The sounds of weapons clashing against each other filled the forest, grunts mixing with the rustling of the trees. Iona stumbled back as Sigurd's axe made contact with her shield. Quickly regaining her balance, she swung her sword at his feet. He tried avoiding her attack by jumping away from her, only to lose his footing and fall onto his back with a thump. Iona threw her shield onto the ground before kicking the axe out of Sigurd's hand, watching it fly a few feet away into the dirt. She grabbed the sword with both hands, causing the young Prince to flinch as she aimed towards his head.
"I win." Iona raised an eyebrow at Sigurd, who slowly opened his eyes to see her sword in the grass beside his head. She extended her hand, attempting to help him off of the ground.
Sigurd accepted her gesture, getting up and giving her a scowl. "I went easy on you."
"Of course you did, Sigurd." She said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes at the blonde boy, used to his ego by now.
Iona grabbed a cup, filling it with water before chugging it down to cool herself off. She watched as Sigurd grabbed a bow-and-arrow, aiming it at the animal's head and shooting it right between the eyes. Iona nodded in approval, watching as he accurately made arrow after arrow.
"Do you want to try?" Sigurd asked, about to hand her his bow before stopping when she shook her head.
"Shooting is not one of my talents, trust me." She chuckled, "I'm more of a throwing person."
"Well then, I guess I win." He mocked, proud of himself for being able to do something someone else couldn't.
Iona scoffed at his cocky attitude before grabbing one of her own small knives and throwing it at the same target Sigurd was using. The knife landed between the deer's eyes, exactly where Sigurd's arrow was.
After a couple more hours of training, the two decided to head back to the village. The sounds of people chattering filled the air as they made their way back. Iona said goodbye to Sigurd once they reached the village, deciding to go explore the city. As she walked through the crowds of people, she noticed Ivar leaning against a large rock. His blue eyes were focused on the people working in front of him as he sat there thinking to himself.
Ivar was still a bit angry about the situation that had happened between the two. He was angry at himself, for showing such weakness towards a woman he had just met. But he was also angry at Iona, who was the cause of all these foreign emotions going through his head.
Iona was a princess, the daughter of an untrustworthy king at that. Many of the men would agree that her beauty was hard to resist, but nobody really knew where she came from, or whether or not she was a threat. That was what made her truly dangerous.
The prince didn't seem to take notice of the brunette until she sat herself down next to him, their shoulders brushing causing him to snap out of his thoughts.
"Ivar," she greeted as he turned his head to look at her. "How are you, my favorite son of Ragnar?"
Iona was unsure of even why she had come to speak to him. She could have continued walking around and exploring the village but before she knew it, she was sat down next to him.
"Have you come to humiliate me again? Perhaps this time you'll do it in front of everyone?" She could sense the cold tone in his voice, obviously still irritated about what had happened the last time they spoke.
"I apologize for that. You were being rude without knowing anything about me, it made me angry." She genuinely apologized, feeling bad towards the crippled boy in front of her. "I can't even do things on my own without seeming suspicious because of my damn father. My only intentions are to do things on my own."
"Right." The crippled Prince scoffed, though his tone was less harsh than before, "You said you wanted to explore the Kattegat. Yet here you are, agreeing to go to England with my father without hesitation."
"Who could deny going on a raid with the great Ragnar Lothbrok?" Their eyes met and Iona gave him a shrug, "I'm sure you could agree with me on that."
Ivar did agree. He looked up to his father, someone he saw as a great man and king. Although he wouldn't admit it, he felt a bit grateful towards the girl for being one of the few people to assist his father without being bribed. Although he knew deep down that she had certain intentions for wanting to go to England, and he was going to figure out what they were.
"Have you not heard?" Ivar's eyes met her green ones, "my father is a loser. Nobody wants to raid with him."
No matter how much of a loser Ragnar was seen as now, Iona respected him. He was a true Viking, someone that she grew up hearing many great stories about. As a child, she always imagined going on raids with him and exploring new places. It was finally her chance now, and she was going to take it, no matter how risky it was going to be.
"I think he is a great man." She replied, only silence filling the air as the two looked at each other.
As much as Iona wanted to take her eyes off of Ivar's, it was difficult. She never took notice of it before, but something in his eyes intrigued her.
Ivar furrowed his eyebrows at the girl, his Adam's apple bobbing as he felt her never-ending gaze. "Why do you look at me like that?"
"It is nothing." She said, shaking her head. She rushed to get herself up, giving the Prince a small smile. "I should prepare for the trip, we are leaving soon."
Iona quickly scurried away, shaken up by how she acted towards him. Out of the many men that she had been around her entire life, none had ever made her feel the way Ivar Lothbrok did.
...
Iona sat in the boat and watched as the men prepared to sail while Ragnar impatiently waited for his son to show up. She let out a sigh, looking into the water at her reflection before seeing a figure slowly approach. Realizing it was Ivar, she stood up to get a closer look at the prince. A smile grew on her face after noticing him with a new pair of crutches.
Ivar made his way towards his father, getting one of the crutches stuck in the dock and stumbling face-first into a pile of sacks. Seeing Sigurd find amusement in his little brother's sturggle, she rolled her eyes.
Ivar quickly got himself up onto his elbows, deciding to crawl his way onto the boat instead.
"Hurry up," Ragnar said to his son. "We've got a tide to catch."
Ivar looked at his father for a second, before giving a grunt and finally getting onto the boat.
Iona sat at the end of the boat next to Ivar, whom had gotten sea-sick and was continuously throwing up. It had been a few hours out at sea and she spent most of the time sleeping or daydreaming. She felt bad as she glanced at Ivar, who was currently looking down and away from the water in order to prevent himself from throwing up anymore.
"I would be highly appreciative if you didn't throw up on me." She joked. A small smile on her lips as she attempted to make him feel a little bit better.
"No promises." He replied, giving her a weak smile before once again throwing up into the water.
Time continued to pass very slowly. Iona let out a sigh as the wind got stronger, her eyes getting watery from the pressure of it. Her hair wounded up a mess, even though it was braided tightly before. She let out an irritated groan as her hair flew into her mouth, struggling to keep it all tame.
Feeling someone looking at her, Iona turned to Ivar, who was leaning on the post while smirking.
"What?" Iona asked while giving the Prince a questioning look, her hair once again flying everywhere no matter how many times she tightened the braids.
He chuckled a little bit, a boyish smile appearing on his face. "You look a mess."
A sudden clap of thunder filled the air, catching everyone's attention as the boats started getting closer and closer to the dark clouds signaling the heavy storm.
The rain seemed to get heavier as the men panicked to get the sails up. Ragnar grabbed his screaming son and tied him to the mast, knowing that the crippled prince couldn't swim.
Iona stood still, unsure of what to do as the boat started tipping over. Holding her breath, she held onto one of the ropes as everyone fell into the ocean. She could feel the water slowly filling her lungs. Trying her hardest, she attempted to swim up to surface of the water but it was too far. Eventually, all she could see was nothing but darkness.
...
Iona felt a pressure on her chest as her eyes opened, greeted by the blue sky and the sound of the waves. Almost immediately, the liquid started coming up and out of her throat as she coughed up the seawater. She sat up and looked around, taking notice of King Ragnar who gave her a nod once he realized she was alive.
"Glad you could made it, your father wouldn't be happy with me if I got you killed." Ragnar said. His eyes drifted to his son who didn't bother hiding the relief on his face when seeing the princess.
Iona scoffed, "I'm not sure if that's true or not."
Although quite shaky from the recent events, she had enough strength to get herself up and walking. Her hands moved to her waist, happy to see that she had not lost any of her favorite weapons: her sword and small knives, but her shield was most likely washed up somewhere.
After meeting with some more of the men who survived the storm, Ragnar decided to find quick shelter in a small cave. He tried to make sense of the situation, noticing their lack of weapons and men. There were about fourteen people in the group thus far, much less than the amount he had originally come with.
Iona listened as a few of the men argued with Ragnar, blaming him for everything that happened and speaking of how he wasn't blessed by the gods anymore. They continued to pester him, only seeming to annoy the princess even more.
"Where is your army of revenge now, Ragnar Lothbrok?" One of the men said, a vile tone in his voice. "I'll tell you where it is. At the bottom of the sea feeding the fishes."
Ragnar stood up, about to say something before being interrupted by Iona who gave the ungrateful men a deadly stare.
"Since you seem to be so passionate about this, why don't you give us an idea then?" She asked the man, giving him a curious look. After being greeted with silence, she continued. "Exactly. Being sat here on your asses complaining will not help with anything. Just shut your mouth for once and let him think of something."
She sat back down, meeting gazes with Ivar who gave her an impressed look.
Eventually, Ragnar decided to lead them up a mountain and into a forest where they made camp. Nobody really knew where they were going, only following Ragnar since he knew the land more than anyone else.
Iona sat against a tree alone, isolated from the small group of people. Her eyes moved to the villagers, who were chatting and laughing amongst themselves.
The food given to her was enough to fill her up, and all she needed was sleep in order to restore her energy. She laughed at her stupidity, realizing how dumb it was for her to decide to go on a journey like this and expect to survive. She was lost, both physically and mentally. Not knowing whether she should be grateful that she had survived up to this point or angry that the Gods were stretching out her death.
She leaned against the tree, deciding to rest her eyes. The sound of a twig snapping caused her eyes to fly open, immediately grabbing her sword and ready to fight.
"It's just me." Ivar appeared in front of her, one hand up as a sign that he meant no harm.
She sighed and put her sword back down, annoyed at the small heart-attack he had just given her. "What do you want?"
Ivar crawled towards her, leaning against the tree and occupying the empty spot next to her "Well, I wanted to thank you for defending my father earlier."
"He's a great man. You're very lucky." She replied, her eyes closed as she took in the foreign air.
"Your father is too. Almost conquering the entirety of Norway." Ivar chuckled, a moment of silence passed before he decided to speak again. "That's why you chose not to go with your father, right? He told you to spy on my family in Kattegat."
Immediately her eyes jolted open, glaring at the Prince who only gave her a devious smile. The sudden change of attitude had confused her. "You're wrong."
"Don't worry," He whispered amusingly, "The secret stays between us."
Iona shook her head, faking amusement at the situation. He was wrong because she didn't choose to go on this journey for her father, she did it for herself. "You shouldn't go around making such dangerous assumptions, Ivar."
"They are not assumptions if they are true." He said, refusing to break eye contact. Although he was a bit confused, he didn't show it. If she wanted to spy, it would have made more sense if she stayed in Kattegat and not straight to her death.
Iona smirked, moving her face closer to his. "And if you're right, am I going to be killed?"
Ivar eyes moved to her lips, finally breaking their staring contest. His breath hitched in his throat at her proximity. She lightly bit her bottom lip, moving closer to the point where they were barely touching.
He let out a heavy breath before finally grabbing both sides of her face, molding their lips together. Iona quickly responded, her mouth moving in sync with his and her hand latching onto his neck in order to pull him even closer. She softly moaned as Ivar pulled himself on top of her, his lips slowly making its way down her jaw and onto her neck. They both felt weak from each others' touch, forgetting everything that was going on around them. It was as if they were the only two people in the world at that moment.
His lips moved back once again to meet hers and she desperately pulled at his pants, hands itching to get them off. Ivar groaned at the unexpected touch but suddenly pulled away to stop each other from going any further.
"I-I have to go." He said, getting himself off of Iona and letting out a frustrated sigh.
"Ivar-" She started to speak but the crippled Prince had already crawled away without saying anything else, much to her dismay.