Everything was working out as he had planned. The only step left was for his brothers to acknowledge him as the leader of the army. They had a stronghold with easy access to the sea, his father had been avenged, his new bodyguard was in place, and Unnr remained his. Ivar leaned forward on the table as the ink was put into his back. He barely felt the needle that was piercing his skin over and over again. He understood tattoos were meant to hurt. The process itself was purposely creating an open wound, but he couldn't feel it over the pain from his legs. In fact, the rhythm of quick jabs across his shoulder bladescould easily have lulled him to sleep. He didn't even see Unnr come by until she was leaning on the same table, inches from his own face.
"Hello, Ivar," she smiled.
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip with a strong desire to kiss her. "I can't move," he said. "Come closer."
Unnr leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He kissed her back, running his tongue against her lips and begging for entry.
"Brother!" Ubbe called and Unnr pulled away.
"Yes, brother?" Ivar responded with a smile, but hate in his eyes for Unnr pulling away from him.
"What do you need a bodyguard for?" Ubbe asked.
"I am a cripple?" Ivar answered. "I need a body guard." He watched Unnr out of the corner of his eye and was pleased to see she couldn't stop her laughter.
Hvitserk also laughed at his brother's response, but Ubbe only grew more annoyed. He glared at Hvitserk until his brother composed himself. "You never consult us about you decisions," Hvitserk said placing himself on Ubbe's side.
"You are acting like you think you are the leader," Ubbe said.
"Why would I think that?" Ivar asked innocently.
"Good, because you are not," Ubbe told him. "The Saxons are coming, but you must have already known that."
Hvitserk followed the eldest away and Unnr returned to her place in front of Ivar. To her, nothing was funnier than when Ivar played dumb; he was the cleverest person she had ever met. She ran a hand along his jawline, stopping under his chin to hold his face up to hers. "Do not let their words bother you. It was your idea to go to York and these men followed you. They know where the strength lies," Unnr told him before kissing him. She would have moved herself onto his lap had he not been on the receiving end of a tattoo. Yet she couldn't help wonder when she began picking sides among the brothers. Wasn't Hvitserk was supposed to be her friend? Ubbe; her big brother?
Ivar was the first to pull back, surprisingly. "I know you wish to be married soon. I don't have it in me to ask you to wait any longer. Though not a chieftain, I had thought Floki would marry us. But you should know there is another goði among our ranks. Still there is something I must speak to you about first."
Unnr's heart sank into the pit of her stomach.
The prince sighed, sensing her discomfort. "Do not worry yourself. It is about my plan and I am telling you about it because I know you will be pissed if I do not."
"Damn right I will," she leaned back and crossed her arms.
Ivar couldn't help, but smile. "I'm sure you have something better to do than watch me. I promise we'll talk later."
Later was hours; after the sun had gone down. "You wished to speak with me." Unnr stood before Ivar; hands on her hips.
"Come here," he smiled gently as he laid in his furs.
Unnr shook her head. "No; you'll deflect. Say what you must."
Ivar scowled. "Fine. The Saxons will attack tomorrow and that is my first priority," he attacked her for denying him. "They will come through the bit of wall we have not repaired and they will do it in the early hours of the morning before the sun rises."
"How do you know this?" Unnr asked.
"Because it is what I would do," he snapped. "Once we have won the battle I do not expect them to retreat, but to lay siege," Ivar continued. "That is when we will have time for a wedding. And after winning another battle; I should be declared leader of the army."
"What's the catch?" Unnr sneered. She hated being mad at him, but here she was, anger boiling inside of her. They called each other wife and husband, king and queen in bed, but it had been a while since she had seen those terms as a reality.
Ivar growled and Unnr's knees buckled; making her frown in turn. He knew what that did to her and yet he did it anyway. "Eventually I need to return to Kattegat; to kill Lagertha."
Here, Unnr raised her eyebrows. This was an obvious fact. He had sworn in front of the gods that he would bring her death.
"As of now I have the men to do it," Ivar continued. "But some, I don't know how many, will die in battle. Harald, I am sure will give me men, but not if I have a wife. And surely not if I have heirs."
"Because he wants to be king of Kattegat," Unnr sighed. "So marry me anyway," she said. "Fuck him. I'll pretend I am still the pathetic lover you're stringing along."
"Are you sure?" Ivar asked.
Unnr nodded, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "It will hurt of course, but I need to be yours in the eyes of the gods. If you die in battle I need to know that when I throw myself on the pyre we will enter Valhöll together."
"You will do no such thing!" Ivar shouted.
Unnr scoffed. "You can't stop me," she said. "You'll be dead."
Ivar bit his lip and dug his hands into the furs, gripping tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He turned away from her, picturing Sigurðr, instead. Unnr approached him, sensing his anger and hoping to calm him.
"Wait!" he shouted.
"You won't hurt me," Unnr reassured him and continued her advance.
"Promise me?" he asked.
"I promise."
