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As a twig snapped behind me, my head shot up in the direction of the sound. Instantly, my bright green eyes connected to the equal flare of Ivar's blue gaze. He looked at me for a moment, before deciding that he didn't care what I thought about being spied on, and crawled closer until he was sat beside me - his back leaned against a large rock.
"Hello to you too." I spoke flatly, falling back against the tree that I'd been leaning on as I sat in solitude, which turned out to not truly be solitude at all.
"Do you love him?" The young Ragnarsson asked bluntly, half making me want to hit him and half making me want to smile. I'd always rather enjoyed the boy's bluntness, the fact that he seemed to express my thoughts without me having to say anything at all.
"I don't know who you're talking about." I answered, my frown still flat as I stared at him coldly. But he could see it. He could see everything he needed to see, and I knew he could. Behind all my pretence of strength, my eyes had always been telling of the truth. Many wouldn't have noticed, but it was something that Ivar and I shared. I knew he was hurt by the past, haunted by it, even when he appeared cocky and calm. And he could see the same in me.
"I saw you two." He returned flatly, mirroring my expression. He looked as though it was obvious, as though everyone knew. Perhaps they did, so why did I care so much? "My brother beds many women," He began, looking at me with an expression that I couldn't quite place. "But you don't."
"Nor do you." I answered calmly, trying to figure out what exactly he was trying to say.
"I think he loves you." Ivar spoke again finally, his words cutting me in a way that I hadn't expected. Why would he think that? Why would Hvitserk even care about me? Surely, if anything, I was no more than another fling. That had to be all, right? "He follows you like a lost puppy."
"No, he doesn't." I responded, a far harsher tone than I'd intended.
Before I could even begin to backtrack, Ivar looked at me with a wide grin and began to laugh. It was a rare sight, but something I rather enjoyed seeing. The boy deserved happiness, even after all that had happened. "You do love him." He grinned, watching me like a hawk. "In Odin's name, you're stupider than I thought."
"Thank you, Ivar." I returned sarcastically, rolling my eyes as I attempted to ignore him. But, of course, his interrogation was far from over.
"You could do better than my brother." Ivar folded his arms, almost making me chuckle as I looked over at him again. "Hvitserk snores."
I couldn't help but let out a small laugh, my previous frown being replaced with a smile as I spoke to him. Though we seemed to disagree on so much, him being as stubborn as a mule and me being much the same, I felt an odd sense of kinship with the youngest Ragnarsson. A sense of friendship.
"So do you." I answered, a small smirk as he grinned devilishly back at me.
"Not as bad as Hvitserk." He answered proudly, almost as if it was an achievement. "Do you know that he used to share Ubbe's wife with him?"
I chuckled, nodding, "I know." I answered. "But I'm not Margarethe."
"No." Ivar spoke clearly, pausing for a moment before sending me a smile - a real, genuine smile. "No, you're not Margarethe at all."
"Ivar-" I paused before I found my next words, searching my mind for what I truly wanted to say. As I took a breathe, a small smile danced over my features. A true smile. "I don't know what your brother thinks of me..." I began, looking up towards the sky as birds circled overhead. "But I will continue to support your cause for as long as I can..." Again, I stopped to take a breath as I plotted my next words carefully. "I consider you all- I consider you all as friends."
Ivar chuckled, looking away to avoid my gaze. "You've gone soft." He returned, clearly mocking me. And yet, laced in the sarcasm and rudeness, I found something else. It wasn't just the persona that Ivar liked to wear. No, it was something different. And, as I looked over at him, I caught the briefest glance of a proper smile before he noticed me looking towards him again.
