Master of My Sea


I was hoping to get this out before the year ended, but the first day of 2021 is good too, haha. That being said, Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a safe holiday, and fingers crossed that 2021 is a little more merciful with everyone. I just learned that my cousin in law, who works at a hospital and tours LTC facilities to educate people about Covid just got his vaccine. He told me that it feels and is done the same way a Flu shot is given, and has told me it has less ingredients than it too. Just thought I'd share that, because I thought that was really interesting.

Anyway, here's the chapter everyone's been waiting for. I've certainly been excited to publish it, and moving onto the next era of Kara and Ivar's life. Hope you enjoy!


chapter twenty:
THE BIRD AND THE SNAKE, PT II


At the first signs of spring, Ivar took no hesitation in leaving the city. He loathed the winter - it made walking on his crutches difficult, and crawling on frozen ground wasn't preferred. Sure, if the snow was slick like ice, it made him glide much faster, but at the cost of many frost bites on his stomach, chest, thighs and fingers. To avoid looking like a fool slipping around on soft snow and black ice, Ivar had no choice but remain close to home for the winter seasons. Unfortunately, winter also made people stay inside more often, including his brother, Sigurd and his bloody once the earth soaked up the last remnants of snow, Ivar grabbed his gear and left for the forest towards the training area. None of his brothers followed him or met him there, which he was relieved for. While his love for his brothers could not be doubted (arguably), he often preferred his own company. He cherished the times he spent with them, even Sigurd on some level, but they could never understand him for what he was - a cripple. He saw the world from the ground, and there was that creeping insecurity that everything they did together, all he did just weighed them down. He was the youngest, yes, but around them, he felt like a child. Every act of success and skill seemed to be praised by Ubbe, like he was congratulating a child. Hvitserk was at least treating him like a man, but he also felt as if he held back for Ivar's benefit. As for Sigurd, well, at least Sigurd never held back, but he never let Ivar forget he was a cripple. With Bjorn, it was different… Bjorn was old enough to be his father, and he held nothing back when it came to Ivar. He was, however, infuriating when he was trying to impart wisdom; wisdom that Ivar often questioned.

And so, Ivar liked training alone. The only expectations he needed to exceed was his own, and when he was alone, he was able to be himself. He was able to experiment with the limitations of his body without the judging eyes of his able-bodied brothers.

Additionally, the silence was a bonus. Bjorn had returned a couple of days ago along with his brood. He hadn't seen him since the beginning of winter, and Ivar admitted that he missed him. While Floki had filled the fatherless void when Ragnar had disappeared, Bjorn was biologically the closest thing to a father Ivar had. He, at least, looked like Ragnar. Not to mention Bjorn was the balance he needed when it came to his mother. However, Bjorn's children were all young, save for his step-son, and therefore loud and annoying. The Longhouse had never been louder since their return, and it wasn't like he had a moment to sit with his eldest brother and catch up on his trip to Hedeby. Bjorn seemed rather distracted when he returned, avoiding questions about Hedeby and Lagertha from Ubbe and Hvitserk.

Ivar spent the better part of the early morning hours in the training area, until he fell on the ground, his body completely spent. His arms, most of all, were dead weight by the end. He was used to exhausting those appendages until they felt disconnected from his body. Instead of his feet, his arms were his real roots and therefore his link to his survival. Rest was needed after hours of moving every muscle in his arms and shoulders, and Ivar couldn't help himself from falling asleep right there on the ground.

He didn't realize he was sleeping until he found himself in that dream. It had always begun and ended the same. He was sitting in a tree on a hill, how he was able to get there he wasn't sure. The sky was bright and cloudless and he would sit there, staring at the horizon peacefully. But that was always disturbed as dark clouds began to gather around the edges of the sky, and then it lit up with Thor's lightning. The ocean would come alive and move against the storm. The winds would pick up, and the branch he sat on would sway and groan until it snapped under his weight. Then, Ivar would fall and fall for what seemed like forever. It was almost like he was sinking into the ocean and he couldn't move any of his limbs, not even his arms.

And just when he seemed all was lost, there was someone that came after him, arms outreached, and face obscured by darkness. Ivar never could make out who this person was, but there they were, falling after him, trying to reach him, and every time, his dream would end before they could.

However, this time it was different. Sheet lightning lit up the sky and the bright light aided Ivar into seeing the figure of a woman with curtains of red flying behind her. The sight of her face ignited something in his chest he didn't quite understand. Ivar blinked, and then she was covered by the darkness that blurred her face from him. This time he couldn't help but notice that she was closer to him. So close that he was just able to feel her finger tips brush against his own.

Ivar!

Ivar awoke abruptly with a sharp intake of air. His entire body was tense and weighed down from laying on his back. For a few seconds he couldn't move a muscle and was forced to look at the ceiling of the forest that seemed to form a face he hadn't noticed before. Then he blinked and it was gone. After that, he gradually was able to move from the ground. He moved one hand to his chest where a thread of rope hung around his neck, and at the end a wooden pendant of a rune.

He had gripped the pendant many times before to ground him after such odd dreams and hallucinations. Ivar also had no idea how it came to be in his possession, but he found it on him the day after he woke up from his coma. He hadn't asked his mother about it, because every time he asked what had happened over the time he had missed, she would be vague about it. She only ever talked about how Harbard had saved him. When Ivar asked how he got injured in the first place, she very bitterly replied that it was a jealous woman who wanted to take revenge after losing her own son. Ivar's brothers had a different story, but Aslaug made sure that details were kept from him. So this rune pendant was kept a secret from his mother, for fear that her seeing it would force her to take it away from him. It was the only link Ivar had to his forgotten past, and somehow he knew it was significant. He felt energy radiated from it every time he gripped it in his palm.

After some time sitting on the ground, he decided to call it a day and go back home. He crawled back to the tree stump to sit on it and gather his things, and then hauled himself up using his crutch. By the time he started to retreat out of the area, it was high noon. The emptiness of the forest was welcoming, though peculiar at this time. He wasn't that far out of the city, and during this trek he would sometimes pass by foragers and children playing around the trees. Instead, the only sounds were the gentle breeze and distant chirps of birds.

But despite this silent peace, he could feel a mute shift in the branches that were above him. He spotted shadows on the ground. The sun was blocked by foliage and branches, however the leaves left a hue of green on the floor. There was a mass that seemed out of place, but otherwise unnoticeable if he hadn't been aware of his surroundings. Ivar's fingers reached up to his shoulder where he could feel the draw string of his bow, and then he slowed down.

Not giving a moment's hesitation, Ivar dropped his crutch, grabbed his bow, spun around and had an arrow knocked and released in a blink of an eye.

There was a yelp that came with the shudder of the tree he aimed at. Leaves fell on the ground and the branches tousled around. Ivar nearly lost his balance in the maneuver he pulled, so he leaned his back against a tree and quickly knocked another arrow, but didn't release it. Instead, he aimed it at the branches that moved.

"Show yourself!" He yelled from the ground. The response he got was a curse and a grunt. He repeated himself. "I've got another arrow for your head!"

"If I show myself, you'd just have a better aim for my head!"

Ivar blinked when he heard that it was a woman's voice, but his hand remained steady and his eyes trained at the spot in the trees.

"I have enough arrows to pin you against the tree, if I need to. You might as well face death, unless you want to be remembered as a nameless coward in a tree."

His answer was silence and he scowled. Without remorse, he let his arrow loose. To his chagrin, he heard no sounds of pain, just the whistle of his arrows as they flew through the branches and leaves. He flared his nose and went to grab another arrow from the quiver at his hip, but found it empty. He turned to look at it with confusion - he had at least 12 when he left training.

"You mean these arrows?"

A great jolt of surprise went down his spin at the proximity of the woman's voice. Ivar's head spun around, and he nearly stumbled on the ground at the sight. Hanging upside down like a red bat was a woman in hunter's clothing. She hung on a branch less than a foot above his head, using the back of her knees to grip the tree with ease. He suddenly had a strong feeling that this happened before, but he quickly pushed that feeling away to glare at the woman. She held on the bundle of arrows with a cocky grin on her freckled face.

His eyes traveled down her arm to the open wound on her shoulder, which coated her tunic with blood. Red droplets dripped liberally on the ground under her. How in Midgard did she get there and grab his arrows without him knowing?

A new found annoyance bubbled in his chest, and his scowl deepened as he whipped out his dagger placed the tip just under her chin.

"Why are you following me?"

Due to her closeness, he had no choice but to look her straight in the eyes. A stray sunray peaked through the crack of the forest ceiling and hit her right eye and down to the crown of her head, showing him how vibrant her hair actually was. That feeling that this has happened before seemed to grow the longer he stared at her.

"I wasn't," she answered, fiddling with the arrows in her fist. "I was looking for a game, and you rudely shot an arrow at me."

Ivar snorted at her lie, "You were moving alongside me in the branches."

She was silent for a moment at his statement. He seemed to catch her in her lie, but she seemed unperturbed by it, or by the knife under her chin. Suddenly, the corner of her mouth quirked up in a smirk.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"All I need to do is move five feet to the left or climb back in this tree. Besides, you came up here unarmed, which was stupid of you."

Ivar's head suddenly felt light, like a breeze came in and tried to blow it off his shoulders. He became unsteady, causing him to unwillingly pull away to steady himself. His free hand moved to touch his head, to a scar that disappeared into his hairline. In the brief moments of his eyes fluttering, he lost sight of the girl.

"Are you alright?" he heard her voice, which seemed to ground him a bit. His hand went to grab the rune around his neck instinctively, but his other still clenched the hilt of the dagger.

When his eyes focused on her, he was slightly taken back by her sudden appearance on the ground, standing before him. She was shorter than he had assumed, but that was probably because she hung above him seconds ago. The top of her head reach his own chin, and that made her even less intimidating than some annoying bird of prey in a tree.

"I am fine," he practically hissed. "Give me my arrows."

"You are just as demanding as ever," she quipped, handing him his property.

Ivar furrowed his brow at her as he tore the arrows from her hand and shoved them back into his quiver. "Why do you speak as if we are familiar with each other?" He limply pointed the dagger at her nonchalant form. "Do you even know who I am?"

"You are Ivar the Boneless," she said with ease, arms swinging behind her.

He couldn't stop himself from narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Ivar then gave a soft laugh and a tilt of his head, "You see a cripple, and you just assume that he is Ivar the Boneless?"

"No," she replied with pursed lips as she elongated the word. "I see Ivar the Boneless, and I assume that is Ivar the Boneless."

Ivar was silent at this, but he was now both amused and curious by the red-haired tree-dwelling troll. He adjusted his legs so he could keep his center balanced to cross his arms. "You know me," he began, and then finished with raised eyebrows. "But I do not know you."

It was her time to laugh, but it came through her nose as her lips stretched into a genuine smile. "You do," she gave a half shrug. "I am an old friend of your brothers."

"Which one?"

"All of them."

His eyes narrowed at her again, and then he tilted his head in the other direction. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth as if tasting the potential words to use. Alas, she confused him. A thought ran through his head that perhaps she was someone that was introduced to him during the gap in his memory. Her eyes did seem familiar to him, and she gave him an unrecognizable feeling in his gut and head that he wasn't too pleased with.

Suddenly, Ivar's eyes flickered to her shoulder. The stain of blood was larger.

He nodded at it, "You're bleeding."

"Well, that is your fault," she replied after looking at it with bemusement. She turned back at him with a half smile, "But I suppose I should go tend to it." There was a beat after she said this, her mouth slightly open as if she were going to say something, but the look in her eye told him her mind was rolling around with thoughts. Briefly, he noticed that her eyes glanced down to his lips and then quickly away from him.

With a sharp turn, a silent laugh on her lips, and a hand on her bleeding shoulder, she started to walk away from him.

"It was nice seeing you again, Ivar."

"You never told me your name!" He called out to her retreating form.

She stopped walking and then looked over her shoulder at him, "It's Kára."

X X X

Ivar wasn't sure why, but he was compelled to walk to Floki's house at the mouth of the river. Perhaps it was because it was closer than the city, or perhaps his mind burned with questions that he needed to be answered right away. Since Ragnar had left him, it was Floki who took the reins of mentor, like a father should. He lectured him of the gods, and how to be viking. Ivar felt that the bond he had with Floki was unlike the bond he had with his brothers. He envied them, he hated to admit, so there was always a foot in the door that stopped him from fully opening up to them. Floki was different. He felt completely safe with him in all regards.

On his trek there, Ivar couldn't help but allow his thoughts to linger on the girl in the forest he met just minutes ago. Kára. He didn't know a Kára, and yet he felt that the name was familiar to him. She had mentioned she was a friend of her brothers; perhaps they had mentioned her in passing and he hadn't fully paid attention. Though she seemed to know him well enough, not to mention that Ivar thought he knew everyone his brothers knew, at least for Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd. There was really only one explanation, and that was the missing piece in his memory. She was obviously part of that time in his life, but he doubted it was significant. She couldn't be much older than him, if not younger. He had no friends as a child, especially no female friends.

They were all afraid of him.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"How very stupid of you, then. After all, I did kill a boy for less of a reason. You did maim me with your stupid arrow. You should be afraid of me."

Ivar grimaced and stopped at the mouth of the forest. His shoulder gave an odd piercing ach, and his hand moved over to the spot to rub it. A little scar he had no recollection of obtaining was on that shoulder, but he had just assumed it came from the fall. He moved his hand to his head as it threatened to float away again. Ivar stood there, not realizing he had already made it to Floki and Helga's until he heard the latter's voice call his name.

"Ivar? What are you doing standing there?" Helga asked from her garden. When she saw him clenching his head, she stood up and briskly walked over to him. "Are you alright?"

"I- My head," He felt her gentle hands on his forearms and then she folded her arm under his, and began guiding him closer to the house.

"Sit down, I will get you something to drink," she told him.

Ivar collapsed on a tree stump, dropping his crutch and spreading out his legs. He then bent and rested his forehead in his hands in an attempt to block out the sunlight from his sensitive eyes. Within seconds, Helga was back next to him with a horn of rain water, and he took it gratefully. He took a big gulp, but kept his head hung low.

"Where is Floki?"

"He is down the river fishing. He will be here soon."

Ivar nodded and drank more. It was a slow progress, but his head began to feel more anchored as the water processed through him. When he lifted his head, Helga was sitting on her knees, looking at him with concern.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked, and he had to think about that.

"I had dagmal," he answered. He didn't elaborate, since all he had was dried fruit and a bit of bread. He was too eager to leave the Longhouse to get away from Bjorn's screaming children.

Helga gave a tsking sound and shook her head, "You should not work so hard in training." He supposed he gave away what he was doing by his gear and the flushed look on his face.

"I was fine all morning," it was a partial lie, but he was never fully fine on any day. "The headache began when an annoying little red bird disturbed my silence."

Helga looked at him with an amused brow, "A little bird caused your head to ache?"

Ivar took another gulp of water and heavily rolled his eyes, "A girl stalked me in the trees and then stole my arrows."

"A girl?" The amusement was still on her face, but now it was more inquisitive.

Ivar nodded and pursed his lips as he swallowed some more water. He looked at Helga and tilted his head, "She claimed to know my brothers, and knew me by name."

"An old friend, perhaps," Helga reasoned. "What did she look like? Maybe I knew her."

"She had red hair and green eyes, and told me her name was Kára…" He gave a light shrug as he trailed off. That was when he noticed Helga's brow rising into one of surprise. His own furrowed as he regarded the reaction.

"Did you say Kára?"

Instead of answering, Ivar had his own question. "You know her?"

Helga sat in front of him in full conflict. She badly wanted to tell him everything that happened before his accident; to tell him stories of him and the girl known as Kára. How she and him would spend hours just fletching arrows and then shooting them at the floating boats that Floki would make. She wished she was like Hulda; she could heal his mind and bring back his memories. But Aslaug was her queen, and she had sworn she would not tell Ivar of Hulda or her daughter, Ivar's closest and only friend. The girl he saved from drowning, and the girl who saved him from drowning.

Her mouth was open, but she could barely make a sound before the unsaid words were interrupted by her husband.

"Ivar!" Floki called as he approached the two from the river. A bucket of trout in one hand, and fishing gear in the other. The older man trudged over to the two and looked at Helga's wide eyes before returning them to Ivar. "Are we sharing stories without me?"

"Ivar was just telling me of his morning," Helga stood up, dusting her hands on her apron. "I should get back to gardening. I will work on nattmal in a bit," she said as she took the bucket of fish from Floki's hand.

Floki followed her with a turn of his head and once she was too far to watch, he turned back to Ivar, and immediately dropped his things and plopped down on the ground. With a nudge at the boy's boot, he immediately asked what he was doing here. "Or were you just too lazy to go back home?"

Ivar rolled his eyes, "I actually came to talk to you about something important, believe it or not."

"Is that so?"

Ivar adjusted his legs so they were together, and he hunched down after folding his arms against his stomach. He leveled his eyes with his mentor as he thought of his words several times in seconds. There were so many questions, he didn't know what to choose from and how to word them. He supposed the easiest one would be…

"What happened before I lost my memory?"

Floki's eyebrows shot to his hairline, "Ivar, you've asked me this many times before-"

"And I feel like I do not get the real answer," Ivar spoke impatiently. "There is a missing piece… in my head. I keep on having these headaches because of it. I keep...hearing conversations, and seeing faces I do not remember or recognize. Floki, I know Aslaug is keeping everyone from telling me everything that happened before the accident. And this-" he reached into his tunic and yanked at the thread with the rune pendant. "Where did it come from, because I did not have it before."

Floki's wise eyes moved from Ivar's face to the rune he presented. With a fluid motion, he raised his hand and gently plucked the rune and examined it deeply. A heavy sigh through his nose broke the silence, and he slowly moved his gaze back at the boy.

"I made a promise to the queen," Floki admitted, still slowly twirling the wooden rune in his fingers. Ivar's jaw hardened at those words, but the man continued. "That I would take care of you, and teach you the ways of the gods and how to be viking. If there is a way to rid you of these headaches, Ivar, there is only one person in all of Midgard that can help you achieve that, and give you the answers you want." He lifted the rune closer to Ivar's nose, "The person who gave you this is a volva; a sorceress of healing capabilities. She is known as the Red Woman, and she is not far from here."


I should probably say that this chapter and the next will be mostly Ivar-centric, because we need to have a catch up with him. But, I won't be lingering it too much. Next chapter you will still have Kara and Ivar together, and after it, it will start to gain traction for the two. I had to do a little re-writing, because by the end of the next chapter, I was going in a different direction then I intended, and its for the best. That's probably why I wasnt able to publish this chapter as early as I wanted.

I should also state that chapters may be shorter, but I think that is also for the best, because that means I'll be publishing faster, or at least I hope so.

Happy Readings!