Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

28- New Beginnings

Warning: Light sexual theme, nothing crazy, as well as fluff. Probably corny.
...

Ivar's tired eyes were glued to the horizon, the familiar sight of Kattegat in the far distance covered in a blanket of orange and yellow from the slow rising sun. It filled him with joy and suddenly, he felt a sense of urgency to reach its shores.

"You know, we won't reach the beach any faster by staring at it." Heahmund comments lazily with a yawn. He smiles at the look Ivar shoots him, a non threatening glance that the bishop had gotten use to.

"And still I wonder why I've kept you around this long." Ivar scowls, twisting his body to fit back into the very corner of the ship. The seasickness had subsided a while ago, but it was replaced with that returning feeling of uncertainty.

"It is God's will," Heahmund says, and Ivar almost mimicks him in his annoyance, hearing this particular claim from the bishop one too many times. He sucks his teeth, waving his hand about to dismiss the bishops comment. Apparently it was one that the Saxon man truly believed.

Ivar sighs, running a hand atop his smooth unbraided hair. He looks out towards the ships rocking gently beside his own; returning with less than when he left. Such was the sacrifice he made for his idiotic older brother, whom promised to return the favor. Most of his remaining warriors were in deep sleep, something he wished he were doing, but his mind would allow him no rest.

One warrior was awake, Dafi, who sat so vigilant, so still in the cape of dawn while the others slept like the dead. Even now he felt the need to prove himself, keeping watch of the calming waves as if he'd have the power to control them if need be. The once trusted warrior nods to his King before fixing his gaze back towards the Northern Sea. Ivar keeps his eyes on him for a moment more, raking over the scar he'd given him before turning away, his rough fingers reaching up to trace the healing wound on his cheekbone. He grunts at the slight sting of it while his mind wandered back to Hedeby.

The taking of Hedeby was fairly easy, and quite successful thanks to Ivar and his men. Of course, the reigning Jarl and the few warriors he had rounded up had quite the fight in them. Their determination to keep the town was strong, but Bjorn's ambition was much stronger.

Within a few days, Bjorn had Hedeby in the palm of his hand and after 2 weeks, he had everything running smoothly with Ivar's intervention. The youngest Ragnarson had a better understanding of organizing the systems in which a kingdom was to run by. By the 3rd week, feasts were being thrown every night in celebration of their success, though Kattegat's King was in no mood to celebrate. He just wanted to get back home to his wife.

A terrible feeling nagged at him that had made him grow uneasy for the rest of his stay in the Danish city. In his desperation he invoked the gods, praying for the safety of his wife and his kingdom. There were moments in which he finally felt his mind was at peace, though he still had a strong desire to return home.

"I worry something might have happened." Ivar mutters loud enough for Heahmund to hear over the soft waves. The bishop grunts.

"What could have happened in 3 weeks?" He responds back with a shrug, crossing his arms and linking his ankles together.

"I don't know," Ivar says, turning back to look at the horizon, "But I've prayed to the gods that they are safe."

...

Asa had the habit of rising before anyone else did in the household, always ready to cause mischief. Giving herself a few moments to blink the sleep from her eyes, her gaze fell toward the raven perched right over the sleeping Queen. She stares at it for a while as she always did, its beady little eyes watching her movements. She rises from her little bed, padding over to the larger one where Artemis slept soundly. The child goes over to pet the mastiff and the cats scattered about the chamber before climbing up the furs to get on the bed.