Virago - Ivar The Boneless

Finding Familiarity

Little Bear spent her afternoon with Sigurd, he took her around, introduced her to a range of different people before returning to his shared hut. The two of them sat on his bed, the two of them sat crossed legs either sides of the bed with Sigurd's small collection of his favourite weapons. 

"Have you ever thought about choosing a speciality?" Little Bear asked him as she slowly raked her fingers over the various weapons. 

Sigurd watched her carefully, "The axe is my prefered weapon of choice."

Smiling, Little Bear grabbed the axe before running her left forefinger down the blade. Pressing a little too hard, the blade broke the skin allowing blood to trickle down her finger then her hand and arm. "Teach me how to use one properly," she spoke before pushing the axe back at him, blood coating the blade. 

He took it from her and watched her as she popped her finger into her mouth slowly sucking the blood from her finger before wiping her mouth clean and looking at him. "You are not like the other girls around here," Sigurd told the young blonde. 

Little Bear laughed at his statement, "I'm not like anyone else." She wiped the excess blood from her arm and hand onto her trousers before reaching across the bedding and grabbed the small knife and smiled. "Do you think I can get one like this?"

"I thought you were all about the large sword you carry around?" He asked as he raised an eyebrow before looking down at her sword which laid on the floor by his bed. He returned his gaze to the petite blonde who was admiring the silver blade which she held close to her. 

She licked her lips as she let any excess blood from her cut drip over her. "I've been thinking about something a little smaller for a while."

Sigurd got to his feet, "Wait here. I have something you can have."

Little Bear watched him as she left her alone in the building. She leaned against the wall as she pulled her knees up to her chest and continued to marvel at the knife in her hands. Closing her eyes she was transported back to a time when she first started her training. 

Glancing over at her mother, Iona watched in amazement as Lagertha skillfully slit the throat of the deer that had been captured for this purpose. Her mother looked up at her as she held the knife up. The deer was now on the floor in a puddle of its own blood, it was no longer struggling or fighting for its life. 

"Can you do that?" Her mother asked her as she handed the knife to her young female offspring. 

Little Bear nervously took the knife, "What am I supposed to do?"

Lagertha motioned her hand towards the second deer, "Exactly like myself."

Staring at the knife in her small hands, Little Bear nervously looked over at the wild animal. "Why?" The small child asked her mother as she looked up with wide eyes. "I don't understand."

The tall blonde woman reached down and dragged her fingers in the blood puddle before wiping her fingertips over her daughter's face, coating her skin the blood of the dead animal. "You are a warrior," she informed her daughter assuring her. 

Iona's small hand's shook as she stepped towards the deer which was bein restrained by a couple of men. The knife felt heavy in her hands as she stared into the eyes of the helpless scared animal. Pushing her hand forward, the knife grazed against the neck of the deer, a little trickle of blood seeping out of the wound. 

"Iona!" Lagertha scolded her daughter loudly. 

The young girl panicked as she looked up at her mother, "I'm sorry."  She tried to refocus her mind, her hands shook wildly before slashing the knife into the throat of the animal's neck. Her small knife catching in the windpipe, Little Bear dragged the blade down the front of the animal. Blood spurted over the face and arms of the blonde child as she quickly removed the knife from the now dead deer. 

Holding the blood-covered knife in her hand, she stared at it. The red was mesmerizing, deep, rich and drawing her in. Looking back at the animal, Little Bear plunged the knife deep into the right eye of the already dead animal. 

Lagertha watched her daughter, she'd seen the same look before as she saw on her daughter's face. Right now, Little Bear reminded her of her first husband, Ragnar. 

Sigurd returned to the room, he passed a small blade to his new friend. "This is just as sharp as mine," he watched as she looked it over. "You can keep that one."

She smiled at him as she placed the small knife on the bed in front of her. "When I was younger I had one like this." Little Bear picked it back up and turned it over in her hands, looking it up and down, her eyes lighting up, Sigurd eyeing her curiously. "Actually, it was exactly like this one. Where did you get this?"

"My father gave it to me," he told her as he sat on the bed in the spot he had been in before. 

The door creaked open and they both turned their attention to the door. Little Bear could not see anyone at the door but when she glanced at Sigurd she knew from the look on his face there was someone there. The silence was soon shattered by a strange shuffling sound, she leaned to the side and was surprised at what she saw. There on the floor dragging himself along with his hands was Ivar. She wanted to ask so many questions but couldn't open her mouth to speak, instead, she just continued to stare. 

Ivar stopped abruptly, his lips twisting as he narrowed his eyes at the young girl. "Do you wish to speak child?"

"If I wish to speak I do not require your permission," Little Bear quickly replied as she examined him. He couldn't have been much older than herself, his face and hair gave it away, still being boyish and untainted. The way he acted though, he presumed himself to be a man something Iona saw straight through.

Sigurd watched between his brother and the blonde. He had only ever seen a small handful of people who had dared to speak to Ivar in such a way, this only made him like the young girl even more. She wasn't the most attractive but her attitude and the way she spoke to his brother made her a little more appealing. 

 Ivar dragged himself to his bed where he pulled himself up and into it. Sigurd turned his head back to Iona but her gaze was fixed on his younger brother. 

Iona couldn't help but be transfixed by the lad who was obviously crippled but still managed to get around. Her mother had told her that people like Ivar didn't live long, they got in the way, they had no purpose to life. Little Bear knew at this moment in time that her mother had been wrong about something, Ivar certainly had a purpose, Iona could feel it in the air.