To Be Viking - Ivar The Boneless

4

"So," Edmund grinned as he threw himself onto the warm bed that Aslaug had prepared him. They both had one on opposite sides of the room. Part of her had hoped for a separate room after being cooped up with his seasickness for so long but she was used to sharing her space with him. Asta knew he missed his family, she did too. And she couldn't help but wonder why he'd travelled all this way just for her. "That was Ivar The Boneless." He grinned, throwing a boot over in her direction.

Asta ducked, laughing, before throwing it right back. "Shut up, Edmund." She grinned, flopping back onto her own bed with a heavy sigh. Lord the warm furs and fresh hay were a welcomed reprieve from the hard wooden boat. "He didn't even remember me."

"So?" He shrugged, rolling on his side to look over at the girl with a small smile. "You're Asta Thorsdottir. Make him remember you. Make them all remember you. Who cares what any of them think, hm? You'll prove yourself, I know you will."

Asta smiled back at her friend, truly grateful for his company. They'd been together through thick and thin, through all the ups and downs of Asta's life. When she'd lost her parents, Edmund had been the one that held her in his arms and told her that she'd be alright. And all these years later, he was still doing the same thing. In truth, he was the closest that she had left to any form of family. And she did love him, just not in the way that he wanted to be loved.

"What do you think?" She questioned, gaze still aimed on the ceiling as she thought over their previous interactions. The brothers had grown a great deal since she'd last seen them, and she couldn't help but wonder whether or not they had planned any raids for the near future. Though Edmund would likely disagree to join on such an activity, Asta wanted nothing more than to raid and travel. It was her one dream, her one aspiration which she held above all else. "Of them. Of Kattegat."

Edmund shrugged, also looking up at the ceiling as he too contemplated the interaction. If he had ever tried to picture Vikings, they would likely be exactly what he'd pictured. They were somewhat intimidating to say the least, but they didn't seem like the monsters that his people had always called them. They were humans like anyone else, flesh and bones with thoughts and feelings and weaknesses like anyone else.

"Queen Aslaug seems kind." He answered plainly, folding his arms behind his head. "As do most of the brothers. I do not think they trust me though. But I would be wary of Ivar if were you, Asta."

"Wary?" She laughed, rolling onto her side to face him too. The pair met gazes, as the girl contemplated his words. "Why would I- you don't know him, Edmund."

"Neither do you." He answered firmly, silencing her finally. She had to agree. All of the brothers seemed so different now. It had been a long time. She no longer knew any of them, and they did not know her either. She was not the kind and compassionate should that she'd once been. Losing her parents broke her. She'd never been the same since that day. And it seemed that all of them had changed a great deal too. "You were five when you last saw them, Asta." He explained, everything he said she already knew. And yet, a part of her couldn't accept the truth. "That's a long time."

"I know." She answered, staring back up at the ceiling. "But Ivar was always kind when I knew him, lonely but kind. I don't know, I don't wish to believe that he has changed so much."

Edmund huffed, pulling one of the warm furs over himself. He knew that Asta was not stupid, in fact she was the wisest person he knew. But her judgement seemed clouded by the memories she had of this place, her true home as seen through rosey tint of a former life.

As Asta listened to her friend slowly fall asleep, the silence seemed to wrap around her like a suffocating rug. Shiver ran up her spine, holding her from the embrace of her subconscious. Simply, she was trapped in that state of consciousness, unable to find the peace of sleep. No matter how hard she tried. All these years, she'd dreamed of finally coming home. She'd thought that it would make everything better, a bandage on her wounded heart. But somehow, she felt more alone in that moment than she ever had before. This perfect world was not so perfect after all. And the world she'd dreamed of as a form of escape for her broken heart, was a lie. It was no better than any other world. She supposed that that was real life. No fairytales, no joy.

In her old world, she was a foreigner. She was different to everyone else, she knew that and so did they.

But here was no better. She remained a stranger.

It seemed to her that she had no home. She belonged nowhere with no one. And though she had Edmund, Asta felt loneliness in a way that she'd never felt it before. Real loneliness. All she'd ever wanted was a home, a place where she fit in, the simple things that as been torn away from her when her parents were murdered. But it seemed that such things were not possible, not for her at least.

A single tear ran down her cheek, the first tear that she had shed in many years. It was cold on her skin before it faded away into the fabric beneath her. She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to run away like she always did when things got too much. She'd been running all her life, in one way or another. But she clenched her jaw, sighed deeply, and closed her eyes again. Sleep would come sooner or later, and there was no escaping the dawn. No matter how hard she tried to will herself out of that realm of existence.

Ivar watched as the light within the old cabin was snuffed out by the girl he'd once known. Her words kept running through his mind, playing on repeat. The gentleness with which his name ran off her tongue, the way she still thought of him even after all these years. Why?

A part of him mistrusted her. Surely she had to be up to something to care so much about him of all people. And he would find out exactly what she was here for.

But another part of him fought against his cynicism. Another part of him wanted nothing more than to be near her.

He wasn't sure which part had dragged his useless legs out here to listen in. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to know. But he supposed that it would all become clear to him soon. He would find out what this girl was truly made of, and whether or not she deserved the trust that his mother had so readily placed in her.