When Ivar meets a girl with flaming red hair and eyes that cannot see, he begins to wonder how a sightless girl can see so much beauty in the world... And in him.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, Lust, Pride, envy, and wrath." The King explained, watching the chained up girl intently. "Those are the Lord's seven deadly sins."
"It seems to me, my lord, that you and your men possess all those qualities." Ailbe answered, still trying to pull herself free from the iron chains around her limbs. But, by now, she was far too weak to fight. She'd not eaten in days, and they'd barely given her water either. Her dress was torn, cuts and bruises littering her once flawless skin. She could feel the blood drying and sticking the rags of her old dress to her.
"Perhaps," The Christian answered, sharpening a knife. "But so do your heathen friends, do they not? And yet you defend them."
"I do not believe in your God's laws. I believe in the things that people have done. Your people pillaged mine, those so called heathens have not touched us." She replied with sagely wisdom.
"The things we've done, hm? Like slaughtering men of God? Like pillaging my people? I wonder, how would your heathens react if we Blood Eagled you?" The King pontificated, his grip tightening on the blade between his fingers.
"I'm sure that they could imagine a much worse fate for you." She gulped. It wasn't a lie, she was certain that rage would overcome Ivar and that this man would pray for a Blood Eagle once he was done. And even though he was her enemy, the only man in the world that she believed to be truly evil, the thought did not sit right with her.
"And why do they care so much about you?" He narrowed his gaze at her, searching for any signs of the truth.
But Ailbe was relentless. Compassion did not amount to weakness, and her bravery persisted no matter how awful she felt. "I am a princess."
"Many princes and princesses have died in these wars. So what makes you special, hm? Why would they be so outraged by your death?" The man tried, still to no avail as Ailbe refused to answer.
Quickly, the King stood with an anger bubbling within him. His knife landed upon her cheek as he pulled her jaw harshly. "Answer me."
"Kill me if you wish, but I will tell you nothing that you could use against that army." She stated bravely, her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she did all she could to remain strong. But this facade was growing tiresome. She wanted to cry. She knew that her breaking point was coming closer at every second and she simply yearned to return to Ivar's side. She missed feeling so safe and secure, like nothing in the world could ever hurt her. She missed him holding her close and telling her that he loved her.
"Oh, brave princess, I will not kill you." The King assured with a tone that sent chills up Ailbe's spine. His fingers ran up her jaw before making their way to her lips. "I'll just make you wish that you were dead."
****
"Ivar you're not thinking clearly." Hvitserk tried but it was no use. Even simply being around the youngest ragnarsson right now was practically a death sentence in itself. Hvitserk had already dodged a barrage of objects that had hurtled towards him from his little brother.
"Do you have a better idea, hm?" Ivar glared at his brother, an icy rage consuming him.
"You can't just ride in there and kill them all. We have to defend our own people and make up for the damages done by the Saxons." Hvitserk explained.
"Damages?" The king narrowed his gaze. "You mean like what they are doing to Ailbe right now?"
"We don't know that they are doing anything to her." Hvitserk said weakly, but even he didn't believe that. No, they were certainly making her live through pain like no other right now. The thought was painful. He hadn't wanted anything to happen to her and of everyone there she deserved this the least. Still, he could not just risk the lives of everyone there for one girl. But perhaps Ivar could, and most certainly would.
"I'm a cripple, not an idiot." Ivar dismissed his brother's attempts at reassurance. "So what would you do, brother? Would you leave her there? Let them torture her? Kill her? Hm?"
"For now, we have to make sure our people are strong enough to attack." Hvitserk reasoned.
But Ivar seemed unconvinced. "We can't just leave her!" He yelled.
"We're no good to her if we all end up dead!" The elder brother argued.
"I'm not leaving her!" Ivar practically roared in response, making everyone in the surrounding area stop and whisper. But when his anger began to mellow for a moment, he could feel vast emotions drowning him. "I can't leave her there." He said, with less rage this time, replacing his anger with sorrow.
"We will get her back." Hvitserk assured.
"Then get everyone who can fight ready. The rest can go to the boats. I will look at their camp tonight and find weaknesses." Ivar dictated, ready to rip apart the whole world just to get her back. "And then we kill them all."
