You could hear the muffled car noises, not loud enough to disrupt the conforming peace you felt every time you walked that same path. The twinkling street lights disturbed your eyes, achy from not getting any sleep. The sound of your shoes on concrete were a welcome distraction from the acute pain in your chest. You were used to it by now.

The first night you had slept with Ivar had been after one of his brother’s parties. You had spent the entire time drinking and talking to him, like you usually did, none of you interested in anything else except engaging in playful banter with each other and talking badly about other people.

Both of you had left your better judgment at home, like it never happened before, and with the alcohol cutting through your system and the loud music buzzing in your ear, before you knew it, you were under him in his bed, sweating and moaning and panting and craving, quivering with arousal, indulging in your every carnal desire.

You left before he had woken up and neither of you brought it up again, continuing your friendship like it never happened. 

Until you did it again. And again, and again.

Suddenly, what once was an almost entirely platonic relationship, had turned into a unspoken agreement of occasionally having sex and acting like it never happened afterwards.

You were fine with it until you weren’t anymore. All the extra time you spent with Ivar had piled up into your heart and turned into an ugly web of feelings and emotions you didn’t want, but could do nothing but hold them close and hidden inside you.

You would be happy if those feelings were at all reciprocated, because Ivar was so dear to you since you had met him, and you thought he was so intelligent and interesting, who always had a opinion on something and never mentioned until he had the base to argument in favor. He was great, but he was also so emotionally unavailable.

If you avoided to talk about your passionate nights together, Ivar dreaded the merely association with it. You could see it every time you were alone and you’d unconsciously get closer to him and he’d stiffen; or when you invited him to go somewhere you’d be alone, like you always did when you were only friends and nothing more, and he’d stammer and stutter, looking for an excuse to decline it.

It always made you confuse, because he was always the one who’d come onto you, never the other way around, and you always let him, not matter how much you tried to fight with yourself to not give in to his soft lips and firm hands.

And you missed him, because you only had meaningful conversations with him over texts, for as frequently as the sex started becoming, the only moments you spent together were the thirty minutes after you would meet, making small talk instead of engaging in one of the usual heated debates, before he kissed you, tempting and attracting you to do something you knew you would regret later. Of course, the imminent regret was never in your mind while you were doing it.

Tonight had been your breaking point. Ivar, for the first time in months, had called you, asking if you wanted to go with him to the cinema. You watched a movie, he took you to dinner after and you spent the entire time laughing and joking and talking about everything you hadn’t talked in so long. It felt like the most amazing romantic date, so natural and normal, your heart pounding in your chest and your cheeks aching from smiling so much that occasionally you had to stop yourself and take a breath, forcing the cruel hope of him feeling something for you out of your mind and remembering you were not actually together.

By the time you noticed, it was already past midnight and you were leaning in to kiss him, trying to grasp the reason it felt so different than all the other times. He asked you if you wanted to go home with him and you said yes, because you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, your mind filled with thoughts of him and only him.

He took you home, and unlike the previous nights you spent in his bed, that were filled with desperation and rush, it felt like there was nothing but raw desire, longing and needing to be as close to each other as possible. 

And you thought, hoped, that after that, it was impossible for him not to share a least a portion of your feelings. But then, it was gone, and the night ended like every other, with him not being able to even look you in the eye, leaving you cold, with a closed throat and an aching chest. As soon as you saw a peek of light in the sky, you were out of his home, trying to at least get to your car before letting yourself break.

In the two following weeks, you decided to focus entirely on your job, your reading list, and hobby hunt to occupy your mind, deciding to ignore altogether your crushed heart and all of Ivar’s messages and calls, again act like nothing had happened.

You didn’t think it would be so hard to stay away from him. You thought once you'd stop seeing him, the shallow feeling in your chest would become merely a faint pain. Except it didn't. It was worse than ever, because you missed him; his voice, his face, his touch… all of it.

But you knew that it was for the best. You told yourself that and everyday you had to turn off your phone at least once because of the almost unmanageable need to call him.

You opened your apartment door, dragging your feet on the floor, going straight to grab a bottle of wine and filling a glass to the brim. Besides the broken heart, you still had to deal with a wretched boss and a overwork load.

Just as you were finishing putting your pajamas on, you heard a knock on the door, and expecting to be the family size pizza you had ordered to eat while watching your favorite comfort movie, you ran to open it.

You never expected to be welcomed by the sight of Ivar, with his disheveled hair down and bloodshot eyes, like he had barely slept for days.

Your first instinct was to jump in his arms because of how much you missed him, not only as a lover, but as a friend. You got used to having him in your life, leaning on him for support in him, and the thing you were most sorry for, was losing that. Not your unrequited love, not the ‘one-sided meaningless’ sex, but his presence and the comfort and joy he provided.

He swallowed thickly and bit his lip, taking a deep breath before speaking, “You weren’t answering me.”

Trying to buy some time, you kept your mouth shut, moving aside and opening the door wider so he could come into your apartment. You held your breath when he moved past you, the smell of his cologne too familiar for you to be able do handle.

“Yeah, I’ve been, uh-” You searched in your mind for an answer that didn’t imply how desolated you were feeling. “busy.”

He looked around your apartment, as if to check if there was something wrong, before setting his gaze back on you. “Busy? For two entire weeks?”

You shrugged and looked away, nodding. “Uhum.”

“Oh.”

Silence set over the room, and it was possible to cut the tension with a knife. You refused to meet his eyes, going to the kitchen to make some tea, instead. He didn’t follow you.

When it was finished, you came back to the living room and found him in the same position he was when you left, standing in the middle of the room, staring at the spot you were before, but now scratching your cat’s ears, who was with two paws up in the coffee table, leaning into his touch. You narrowed your eyes. Traitor.

You handed him a mug and sat in one of the nearby chairs, still silent. With your eyes set on him, you tried to take in the situation. He was at your house, looking more tired than you ever saw him, and you still didn’t know why he was there.

He sat on the couch and looked down, “I missed you.”

If you weren’t entirely concentrated on him, you wouldn’t have catched what he said, so low and soft, but you did. And you almost gasped, except you were frozen in place, barely breathing, scared to move.

Ivar looked up at you, and your forced yourself to hold his haze. His eyes were bright and shiny, but the visible sadness in them had you taking a sharp breath. You swallowed before speaking, your voice croaked, “What?”

“I missed you, Y/N,” he said, but his furrowed eyebrows told you there was more, “why didn’t you answered me all this time? And don’t lie to me, I know you haven’t been too busy to answer me, at all.”

Listening carefully to his words, your chest heaved and your hurt turned to anger.

“You missed me?” You scoffed, biting hard on your lower lip to stop yourself from crying in despair from how much his insensibility was hurting you. “How can you say that? You didn’t miss me, you don’t even like me, Ivar.”

“What? Of course I like you, you are my friend.” The confused look on his face was enough to send you into a frenzy.

“Friend? No, no… because, you see, Ivar, if I was your friend, if you liked me, you would have had a little consideration for my feelings and wouldn’t have done what you did the last time we were together.” With adrenaline pumping inside you because of the new find anger, you couldn’t stop talking, and you figured you didn’t have to. You had nothing to lose now. “I know you are not stupid and know of my feelings for you, and what we were doing was fine, until you decided to take me out and flirt with me, and kiss and touch me like that and then act like it was nothing, because it obviously was. I know I'm not the only one who felt it. You know how much that hurt me, Ivar. And you have the audacity to knock on my door demanding to know why I didn’t answer your calls and telling me you missed me?”

You were past the point of caring about the waterfall of tears falling down your cheeks, too desperate to get everything out of your chest before you went back to old habits. 

Ivar was paying attention to every word you said, his own eyes filled with water, and he had to squeeze them back in, because it wasn’t right. He had no right to cry, no matter how miserable he was feeling, because he had been selfish all these past months. He knew of your feelings for him, and he knew of his own feelings for you. But he also knew you deserved better than someone who didn’t know how to commit and compromise, who had trouble caring for people, like they needed to be cared for. It wasn’t a case of miscommunication, it was the truth. Yet, he let himself indulge in something with with you, knowing he was incapable of giving more; of giving what he wanted to give you and what he knew you deserved. You would end up heartbroken, just like you were now, and that’s what he wanted to avoid in the first place.

But that last time, he had just got out of his parents house, where he saw his brothers and Floki with their wives, looking so in love with each other, laughing and playing, and he started to wonder why he couldn’t do the same with you.

He called, invited you out, and acted the whole night as if you were on a date; as if you were like regular lovers out in the city for a normal romantic evening. Then he loved you like he would have since the beginning if he wanted you to know how much he… cared for you, with so much intensity and passion, and he knew you would find out all about his feelings and confront him, and he would have to confess to you how much of a coward he truly was. 

So he went back to acting cold and distant, like friends, as if nothing ever happened, and had decided that he had to stop being selfish and put and end to this whole thing before you got hurt in a way your friendship wouldn’t be able to recover, and he knew he needed you in his life. 

Only he decided a little too late. Because that was also the time you decided you had had enough.

He had to spend two weeks without you, and it drove him insane to the point he had to drive to your house and confront you on something he knew he didn't have the right to. And you two ended up where you were now, with you throwing all your feelings in his face and calling him out for the way he acted, like he knew he deserved it.

Ivar had to make a decision. To spare you from long-term suffering and learn how to live without you, or continue to be selfish, be with you, and expect for the best.

He took a deep breath, buying time to prepare, and cleared his throat. “That night never happened. It was a mistake, Y/N.”

Instead of shouting and sending him away, cursing him out of your life forever, like he expected you to do, you started to shake your head, almost mockingly.

“No! It did happen and it wasn’t a mistake. How can you say that? And how can you stand there and tell me we’re friends?” You scoffed again, so angry and tired, with a permanent frown etched on your face. “We haven't been friends for a long time, now. We both know we are more than that, not matter how much you try to pretend. I know you feel something for me and I think you’re just afraid afraid to be happy.”

He wanted to contradict you and say it wasn’t that; he wasn’t afraid to be happy, he just didn’t deserve it. Not with you, at least, or at all.

You stood there, looking at him, expecting him to say something. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. 

You closed your eyes and let out a tired sigh. Ivar felt his chest tighten at the iminent scenario of you finally giving up on him.

“You’re a coward,” you said after a few minutes in silence, throat raw and aching from keeping the angry act and trying not to fall apart. “You have to decide what you want, Ivar. And then you can come talk to me. You can come here and say… something, anything… everything you didn’t say today.”

Taking a deep breath, trying not to let his tears fall, Ivar got up and walked out the door, finally allowing himself to feel, taking your heart with him, and leaving his behind. Only you didn’t know that. As far as you knew, the only thing Ivar left you when he walked out the door, was an even more shattered heart than you already had before he arrived.

He looked exceptionally charming that night, with a different set of braids and a manly attitude he got from the months he spent away on his first raid. 

Hvitserk excused himself from the women around him, took one of them by the hand and lead her to a darker spot in the same room, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle. 

You swallowed and tore your aways from him, wondering if it would be like this your entire life: you watching from across the room, while he set his gaze and attention in every woman who wasn’t you.

No, of course it wouldn’t. It was you who decided to watch him from afar, all your life. And it was also your decision to spend your last night in Kattegat doing so, instead of being with your parents. 

By that time the next day, you would be far away, traveling to your mother's hometown, and you could only hope Hvitserk would be the last thing on your mind, just like you were the last thing in his.

You put your cup on the table and headed outside the Great Hall. 

Despite the cold, there were many people outside, talking and laughing and drinking, in a night supposed to be happy and cheerful, yet you felt anything but. 

As you made your way to the beach, you took in the streets of Kattegat, trying to engrave it in your mind, to serve of comfort while you were away. Truth was, you didn’t want to leave your home. It was everything you had ever known, and you felt quite comfortable with the life you were leading, Sure, it was full of frustration because the man you wanted never took interest in you. A sour taste invaded your mouth and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

You shivered a bit when a sudden blow of cold wind passed you, and goosebumps rose on your nape; you almost cursed the lack of fur on your body, that you were sure would be alright when you left your home. Yet, the wind felt nice against your skin, a refreshing distraction from the unwelcome thoughts crowding your mind.

The path you were taking was too familiar, always going back to that same spot on the beach every time your feelings got too much for you to handle alone, taking refugee in the presence of Máni and Rán.

As you sat on the sand, with your eyes closed, listening to the crash of the waves, the familiar sensation of peace took over you. A feeling that you knew, by experience, was fleeting.

Your blood ran cold when you heard huffing behind you. You looked over your shoulder and sighed in relieve when you noticed it was prince Ivar. Even if he was anything but harmless, you figured he wouldn't do anything against you if you didn't bother him. 

Ivar stopped crawling not too far away from you, his eyes closed shut and his chest frantically going up and down. He looked livid.

"Are you alright, prince Ivar?" 

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you knew you should have stayed quiet. You already had problems of your own, you didn't need any more, especially ones caused by him.

Since his mother's death, he was angrier than usual. Much more unpredictable too. No one knew what could trigger his anger, so people tended to stay away from him. But of course, you weren't wise enough to do that.

Ivar's eyes snapped open and he jerked his head to look at you. The low moonlight allowed you to see his glistening bloodshot eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I am-" you paused and considered your reply, "I just needed some air, my prince. It's too hot inside."

Ivar turned his eyes to the sea. You didn't know if he wanted you to leave, so you decided to stay still and wait for him to say something.

After a while, you got distracted and relaxed enough to close your eyes again. You could hear him breathing beside you, still not too close. 

You wondered if the reason he was there was similar to yours. If he too felt like his heart was going to burst inside his chest at all times; if he felt like he didn't belong in settings like the feast you just left, like he was meant to watch and not live, no matter how much he hated that possibility. You wondered if the reason he felt so angry all the time was exactly that.

"I don't understand how they can be celebrating," he started. His voice was small and shaky, but after the long silence, it was enough to startle you. "when their king just died. When their queen just died!"

Oh.

"I don't-" you turned your head around to look at him when his voice broke. If the fist squeezing your heart could get any tighter, it did. With both shaking fists closed, his nails dig into his palms, and he squeezed his eyes. Tears ran down his face, but he did not reach to wipe them off.

In all your years, you never felt as silly as at that moment. 

While you were crying over a man who never spared a second look at you to allow you any hope, Ivar was grieving over both of his parents, having to watch his mother's murderer standing on the throne as queen.

And he was so desperately in pain, he had to allow himself to look the most vulnerable in front of a stranger, and trust she wouldn't hurt him further.

You wished you could say something to comfort him, but he was feeling a pain you still did not understand.

To make yourself feel better, you imagined he also couldn't understand yours.

Ivar kept talking and talking, still lowly, and you scoot closer to him, listening to his every word. 

You could see it in his eyes, he didn't want an opinion, nor someone to agree with him, he just needed somebody who would listen. So that's what you did.

After a while, he stopped talking. And then, for hours, you sat there in silence, your eyes occasionally leaving the ocean to look at him.

And when the sun started to rise in the sky, you realized your time in Kattegat was ending, and you had no idea when you would return.

"Prince Ivar," you took a deep breath and tore your eyes from the sea to look at him. Ivar had his eyes closed, and he looked the most peaceful you had ever seen him. "I must go. Thank you for keeping me company tonight."

Ivar sighed and opened his eyes, directly looking at you. 

That wasn't what he expected you to say after he spent the night talking everything that troubled his mind ever since he was born. But he was relieved you chose not to mention. If you did, he would be even more embarrassed for being so vulnerable in front of a stranger, than he already was.

You stood up and brushed the sand off your dress.

"Have a good day," you said. The silence made you stand there awkwardly, not knowing if he was going to say something. Finally, he nodded at you, then turned back to look at the sea again.

You let out a breath and scurried to your home, trying not to think about the last few hours you still had in Kattegat.

Ivar stayed at the beach. He didn't think he would truly feel better if he talked to someone. But he did. 

He supposed he got lucky, for the first time in his life. You could have left after he arrived, could have mocked him for his pain, or even run off after he finished talking, to tell everyone how pathetic and sad and bitter he was.

But you didn't. You stayed there listening to him, didn't criticized or argued, and hadn't left after he stopped. And then, didn't even address the whole situation. 

He should have said thank you for keeping him company, not the other way around.

Ivar was about to leave when he heard the call of a travel ship soon to leave the docks. He was surprised when he saw you hugging your parents goodbye before entering the ship. 

He turned away and went back to the city, avoiding to stay and watch you leave Kattegat after you spent the night at his side.  

He just wished he could have learned your name.

However, Ivar knew he had to work harder than any man to earn the respect and admiration he longed for, and for a while he thought war was the only way, but life and the Gods were quick to teach him pointless conflict, in the longer run, brought only pain and loneliness, and fear was quite different from respect.

So he settled for making Kattegat the most prosperous city in Norway, a trade reference, with advantageous alliances, and satisfied citizens who had nothing to complain about. But they had become too spoiled, and complained about everything to their heart’s content.

Still, as bored as he was, Ivar could finally say he proved everyone who doubted him wrong, and he imagined his parents would be proud of him.

When the man finally left, he wasted no time, but before he could get out of the throne to eat his dinner in peace, Hvitserk stormed in looking almost angry, with Ubbe after him, unbothered.

“Would you care to explain what is this marriage nonsense?” his brother asked, almost laughing, as if it was a joke he didn’t quite understand.

Ivar merely raised his eyebrows and looked away from him to Ubbe, “I take it you told him, then?”

Ubbe told Ivar it was a bad idea to make the deal without telling Hvitserk. If he refused, the king would be angry and they would go to war. But his younger brother was so sure nothing was going to go wrong, and refused to listen to him. Now, a confrontation he didn’t want to be a part of was happening right in front of him.

“I’ll let you talk, I have nothing to do with this,” Ubbe didn’t hesitate to leave before he was forced to take a side. None of the other men bothered with him.

“I am not going to marry Tove just because you want more warriors at your disposal.” Hvitserk looked frustrated. He knew this would happen eventually, but not that soon, and certainly not without being consulted first.

“The alliance also includes fur and food,” Ivar had a mocking smirk on his face. It was funny to him, and almost insulting, that his brother thought he would force him to marry for something as meaningless as men and gold. “And I thought you liked her, Hvitserk! Surely, she is a beautiful woman, and a princess. I imagine you know her very well, what is so bad about this?”

“I like many women, brother, and I don’t need a wife!” he crossed his arms and lifted his chin, defensive and defiant at the same time.

Ivar’s hands tightly griped the arms of the throne, and he took a deep breath, trying not to get mad. His brother had chosen the worst day to do this. He was tired, hungry, cold, and in pain, and all  that just made him angrier, “Good alliances are not made out only of a man’s word, Hvitserk, don’t be stupid. King Fredrick wanted his daughter to marry, and I offered him that. We all need to make sacrifices for Kattegat.”

“Why don’t you marry her, then?” the question made Ivar’s smirk return and he chuckled.

“A wife is of no use to me, yet. I have too much work to do. Any woman would be miserable to be left aside by her crippled husband in benefit of battle councils, and meetings,” he explained, still amused by his brother’s question, “All you need to do, brother, is to humor the king until the marriage is complete. After that, I’m sure you and your wife will come to an agreement.”

Hvitserk shook his head and sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to change Ivar’s mind, and now the arrangement was made, it was too risky to break it. He supposed Tove wouldn’t be the worst bride, and doubted she would ask him to be faithful to her if she wouldn’t be the same. He knew her well enough to say she probably wouldn’t, “I’ll think about it.”

Both knew he wouldn’t think about it. It was already decided. But Ivar could let his brother win the argument if that meant he would follow through with the wedding. So he just nodded.

After Hvitserk left, finally he had time to rest.

It took you two entire days to arrive in Kattegat.

The heavy set of fur was only vaguely familiar, heavy over your shoulders. You almost wanted to take it off. Maybe the unmistakable cold of your hometown would make reality sink in faster.

If you squinted your eyes, you could see it. The enormous coast, filled with more ships than you could count, the white, icy fog over the docks, and people coming and going at the beach. Soon you would be there, and your heart ached in your chest when you remembered how things used to be five years ago.

You laughed, remembering you didn’t want to go to Gleðiborg in the first place. If you only knew then, how wonderful and warm and comforting that town was.

Gleðiborg provided you the best years of your life. It taught you to actively live and make the best of your time in Midgard, instead of watching it all go by from afar.

You felt beautiful, confident, and happy. So unlike the person you were before, lonely and invisible.

You blinked to get your mind to calm, and focused again in the city ahead of you. Before you got into the ship, you promised yourself not to let your bad thoughts and memories control you. And you never broke a promise, even if self-made.

No matter how much you changed, your biggest wound was not yet healed. Prince Hvitserk still held your heart.

But regardless of how nervous you felt, you were as ready as you would ever be to face your past.

You thought about your last night in Kattegat, so long ago, but still so clear on your mind.

The usual heartache of seeing Hvitserk holding and kissing another woman felt worse, you never wished so bad to be in his arms as in that last time you saw him. That night, he only gave you one of his friendly smiles and politely asked you how you were. You could almost hear him saying your name.

Then, prince Ivar trusted you to his feelings and showed raw vulnerability… everything that proved he was more man than beast, you secretly promised to keep to yourself. It made you feel special and comforted that night, to be useful and needed, even knowing it only happened because you were the only one there. You were sure he didn’t even know of your existence before.

You hoped he was better. You supposed so, he was the king now. You were happy he had made it through his insecurities and finally got what he wanted.

Sooner than you thought, your ship arrived at the docks. You took a deep breath before daring to look at the city streets.

When you only had warm and sunny Gleðiborg to compare to, it was dark and cold. The sun was hidden behind the clouds and the wind hurt your skin and made your eyes burn. The smell of fish was so strong you were almost certain it was impregnating your clothes, and your head ached from the loud noise of people talking and shouting.

It wasn’t the best.

But you remembered how Kattegat looked like when you left. And this was completely different from your memory.

Back then, because of the upcoming war, everyone was rigid, tense, and more violent than usual. The city could barely hold that many people, and the food was too expensive for the poorer citizens eat more than a small meal a day, at best. Now, it seemed to be doing much better.

The market was full of people, children, the older folk, artisans, non-warriors, all vulnerable and glad, like it wasn’t before. This was far from how you imagined a place ruled by a man they called a “ruthless monster”.

When your parents visited Gleðiborg, they told you about an unforgivable king when it came to criminals and traitors, intolerant of the people’s silliness and drama, who never engaged in commoner’s celebrations like his brothers, only the ones held in the Great Hall, and was extremely impatient over everything else. But who still prioritized food and warmth over war and luxury for himself and took the time to find and make it better the problems of his kingdom.

Snapping from your thoughts, you stepped out of the ship and searched for your father in the crowd. You expected him to be there, it had been a while they announced there were people coming.

You hoped you wouldn’t have to wait for too long.

Unknown to you, you had drawn attention, standing there in perfect posture, right beside your bag. The furs around your body didn’t hide the vibrant yellow of your dress, a refreshing contrast before the gray sea.

While distracted searching for your father, someone lifted your baggage from the floor.

You turned back to see who it was and your heart almost failed you. Of course, the first person to greet you was the one you were most nervous to meet again.

Hvitserk had in his face a specific smile you had seen many times before, but never directed at you.

You almost gasped. He looked as attractive as you remembered, with the years difference, and all.

“May I help you? These seem too heavy,” his voice was comforting, and the flirty tone had you melting.

You opened a wide smile and fixed your posture, finding your new confidence self again, and didn’t bother hiding your excitement, “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?” He crooked his head, as if he was confused, but the smile didn’t falter, “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” you chuckled, clearly amused. You knew you looked different, but not to the point he wouldn’t even remember who you were.

“Am I supposed to know?” he still looked confused, but had the same flirty tone and big smile.

Thinking about how no one, not even you, would have expected you to look as confident and liberated as you did now, it was shocking. You didn’t even feel like the same person, and until now, you haven’t realized it.

You couldn’t blame him for not recognizing you. You used to be friendly with each other, but being unable to look into his eyes whenever you talked, and standing in the light corners of every outing made you invisible.

“No, I supposed not,” you shook your head and laughed some more, “And yes, you may help me! Would you be so kind to walk me home?”

He held a hand out, the other holding your belongings. You stared at it. “Well, let’s go. Show me the way.”

You took his hand and started to walk to your home holding him behind you, occasionally glancing at him over your shoulder and giggling, until he had enough and decided to walk by your side. His cheeky smile made it almost impossible not to sigh.

“What is your name?”

Before making his way to you, Hvitserk felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately turned to see who was keeping him, not being surprised when it turned out to be Ivar.

“Can you at least behave, Hvitserk? Your bride and her father arrive today, and it would be better for everyone if you kept yourself from courting other women while they’re here.” His brother’s voice was low and calm, a huge difference from when they left off the day before.

“I’m behaving, Ivar, but I can’t promise you anything. If Y/N wants me to touch her, how cruel would I be to deny her?” Hvitserk laughed and gestured his head in your direction, making the king turn to you.

When Ivar finally set eyes on  the woman Hvitserk was referring to, his breath got caught on his throat. You looked different from the last time he saw you. Your hair was now shorter, your posture straighter, and your smile certainly wider. The way you carried yourself didn’t remind him anything of the girl he met on the beach so long ago, but Ivar wouldn’t forget about you so easily.  He almost wondered how a person could change so much in 5 years before he remembered himself. You looked breathtaking. But, of course, interested in his brother, and to make things worse, he had to make a plan to send you back to where you were.

He swallowed and turned back to Hvitserk, trying not to sneer at the look in his face. Worse than you liking his brother was both of you liking each other.

“Hvitserk, the king will stay here for a week after the engagement feast, tonight, and then he will only come back for the wedding. Control yourself.”

Hvitserk laughed and removed Ivar’s hand from his shoulder, “We’ll see, Ivar.”

Ivar turned back and headed back to the Great Hall before Hvitserk reached you, refusing to watch someone who helped him so much when he needed, even if he knew nothing about you, fall for his brother’s charms and stupid courting ways.

“Do you need help?” You nearly jumped when you heard a voice whispering in your ear, turning around abruptly to see the smile that haunted all your dreams and thoughts over the last eight years or so.

“Ha! Prince Hvitserk, you almost scared me to death!” You laid a hand over your heart, breathing heavily. Despite your tone, the wide smile on your face told him your were anything but displeased to see him.

“I’m sorry, I promise it wasn’t my intention,” he chuckled and reached a hand to cup your face, his thumb briefly caressing your cheek. “How did you sleep in your first night back in Kattegat?”

You cleared your throat before answering, trying to disguise the way he made you flustered after the unexpected touch. “I slept very well, thank you. No nightmares”

The honest smile on his face quickly turned into a teasing one. “Any dreams, then? About a handsome prince who rescued you from walking home alone, maybe?”

Your fake gasp only made his smile wider, and he took the basket from your arm, quickly following after you, walking further into the market to continue shopping.

“There’s a feast tonight.” He stated, and you hummed, distracted with the fruit stands, and he continued. “Do you want to come?”

Your head quickly turned back to him, immediately forgetting about the apple you were examining, with eyes sparkling and a blinding smile on your lips. “Yes, of course! I’d love to.”

So far, in the few hours you were back in Kattegat, Hvitserk had already made impossible your goal of forgetting about him. Between walking you home and inviting you personally for a party in the Great Hall, he had your heart hammering in your chest from the excitement of spending time with him.

“Great!” His hand returned to your face and you held your breath when he placed his lips on your cheek, before leaning further and whispering in your ear, “I’ll see you there, then.”

You made the utmost effort to stay and continue your tasks in the market, but the giddiness and excitement had you rushing back home to start planning your clothes for the feast.

After taking what it seemed like forever to arrive home, you decided that your house was too far away from the city. You exasperatedly opened the door, startling both of your parents, and cheerfully greeted them both, before setting the basket in the table and heading to your own room.

The exchanged glances  by your parents went past you, but your father quickly followed suit behind you.

“What happened?” He asked, not entering your room, standing at the door and watching you go through your dresses with a frown etched on your face.

You turned your head to look at him, and the frown disappeared, making way for the smile you had when you got home. “Oh, prince Hvitserk invited me to the feast tonight, and I wanted to decide what to wear as soon as possible.”

Your father sighed and walked further  into the room, sitting on your bed. He had a feeling this would happen the moment you arrived with Hvitserk, and it was what he feared the most. You were barely back from Gleðiborg, after five years, and had already went back to your old habits of living and breathing for Hvitserk. It almost destroyed you the first time, and he feared it would happen again. Arne figured you still didn’t know the latest news about your beloved. Not many people did, but you certainly deserved to.

“Y/N…” He started, hesitating to tell you. You had such a beautiful smile on your face, and he hated that he had to be the one to wipe it out. “You need to know, prince Hvitserk is marrying a princess soon.”

You immediately froze when  he said those words, your mind having difficulty to process the information.

“What?” You turned back to your father and went to sit beside him. His arms immediately wrapped around you, much too used to comfort you after you ended up sad because of something the prince had said or done. “But… he doesn’t seem in love.”

Still wary of the subject, Arne shook his head and continued, “He is not. It’s a marriage arranged by King Ivar to set an alliance that will benefit Kattegat greatly.”

You let out a relieved sigh and laughed, quickly getting up and going back to your task of finding the perfect dress.

“So he’s not in love, nor is he married yet.”

“Y/N,” your father said with an unmistakable warning tone, but you paid no mind, “stop trying to reach for the moon, child, I told you that.”

Setting one of the options on your bed, you giggled and went to hug your father, receiving a kiss to your forehead.

“There’s nothing wrong with reaching for the moon, father. Especially if the moon is reaching for me, too.”

Your hands smoothed the dress for the uptenth time that night, nervous about the way you looked. You knew you had heads turning to look at you. Your dress, colored in a rich deep red, contrasting the dull colors of the street, was perfectly adjusted on your waist and breasts, enhancing all of your best features.

With a confident smile on your face, you entered the Great Hall, immediately being welcomed by the loud song and the talking, the strong smell of roasted meat and leather quickly overwhelming you, not much different than you remembered.

Occasionally stopping to make conversation, you walked around the room, making sure to avoid the shadowy corners and standing in the center of the party. It didn’t take long for Hvitserk to find you.

“Y/N!” The crooked smile and twinkling eyes had you grinning back, and you almost laughed when you felt the strong smell of mead coming from him. You maintained your confident smile and tried not to blush when his eyes roamed over your body before setting back on your face. “You’re here, and you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Hvitserk.” You giggled, any thoughts of insecurity quickly leaving your mind. He handed you a horn filled with the drink before taking your free hand, walking you to a quieter and less crowded side of the room.

With more moving space now, Hvitserk started to sway, trying to find the rhythm of the music. He sneakily rested his hands on your waist and brought you closer, making you move to the song with him.

"Dance?" he asked, though you were past the point already, after dancing together for almost one entire song.

You barely smiled and quickly took control of your own body, dancing and moving, until you could barely breathe with laughter and bliss. Under the influence of the alcohol and the adrenaline, you couldn't stop smiling and giggling.

After a while, Hvitserk leaned in to whisper in your ear, moving slowly, giving you time to regain your breath. "We can go to somewhere quieter, if you want."

Immediately, the scenes you used to watch played in your head. He would take a woman to either the corner of the room with the dimmest light, or to the beach, bring food and drinks to court them, and trying to impress them, most if not all times successfully. To you, he looked at them like they were the most beautiful woman in the world, and you always dreamed of having him look at you that way. 

You weren't stupid, and knew they weren't actually important to him, everyone knew Hvitserk was hard to stick with only one woman. You knew why he was coming at you, asking you to get out of there. But you also knew yourself, and knew enough to entice him and to make him continue to chase you and to want you.

Despite that, you couldn't contain the smitten smile on your face. "Oh? We go to the beach, you bring mead and fruit, and tell me about your adventures overseas?"

As you predicted, Hvitserk leaned back again and laughed at your teasinging tone. "Aren't you so intelligent, Y/N?"

You grinned. "I'll meet you at the beach, then."

He returned the smile, and headed to the main table to grab the things you mentioned. 

You watched him go, momentarily caught in your thoughts, and had to shake your head and take a deep breath to snap out of them. Before turning around to walk to the beach, you caught king Ivar's piercing gaze directed at you, him apparently lost in thoughts as well. You smiled tentatively at him and he quickly turned his glance away from you, as if he was caught doing something wrong or embarrassing.

You kept looking at him for a minute, wondering if he remembered you from that night. You didn't cross paths as children, with him not getting involved in playing with his brothers like you did, and spending a lot of his time with Floki, the boatbuilder. And as you grew up, even less so.

You liked to think he remembered you. Except, you didn't know if he paid any attention to your face that night, or even if he would recognize you after 5 years. Hvitserk didn't.

You tore your eyes from him and headed outside, starting to walk the familiar path to the beach.

Carefully moving between the people, Hvitserk was being as discrete as he could, trying to avoid being spotted by any of the kings present. He knew, if one of them noticed him, it would be nearly impossible for him to go out and meet you.

Unknown to him, his younger brother kept track of him for most of the night.

Ivar noticed you as soon as you entered the Great Hall, wearing a dress colored especially to call attention to you, red as blood. You outshone every woman in the room.

He caught himself watching you more times than he cared to admit, and had to force himself to pay attention to king Fredrik's never-ending monologue, often wondering when he went from ruthless to diplomatic.

Cursing himself, Ivar suddenly wished he could be more like his brothers, because he didn't understand how a woman whom he had heard speak only 2 or 3 sentences, was so interesting to him. 

But when you locked eyes with him and smiled, he remembered the last time he allowed himself to be completely vulnerable, and it brought an uncomfortable feeling he hadn't felt in a long time.

Knowing all too well of his brothers intentions, collecting food and mead, he knew he had to act quickly and come up with a plan good enough to keep things under control, at least for the night. Fredrik was starting to get inpatient because of his brother's absence.

Ivar shouted his name and Hvitserk had to bite his tongue to avoid cursing his mother for making him so unable to avoid her youngest son and his plans. 

Despite the annoyance, Hvitserk walked towards Ivar, keeping his gaze away from king Fredrik and his daughter, princess Tove, his bride, someone he was fairly acquainted with. She smirked when she saw him.

"What, Ivar? Hvitserk asked, not bothering to hide his annoyed tone, knowing it would irritate both his brother and his bride's father.

Ivar signalled for him to get closer, enough so they could talk without being heard by their company.

"You need to stay here and talk to them." Commanding and resolute, Ivar's tone left little for questioning.

"I can't, I have someone waiting for me," Hvitserk responded through gritted teeth.

"Yes, Y/N." He cleared his throat before continuing, "I'll make sure she knows you're sorry you couldn't meet with her tonight." Hvitserk clenched his jaw and Ivar knew it would take more than that to convince his brother to give up on spending the night with a beautiful woman and instead amuse a very boring old king. "Please, Hvitserk."

That did it. He nodded and Ivar let out a breath before getting up and excusing himself.

The cold wind and the strong smell of the sea forced you to reminisce something you wanted to keep hidden for good, and you had to take a deep breath to calm down and remember you weren't there for a bad reason.

That thought made you smile. Knowing you caught the attention of the man you wanted for so long, and for so long you thought you couldn't have, was of great pleasure to you. Being the center of Hvitserk's attention was everything you dreamed and more, if you could say so based on the time you spent together at the feast.

When you opened your eyes, the sight of the waves and the moon brought another memory. The very last time you were there, crying for yourself and for prince Ivar, listening to him do the same. That was a hard night for both of you.

Almost recreating that night, though you were sure it would be the complete opposite, you heard someone coming behind you. An immediate smile took over your face at the thought of Hvitserk.

But when you turned around, it wasn't Hvitserk there with you.

King Ivar stood before you, forming a sight you weren't expecting to see.

Seeing him up close was unlike merely exchanging a glance across the room, from afar. You could see all of him now.

You couldn't help but compare him to Hvitserk.

They were almost opposites. Hvitserk owned the sunlight when he stood in it, reflecting his clear eyes and warm, flushed skin, making his smile brighter than usual. It was a sight.

But Ivar, between the dark background and dim illumination, his bright blue eyes were alluring, and the shadow on part of his face, not covering but enhancing all the best, almost made you lose your breath. It was like he belonged in moonlight.

He looked just like you remembered, but oh so different. 

Despite the obvious changes, like the longer hair and matured face, what caught your attention was the tired look on his face; the angry frown you remembered was no longer angry, but still a frown.

And he looked as pretty as you recalled then, and earlier, from afar in the Great Hall.

"King Ivar," you said softly after a minute or so, not knowing if a bow was necessary, "where's Hvitserk?"