his youth. He held a blue shield covering his left side and his favored axe held in his right. He sat perfectly still, resembling a statue, legs bounded together as he had no need for his metal cages.

"Do you think it wise...?" She begins to ask, and Hvitserk laughs, crossing his arms.

"My brother deserves a beating, use that strength," Ivar scowls at his older brother before smacking his axe against his shield.

"Come now, wife." Ivar calls out to her. Artemis was some distance away, but not far enough to ignore her husband's taunting smile. He wanted to rise an anger out of her, make her attack him like some kind of berserker.