by T S Florence
Isla began to feel silly for making such a suggestive comment as for him to keep her in his room. But he did agree to it, did he not? Thoughts filled Isla’s head like a thick winter soup, causing her to feel confused and tired.
“I’m rather exhausted from the day’s travel, may you excuse me to go to sleep?” Isla asked, feeling intrusive for interrupting his conversations with his people.
“Sigrid, show Isla to my room” Ivar told his handmaid, who bowed her head.
She gave Isla a cautious smile as she took her hand and lead her through the great hall, to Ivar’s room.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Ivar’s maid, Sigrid,” The ginger haired girl smiled at Isla.
“And I too, I am Isla” She felt embarrassed at not introducing herself earlier, for her mind was so distracted.
“Ivar clearly likes you” Sigrid said to Isla, causing her to laugh.
“Yes, well I’m worth a lot of gold, or so he tells me. I’d like me too if I were receiving such an amount for my person” Isla replied, noticing that all the Northpeople seemed to speak English to varying degrees of fluency.
“It’s not the money, forgive me for being persistent, but I know Ivar quite well, and in a more intimate way than his blood brothers might. He is not a person that cares greatly for gold or glory. These things have been his fate, but he has not necessarily asked for them. His motives for taking you might be different than you think”
Isla’s heart melted at Sigrid’s confession. “Do you really think so? But he is planning to hand me over to my uncle to me married off again” Isla said, feeling unsure.
“I do not know about Ivar’s plans, but he did not earn his name Ivar the Clever without thinking one step ahead of his enemy” Sigrid smiled at Isla, squeezing her hand before leaving the room.
Ivar
Ivar felt a shift in his mood immediately after Isla left for bed. For the last week, he had been able to steal a glance at her whenever his heart got the better of his mind. The thought of the golden haired princess, with her round behind, lying in his bed, made his heart beat in his cheat like a war drum.
“Ale, we need ale! Where is the ale!” Shouted Magnus above the noise of one hundred voices talking at once.
“We need meat in our bellies, that’s what we need. I’m tired of eating bread and cheese” said Ragnar.
Skald walked over to Ivar, a conspiratorial smile “You look nervous, Ivar, I’ve not even seen you nervous before charging a band of Scotsmen. This girl has a tight grip on your cock, and it going to fall off if you’re not careful”, He stood there, swigging out of his horn of ale, waiting for Ivar to react.
“You mention Isla and cock in a sentence together again and I’ll have your head, Skald” Ivar said, the sound of his own blood pumping drowning out the noise in the room.
“What if I said you want Isla’s pussy but you don’t know how to get it?” Skald said, enjoying the reaction he was getting, as if it made up for his own lack of emotion.
Ivar grabbed Skald by the front of his shirt, and took him to the ground, landing on top of his torso. Skald smiled up at him as Ivar dropped his fist into his nose, causing it to squirt blood like a gorging river. Ragnar and Magnus pulled Ivar off, letting go as soon as he was on his feet.
“My suspicions were right” Skald said, smiling, as he turned, walking to a bench and downing a horn of ale. “No hard feelings, Ivar, that’s the first thing I’ve felt in since the battle with the Coward King.” Skald’s nose dripped red onto the floor, which he ignored, as he swigged ale and laughed at the commotion he had caused.
Ivar shook his head, walking away. Women make men weak, and weak men die. Ivar had never let his emotion get the better of him, but he had never met a girl so beautiful as Isla. From the day he saw her under the smithy’s shelter, he knew he could never marry another. He would have Isla or he would die alone. There were no other options.
Upon entering his room, Ivar saw Isla spread out on the bed, taking up the entirety of the space. It’s impressive, if anything, as it’s a damn big bed Ivar thought to himself, as he gingerly moved her into a position that would allow him to take a small space in the bed.
Isla’s eye fluttered open at his disturbance. Her rosy cheeks and pale skin set his heart beating again. Her hair like fine silk, falling over her blue eyes. And she doesn’t know her own beauty, what was wrong with her King that he was not attracted to such a gorgeous woman.
“Are you drunk?” Isla’s voice was husky, a telling sign that she had been sleeping.
“I didn’t drink any ale, I had a problem with Skald and so I decided to remove myself from the celebrations.” Ivar replied, enjoying the ability to speak openly with Isla.
“Skald scares me” Isla said simply.
“You do not need to be scared of Skald. I am his leader and he would not cross me” Ivar said, knowing that the fight they just had was something that Skald does, simply because he is Skald.
“Why did you take me from Tomlin?”
“Because you are to marry another man” Ivar said. I cannot tell her the truth. It would be too much. This will scare her enough come the time to make the trade. I will hurt her enough this way, any more is unnecessary.
“Do you know anything of this man?” Isla asked.
“I believe he is an older rich man. A merchant, that imports and exports exotic goods” Ivar touched Isla’s face with the back of his hand, feeling her warm skin against his knuckles.
“And you are happy to trade me for the gold you will be paid?” Isla asked.
“It is a necessary trade” Ivar said.
“What if I asked you to keep me instead?” Isla asked.
Ivar’s heart felt ready to burst at her question, his pain and shame causing physical agony simultaneously he jerked his hand back.
“I cannot” he said, wishing he could tell her the truth of the trade and the truth of his plans, but to do that would put her life in danger, and he must let her suffer to protect her.
“Why did my uncle choose you?” Isla asked.
“Because I am Ivar the Cruel,” he said, before kissing her cheek.
“What does that have to do with taking me?” Isla said, accepting his kiss.
“Everything,” Ivar answered.
“I don’t want my first time to be with a man I do not know,” Isla said.
“What do you want?” Ivar asked.
“You.”
She does want me. She wants me.
Ivar grabbed her by the front of her dress, tearing it slightly as he pulled her against him. His lips crashed against her in an eruption of passion that the pair had never before experienced in their lives. His tongue invaded her mouth, caressing hers, their hot breath mixing as he moved his hand under her skirt, feeling her warm skin. Her soft stomach. Her breasts. He tore again, ripping the dress completely in two, so he could see her in all her nakedness. She was his perfection.
He looked between her legs, longing to taste her, he put a firm hand on her breasts as he went down and put his mouth on the junction between her legs. A womanly taste he never knew he needed so bad; a taste that could leave him mad if left to go without. But Isla’s. Only Isla’s.
Her moan erupted, the noise mixing with the wood crackling in the hearth. The shadow of the flames playing across his face as he feasted on her. She felt her juices flowing down his mouth, the noise of his tongue assaulting her. Finally, she felt herself reaching a climax of ecstasy, causing her hand to run through his hair, her mind losing control of her body.
Ecstasy.
Isla
Ivar moved his body onto hers, removing his top and pants, she reached for his shaft. She was surprised at how hard it felt, matching his hard body. He pushed the tip of his manhood against her wet center, the initial pain making her gasp, but slowly, the feeling of him inside her felt better than she could have imagined. She bucked her hips, moaning into his ear, pulling his body against her. His breathing quickened as he thruste
d into her, the bed creaking beneath them, until they met in a crescendo of pleasure, collapsing together in unison. So that’s what making love feels like.
Isla lay there, basking in the afterglow of her first time making love, with a man almost indescribably handsome, even with the deep scar running down his face. If anything, Isla thought it added to his attractiveness.
Although Ivar had taken to trusting Isla more, he had still required his handmaid Sigrid to accompany her around the village. It was far more beautiful than any castle Isla had lived in. The great wooden halls they lived in with their fires in the center of the rooms provided more warmth than the damp castles she grew up in.
The grassy fields at the doorstep a stark contrast to the muddy tracks and wet cobblestone she frequented in her bustling towns. The flowing stream of clear, fresh water, that went by the side of their village provided ease of daily bathing, something Isla shared with the North people. Englishmen preferred bathing once a month, if that.
The grassy fields, spotted with wild flowers, evoked a joy in Isla that she hadn’t felt since she was still living with her father. This village was Isla’s paradise.
“I love it here. I could stay forever if I weren’t a trading commodity. I wish I had more control over my own life” Isla said to Sigrid, as they strolled through along the edge of the woods, listening to the birds.
“There is a seer in our village that could maybe help you with knowing your future a little better, but I warn you, he is rather scary,” Sigrid said, as she twirled her hair.
“A seer, what do they do? Would it not be against my God’s wishes? It sounds like devil’s play” Isla said, feeling uncertain.
“I’m not sure of your religion, but I know that our seer is separate to our gods, he merely translates what he sees in your future” Sigrid said.
“Then I shall try it” Isla said, thinking of the frustration she’d felt during the past years at the lack of control she’d had over her own life. If the seer could help her gain even a little control, it would be worth it.
* * *
Sigrid walked along the outskirts of the village, with Isla’s hand in hers, and they found the entrance to the seer’s cottage. Sigrid turned around and sat down near the entrance.
“What are you doing? Won’t you call out to let him know we are here?” Isla stared at Sigrid, sitting not he ground.
“I knew you were coming long before you arrived” a voice said from behind Isla, causing her to jump.
“H-how did you know I was coming?” Isla asked.
“I saw you walking towards my dwelling. Pretty girls only walk this way when they want to hear nice stories about the man who has their heart” he replied.
“Oh.” Isla said flatly.
“Well don’t just stand there, come in. I need to tell you all about your future, Princess Isla” the seer said.
Isla walked into the small cottage. The seer was a short man with a pock marked face, with dark rings under his eyes, and a cloak, covering his body. He walked with a slight limp, aided by a crooked stick.
“How did you know I was a princess and how did you know my name?” Isla asked, wide eyed.
“It’s a small village, people talk” the seer shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh.” Isla said again, deciding to stop being so eager to jump head first into every little thing the seer said.
“Give me your hands” the seer sat Isla down at a small table, taking a seat across from her. Sigrid did not move from her spot out the front of the cottage, leaving him to see her future in private.
Isla put her hands on the table, shaking from the anticipation. He took her delicate hands in his old, rough hands and fell silent. He was silent for what felt like an eternity, before letting out a long sigh.
“There is love, heartbreak, and death and betrayal in your future, girl. Men will die for you. Your mind will go to war with your heart, and it will be up to you to choose which you listen to. I cannot advise you on which will be the right choice to make.” The seer sounded emotionally disconnected from his advice, and asked for a gold coin. Isla left him with several coins.
“You know, he doesn’t get everything correct that he sees. He is merely interpreting what he sees. His interpretations can’t always be right.” Sigrid said, not showing the worry that Isla felt. Love, heartbreak, death and betrayal. Will it be Ivar who betrays me?… your mind will go to war with your heart…
8
Ivar
“The seer is a stupid bastard” Ivar said, feeling a building rage at the stupid old man to fill Isla’s head with such nonsense. “And I will not be betraying you, I can assure you that” Yet I’m not telling the truth, am I? Is this betrayal?
“Sigrid told me he sees the future in riddles and interprets what it means” Isla said, with despair.
“Even that is a stretch, what girl doesn’t think of love and heartbreak? How many girls have men who go off to war every summer? Love heartbreak and death are all a part of Viking life. This man knows that” Ivar paced the room, half trying to convince himself.
“We will be having celebrations tonight, to properly welcome back the warriors from the great battle” Ivar said, changing the topic. “You will see how we Northmen celebrate, far better than English celebrations” Ivar continued.
Ivar took Isla through the streets of his village, showing her the preparations underway for the great celebrations. There was a great fire in the middle of the town center, which would be used to cook enough meat to feed every villager.
Great long tables were set out in the warm open air, with all varieties of pies, roast meats, and wines and ales. A mixture of English and Norse food, Ivar noticed, caused a smile on Isla’s face. Poets were preparing their songs, bow and arrow games were being set up, boys and men alike were wrestling in the grass. Women were making decorations to hang from trees, with lanterns being hung to light at night.
“It’s lovely” Isla said, weaving her arm into Ivar’s, as they walked along. Her small hand seemed to fit perfectly into his. Ivar was simply glad to have Isla’s mind on matters other than the nonsense she had been told by the seer.
“We have feasts for successful raids and harvests.” Ivar held Isla at his side, as they stood watching people rushing about him. Girls would eye Ivar with glistening eyes.
“And what is this feast for, if we are not in the harvest season?” Isla asked.
“For a successful raid,” Ivar said, regretting telling Isla why they held such feasts, cursing himself for letting slip such an obviously sensitive topic, as he was not used to treading carefully around girls.
“Which raid was this?” Isla said, removing her arm from his, eyeing him with fire in her eyes.
“You?” Ivar said, almost as a question.
“If you think I will attend a god forsaken festival for my own capture then you’re more clueless than I thought” Isla stormed, turning around, walking towards the great hall.
Gods damn me and my god damn tongue. Ivar silently followed Isla, until they reached the privacy of the great hall.
“I did not ask for this feast, Ivar said, It was as much in my honor as it was yours.”
“Let me guess, it was in your honor for capturing me?” Isla said, her voice rising as she spoke.
“Well if you want to put it like that” Ivar said.
“I cannot believe the lack of manners. You celebrate the capture of your prisoner while the prisoner is still here, and you expect said prisoner to attend the celebrations?” Isla turned, walking to their room.
Ivar grabbed her by the shoulders, pinning her against the wall. “Don’t you see, I am as much a prisoner to you as you are to me” Ivar said, his voice a low growl.
“So that’s what this is, then? An obligation?” Isla’s voice laced with defiance.
“This is no obligation, we are bonded. We were bonded from the day I rode my horse into Newcastle” Ivar said, holding her against the wall.
“I am not bonded to you; I
have no choice in the matter. I did not ask for you to ride into Newcastle that day, I did not ask you to rescue— to take me away from Chester” Isla said, cursing herself for saying rescue.
“I had a choice, but my sanity was at stake, and one day I hope you will understand this. You are not my prisoner tonight, you are my guest, to attend the festival with me.” Ivar’s voice telling that the conversation was over.