Ease The Dawn

Chapter 3

Entering the tent, Ivar found the princess sitting on the grass, her legs were tucked to one side and her head tilted back against the wooden post she was tied to. He knew she would be there, ofcourse, but he still felt an awkwardness about her presence in his tent. Straightening her neck, she adjusted to look at him.

A prince in his position had been introduced to the numerous daughters of jarls and kings at home in Kattegat, visiting his family and city to discuss trade or to form alliances. Rarely had he exchanged words with any of those girls, and when he had, they were not left with a feeling of want or welcome. She was the first woman he had ever met who truly looked like a princess; regal with intelligent eyes and beauty that Frigg herself must have had a hand in creating.

But somehow, he felt uneasy with his lack of reaction to her..... He had no desire to cut into her or see her blood streaked across her ivory skin. No thirst to watch her tremble and shy away from his large hands and sharp blade. Huffing, he crossed the tent in her direction, stopping so close, she was forced to strain her neck to look up.

"Will you be a good girl if I free your hands?" he asked with a slight smirk, thinking of Hvitserk's bloodied arm and wounded pride.

Not responding, she just stared back, furthering his surprise. He had anticipated a snivelly, frantic princess, whimpering and begging for mercy. Not this collected young woman who seemed to be waiting to hear the parameters of the hostage arrangement. Not that he would share those details with her....but still, this was unexpected.

Lowering her gaze, she scanned down his body, stopping at his legs. A shiver of insecurity shot through his chest as she seemed to analyze his braces. His body automatically tensed under her scrutiny.

"See something you like, Princess?" he teased but his voice did not sound as domineering as he intended.

Nervously, her eyes glanced back up to his before returning to his legs.

"You did not have these," she paused searching for the right word, "contraptions...when you were in Wessex."

Clever girl, he thought, attempting to distract him with familiarity.

"I do not remember you at all." Shifting on his feet, his muscles contracted sharply from standing in place. "Did we meet?"

Aethelswith held his gaze a moment longer, her mind ticking over his question.

"Not formally."

Saying no more, her eyes jumped between his features as she studied his face. His smooth forehead and defined brows, vivid blue eyes and square jaw, and for a man, smooth full lips. She recalled being impressed by him all those years ago, naturally, as a young girl would be by a foreign, mysterious prince. Unnoticed, she had scurried down corridors and peaked around doors to steal glances of the prisoner being dragged here and there. Now, all those years later, he had become an impressive and imposing man, with a face, she assumed, that would dissolve even the sternest dispositions. Noticing his eyes narrowing at her as if plotting his first strike, she swallowed loudly knowing her fear was surely obvious, naturally, as she suspected there was a serpent that lay beneath his controlled exterior. Some beast waiting within. She could sense it. It's sharp tongue, craving to release its venom.

Uncomfortable under his gaze, she shifted, wincing from the burn of the ropes against the skin of her slight wrists.

"I will cut the rope. You sit there until I say. Yes?"

She nodded so slightly, someone sitting next to her could have missed it.

As he moved away to the desk on the far side of the tent, she closed her eyes, attempting to steady her nerves and force practical thoughts into her mind. It was imperative that she create some form of delay to what was likely the inevitable - him breaking her wide open.