Chapter Text
The Second Daughter:
On the other side
Of these castle walls
Lies a world I’m not a part of
“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy
You still remembered when you heard the news that you would be marrying the heathen king.
You had been overhearing a war assembly, where your father stood in an important role, almost a decisive one, as he promised your hand to the ruthless leader of the Great Heathen Army.
You had remembered slumping lightly against the wall, meanwhile your older sister seemed shocked by the sole thought of what you had both heard, as your younger sister asked enthusiastically what you had both heard that was so shocking.
‘Abigail’ had calmed her your sister, reminding her of the silence you had to observe meanwhile you were on your little mission ‘… we’ll talk about it once we are in our chamber’.
‘But?!’ replied your impatient sister, meanwhile you lightly slumped down the wall, bringing your knees against your chest as in your mind every horrible rumor about the Ivar The Boneless replied.
He would sneak around like a snake, the same one who had tempted Eve and he was as cunning as the devil, if not twice since he was one of his sons according to what your lady-in-waiting said when they thought you weren’t listening to them, hiding under the pretense of a Viking origin.
Anything would have made him a cruel husband and a terrible father to any of the child that might be born from your unsacred relationship, and the sole thought of having children with him, letting him enter your body…
… it made you nauseous.
Your father had to be joking or having some kind of plan.
He wouldn’t tarnish one of his beloved daughters with such a an unfitting union, one that would go against your God and law.
‘ ‘Leen!’ called out again your younger sister and you immediately shot her a stern look, finally obtaining a bit of silence, before you uttered out painfully.
‘… father wants me to marry Ivar the Boneless’ and your voice broke right in the middle of the phrase, your older sister gently pushing you in a soft hug, cooing you lightly as a mother would have done ‘… how could he…? He is a heathen… and a monster!’.
Your voice raised up a bit, and Kathleen gently pushed you to hold you further in her clothes, so that the fabric would suffocate your sobs and sighs, as Abigail also came closer.
‘Father… wouldn’t… father is kind he is…” but she was shushed by a harsh look of Kathleen ‘… and Kathleen is supposed to be married before you!’.
It would have been a disgrace for the first sister to be left as a spinster, meanwhile the second married before her, but Kathleen didn’t seem annoyed by the sole thought, in the slightest, chastising Abigail for her superficial comment.
And suddenly there was a sound noise of chairs moving against the ground and it reminded you of the secrecy of your mission, immediately scurrying off as your sisters tried to keep quiet, raising your gowns so they wouldn’t swish against the pavement.
But you weren’t able to keep up your conversation, because as you reached your rooms and hid in your big bed, so that your crying face wouldn’t be seen, you were asked to join your father in the dining room, because he had something important to tell you.
‘I can’t, Kathleen’ you had uttered, shocked and knowing all too well what your father had to say ‘… he is going to sell me out as a cow to the best offer, and the best offer is a boneless monster that will taint my innocence!’.
‘Father knows the boneless man! He wouldn’t leave you to him without knowing you’d be safe’ tried to comfort you your older sister, meanwhile Abigail brought you a little basin of water to erase the little tears which stained your pretty face ‘… do have to little faith, in father, the most faithful man who has ever existed!’.
You hadn’t been comforted by your sister’s words: she was the first daughter and the heir, the only one who he wouldn’t have been sacrificed for the good of his reign, unlike you.
The middle daughter, not as important as Kathleen and not as pretty as Abigail.
“(Y/N)” the voice of your father thundered as you and your sister joined him for the lunch, your hands fidgeting with the rich clothes of your dress, a beauty of light gold and silver, as you kept your head low “… my blessed daughter, I have wonderful news for you, one that will make us all very rich and important”.
You had wanted to raise lightly your head and accuse him of wanting to sell you out to a godless man, as a cruel and ungrateful man, who was supposed to be your father, his own little Iphigenia, ready for the most horrible of sacrifices.
But you had kept your head low, meanwhile your sisters had grabbed your fidgety hands, trying to still them, to hide your fear, as you readjusted yourself in the chair.
“You’ll have a husband soon, my beloved!” the joyful laugh of your father was promptly joined by all his courtiers, before he stilled himself and stopped the joyous sounds with a simple gesture of his hand “… and even sooner you’ll be a widow”.
Surprise shook your face and made you raise it, due to the sudden discovery, looking around worried, asking yourself what your father meant with his cryptic words.
“Father… I am not… following your… mind” you asked worriedly, meanwhile you pushed yourself back completely, till your back hit the chair, the light swishing of your clothes the only sound in the filled room.
“… oh, my sweetheart, you’ll never picture my surprise and disgust when that cripple came to me… he asked for your hand, he said you looked like one of their goddesses… Frya, Frydel… whatever it is…”.
“Freya” you muttered under your breath, remembering about the time you had learned about the goddess of love and war, the most beautiful of all, although she held a cruel side.
“… yeah that one, but I didn’t listen to his request, I wanted nothing more than to order my guards to throw him out: a lowlife asking for the hand of a princess of Saxonia? That’s unheard!”.
Then why had your father chosen to give him your hand?
“Then king Alfred came at me” the young kind moving forward from the crowd, whom you hadn’t recognized, taken by your inner turmoil and the shadow shielding him, but he sent his severe look onto you, as you immediately bowed, alongside your sisters “… and told me that there is no better spy than your own wife”.
You were bewildered by what your father was implying, but Alfred quickly spoke, making you turn his attention towards him.
“The heathens are victorious because they are unpredictable; they fight like nothing we have seen, so an inside source might be helpful” he took another step towards you, making you shiver lightly.
Although you were a princess, you couldn’t help but be intimidated by the young prince of all Saxons, knowing all too well what his father had accomplished and before him his wise grandfather.
“… princess (Y/N), I know that we are asking much from you: your virtue and your life might put on the line, but it might win this war over to us” his eyes were searching yours with a desperate note “… we need you desperately to marry an heathen to defeat them”.
“The marriage would be celebrated by his rules hence it wouldn’t be rightful in our glorious God’s eyes and king Alfred promised me that he’ll find somewhere peaceful for you to spend your days, my precious daughter”.
Your heart couldn’t help but lose a beat: not only you would have to marry a heathen, but you would also be sent to exile, although not shamefully, but certainly everyone wanted the tainted goods of a heathen to stay away from them.
Fear in your guts spiked up and Kathleen beside you, held a hand behind your back, to keep you sit properly.
“… princess (Y/N), I know it’s much that we are asking you, but the good of our blessed country is more important than any life: men have sacrificed theirs for freedom, you are asked to also do a sacrifice for the benefit of your nation”.
“But it’s utter barbaric” spoke your sister Kathleen, openly challenging the king and your father, being chastised immediately by the latter, and you knew that he would have ‘a private talk’ with your sister.
You could already see the bruises blossoming on Kathleen’s body.
Your father had never touched neither you or Abigail, which was strange and unusual, since she was the heir and many times the beating had been savage enough to bring your sister on the brink of death.
What you had simply learned from your own thoughts was that your father wanted you and your sister to fear him, not because of your lives but for Kathleen’s, but alongside it, he also was trying to ‘teach his heir a lesson’.
It never worked, since Kathleen would misbehave more times than not, but both you and Abigail knew better than to actually anger your father.
And this is why you nodded lightly, as king Alfred huffed a breath of relief, taking one of your hands so suddenly that you almost backed again against the chair.
Your father instead laughed happily, meanwhile he invited everyone to party already for their victory.
Everyone seemed to immediately raise up their souls, except you.
You had a horrible sensation in your guts and as everyone partied up you heaved your guts in the first hallway you could find, on the way out of the dining room.
You were to be nothing more than a sacrifice for the good of your country.
A country who didn’t care about you.
You hadn’t met your soon-to-be-husband till the day before your wedding because he wanted to host a great feast in honor of a blessed union between his people and the Saxons.
Part of you was partly curious to see what your soon-to-be-husband would look alike, aside from the rumors you had heard, but for those same rumors, you were scared about him, as well.
You hadn’t been able to sleep the entire night and when your maids had come to help you set up, and you had just let them doll you up, as a breathing doll, opposing little resistance, when they insisted into pushing you in a tight corset, before they decked heavy jewels on your hands and neck, concealing your eye-bags with little make-up.
Your sisters had joined you meanwhile you got ready, Abigail eating anything that they brought inside for you, which you weren’t able to eat since you had lost completely your appetite, meanwhile Kathleen protested towards the injustice you had agreed to.
‘You could run away, little sister! Grab those jewels and sell them! Start a new life, somewhere less shitty”.
Abigail had quickly reprimanded your sister for the vulgar language, as she stuffed her mouth with one of the sugary figs you had been offered.
“That wouldn’t solve anything, Kathleen, you know” you commented, staring in the mirror at the room, where your face reflected as a mask you didn’t like in the slightest “… they would just choose another girl and I would feel guilty for her destiny”.
And you wouldn’t survive a day out of the court on your own.
Kathleen huffed in annoyance, coming close to you and grabbing lightly onto your shoulder.
“I am the eldest sibling I am the one who is supposed to take care of you” she played softly with the elegant necklace of pearls you were wearing.
It was heavy enough to make your neck do quite the effort to keep itself straight, but it added something to your virginal and pure image the maid had pictured on your body.
Your father obviously wanting to make you seem as the Virgin Mary, sacrificing her womb for the greater good.
You almost wished you could have been more like Freya, in that moment.
You didn’t feel in the slightest like Freya that day.
“… but it isn’t you that Ivar the Boneless wants” although your words were crude, there was a softness to them that made your sister lightly tear up.
“I want nothing more than go back in time and make him chosen me” she commented, a few tears shining in her eyes, as your hand joined hers on your chest “… I would have stabbed that fool the moment he had tried to lay with me, I would have slayed his entire camp…”.
“You know that you wouldn’t have come out of it alive” you tried to reassure her: the thought of your sister surviving you, brightened the dark fate you felt hanging onto your head.
“… and will you?” she fell onto her knees and turning lightly your chair towards her “… you aren’t a fighter, he could just… I pray to God each night that he won’t…”.
“Let’s not talk about these horrible subjects” because your breath was coming harshly at you, anxiety flooding through your veins and troubling your stomach, although hunger didn’t shake it yet.
“Kathleen, (Y/N) is right! You are traumatizing her even more her worst nightmares!” shouted Abigail, and you both turned to her, ready to shut her up “… and if the rumors are true, he won’t take advantage of her!”.
You both sent her a curious look, meanwhile she finished the sugary treat she had been munching onto.
“… it is stated that sadly… king Ivar isn’t able to raise to the occasion”.
Both you and Kathleen shared a crazed look, before you erupted in hysterical laughter.
Everything could make this nightmare better, more than anything your sisters’ laugh.
You came to a secluded place, in the middle of the Vikings camp and your castle, which had been arranged d by the Vikings with tents and tables, since you would be soon joining them and take on their traditions.
You hadn’t been able to feel properly calm for the entire horse ride, although you had been rather pleased to have a distraction, in guiding your horse through rocks and grass, meanwhile your sisters stuck close to you, as your father and King Alfred rode in front of everybody.
When you reached the place, you couldn’t help but be amazed by the beauty of the landscape they had set the entire thing in: although it was a simple setting, it was lovely as only the simplest of things could be.
And you were secretly glad that they hadn’t made this a bigger deal than it was supposed to be.
When you arrived, two men were waiting for you, dressed in clear Viking fashion, one a bit taller and the other one slimmer, but something told you they were brothers.
Maybe it was the identical way they smirked as you appeared onto their sight.
And with the way they stood with their heads high you knew they were princes, maybe Ivar’s brothers.
The translator who had come with you, immediately breeched through the alignment, as your guards covered you, in a small attempt to hide you, but you knew better than to escape the gaze of those two men.
They seemed alerted by the sudden shift, their hands moving to their armed belts, but they didn’t dare to do more, simply letting the threat floating in the air.
“We are here to bring princess (Y/N) to prince Ivar, for the feast in honor of their engagement” mumbled your translator, his accent definitely sounding Saxon and his voice a bit shaky, since he was so exposed in front of the barbarians “… let us through”.
Both the brothers exchanged a quick look and didn’t move, neither they moved away when the translator repeated his question, they stayed struck in the ground and, you chose to end this atrocious pantomime, breaking the alignment again, shifting your horse to the side to show yourself to the brothers.
“I am princess (Y/N)” you uttered in their language, surprising them enough that the two matching smirks fell from his faces “I have come to know my future husband, will you be so kind to escort us to him?”.
They replied with a curt nod, before turning around without waiting for you.
Suddenly you realized that everyone’s eyes were on you, even king Alfred, who looked at you as people did only with miracles and witches in that moment you felt like you were both, in his eyes since he couldn’t understand whether you were a good or bad thing.
You hoped he never had to find out about it.
Your father pushed the horses to ride again quickly to match the brothers’ steps, but you asked to remain back, just freshen up yourself to a near wellspring you had found.
It was more to let out the steam you felt in your body and its tension than for actually refreshing yourself up and your father allowed you, he had bigger thoughts on his mind, than thinking that you would escape, which you wouldn’t do, since guards were left behind, alongside your sisters.
Kathleen immediately came to you, shielding you with your body from the guards’ ears who tried to be discreet in their spying.
“… if you want to run, I can distract the guards….”.
“I just needed a breather” you replied softly, lowering your hands in the fresh water of the fountain, something which brought you comfort and calmness, as Abigail, held back your head, in an attempt to avoid your hair being wet from it.
But you had a better idea.
“… Abigail, can you help me unbraid my hair?”.
You weren’t used to walking in great halls were people walked so recklessly in a chaotic atmosphere that seemed as funny as it was dangerous.
You were finally thankful for your guard, as they helped you through the drunkards, beggars and whores that followed the army, as they led through a clearer path.
The one to the main table, where your father and king Alfred were sat, one beside the other on the farthest seats, meanwhile four boys occupied the other seats, leaving only one empty, beside the most beautiful of the brothers.
You had prepared yourself to maintain a perfectly composed face even if your husband turned out half a snake, but nothing had prepared you to the exact contrary of it.
Your soon-to-be-husband was quite handsome, with gorgeous blue eyes that sparked bright and true as they examined the room, maybe looking for you, as his big hands gipped tightly the surface of the rough wooden table, in a way that made you shiver.
Strangely not out of fear.
He was handsome in a ruthless way you hadn’t expected.
You were speechless and thankful you had been allowed to watch him, spy on him like that, in secret, shielded by your guards, because you knew for sure you wouldn’t have been able to be even simply witty, if you hadn’t been given the premise that your husband could be so handsome.
He somehow looked like a fallen angel with all that rage flaming in his eyes.
Kathleen seemed to confuse your wonder for fear and gently tightened her grip on your hand which you returned, offering her comforting smirk, as the guards opened their formation to let you be seen, just as you turned to the table again.
Your father pushed an hand into your direction, assuming a loving expression, meanwhile he probably declared how much he loved ‘his precious daughter’ (a daughter who had won him a deal), but you were deaf, completely absorbed by Ivar’s beauty, as he slowly turned to you.
For a moment you were almost sure that he was going to admit it was all a mistake: a scrawny girl like you wouldn’t have been a proper wife, and neither she would have been worthy of an entire reign.
And for a moment you hoped so, suddenly feeling what a marriage with him would mean.
And for another moment you feared that it would happen, that his eyes would reject you with the coldness they bore.
Your father seemed to go on for longer than expected with his speech and eventually Ivar grew impatient, his growl quickly silencing your father as another noise surprised you, being emitted by Ivar’s movements and for a moment you feared he would reveal his lower body to be snake-like.
As the serpent who had tempted Eve and Adam.
He certainly was tempting your mind, with his insane beauty.
He quickly stood onto his feet, although he needed two crutches and the bigger brother you had met at the start of the camping moved to help him, but Ivar rejected his offer with a quick nod, pushing himself to slowly inch away from your father and towards you.
Since the master table was elevated, he had to descend slowly a pair of stairs, something which surprised you greatly, revealing he was as human as you, no scales or joined legs, although they were bounded together, being reinforced with steel.
You tried to hide your curiosity for his deformity, since you were well ware it was not only impolite but offending, but the way he moved held an allure that brought you to follow attentively each of his movements, even when he stumbled and almost fell on the last step of the stairs.
Somebody reached out a stabilizing arms for him to hold and you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and as he moved to look at you, he seemed almost ashamed of your misstep, but you didn’t care.
You were hypnotized on your spot by those beautiful eyes and returned to him that allure, pushing him to join you closer and closer, till he was in front of you, lightly separated by the guard that immediately shielded you, probably due to the dark look on your father’s face.
Ivar moved again lower and you were almost afraid that the movement would cause him pain, almost reaching out for him, but being stopped by Kathleen, a proud smile on her face as she turned her face to you.
But Ivar didn’t seem to fall again, as he simply bowed in front of you, something which was truly a sight, because you saw the way the fabric tensed onto his shoulder, making his muscles appear under the simply but decorated tunic he wore, behind the leather chest-piece he was wearing.
“Welcome to my home, princess (Y/N)” he mumbled in your tongue, something which you appreciated and immediately returned the bow, although from the dark look on your father’s face and Kathleen’s tight grip onto your hand, you shouldn’t have.
But you dared a step further.
You answered him, on your own.
In his own language.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, prince Ivar” you spoke in his tongue, effectively surprising him and everyone in the room except the two laughing brothers who had helped you at the entrance of the camp “… my sisters and I are grateful to be your hosts in such a beautiful camp”.
“You know our tongue?” he seemed taken aback, and spoke in his tongue fast enough that you understood half the phrase but was still able to get some sense out of it, but you didn’t definitely understand the insult he hurled to the brothers who sat upon their seats, hiding their smirks.
“… not completely” you blushed, the poor slave you had managed to get you to help with your Norse had been rather reticent onto teaching you ‘some words’, as the ones Ivar had just said “… I don’t know what you just said”.
The adorable blush appearing on Ivar’s face made you smirk softly, as you gently thanked the guards and let them leave in your tongue, as Ivar muttered:
“I called them ‘cocksuckers who know nothing’ “ he muttered in his tongue, and low enough to let it be known only to you, with a tenderness that made you almost like the prince, and brought a delicious flush to your cheeks “… my brothers always think that I’ll like surprises, they don’t know when they aren’t being funny”.
“My sisters do the same” you muttered in his tongue, thankful that Kathleen had always been too busy to learn Norse and Abigail just hadn’t the patience for it “… we’ll get along in that department”.
He seemed to take your joke as a promise with the intensity that appeared in his face.
“… I hoped we’ll get along in more than that department, my princess” he mumbled softly, his tone becoming lightly darker and rougher, in a way that made you shiver again, goosebumps appearing on your most hidden skin “… we’ll be soon husband and wife”.
The thought of that brought fear onto your face and you tried to dissipate it with a small smile, bowing lightly your face to feign modesty, but Ivar still caught your worry and pushed himself a bit back, although his moves were clear: he was inviting you to take the seat next to him, between your soon-to-be-husband and the father who had sold you to him.
You shot one last look to your sisters: Kathleen tried to lightly adjust her frown in a comforting smile, meanwhile Abigail seemed to try the same approach but with much more success, being swiftly distracted by all the food being distributed around.
You followed Ivar, smiling lightly at all the new faces, trying to impress them in your memory had they been useful further along, meanwhile your father gripped one of your hands, a show of love and devotion, but you knew all too well that he was reprimanding you for your show.
You should have just stayed silent and smiled.
“Welcome also from all the sons of Ragnar” spoke the older one of the sons of Ragnar, the one that looked like a bear in your mind as he raised himself up, bringing a glass alongside with him, all the brothers imitating him as they brought up theirs cup “… to our beloved soon-to-be-sister, may the gods cherish you and bless your marriage to our little brother”.
Your felt your father shift lightly at the mention of gods alongside Alfred but they both raised their glasses, in an effort, meanwhile you simply smiled bowing your head, till Ivar pushed the glass also closer to you, in an evident sign that you should have cheered up alongside them.
And when you raised your head you found that everyone was looking at you expectantly, and your hand naturally enveloped the cup.
You had never drunk something other than water or sugary juice, since women were banished from such an activity and the most you had done was steal a bottle from the kitchen with your sisters.
But the taste of it had made you quit the sole thought of continuing on your ‘kitchens missions’.
But this time you felt like you didn’t have much choice and brought the liquid to your lips, pretending you weren’t being examined by the entire room, alongside your father who had simply wet his lips with the strange beverage, afraid of being poisoned.
But the liquid was sugary almost making you want more, till the burning on the back of the throat brought you back, almost making you coughing up, but you kept it back, your grip onto your dress became so strong and tight that you almost risked of ripping it, as you tried not to show any weakness, and when you felt like you were calm enough you smiled in the faces of the hungry lions.
Who roared in happiness, and the ‘big bear’ exclaimed something you didn’t quite catch, but Ivar leaned up lightly to your ear to say it was a Viking cheer, making you nod your head softly meanwhile you fought with the reaction of your body to Ivar’s closeness.
“… thank you, I hope to learn more” your words were slow, more for the fact that Ivar’s nearness made you unable to utter a single world without your breath being stolen by your lungs “… I know my Norse isn’t good enough”.
“I think that you are already wonderful for your attempt to learn a foreign language. Not everybody would do it” he retorted, meanwhile the room turned to its cherry atmosphere everyone’s attention diverting from the main table and the other brothers moved to their respective meals, your own stomach reclaiming its own meal.
And Ivar laughed at hearing such a sound, meanwhile you immediately blushed both for his compliments and for having let such a rude behavior into the first meeting with your soon-to-be-husband.
“Tell me, princess (Y/N), have you starved yourself all day?” he made fun of you lightly, in his tongue for which you were thankful since this would mean your father wouldn’t understand, the translator he used being pushed away from your table.
“I was just… nervous” you uttered softly, trying to gently grip onto the utensils, meanwhile you looked at the delicious food in your plate, the smell definitely driving you crazy enough to make you curious about tasting it.
“Nervous?” his tone was still teasing but what he said was enough to get you to choke onto the first bite of the tender meat “… of meeting a monster?”.
You were thankful that the choking sound you did was enough to draw your father’s attention, allowing you a moment to properly reply to Ivar’s inquiry.
“I wasn’t…” you tried not to stutter, as you thought about trying to drink some more mead, but the memory of your burning throat was enough to stop your hand from reaching out fully for the cup.
“I know better than to think that you were nervous at the romantic thought of meeting your soon-to-be-husband” he muttered, a serious edge appearing in his beautiful eyes “… I don’t entertain myself with the romantic thought of you having fallen in love with me, having never seen me and I know rather well the rumor about myself and… my legs”.
He breathed out the last part of the phrase as if it pained him to say it.
“… I know that you must have been nervous at the thought of meeting a monster, you must still be, I saw the way you trembled as I approached you…”.
“It wasn’t out of fear” because although you were still confused about the reaction of your body to Ivar’s you were sure you didn’t fear him.
You feared what he might do to you.
But he was just a man.
As you were just a woman.
He seemed surprised but not convinced of your words and you moved to the gestures, your hands, which gripped so tightly onto your dress gently moved onto his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat behind the various textures of his clothes as you felt the roughness of it tickling your fingers, under Ivar’s surprised eyes.
He looked at you as if he was a predator not wanting to startle his prey, his breath suddenly disappearing alongside his heartbeat slowing as if any movement might have scared.
But you were more resilient and gently traced the contour of his strong shoulders, wondering whether it was the leather to have such a strength or the muscle behind it.
“It wasn’t fear” you repeated, this time your voice didn’t expect any replies which Ivar didn’t allow, too focused on your hand still onto his chest, lingering a bit more than it was proper, and as you realized it you immediately shifted it to your laps “… we Saxons… are…”.
You tried to find the proper word, knowing all too well that you and Ivar came from two different cultures and although you both spoke each other’s tongue the situation was far more difficult.
“… prudes?” he joked, hiding his smile behind the cup of mead, making you fume lightly and send him an annoyed glare, which only intensified his pretty smirk “… I am simply joking, princess”.
“… modest” you muttered, as you stilled your thumping heart in your chest with a long breath “… we aren’t used to show our emotions in public… there are rules for how we talk, we walk and even eat”.
“It seems boring” mumbled Ivar, this time his tone was serious, and you were the one gracing him with a small smile, lowering your voice as you spoke.
“It is” Ivar shot you a confused look as if he didn’t understand why you inflicted this onto yourself willingly “… but it is tradition and without it we would be…”.
“… heathens” completed Ivar, hissing between his teeth, meanwhile your hand shot to his, in an attempt to make him face you again.
The need to know what his eyes spoke of was as intense in you, as a sudden summery storm.
“… savages” you corrected him, lightly slapping his hand, meanwhile you smirked softly “… it is exactly like leaning history and geography, but us women are meant to know table manners and stitching and threading”.
“That seems a limited camp for somebody who might want more” Ivar muttered, his eyes reading in you, understanding that desperate need for knowledge you had always wanted “… and you seem to know more than simply how to stand there and look pretty”.
Although his tone and his words were rough, you blushed at the strange compliment.
“Being the forgotten second daughter of a king can be useful” you explained as you proceeded to illustrate him how you would sneak out of your ladies-in-waiting’s control just to visit the library, how you had learned there all you knew, gaining a kind admiring look from Ivar “… nobody was expected to ever notice me…”.
“Till I came” his mutter was painful, as if he knew that your marriage wasn’t wanted by both, as if he knew that what he felt for you would never be reciprocated.
And for a moment you couldn’t help but feel like his sad eyes were burning a hole in your soul, as a silent plead
“… till you came along, my prince” your voice had completely changed, and Ivar noticed it by the way he shifted nervously in his seat, stung by the sudden coldness of your tone.
You weren’t anymore the girl who had learned his tongue.
You weren’t simply a woman anymore.
You were a princess, the second daughter of a king, forgotten and ignored, that now had a purpose in the world.
A purpose against the nature of your God and your reign.
Something that would have tainted you and distanced you from your beloved.
But then why did you want desperately to mean something for the beautiful prince next to you?