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The first day that Ailbe didn't show up to class, Ivar wasn't overly concerned. By day two, he was a little confused but didn't question it. After a week of absence, he grew suspicious however. Where had she been? What was she doing?
He hadn't seen her since she fainted, and something deep down made him feel an emotion he wasn't accustomed to; fear. He disliked it greatly, this caring about her. It had become rather annoying that the cheerful Irish girl seemed to always be on his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about her. It was, truly, infuriating. When he slept, he saw her tender smile. When he woke, he pictured her. At random intervals in the day, her name approached his mind for no particular reason.
Naturally, he assumed that seeing her would make the thinking about her stop. He hated this, only having time for himself and not for some girl that he'd known for hardly a month.
When the knock sounded at her door, Ailbe froze. Her eyes darted towards the door before quickly turning to the mounds of research that surrounded her. Every day she fainted, a new vision appearing to her. She'd had one about herself, trapped in some form of prison with a foul man. She could feel the terror even though she didn't know what was happening, she knew what was coming before it even came - the man's touch on her neck and the lacing of her dress, his wicked smirk and evil eyes, the pleasure he took in her pain.
She'd also had dreams of her with others, with the man that she'd seen before who looked just like Ivar. She'd seen them get married, seen their child, the one that she'd seen before.
As odd as the dreams were, it wasn't until she heard their names that she delved into research.
His name was Ivar. His brother was Hvitserk. And not only that, but she'd heard him mentioned as a King... A king who'd conquered York.
Her thoughts flashed back to her many arguments with Ivar in their class together. There was only one person that he could be.
Ivar The Boneless.
To begin with, she was researching mainly to prove herself wrong. Her first assumption was that she was beginning to get a crush on Ivar and it had presented itself like this. But she couldn't shake this feeling, this feeling that she'd felt since she first met him. Like this was fate. And the deeper down the rabbit hole she went, the more she seemed to prove herself right.
"Ailbe?" Ivar's voice came from her door and she shot up. Without thinking she opened the door, her head peaking out so that he couldn't see into the small apartment. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Ivar." She greeted. "What's up?"
"I was going to ask you the same question." He responded, eyes fixed on her making her nervous. "Where have you been?"
"Oh, you know, I started researching something and I just-"
"So you saw it too?" He interrupted.
Ailbe froze, her face pale like a ghost as she stared back at him blankly. "Saw what?"
"Come on, I'm not an idiot." He opened the door and let himself in, noticing the vast amount of research that she'd done. "What did you find?"
"Ivar!" She protested.
"For someone who wasn't interested in the 9th century, you've done a lot of research on Ivar The Boneless." He observed, looking through her books and sheets of paper.
"I-" she tried but couldn't think of an excuse. "I can't explain it but-"
For the first time since she'd known him, his face softened into a genuine smile that warmed her soul and comforted her. "I know." He answered, sitting down to help her with her research again. "Now, tell me what you've already found out."
Fun fact:
Ívarr hinn Beinlausi is said to have died in 870 in the Anglo-Saxon chronicles because that is when he seemingly disappeared (shortly after the Danelaw was put in place) with his partner in crime Olaf The White. However, Norse and Irish sagas BOTH place his year of death as 873 in Ireland.
(I do a lot of research on Anglo-Saxon England and Viking conquests so Ivar The Boneless is one of those folk that I know a lot about due to my specialization - I'm going on to do a degree in all that jazz soon)
