Katia
Mary nibbles on a grape, pulling faces at one of the guards, trying to break his stoic stare. Igor giggles across the table and she tosses him the last of her grapes while Oleg presents Ivar a number of false documents he has procured for the invasion of Scandinavia.
As if anyone would care.
But Ivar nods impressed, pretending like a piece of paper would in any way legitimise the planned invasion. She rolls her eyes.
It's only when the food is announced, that she stops torturing the poor soldier. She thinks that there is a quick flash of relief on his face, which she takes as a win. Emotion is emotion.
Four deep, silver dishes are brought and Mary frowns as they are set down. What is this? When the servants pull the top away she scrambles away with a yelp. Ivar blanches and Igor flinches and they all stare down at the severed heads presented to them.
"What the fuck?" Mary curses, "What is this?"
Oleg just stands, his hands clasped in front of his body, "These are the men who allowed my brother to escape. We tortured them of course."
"Jesus Christ, man. What is wrong with you?"
Ivar just stares. He is careful, waiting to see what Oleg's intentions are before giving anything away, "What did they say?"
An innocent question.
"They say they were deliberately distracted by a naked woman," his eyes fall on Mary then, who crosses her arms over chest under his stare, "and left their post. They saw nothing else."
Thankfullly, the plates are carried away again even if Oleg stays standing, looking down at them, "I suppose you know nothing about Dir's escape, do you?"
Mary's eyes stay on the table, pretending to still be in shock about the little display while she waits for the scene to play out. Does he suspect Ivar? Or is he just grasping at straws?
But then he turns on Igor and Mary learns that even at his age, the young prince is a good liar. He barely hesitates in his answer and when Oleg tries to intimidate him, he seems unbothered.
With one last glance, Oleg pivots away as if nothing happened.
"Now I have a more pleasant duty." He announces and Mary moves back to the table.
"I think everything is more pleasant than this," she mumbles. Tonight's dinner will definitely go uneaten. "I am to be married again."
Ah, of course. The cursed new wife. Poor girl. Maybe, she will be able to lend some kind of sympathetic hand to whatever woman is dragged into here. As long as Oleg doesn't actually lock her away in his room that is.
As Oleg pulls the new addition into the room, Mary thinks about all the ways in which she could reach the girl. The men are gone most of the day, which would be the obvious time to strike. Some chit chat. Some light conversations and intermingled warnings.
The woman pulled into the room is breathtakingly beautiful. She has dark hair and an elegant face, defined cheekbones and full lips. And the dress she is wearing is absolutely stunning. A golden coat lined with fur, over rubies set into preciously stitched patterns. Gold and red also dominate the crown-like hat and the heavy jewellery.
"Let me introduce you to my intended bride," Oleg says, "This is princess Katia."
As soon as the princess steps into the light, Mary frowns. Something in her face seems … familiar. As if she had seen her before. It's not clear what it is, but if flashes up before disappearing again and Mary is left scrutinizing her face. Something…
She just can't put her finger on what it is. Like a ghost.
"My dear Katia, may I present to you my cousin and ward, prince Igor."
Oleg speaks and Mary squints her eyes. The way Katia moves her head, inclines it just a bit when Oleg speaks, feels like a memory. But then it's gone again and Igor gets up, dutifully kissing her hand as she welcomes him.
At this point, Mary has to stop staring or people will notice.
"And this is the Viking king I told you about."
Scratch that. No one would have noticed, because while Mary may have been staring, Ivar is downright gaping. His eyes wide and his jaw slack and Mary's heart starts fluttering with the distinct feeling that something is wrong.
She can't hear the words that are being said as she stares at Ivar. There have probably been many men who have stared at the beautiful princess, but this is something different. Ivar seems pale and shaken, even as he greets her.
What are you doing? Mary wants to ask, Why are you so afraid?
"And that is his companion, Mary."
Oleg's words pull her back into reality and Mary quickly comes to her feet, bowing her head, "Princess."
Dinner is awkward to say at least. Prince Oleg talks a lot, brags about his lands and his titles and Katia nods and smiles and ohs and ahs. She is the perfect bride, curious and soft-spoken. But, as it turns out, she is also nice. She asks Prince Igor about his interests before turning her attention to Ivar and Mary, asking about their journey, the things they have seen and the people they have met.
Ivar is close to useless, nodding or shaking his head rather than engaging in any actual conversation, and all throughout he looks dazed. So, Mary answers in his place, trying to cover up his silence with long anecdotes. When Oleg draws the attention back to himself, Mary tries to catch Ivar's eyes. She does everything but kick him under the table, but to no avail.
What the hell is going on?
When dinner ends, Mary knows that despite her efforts, Ivar's unusual muteness was noticed and when Oleg offers to walk Katia back to her rooms, Mary pulls Ivar almost violently back into theirs.
"What the fuck?" she asks when they are alone.
Ivar almost seems to collapse into himself, his face falling into a storm of emotions, and when he limps to the bed, his legs seem even more unstable than they usually do.
"Ivar, what is going on with you?" Mary asks forcefully.
Ivar just shakes his head and lifts a hand, "Please, for once in your life Mary, stop talking."
He sounds tired then. Tired and sad and deeply troubled and Mary shuts her mouth. Instead, she skins to her knees in front of him and puts her hands on his knees. She tries to read his face as he lowers his head. His eyes are eerily dead, half closed as he stares into nothing from beneath long lashes.
When he exhales shakily, Mary's heart constricts with worry.
"Ivar, please," she begs quietly, "you look like you have seen a ghost."
"I did," he says and his eyes finally focus on her, "Freydis is dead."
Mary blanches, "What?"
He doesn't say anything and she shifts closer, her fingers curling into his legs, "How do you know? Did Oleg tell you?"
Ivar just shakes his head, "I know because I have just seen her in Princess Katia."
Mary frowns. She is confused; by his words and his behaviour and that unbearable hollowness that is possessing him right now.
"What do you mean?" she urges him, "I don't understand."
"They have the same face." He answers and Mary leans back. The flashes of recognition. It had been Freydis, Ivar is right. But the face had not been the same, had it? No, it was something different. A shadow maybe. Like a memory.
"Katia is Freydis, And it means that Freydis, my Freydis, is dead. It's the only explanation." Ivar states. His voice shows no doubts even when his words make no sense. Mary shakes her head. "Ivar, Katia is not Freydis."
She pulls up on her knees and puts a hand on Ivar's cheek, searching his face for any hint towards what is happening. His skin isn't hot so he is not running a fever. His pupils are normal sized.
"Do you think I would not recognize the face of my own wife? Of the woman I killed?"
Shit. Fucking hell. Where should she even start on this? Ivar is clearly in shock. He isn't thinking clearly. But even as she shakes her head, her mind keeps flashing back to Katia. The shape of the lips, the eyes, even the point of the nose. They look like Freydis, that is true. But take a step back and you get a different face. A different woman. Apart from those moments, those flashes, in which she isn't.
Maybe there was something in the water. Algae or a fungus.
Because Katia cannot be Freydis. It's impossible. Still, she can see it, see the resemblance.
"Ivar," Mary whispers softly, "please, look at me."
He does and she doesn't know what to do. What to feel. Her heart is in an equally messy state as her head, emotions raging bright and dying out just to be replaced by something different. Should she grieve Freydis? Worry about Ivar? Should she be afraid or sad or confused?
Ivar comes back to himself a while after. He doesn't cry, just pulls himself back together and his eyes clear from the glassy stare that had befallen them.
Later, in bed, he runs a distracted finger up and down Mary's arm as he thoughtfully stares at the wall. She is by his side, deep in her own thoughts but happy to be with him. The last hour has been spend contrasting the two women's faces in her mind and by now, Mary cannot deny their resemblance. Somehow, that only makes it worse.
"Why has she followed me here?" Ivar asks then, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Do you really think that it is Freydis?" Mary asks doubtfully and he nods, "I know it."
She bites her lip and peers at Ivar, "Did you love her? When you married her?"
"In a way," he admits.
"Maybe she is here to haunt us then. A punishment for our misdeeds."
It would be a fair punishment, that is for sure. If such things as ghosts existed.
The next day, the shock has worn off, but Mary still catches Ivar staring at the palace's new guest. She can't blame him, because she does the same.
It still confuses her how someone can look so much like a different person, only for it to be gone the next moment. When she has stared at her for a day, Mary tries to focus on something other than the physical appearance. Katia is not like Freydis. For one, she does not seem to be halfway in a different dimension. Where Freydis air was airy, Katia speaks confidently and clear. Katia is open, speaking to everyone she meets, asking about their lives and offering pleasantries when appropriate.
Of course, both of them are calm and rather shy, but Mary jots that down to the general state of society, rather than their actual personalities.
Now, while Mary peeks and preens, Ivar stares. Outright. Sometimes confused, sometimes thoughtful, but never inconspicuously. Katia notices, and even worse, Oleg notices.
Whenever he does, a cruel smile appears on his lips and he pulls the princess closer and then he turns a sly eye on Mary. He wants to see jealousy on her face, she knows it. But she isn't jealous. Not yet. Sure, she isn't to thrilled about the entire thing, but in the evenings, nothing changes between her and Ivar.
The first hint of envy comes ten days later, the day before the wedding. As always, her movement is pretty much confined to the castle and when one of the servants trips and spills wine on the fire, causing the room to fill with smoke, she flees to the balcony. Katia is talking to some of the soldiers, a duty the princess has put on herself to learn more about the people she will soon be ruling. She is dressed in white, standing out between the dirty men and muddy roads, and several heads turn while she passes.
The servants hurry inside the room, doing their best to light the fire again, when Mary spots Ivar as well. Seeing him is also no surprise. He is usually dragged from one meeting to another unless Oleg demands his attentions in inane exhibitions of power.
Ivar stares at Katia and then – which is the cause for her jealousy – he looks over his shoulder and walks over to her. If he had simple spoken to the princess, things would be different but the way he had looked around told a different story. It gives the impression that whatever he is doing something forbidden. Something he shouldn't do.
Mary shakes her head.
He is probably just trying to evade Oleg. Still, her fingers tighten on the railing of the balcony and she exhales loudly.
Don't be stupid, Mary, she tells herself. Don't be jealous of a ghost.
Still, she watches them. The conversation is short and when Katia walks away, Ivar is left staring after her.
"I told you," a voice then says, much too close to her ear, and when Mary flinches and turns, Oleg is just behind her. He knows exactly what she has been looking at and she scowls, "Leave me alone."
To her surprise, he does step back but when she passes him, he looks after her with laughter, "He is a Viking. They are loyal to nothing. Not their kings, not their families, and certainly not their women."
She ignored him until she has turned the corner.
"Fuck," she curses then because, even if she doesn't think Ivar to be that way, Oleg is not wrong. Viking men, and especially their princes, are taught that the only goal in life should be greatness. A legacy. And they should do whatever possible to obtain it.
But Ivar wouldn't… then again. He did. With her.
God, she hates Oleg for poisoning her mind like that. It's only when she passes an open room and catches herself in the reflection of the mirror inside, that she stops.
Nope. She won't make herself crazy over this.
She straightens out her dress, straightens her back and lifts her chin, and when Mary starts walking again, her face is calm.
Katia asks for her the morning of her wedding and with a slightly worried glance at Ivar, Mary is led into her rooms. She is already dress, the gown dark red with golden patterns and pearls stitched onto it. The neckline is high clasping around her throat, and from her neck hang more pearls. It's heavy and warm and altogether too much, but at least it's pretty and Mary quite enjoys the way it drags behind her.
"Hello?" she asks when she steps into the room. Katia is standing in a small stool, Servants working relentlessly on her. Two of them have their hands in her hair, one seems to be stitching her into the gown, and one frets about her feet, her stockings, her shoes.
It looks painful, but Katia smiles graciously when Mary steps in and asks her to come closer.
"You are the companion of the Viking, Ivar." She states and Mary nods.
What is this about?
She doesn't expect a ambush, but her eyes sweep the room anyways and she remembers that the thin blade is currently snatched into the seam of her dress, the handle carefully disguised beneath a layer of lace.
"I assume that you know about his believe that I am somehow connected to his wife?"
"He told you that?" Mary asks loudly, before clearing her throat and remembering that a raised voice is usually not appreciated here. In fact, one of the older servants is already glaring at her.
"I was not aware that he had told you that," Mary says, quieter this time.
Ivar, you idiot.
Katia nods, "He seemed troubled."
"That's one way of putting it. I usually just say that he is pretty fucked up."
Another glare and this time Mary glares back.
"I was also told that you are a fortune-teller." Katia continues, "And I would like to hear your opinion on the matter."
Mary shifts uncomfortably, "It is complicated. You do resemble her very much."
"But you do not believe her to be me?"
"I don't believe in ghosts."
Katia sucks in a breath when the corset of her dress is closed and then she steps off the stool and closer to Mary, "What do you believe in?"
"Not much."
"So, you are not a Christian?" she asks, "Event though you wear the Christian cross?"
Mary's face darkens at the mention of the piece of jewellery and she moves her pearls to cover it, "That was a gift from Oleg," she defends herself and then she freezes, because women usually don't like their future husbands giving presents to other women. But Katia just inclines her head an inch.
"I would like to ask you a favour," Katia says, "On my wedding day, tell me a fortune."
Mary frowns, her eyes dropping, "That's not quite how it works-" she tries but Katia shakes her head and puts her hands on Mary's in a gesture of friendship.
"I do not care about the fortune," she explains, "But I am about to get married and once I pledge myself to my husband, I will lose my voice and my opinions and everything that has ever made me a person."
Mary's eyes turn sympathetic and she turns her hands, grasping Katia's fingers. Sometimes she forgets that the women here, even if they don't show it, have as much of a voice as her.
"I am happy to do my duty and I know that I will find a sense of contentment in my marriage. But when I step before the alter, give me something to hold onto. A secret that will be just mine, and that no one else will have."
Mary thinks. On a late night in Kattegat, she had given Tanaruz an explanation of the milky way, planets, stars, and the universe. Hvitserk had the only world map that would exist for hundreds of years.
What could she gives Princess Katia?
"The Rus empire is the base of a country called Russia which will emerge in hundreds of years. It will be the biggest country in the world, ranging from the Baltic sea to the Pacific. The most famous leader of the country, even a thousand years from now, will be a woman. Just like you, she will have married into the royal family, but her name will surpass all other Rulers, Kings, and Tzars."
Katia smiles at that, her lips satisfyingly impish and her eyes wide with wonder, "What is her name?"
"They call her Catherine the Great."