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"No!" Ivar protested stubbornly. "Egil had nothing on Ivar The Boneless."
"You're only saying that because he's your favourite!" Ailbe laughed. "Egil was a poet and a renowned warrior."
"But did he conquer York?" Ivar insisted in return.
Ailbe looked at him flatly, sighing. "Ivar-"
"Did he conquer York?" He repeated.
Ailbe eventually heaved out a final sigh. "No, he did not conquer York." She answered, making him smirk proudly.
"I win."
"You always do." She chuckled, reaching for her satchel of books that lay against the floor. But before she could reach it, she felt a strange sense of dizziness. It must've been just a moment, but it felt like hours passed as she blacked out.
9th century Norway
"Ssh!" Ivar rocked the tiny baby in his arms, looking down at her contorted features. Her once happy blue eyes were now filled with sadness, a sadness that he wanted to remove with all his heart but didn't know how to. "Stop crying."
"Do you think, my King," One of his loyal guards looked between him and the small child. "That she will be safe with us?"
Ivar shot the man a sharp glare, looking back towards the shivering baby. As much as his pride prevented him from admitting it, he knew that little Aslaug was no longer safe with him. He'd been betrayed, defeated, left for dead. This nomadic life wasn't one that a child could live in sustainably. It was full of dangers, full of hardship. And he wanted none of that for his precious daughter.
That being said, each time he looked at her flaming flecks of hair or her gentle smile, he saw her. Aslaug was all that he had left of his beautiful wife. She was everything to him. How could he just abandon her? How could he give her to someone else after all that had happened? He'd failed Ailbe, he couldn't fail her.
20th century England
"Ailbe?" Ivar's confused tone was the first thing she heard as the daze began to lift. It was then that she realised she'd fainted, as he sat her up. "What was that?"
"I-" She held the side of her head gently, trying to make sense of all that had happened. When she looked at Ivar, her eyes widened a little as she recalled the strange vision that she'd previously experienced. It was him. She was sure it was him. The same black hair, the same intense blue eyes, the same sharp jaw, the same look of anger that permanently followed him. It was him, there was no mistaking it. The man from her dream was Ivar. But not the Ivar she knew. No, this one was different. It was like he was from another time. Like a Viking?
For some odd unknown reason, she felt like she knew him. She couldn't quite explain the phenomenon but she knew him, whoever he was. And just as she was drawn to Ivar when they first met, she was drawn to him.
"I don't know." She answered drowsily, rubbing her eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow." She stood so quickly that she feared she may faint again, quickly rushing towards the door leaving Ivar watching her in a mix of confusion and suspicion. But she didn't care. She didn't care about anything in that moment.
