Kattegat
The townspeople stare at her, whisper behind their hands at the english girl that had come with the missing Ragnarsson and when they glimpse the cross around her neck the stares turn from curious to openly hostile.
Mary stands on the pier, unsure what to do and where to go. At the beginning of their journey, Kattegat had seemed impossibly far away and once Ivar had gotten sick, she had been too overcome with worry about him to worry about herself.
She watches as Ivar is carried away, her hands clammy at the thought that he might leave her to fend for herself, but then he speaks up, his voice croaky from the fever.
"Mary." He calls her name and then gestures with a finger for her to follow him. She bows her head and runs after the brothers, ignoring the gossip and whispers, even ignoring the disbelieving looks of the Ragnarssons themselves.
She follows them, expecting to turn into one of the towns bigger houses, but instead they keep walking. Through the town and into the forest until they reach a smaller hut in the trees, close enough to oversee the town, but far enough to not be bothered.
The inside is warm, a fire burning and heating the place from the Scandinavian cold of the afternoon and she watches as the two brothers drop Ivar on one of the cots, speaking to him in hushed voices.
Mary turns around when they tuck him free of his sweaty tunic, watches one of them head out for fresh water as she keeps staring out of the window while they wash and dry him. They put him in clean clothes and coaxing him to drink small sips of water and nibble on a loaf of bread. Mary feels uncomfortable standing here during such a vulnerable moment, but she doesn't know what else to do, so she starts opening the braids to give her hands something to do. Her scalp aches at the movement, but she knows that the braids are the only thing stopping her hair from being destroyed by the wind and salt of the ocean.
Only when she feels someone tap her on the shoulder does she turn around again, her hair a chaotic mess of curls and waves, but finally free and flowing down her shoulders. One of Ivar's brothers is standing behind her, tall and blonde and about as Viking as she could have imagined him to be.
"My brother tells me you cared for him on your journey. I thank you very much for bringing Ivar back to us." He says sincerely and Mary smiles at him, before looking into the room. Ivar is sitting up in his bed, clean and less pale, but still slick with sweat.
"Of course." She says with a slight nod of her head.
"Come here, Mary. Please meet my brothers Ubbe." The man in front of her nods, "And Sigurd."
The other brother is sitting by the fire and smiles stiffly when she comes closer and sits down.
"Now, brother. Tell us about this stranger you have brought to us. You aren't one to take women home from raids." The younger one, Sigurd, asks and Ivar glares at him.
Mary grimaces. Her clear sense of distaste for the meaning of those words doesn't go unnoticed by any of them.
Sigurd snorts, Ubbe lifts an eyebrow, and Ivar looks torn between amusement and betrayal at her apparent disgust at the thought.
"I'm sorry." She says quickly, blushing at their curious stares "I just wasn't aware that that's what people think."
Now, Ubbe is looking curious. "Then what should people be thinking?"
"Let her be, you idiots." Ivar demands from the bed "She is a Seer. I didn't bring her here for you to torment her."
Technically, Mary wants to interject, he didn't bring her here at all, she was sent. But that is probably not something that should be made public.
"A Seer you say?" Sigurd asks, momentarily forgetting about teasing his younger brother, as he stares at her curiously. "Will we be taking her to the old one?"
Mary doesn't know who, or what the old one is, but she is happy when Ivar shakes his head.
"I do not want her abilities to become public just yet."
Ubbe lets his gaze wander from her face, to the cross around her neck and over the hideous dress she is still wearing.
"She is a Christian. Our people won't let her stay in the village as a free woman." he says and Ivar nods in agreement. And then he looks at her, looks her straight in the eyes, and announces "I am keeping her as my slave."
Surprise is evident on the brothers faces as they turn to her, sure that the girl has not known about her supposed fate until just now.
But she just sighs heavily and burrows her face in her hands before groaning loudly and turning her gaze towards the ceiling.
"Are you fucking kidding me?' she then exclaims angrily. In a single motion, she jumps to her feet and kicks her bag, letting its contents spill across the floor while she glares and points at the youngest brother.
"I should have let your miserable ass freeze to death." She curses at him, "I should have thrown you overboard and watch you sink. I should have pushed you off the goddamn cart." She rants and then "I hope that you choke to death on fish. I hope that next time your relive yourself you fall into your own piss, I hope that a bird shits on you, and I hope you develop early onset male pattern baldness." The last one is what does it for her, and her lips twitch before she dissolves into a fit of giggles.
Ivar lifts a single eyebrow.
"Are you done?"
She crosses her arms in defiance, her lower lip jutting out like a petulant child, but the smile is still on her lips when she reluctantly falls back into the chair. "Yes."
Both Ubbe and Sigurd watch the pair in silence, unsure of what to do or say until Ubbe directs his questioning look at his brother. Better not deal with the Christian Seer who, for all intents and purposes, seems to be out of her mind.
"Are you going to let her speak to you like that?"
Mari glares at the oldest brother, but he isn't even looking at her.
Ivar simply inclines his head "She is a woman gifted by Freya herself. She knows our past, our future, and everything that will happen long after we are dead, brother. What she decides to tell us and hide from us may very well save our lives. So yes, I intend on keeping her happy." He says, his voice cutting and condescending, rolling the word brother off is tongue like an insult.
Ubbe stays quiet, deep in thought at what his younger brother said, but Sigurd doesn't seem like one for many thoughts as he shakes his head in disappointment.
"What a waste of a perfectly good slave."
Mary's nostrils flare "You just suck so hard." She says exasperatedly, the insult not directed at anyone in particular but rather at everything and everyone around her.
Her eyes narrow then and she stares at Ivar "You touch me, I will cut off your dick and feed it to the pigs." She threatened but Ivar just scoffs. Not only is it an empty threat, but it is an unnecessary one as well.
"Don't you think I would have had the opportunity if that was what I wanted? When we shared that cell, or on the boat? When I had you in my lap." He says tauntingly and it is almost comical to watch Ubbe and Sigurd look between Ivar and Mary, their eyes wide in surprise and just a little bit of pride at their brother's implied intimacy.
Mary turns beet red, picks the first soft item she can find (a pair of woollen socks that had fallen from her bag) and hurls it at the bedridden boy. Her precision is off and he barely blinks when the socks collide with the wall and fall into his lap.
"You have terrible aim." He says unimpressed.
"Well, if you ever feel lonely and want to know what a real man can do, my bed is always open," Sigurd says, grinning lavishly at Mary, who is already on the lookout for her next projectile. Behind him, Ivar picks up the socks and throws them, hitting his brother square in the head. Sigurd bristles at the backhanded attack but Ubbe steps in before the brother's rivalry becomes physical and puts Ivar into an actual sickbed.
"Be it as it may." He interrupts as they glare at each other "We have family matters to discuss."
His words make it clear that he expects Mary to leave.
"Here," Ivar says and pulls out some coins. "Go to the market and get yourself something to wear."
"Why? She is a slave." Sigurd asks with a snort, and this time even Ubbe shakes his head at his brother's words.
"Because she looks like a badly made sausage." Ivar answers and Mary's jaw drops. Ubbe, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the gods cursed him, buries his face in his hands; his brothers will be the death of him.
"I'm gonna spit in your food." She says tartly, grabs her fur coat and leaves the house, head held high.
As soon as she reaches town, her annoyance turns into insecurity as everyone seems to stare at her. She tries to smile, but the people are intimidating. Men and women alike are tall and strong, weathered by the harsh life in the Fjord and when she reaches what must be the market, she tries to simply pick the first outfit that seems to fit and disappear again. She can sit in the forest and stare at grass, for all she cares, as long as it's far away from the suspicious glances of the people carrying big swords.
She finds out that the money Ivar has given her is worth quite a bit and she is able to buy a dress as well as a shirt and a pair of pants.
God, she missed pants.
The vendor refuses to sell her any of the more beautiful clothes and Mary quickly finds out that they are only for free women. Her status as a slave seems to be expected, as a woman brought back by a Viking. It annoys her to no end, but she smiles, takes the clothes and almost runs from the market. She is almost there, so close to the edge of the city, when a woman steps in her way. Her hair is light, braided into an impressive braid and she is wearing soft leather armour, but it's the big sword at her side that draws Mary's eyes.
She steps back and gulps, holding her purchases to her chest like a stuffed animal.
"Hello." She says and then wants to kick herself.
"Are you the Christian that arrived with prince Ivar?" she asks, her tone commanding and Mary nods meekly.
"The Queen wishes to speak to you." She informs her and then takes Mary by the arm, leading her back into town. Mary is tired of being lead around like a child, but she is not planning on fighting with the bad-ass shieldmaiden.
The main hall, or maybe throne room, is quite big with a throne on a slightly raised platform across from the door. The place is filled with women weaving, and the occasional warrior doing their everyday business. On the throne itself is a woman that almost makes Mary's breath stop. She is elegant and beautiful, wearing a long dress and detailed armour on her shoulders and Mary has to blink to remember that Valkyries are not real. So, this is a Viking queen. Mary has never been too choosy in her affection and even though she usually prefers men, this woman might be an exception. But then it occurs to her that this might be Ivar's mother and she quickly changes her mind. Oh, that would be weird.
The shield-maiden leading her stops in front of the queen, gives a slight bow of the head and steps aside, leaving Mary by herself.
Dressed in the horrendous English clothes, her hair wild, and her skin dry from the cold, Mary does not feel very confident.
But she knows she has to do something so she bows, deeper than the shield-maiden had, and prays that it was the right thing to do.
"Are you the girl brought back from England?" the queen asks and Mary nods.
"The Christian?"
"I was brought up a Christian, but the cross around my neck means as much to me as it does to you." And then she adds quickly "My Queen."
The queen blinks, curiosity sparking behind her eyes, but she stays where she is.
"You are not a Christian then? Have you renounced the false god?"
"My belief is not the same as the one of the English." She avoids the question. A single elegant eyebrow raises at the vague answer, but she continues.
"Why were you brought back here?"
Mary looks up at the queen, who is sitting on her throne in a picture of lazy ignorance, but her eyes are attentive as she takes in any movement, any darting look around. Mary doesn't quite know how to answer her question. She isn't aware of how public her gift is supposed to be so she settles for the bare minimum.
"Prince Ivar brought me back as a slave." She answers and there is a wave of whispers around her, as more and more people gather to get a look at the Christian girl brought by the crippled Ragnarsson.
Before another word can be said, the doors fly open and when Mary turns around, she is surprised to see Ivar and his brothers.
It's the first time she has seen him move without being carried and as he drags himself across the floor, violently ramming two daggers into the wooden planks there is something quite frightening about him. It's more than just the way he moves, its's the fury in his face, it's the way his eyes are targeted on Lagertha, piercing blue and determined. Mary covers her mouth in shock, pressing her lips together to not whimper as she steps backwards. His anger had never scared her, never since that first day in the cell when he had seized her wrists. But this is different. It's not his temper, which comes and goes, no, this is murderous intend and the lust for violence she has learned to hate.
When he speaks, Mary learns two things.
The first, is that the queen of Kattegat is not Ivar's mother but instead her usurper and murderer, Ragnar Lothbrok's first wife Lagertha.
The second thing she learns is that the Ivar she has met in the little cell in Wessex is only a fracture of the man he really is. And she quickly learns to distinguish Ivar Ragnarsson, the lost son, from Ivar the Boneless, ruthless Viking.
She had seen glimpses of him, in his anger and his fascination for war, but what she sees right now is something completely different. It's a demon in form of a man, cruel and consumed by rage and when his challenge is denied and he looks at the queen, she is afraid of him. She is as afraid as the people on the streets, as frightened as girl who has whispered about 'the mad price's slave' on the market.
He doesn't even look at her when he crawls out of the hall.
The crowd disperses quickly, seemingly indifferent about the threats spoken against their queen, and when even Lagertha leaves, Mary is suddenly alone, with only a few weaving women left.
She doesn't know what to do. Should she go back? Does she want to go back? But where else should she go?
So, she forces herself back through the streets, much less happy to head back to the cabin in the woods than she had been only an hour ago.
She can hear the voices, angry and loud, even before opening the door and decides that no, she does not want to die today, so she will wait outside.
The evening is coming over Kattegat and she shivers in the wind as she watches the sky transition into a beautiful sunset. She still doesn't dare enter when the sun finally disappears on the horizon and night settles in.
Finally, the door opens and two tall silhouettes step outside, leaving their younger brother to rage by himself as he shouts insults after them. Ubbe is the one to notice Mary and gestures at Sigurd to keep walking while he sits down beside the girl.
"Are you alright?"
When she nods, he looks at her and then back at the cabin.
"Are you sure that you want to stay here tonight?" he asks and as if on cue, something shatters inside. Mary flinches follows his gaze, looking at the warm light streaming through the window and feeling absolutely no desire to step inside.
"You can stay with Sigurd and me tonight." Ubbe offers and at Mary's wary glance he adds "We will not lay a hand on you. Neither one of us, I promise."
A furious scream sounds through the forest and Mary nods.