Alfild wakes up in a cell, alone and not actually dead. Without Ivar there, she feels she might not survive after the birth of their child. Nevertheless, she remains loyal to the end. Even if it kills her.
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"You have got to be joking!" Alfild laughed at her husband, stepping closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "You think you could beat me?" She grinned, biting her lip gently.
"I know I could." He responded cockily, eyes passionate and yet entranced by the beautiful woman in front of him. His hand reached her waist, pulling her closer as she fumbled with the hilt of her blade. "You wouldn't stand a chance."
In that moment, Alfild wasn't sure whether she wanted to kill him or lie with him then and there. Her fingers touched his chin, aiming his face towards her as she kissed him eagerly. "I could kill you right now." She threatened.
He smirked, pulling her closer before moving his hand down her back and towards the inside of her thigh. "Then kill me." He challenged.
Alfild's eyes opened again to the darkness of her cell. It was cold and damp and her only companion was the rat that dwelled in the other end of the room. Every time she rested, she waited to open her eyes to that intense blue gaze oncemore. She waited to feel him beside her, his touch on her skin, his kiss on her lips. But his touch never came, nor did his smirk or his sarcastic remarks. Nothing did.
Alfild had never loved anyone as fiercely as she loved Ivar. To her, he was her world, her everything. When she left him, she thought she would die honourably in battle and would meet him again in Valhalla. But she didn't. And her existence here on earth kept her from him everyday. It seemed that the only time she saw him was in her dreams, and so she spent each day wishing that her dreams would last forever.
Gods she wished he was here now, kissing her neck as he often did to wake her up, and pulling her closer into his warm embrace. No. She didn't wish that, she couldn't wish it. He'd be dead if he was here and she knew that. Knowing that he was alive was enough for now. At least she had hope that one day, they'd meet again. No matter how long it took.
"Don't worry," She spoke soothingly to the small bump under her ragged clothes. "When your father is here, they'll all regret what they've done. He'll come and get us. I know he will. And if I don't survive that long, Bjorn isn't so stupid as to kill you too. You have to remember where you came from, little one."
The door slammed open making Alfild's eyes dart up. Her heart pounded in her chest, hope and fear all in one. But there were no Ragnarssons in sight, only the grumpy old guard as he shoved more poor souls into the tiny cell. The first that Alfild recognized was Whitehair, one of her husband's most loyal men. He'd been captured trying to help her in battle, and she smiled softly at the familiarity.
"Queen Alfild?" He seemed to recognize her, being chained up beside her. "You're alive."
"Thank you for informing me." She stated flatly, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. "I was not previously aware."
The men in the room smiled holding back laughter directed at Whitehair, while Alfild simply held her belly and attempted to not be sick.
"They cannot keep her here." One of the men turned to another, all of them watching their queen. "It's not right."
"Sadly," Alfild spoke up, looking over at them again. "They believe that we are the ones in the wrong."
"I'll die for the king." The man spoke again. "All of us will. But you and your child should be spared."
Alfild chuckled darkly, resting her head back as she tried not to cry in front of these men. Her emotions had been rather unpredictable while pregnant but this situation only amplified them. "Ivar is coming back." She spoke more to herself than anyone else. "And everything will be fine again."
Whitehair looked over to her, frowning. He'd seen both of them in their worst moments and in their closest. He knew she was right, Ivar would return for her. He would. "You're right." He told her, making the young woman look over at him once more. "We must be patient."
Although the queen missed her privacy, it was a great comfort to be with those that shared her values and beliefs. These were her people. These were her loyalists. These were the ones that she'd been fighting for. If she had to be a prisoner, she was proud to be one beside them.
