A/N: don't own don't sue
Lyrics at the beginning are from Follow You by Bring Me the Horizon
Follow You
Chapter One
My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost
I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home
Cross your heart and hope to die
Promise me you'll never leave my side
Show me what I can't see when the spark in my eyes is gone
You got me on my knees, I'm your one man cult
Cross my heart and hope to die
Promise me you I'll never leave my side
'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need
I promise you, you're all I see
'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need
I'll never leave
So you can drag me through Hell
If it meant I could hold your hand
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell
And you can throw me to the flames
I will follow you, I will follow you
Come sink into me and let me breathe you in
I'll be your gravity, you be my oxygen
So dig two graves 'cause when you die
I swear I'll be leaving by your side
So you can drag me through Hell
If it meant I could hold your hand
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell
And you can throw me to the flames
I will follow you
Ivar prodded at his breakfast unenthusiastically, completely ignoring his mother as she chattered into his ear about some utter nonsense. His legs had pained him more than usual during the night and his mood was blacker than ever from pain and lack of sleep. He squinted across the table at his brothers suspiciously. They were gathered in a cluster whispering together as a thrall cleared the remains of their breakfast. He pricked his ears as he eavesdropped on their conversation. They were going to visit the witch that had joined the village a few weeks ago. There were always rumours when someone joined Kattegat, suspicions and gossip spreading through the markets like fleas. Ivar had not seen this mysterious witch yet, nor did he particularly care to. He was in a bad enough mood, however, to know that if he stayed with his mother all day he would likely kill someone.
Ubbe lifted his eyebrows when his brother loudly proclaimed that he would be joining them. Sigurd curled his lip but chose not to comment. Sigurd barged ahead once they entered the trees, intent on setting a punishing pace, but Ubbe and Hvitserk slowed their steps a little to enable Ivar to keep up. Ivar's mood lifted somewhat as his brothers bantered around him, two of the three of them including him in their jokes and chatter. They were wondering if the witch would be as old as the Seer that had apparently brought her here.
"Perhaps she'll be missing her eyes too." Sigurd sniggered as they approached the Seer's hut.
"I certainly hope not."
All three brothers whirled, hands flying to various weapons automatically with varying shouts of surprise. Ivar shoved Hvitserk aside impatiently so he could see clearly. A slender figure in a bulky cloak was standing across the clearing that separated the Seer's hut from the rest of the trees. He had paused under the shade of a towering tree which cast their face in shadow. Sigurd was yelling curses at the stranger, his face a brilliant shade of red from embarrassment at being caught unawares.
Ivar rolled his eyes.
"Shut up." He snapped, cutting of Sigurd's diatribe midflow. He gestured at the basket the figure was carrying, brimming over with various herbs, flowers and leaves.
The figure stepped forwards into the brighter clearing slowly, giving them time to look for any concealed weapons. Ivar heard Hvitserk grunt in surprise beside him and he felt his mouth curling into a smirk. Of all the gossip the old harridans of Kattegat had managed to spread about the arrival of the witch, not one of them had managed to mention that she was young and startlingly pretty. Admittedly the bulky cloak hid the majority of her figure from their invasive gaze, but her hair was a shining strawberry blonde, elegantly braided back from her face to expose a high forehead and cheekbones, a tempting heart-shaped mouth and intelligent wickedly green eyes.
"Can I help you?" She asked, in a remarkably mocking tone considering the weapons that the brothers still brandished pointedly.
They exchanged glances and Ivar sighed. Not once in all of their planning, had they thought to devise a rational pretext for the four of them arriving on the witch's doorstep unannounced. She tilted her head slightly, pursing her lips as her eyes started to sparkle.
"Ah. A welcoming party, perhaps?" She suggested politely and Ubbe flushed.
She crossed the clearing, giving them a wide enough berth in case one of them randomly decided to lunge at her, and headed towards the Seer's hut. She paused, glancing over her shoulder in a distinctly beckoning manner. The brothers communicated silently for a moment, before following after her. She led them around the Seer's hut to a small shack deeper into the trees and slightly off the main track. It looked rather dilapidated and had probably been used as a store room rather than living quarters before now.
"My name is Saga." She informed them as she deposited the basket onto a scrubbed wooden table in the middle of the hut.
Ivar hauled himself onto the bench and watched her as she discarded her cloak and stoked the fire so the room brightened. There was barely room for himself and the girl in the tiny hut so his brothers lingered by the open door. Ivar could hear Sigurd grumbling that Ivar was taking over as usual.
"You know who I am?" Ivar asked her, watching as she carefully separated the herbs in her basket into separate pots neatly lining the wall.
"Of course." She didn't even glance at him over her shoulder, calmly continuing her task. "Prince."
Ivar watched her in silence as she pulled a simmering pot from the fire and placed it onto a heating stone on the table. Of course she knew who he was, Kattegat was hardly swarming with cripples dragging their useless legs around. If she knew who he was, then she had heard his reputation. Odd, then, that she did not seem afraid of him. Most people would be nervous if the Ragnarssons arrived on their doorstep out of the blue, fully armed.
"You are not afraid?"
She tilted her head slightly, her lips quirking into a mocking smile as she stirred the steaming pot carefully.
"You would stop yourself from hurting me, if I were afraid?" She challenged lazily, the steam curling around her face.
Ivar cocked his head, eyeing her assessingly. She waited calmly, her glimmering cat eyes provoking in the dim light of the hut.
"No." He finally said, deciding that honesty with this girl would be more interesting than a lie.
She arched her brows, reaching over and adding a pinch of mysterious powder to the concoction bubbling away.
"Then what purpose would being afraid serve?" She shrugged dismissively, not a trace of fear on her face as her gaze flicked across to meet his briefly.
Ivar narrowed his eyes suspiciously, trying to decide if she were mocking him or not. She turned to source an ingredient from the rough-hewn shelves behind her and he took the opportunity to study her without that clunky cloak. Her moss-green dress was nipped in at her slender waist by a braided belt, with hip-high splits on either side that revealed skin-tight breeches and scuffed leather boots laced over her knees beneath. He eyed the length of her slender thighs, the breeches leaving very little to the imagination as she bent over the table. There was a dagger dangling from her hip in a worn leather holster, engraved with intricate designs. Her wild strawberry hair was braided back from her face and interwoven with ribbons and sweet-smelling herbs.
He was not surprised she had been labeled as a witch in her home village. She seemed too seductively enticing to be real, living alone with no family to account for her.
She turned back towards him, a sly smile flitting across her lips when she found him studying her hungrily. She added a handful of something spicy to the pot, swirling the wooden spoon around familiarly.
"Why are you here, Prince of Kattegat?"
His title rolled off her tongue like poison and Ivar's eyes narrowed. He shrugged one shoulder absently, watching her ladle the concoction into several rough-hewn bowls.
"Perhaps I want my future read, witch."
She lifted her eyebrows as she retrieved a pestle and mortar from a shelf, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her breeches again, and ground a sharply-scented herb into a fine dust.
"Is that something you can do?"
She finished grinding the herbs and sprinkled them into the steaming bowls, her eyes glimmering through the steam enticingly.
"Is that what you are here for?"
He frowned suddenly, distracted from admiring her pale slight hands as she brushed stray flecks of herbs from her fingers.
"You always answer a question with a question." He observed shrewdly, sniffing the steaming bowl warily as she placed it before him.
"Most people mistake that tactic for wisdom." She grinned, sliding a spoon towards him. "It is not poisoned, Prince."
Ivar glared at her. She rolled her eyes, reaching her spoon across the table and dipping it into his bowl. She slowly and deliberately sipped the soup from the dip of her spoon, her eyes locked onto his as her lips manipulated the liquid. Ivar tasted the soup as if he expected his death, surprised to find it pleasantly flavoured and rather hearty. He was slightly put out when she took the soup to his brothers, loathe to give up her attention while he had it.
After her introduction to the Ragnarssons, Saga appeared in the village more often and was generally well received. People remained somewhat suspicious of her, as was always the case with strangers, but her beauty won over the men and her clever nature won over the women once they had ascertained that she had zero interest in stealing their men. In fact, Saga was embraced by the village remarkably quickly. She appeared in the Great Hall most nights, drinking and laughing. She politely turned down any advances she received in such a wily way that the interested parties found themselves disappointed yet faintly flattered.
Ivar noticed all of this in great detail because he observed her closely whenever he saw her. He knew that most of the village now flocked to her, requesting herbal remedies for various ailments and her skills were widely lauded around Kattegat. He had not spoken to her since that first day. Their paths had yet to cross again. He glowered as Hvitserk bounded over to Saga with a flagon in his hand. She tilted her head back and laughed as he approached, accepting the flagon and raising it briefly in thanks. Ivar watched the delicate muscles of her throat flexing as she gulped down the liquid.
"Ivar."
He turned irritably away, glancing at his mother who was frowning at him. His mother was always frowning these days. Her frown deepened, her brows drawing down darkly as she studied him. He did not have the patience to deal with her moods right now, he pushed himself out of his seat and plunged into the crowds of the hall.
"Witch."
She turned to look at him from her seat on the bench, her pretty mouth pursed slightly and her golden brows lifted.
"Prince." She rebutted in a calm voice.
He eyed her contemplatively and she stared back patiently.
"Come."
He turned and made his way out of the hall. After a moment, she followed. The air outside was deliciously cool after the stuffy heat of the crowded hall and blissfully quiet after the rowdy noise. He paused to wait for her just outside the doors, but she stepped past him and continued on. She paced her steps and he managed to keep up with her easily enough, letting her lead the way out of curiosity of where she would take him. For a split second he wondered briefly if she might try to kill him, but he dismissed the thought in amusement. Part of him wanted her to try, he would feel better about his interest in her if it was purely self-preservation.
She led him down towards the docks in silence, her boots crunching on the ground beside him. He glanced up at her. Her hair glimmered brightly in the moonlight, her profile blurred and mysterious above him. Even at this time of night there was movement on the docks, guards watching the ships and the distance over the water for approaching danger. They shifted when they saw Saga and then fell back with puzzled smirks at the sight of Ivar twisting his way along the ground beside her.
When she had seated herself at the end of an empty dock, Ivar arranged himself beside her. The breeze lifted her hair and tugged at her cloak.
"It's beautiful."
Ivar stared at her. She was looking out over the water, diamonds of moonlight rippling on the surface. The water shushed faintly, the distant sounds of the revelry in the hall drifting in the air.
"What do you want from me, Prince?"
She turned to look at him suddenly, her emerald eyes flashing beneath lowered sooty lashes. Ivar felt a drop of molten lava trickle down into his stomach.
"Nothing." He snapped defensively, feeling heat creeping into his cheeks and not liking it one bit.
"You've been watching me." She countered calmly, no accusation in her tone or any other indication that she was offended by his surveillance. "I can feel your eyes on me."
Her lashes drifted down, hiding her eyes but she had leaned in closer to him. Her soft voice was hypnotic and he found himself leaning closer to catch it better. Sitting beside each other they were level and her heart-shaped mouth was a mere breath away.
"I can feel it whenever you watch me." She murmured, her breath sweet from the wine she'd been drinking. "What do you want from me?"
Ivar's tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips, his mind reeling from her bodyheat and the scented flowers in her hair. He had no idea what he wanted from her. It was impossible for him to make sense of the emotions scrambling in his stomach. He didn't even know this woman, but there was something about the tilt of her head and the arch of her body that was making his heart pound painfully.
"Your brothers visit me often."
Ivar blinked at the change of subject, quashing the disappointment that flared in his belly as she withdrew her bodyheat from him. He felt the familiar rush of anger at the thought of his brothers inviting themselves to her hut regularly.
"They visit many women often." He sneered, scowling at the reproachful look she shot him.
"Do not be crude." She frowned, ignoring the murderous look that flashed across his face. "They visit to check on me, being alone that far from the village." There was amusement in her voice, enough to tell him that she did not believe that excuse any more than he did. "Why do you not come?"
Ivar recoiled, shaken by the sudden flare of heat in his chest at her words.
"I'm a cripple." He snapped, gesturing at his bound legs angrily.
She peered at him silently and he could see quite clearly that she would not accept that as an excuse. He really had never encountered anyone like her before, he had no idea how to read her.
"Would you enjoy my company?" He asked sulkily when he could see that she would not capitulate.
"I would like the chance to find out." She smiled, her white teeth flashing in the darkness. "I find you fascinating, Ivar Ragnarsson."
Her gentle voice was like a caress in the darkness and Ivar shivered, feeling the tiny hairs along his arms lifting.
"You are not afraid to be alone in the dark with me?"
Her head cocked to the side thoughtfully, strands of bright hair drifting across her face and her eyes glimmering.
"You are not afraid to be alone in the dark with me?" She repeated, a sultry teasing note in her voice.
Ivar eyed her curiously. He believed anyone was capable of killing, especially pretty young witches with mysterious pasts and a comprehensive knowledge of poisonous herbs. Her body was lean and limber, with delicately developed muscles from years of hiking and swimming and climbing in the mountains. She would probably be able to put up a good fight. He glanced at the water lapping gently against the dock beneath them. Of course all she had to do was give him a little push. She was peering at him patiently from under her fluttering lashes and, to Ivar's surprise, he burst out laughing. She didn't seem offended by him laughing at her suggestion, in fact a smile was curling her lips.
"Should I be afraid?" She asked him, leaning slightly towards him again.
Ivar smirked. Her eyes were a glimmer of light beneath her lashes. His mouth was very dry.
"Yes."