#htgi

She was trembling when she came into my hall for the first time.

"King Ivar."

Even her voice was trembling. I could bet her fingers were cold, although the package in her hands was made of warm blankets. Her dress was ragged here and there, and her hair wasn't properly braided. But her beauty was undeniable.

However, what caught my eyes wasn't her pretty face but the way she approached my throne, bending enough so I could see the little face contorting itself, essaying a cry.

"I beg you... Please help me," she said, eyes teary.

Her hands unfolded the blanket making my eyes large. It was only a second before she folded the blankets around the little girl once again, hiding the twisted bones of her legs from the cold that made the child start cooing, annoyed.

I saw that woman clinging to that package as if her whole life was inside those blankets. And, for a moment, that scene made me remember my mother.

"You lived through it," that woman's voice woke me out of my memories, allowing me to notice the obvious difference between her and my beautiful mother. "I beg you mercy, my lord. Teach me, please. I want her to live. I know she can live! Her father doesn't believe the gods enough, but I saw what they did to you. You've done it. Please, my lord, teach me how to help her."

She didn't want her daughter to survive. No. Mother wanted me to survive. She wanted me to be there for her. That woman wanted her daughter to be like me...

She wanted her daughter to live.

"This Thing is over. I have matters to solve," I said, dismissing the other citizens.

My eyes on her, seeing how strongly she was fighting the tears. Her fear that I wouldn't help stamped on her face.

An expression that vanished completely when I caught my crutch, getting up to walk towards her.

"Bring the girl inside, woman. First lesson you need to learn: it is never warm enough for her."

Her tears broke down, but she nodded. And I could see the determination in her eyes, shining with hope and gratitude over me.

We placed the little girl inside my room, and she slept on my bed while her mother and I sat for a talk.

I discovered her name was Y/N. The little girl she named Eira seeking Eir's mercy over the little one. The bastard she once called a husband expelled them when she refused to leave the little girl to the wolves telling him king Ivar was a great man even being like her.

I was great in her eyes. I was the reason why she had faith her little girl could be someone. Something more than her father's shame...

She asked me for a place to serve in my castle since she had no place to live. I gave her the servant room beside mine and offered to serve me for a payment she could use to sustain herself and her little girl.

She accepted those crumbs as if I was saving her life.

The next day she had her little girl tied to her chest, cleaning and organizing everything I told her to.

During her work, I observed how lovely she was towards that tiny thing tied to her chest, sometimes dancing, sometimes making unnecessary rounds with the broom, everything to keep the little child entertained. The twisted little legs tightly kept against Y/N's chest as she restrained her own movements to avoid hurting her little girl.

That woman was different from anything I'd ever seen. Even from my mother - who would do nothing but care about me, neglecting my brothers, and sometimes herself, to keep me alive. Y/N was doing everything for her daughter, but as soon as the little one was asleep, I saw her brushing her own hair, messing with her clothes to find out the holes and sew them, eating properly from the portions I send to her; ensuring to be healthy and strong to care for the girl she carried around like a little treasure.

It touched my heart one day at a time.

And when the pain came and I saw Y/N in despair, lulling the little Eira trying to make her sleep, I came into her room sitting on the simple bed she would spend her nights on, and extending my arms towards her.

Her eyes were full of faith when she delivered the little Eira in my hands, observing as I gently placed the little one on the basked, moving her legs as little as possible until they were well supported and warmed by the blankets around her. With my fingers, I mashed some of my own herbs letting drops of the bitter juice fall into the little one's mouth, observing as it slowly did its job, relieving the pain and allowing Eira to fall asleep.

It was the first time I saw Y/N crumble in front of me, bitting her lips to cry in silence the anguish of her little girl's pain but also the relief of seeing she was finally tranquil.

I would see that several times. I would help Y/N to immobilize Eira's broken little legs properly to prevent them from healing the wrong way. I would help her to care for the little one's wounds when they came. And when nothing would help Eira's pain, I would help Y/N's to hold on to her faith that the gods had granted her daughter a better fate.

Whenever that little child slept after my touch, I felt a little like Harbard, taking away her pain like he'd done for me when I was younger. But, unlike me, Eira had my knowledge to help her grow better. To help her suffer less.

I didn't see when that little girl and her mother invaded my heart. Y/N learned from me to care for her child, but I saw her using what she'd learned several times to care for me instead.

She was the one providing my teas, helping with my wounds, sewing protections to make my braces more comfortable...

Relieving my pain. My loneliness.

Standing beside me even in my worst days, Y/N became someone I couldn't see myself without. Someone I didn't want to see myself without. And along with her, Eira also became a part of my life, making my heart melt when she started dragging herself around my hall like I used to do, imitating so soon the ways I had fought so hard to learn by myself.

She would come to me full of trust and laugh at me so easy!

Sometimes she wouldn't sleep if I wasn't near. Sometimes I would hear Y/N telling her my story, painting me as some kind of hero Eira was starting to follow.

And it would make me proud.

Y/N made me proud of what was once my worst shame. She made me feel I wasn't incomplete, nor half of a man. She made me feel my whole life had sense, meaning.

I'd come like that, with my twisted legs and pain, cause the gods knew my mind was gifted. The gods knew I would create ways to live.

And now, my ways were making Eira's life possible.

Better.

Easier.

Slowly, I took Y/N more and more from the service of the hall. Soon, she was something like a personal servant to me. She would go anywhere I would go, and I wouldn't want anyone but her around when I was moody or living a bad day.

She became my relief as much as I once was hers.

It was inevitable to fall in love with that woman. To bring her into my life. To want her as my queen.

"I want you, Y/N. I want Eira. And I don't want to ever hear about your ex-husband once again. He's nothing but past. He's nobody. She's my little girl, and this is how I want things to be now."

She didn't argue. But I could see it wasn't the initial fear that prevented her from arguing with me or trying to contradict my arguments. Y/N's fingers touched my face that night and she touched our foreheads with tenderness.

"I wouldn't want any different," I remember she said.

Her nose nuzzling against mine in a caress I would discover it was my favorite sensation in Midgard.

"Eira is my gift from the gods. And they've decided to bless me again with you."

Now my little Eira was twelve years old. Her little braces were reproductions of mine, in a smaller size. She couldn't run around with the other children, but she would spend hours playing hnefatafl with me, making me the best company I could ever want.

She was definitely better than I ever was. Always filling our hearts with joy whenever she would play with her two little brothers the gods had blessed me with.

I'd noticed her blood-father walking around sometimes, looking at her at the market or observing as she would easily walk with her crutch around, sometimes trying to go a little faster than she really could just to show me something she wanted or giggle with her usual playful tone. I could see he regretted his mistake, but I never gave him a chance to approach, always looking at him with blues icy cold. A warning that it was too late for his excuses.

Y/N and Eira were mine now. My little princess, my queen.

They’d become my treasures.

And his time to claim back what he'd left was long gone.

It was what? The fifth one? The sixth if he would count the twins as two. There was Sigtryggr, Ingvar and Ímar - the twins. There was Udir and the little ones Erik and Einar - this last one his major concern since he didn't have left your boobs when Ivar accidentally got you full of his seed once again.

Would he be able to avoid his children from hating each other as Sigurd and he had done for so long?

Another sip of his mead, and, one more time, the cup almost fell from his hand with a growl of pain in your voice coming from the bedroom.

Why did it have to be so loud every single time?

Sigtryggr was taking care of his little brothers for him, outside of the house, to grant none of them would listen to your screams. As the older one, he had already age enough to understand those moments, and he knew how afraid his little brothers could be. He was thinking about getting a wife himself, on top of his fifteen years, and maybe carrying for his little brothers was a good way to learn how to behave when it was the time to see his wife screaming to put his children into Midgard like you were doing for his father's one more time.

Another scream cutting his thoughts.

"Gods..." Ivar mumbled, drinking from his cup one more time. "Why does it have to be so painful?"

Couldn't the gods be merciful about the birth part of that process?

To make the children was something so pleasurable! Why should putting them into this world be that horrible, bloody, and painful way?

You cried once again, louder. And Ivar swore he heard the midwife asking you to be strong and do it one more time.

Fuck that shit! You were the strongest human being he'd ever seen in his life!

Sword wounds? He could handle them.

Burning bleeding wounds with red-hot blades? Easy!

Now passing something as big as his children through a hole where his dick was used to feel tightly compressed? This was something his manly mind wasn't able to figure out how it was possible.

You'd always had long deliveries. His children were painfully big, healthy boys he could call everything but little. Sigtryggr was fifteen, and he was already taller than him! Ivar could bet he would be as tall as Ubbe or maybe Björn! And the twins weren't going through a different way: tall children, all of them! Big babies, all of them!

A new scream cut his ears. Were you giving birth to twins once again?

He got his crutch, forcing himself to stand.

It was taking too long!

Thinking closely, Siggtryggr had taken one day and half of a night. The twins took two days to be born. Erik was the shorter with one whole night. And Einar had taken almost as long as his twin brothers - the lazy thing. This one was approaching the end of its first day, but fuck! It was supposed to be quicker now, wasn't it?

Ivar thought about sitting down once again. What would he do inside that room but bother the women's work? What did he know about labor, to start with?

But what if something was wrong with this baby?

What if it was something wrong like...

Ivar felt startled by his own thoughts. Was it possible that the gods would allow Hel to touch one of his children like she had caressed his legs? After all the others, this one?

His eyes looked at the door, his heart speeding, his breath becoming shorter until everything stopped in his mind.

And around him.

A freezing cold shiver slid down his spine.

Why was everything so deep silent?

As fast as he could, Ivar rushed into the room, not minding the scared expression on his face when he opened the door, catching all the pairs of eyes into that place at once.

You were laid in bed, tired and sweaty like the last times you've done that. Ivar's eyes ran over the midwives, none of them seeming to be scared or anything but surprised with his sudden entrance.

One of them approached you, delivering a moving package in your hands.

It was smaller. Why was it smaller than the others?

Ivar's heart sunk into his chest as he approached the bed, but your smile confused him for a moment before you could show him the little package in your hands.

"Isn't she lovely, husband?" you asked.

And everything broke into shards of stars and light around him.

She was smaller than the others.

She.

His little gift from Freya was looking at him, with icy little blues exactly like his, filling his eyes with tears and making his lips break in a giggle that remembered that knock-kneed fool's voice for a moment.

Oh, Floki would be surely laughing at his anxiousness if he was there to see that moment. Or else, he would be making any stupid joke about how visibly melted Ivar's heart was with the sight of that little preciosity in your arms.

"A girl..." he mumbled, giggling again. "You gave me a beautiful little girl."

"Yes, my love. And I want to name her Aslog Ivarsðóttir. To remember your beautiful mother she'll probably grow to follow in beauty.”

He giggled again.

Oh, damn that fool! He would grow into an old wreck just like him.

But how wouldn't he be happy in front of such a thing? You passed the little package into his hands, and he cut the cord like he'd done so many times for his children before, marking her little forehead with the blood as a blessing.

"Oh, gods, look at you..." he mumbled, speechless in front of the small blue eyes looking at him so full of curiosity.

How, in the name of Odin, could something be that beautiful?

"I grow, I get older, but the gods don't get tired to bless me, do they?" he asked the little one as if she could answer him. "I've seen many things in this life, my child, but none... None was as beautiful as you are, looking at me like this."

His words were making you feel your heart full.

"My father once told me his daughter was the light of his heart. I never understood what he was talking about... With the many sons he had, how could she be different?" Ivar said, looking at you.

And then, turning himself to caress his little girl's face, as gently as if his fingers could break her delicate skin like the flowers you've once seen him braiding into a crown for you.

Maybe now, he would have more flower crowns braided by his hands in the course of his life.

"I get him now," he said. "It is different." Ivar completed.

He loved his children. Every single one of them.

But that moment was unique, and her way to look at him was unspeakable.

His heart was sure he would never see the world the same way once again.

She would be the light to enlighten his way. And what once was black and white had just been painted in the most beautiful colors Ivar ever had seen in his life.

"Are you happy, husband?" you asked.

Just to see him lifting his teary eyes to smile at you.

"No... Happy is too little of a word to define how enormous is what I'm feeling now."

Happiness is nothing, his father once said.

In that little girl's eyes, he could understand it too. It's nothing.

Happiness is nothing compared to the wonders he could experience with you by his side.

Happiness was nothing compared to what it was to hold that little package knowing his world would never be dark ever again.  

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From the beginning, you thought that marriage would be a disaster. Not that he wasn't a blessed man, nor you had anything against his condition - as some would meanly say. But you could see he wasn't exactly planning to get married when your father brought the idea to the table where your fate was sealed beside king Ivar the Boneless from Kattegat.

"A pledge of allegiance and long bond," your father said. What better way to tell a king you trust him than offering him your best and bigger treasure?

Definitely not what you wanted for your life. Like all the other women of your age, you wanted to find somebody to love.

You weren't unaware of your condition: as a landlord's daughter, you knew your marriage would much probably be arranged to grant your people's best life, but you asked the gods many times that your marriage would come to join you to a man that would, at least, allow you to reach his heart.

How would you reach anything inside those cold and sharp blue eyes your father delivered you to?

Your marriage was poorly consummated the night it happened. Ivar was an occupied man. Tired from hanging with the Earls, Kings, and other guests of your marriage - which was absolutely bigger than you ever thought your party would be - he touched you a single time.

Nothing but seal the union the ring on your finger had represented.

But the gods decided to send him a message - or strike him right in the middle of his face: You fell pregnant with a single touch of his body. His seed grew roots in your womb from that single moment the two of you shared and then, you saw it change in his eyes.

He didn't become the most loving of the husbands, but his blues weren't that cold for you anymore.

As your father told you, Ivar was a man of his faith, and the idea of having a marriage visibly blessed by the gods was enough to warm his heart towards you.

You were spoiled and covered with the best through your whole pregnancy. You had servants all over you. Anything would stop to tend for your needs.

You never had really tried to approach your husband, afraid he would reject your feelings or make you feel silly for being so emotional. But his reaction to your pregnancy was changing it into you.

And when you gave birth to a beautiful little girl, your walls were completely crumbled by Ivar's teary eyes.

Watching your husband holding your little girl in his arms was the most tender moment you ever saw in your life. His kisses to her forehead, his words whispered to her ears, every single detail of him crushed the fear of your heart by showing he was so much more than his fame would speak about him.

He was ruthless in battle, but his hands were tender to touch your little girl's blankets. He could be a monster to his enemies, but he was the warm embrace your daughter would sleep so easily in.

Little every day, you discovered your husband was as much a loving man as he was a fierce warrior.

Perhaps your dreams became true before you could really notice.

Perhaps there was a chance for you to reach that man's heart.

Not the ruthless king, nor the fearless warrior, but the loving father you watched sitting beside your little one's crib, telling her stories, waving his hands, and making sounds just to get more giggles from your baby girl.

You'd been attracted by the growls in his voice and your baby's loud giggles. And your eyes watched as he told her stories from the gods, playing with his hands your daughter tried to reach for a while. Then the stories became calmer as the little one laid down, watching Ivar's movements from inside her crib.

Soon, he was whispering a low song. And you watched as your little girl embraced her blanket, falling asleep peacefully at the sound of his voice.

Ivar stayed there for a long while, caressing your little girl's face. His rough fingers marked by swords and daggers were so gentle when touching her face. His face, usually so hard, was so tranquil. And his eyes were placid lakes instead of those sharp blades of ice you remember seeing the first time you've seen each other.

Maybe there was space for you there. Perhaps your fear to approach was keeping you from reaching your dreams in his arms.

You dared.

Your steps entered the room slowly, and you sat beside Ivar, catching his eyes almost immediately.

His gentle touch reached your face. His fingers caressed your chin, sliding as you leaned your face into his warm palm.

"My beautiful wife," he mumbled.

Sweet words you had never heard from him, maybe because you never approached enough to hear him speak.

"You came into my life unwarned. I even thought it was a mistake to bring such a delicate treasure into my mess. But look how silly and wrong I was."

Your eyes found his. To your major surprise, his eyes were full of love, his touches were full of tenderness, and you saw yourself leaning into his arms, laying your head against his chest, feeling as Ivar embraced you warmly.

"You're my gift from the gods. And you brought joy into my life. I couldn't be more grateful."

You lifted your face and gently placed your lips over his, kissing him slowly, receiving a tender answer you never thought you would ever get from him so freely.

Smiling was almost inevitable.

"My loving husband," you mumbled. "I'm the lucky woman the gods chose to be by your side. I'm the one who's grateful over everything."

Your eyes watched his lips curling in a beautiful scene you'd seen so few times since you'd known each other.

Ivar was smiling at you, almost like a shy boy, flattered by your words.

"You're so humble, my queen. And it just makes you shine more in my eyes. Come," he said, getting up and holding you by the hand. "Let us close the hall and retire for this day. I wanna spoil my queen tonight and maybe make our joy even bigger, who knows?"

He was clearly saying he wanted to be with you.

To produce more children, which were the joy of his life.

Your heart filled with happiness, and it was your time to smile at him.

"Then may the gods bless me tonight, husband, so I can bring you more joy than you ever thought you could have."

You would remember to thank the gods for your blessings. Ivar was everything you could ever want and, in the end, your dreams couldn't really show you how good would it be to be loved like you were.

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When you were dragged back to that hall, you were sure that, more than your father's image, you destroyed your husband's pride.

Putting a maid in his bed on his bridal night and running away the way you did was definitely not the smartest of your plans. But what could you do?

Entering that corridor like a dog brought back to its owner seemed better than ending up like a tattered doll, shared by her husband with all his brothers and the gods know who else.

So, although escorted by the men of Kattegat, you entered that room with your head held high, ready to face the consequences of your attempt to get rid of that cruel destiny.

"So, this is the woman who was supposed to be behind the veil of that over-covering dress in my marriage ceremony..."

That wasn't the voice you were expecting to hear.

Your husband would surely be the elder one! Your father said you would sit beside a king!

Who would be the king among the sons of Ragnar if not the elder one alive, Ubbe Ragnarsson, the sharer?

"I would have been pleased. Perhaps, if you'd chosen to be gentler, I would have spared you from the night by my side once it seems to be a nightmare in your eyes."

No!

The younger one walked forward, speaking imposingly. His sharp blue eyes freezing yours as he approached.

"But you chose to flee..." he said, standing in front of you.

Making regret fill your veins instead of blood, spreading like a cold sensation when you were able to read the deception inside his blues.

"I thought..." You gasped with the words.

Your eyes oscillated from him to Ubbe's figure, resting bothered beside the throne, leaned against a pillar as if the whole scene wasn't his business.

Ivar has not lost that detail. His eyes followed her gaze, trying to understand why, suddenly, the determined woman who entered her salon was shaking on her legs, exuding nervousness through her pores.

You watched as he followed your eyes towards Ubbe, curiously looking at you before he frowned, surprised.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

His voice sounded a little shrill, making you lose your composure even more than the discovery of your big mistake had done a few seconds earlier.

"I didn't know! I ... My dad told me ... I ..." You gasped again.

And this time, even Ubbe moved away from the pillar. Thoughts of him doing the obvious math of how absurd and surprising that moment was.

He'd calmed his younger brother when the discovery of your plan, but part of him had been hurt by Ivar's acid words about your decision.

What woman would do it differently under the obligation to marry a cripple like him?

However, it seemed that his younger brother was wrong for what could be the first time since he could remember.

"Did you think you would marry me?" he said.

Making it even more outrageous for you with that sarcastic smile on his lips.

Once again, you straightened your posture, looking at him on top of your arrogance as a woman proud enough to face her actions.

"I would rather die dry and shame my family than put myself under a womanizer like you, Prince Ubbe!" you answered.

Making his lips curve a little more, opening his smile when Ivar took a step back, and your father squeaked like a dying squirrel struck by your words.

"Mighty Odin! What did I do to deserve this curse?" he cried. "Forgive my daughter, Prince Ubbe, she ..." he began with his usual conversation about how you were as crazy as your mother was.

Of course... Because facing men or spitting out the truth, however crude, was crazy! It had to be!

You rolled your eyes.

"I am not a sharer, nor a doll to be shared!" you cut your father, maintaining your position concerning Ubbe, irritated his smile was bigger and bigger as you spoke. "I'm not going to submit to stupid games to your satisfaction, and I don't see what's so funny about what I'm saying, Prince!" you raised your tone when Ubbe couldn't help giggling.

"Well, brother," he said, not looking at you but at Ivar, whose eyes were fixated on you, surprised by your statements. "It looks like she didn't leave because of you, after all," the elder one giggled again.

And there it was again: your posture was completely destabilized by the realization of your grotesque error.

Your fiancé was neither Ubbe nor Hvitserk - another one you knew: he would follow his brother wherever the eldest went!

But you had tried to deceive Ivar, The Boneless. Just the most brilliant mind of its time! Just the only one among the children of Ragnar that you had sworn to accept without reservation.

"That's it?" Ivar asked, still shocked by the realization of what was really going on before his naked eyes. "Did you think your fiancé was Ubbe and were you trying to refuse my brother?"

You bowed your head, defeated.

"Gods!" your father exclaimed again. "What a shame!"

"If you only knew ..." Ivar started.

His eyes on yours like sharp blades, certainly ready to see clearly any lie in your next words.

"If you had known that I was the man you were going to marry, what would you have done?"

You lifted your head, looking him straight in the eye.

Your answer came so direct and clear that it was impossible to doubt your conviction.

"I would have been late for our ceremony, as I certainly wouldn't have been able to finish in time all the sacrifices I believe the gods would deserve for their benevolence regarding my destiny, my lord."

It was easy to see that your answer shocked him.

"Did you... Want to marry me? Were you refusing Ubbe on my behalf?"

"What's so surprising about that?" you asked, confused by his reaction. "Forgive me, my lord, but what has Prince Ubbe done with his life besides becoming famous for sharing his wives like toys? There is nothing about him to do in the halls of history, except the things he did under your brilliancy, my lord. You, on the other hand..." you said.

Feeling your cheeks slightly warm as you spoke.

"Your achievements are counted as legends wherever our steps can reach. How you've won York not once, but twice from the hands of the same Christian king that your plans bent to his knees. How could I not be flattered to be the chosen one of the man who defeated the untouchable Björn Ironside?"

"With my indispensable help," Ubbe finally spoke, feeling slightly diminished in his ego by your words.

A manifestation that you almost completely ignored.

As if Ivar the Boneless was not going to find a way to win that war whether Ubbe had turned against his older brother to help him or not! The news said that he was already winning even when all the brothers were against him!

You could bet that Aslaug's two eldest sons had only changed sides in the face of the obvious defeat!

"I think the first ceremony was worthless, and I believe that we can ignore this shameful moment in the history of our alliance if my father-in-law agrees to fund a new ceremony, so my fianceé and I can celebrate our wedding with real vows and in the right way this time. No more mistakes," Ivar said.

Almost blaming your father for the mistake you made.

On second thought... If he hadn't kept that secret about who he was engaged to...

"Oh, without a doubt!" said your father. "But allow me to introduce you to my second daughter. She is more like me than Y/N, who took after her mother."

You crossed your arms, ready to defend yourself against that absurdity.

But it was your future husband who touched your chin, smiling with satisfaction.

"I like this one. And I don't accept alliances if I'm not sure that my wedding will be with Y/N. By the way, no more veils." he completed, stroking your chin. "I want to be sure that I am marrying the woman I want this time."

You smiled. His eyes were full of satisfaction this time.

Your manner had somehow captivated him, and your smile followed the increase of his on his lips.

What was a terrible marriage had just become a dream for you.

And you definitely wouldn't miss your wedding a second time.

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There was the crying little thing screaming its lungs out once again.

It was not that Ivar didn't want children someday. And it wasn't that he couldn't understand the whole situation: you'd lost your family. Your baby sister was everything you had left from them. So, it was more than comprehensible you would dedicate to the care of the little girl, but it didn't make the experience better for him.

He wasn't angry at the baby for waking him up in the middle of the night. He definitely wasn't angry about having to stop the production of his heirs for you to go and cherish the little one... No.

Was he?

Of damn course he was!

Ivar was foaming in anger to have you leaving his side all the time for tasks the maidens could be doing for you!

Why the fuck did he have bought two new slaves since the child arrived if not to help you with those tasks?

But you wanted to do everything by yourself, and you were treating the girl more and more as if she was your child, which was attracting the eyes to him, of course.

What kind of foster father was he that was never seen with his child on his lap or in his arms somehow?

People were starting to charge him actions towards that little thing he didn't have the initial intention to have!

It was your sister, of course. But he wanted to have his own children!

Was his dream being put aside?

The childish cry became louder. Where were you, after all?

The women he brought were that useless?

"What is happening here? Why is she screaming like that?" he entered the little one's room.

And you thanked the gods, immediately passing the little one into his arms.

"Hold her, please! She's in fever, and we don't have the herbs! I sent Thara and Dalia to different places, to bring the things I need, but with you here, I can prepare the necessary quicker!"

He could barely tell you to wait. In a second, you were out of the room, and he was completely alone with that little crying thing screaming in his arms.

If there was a way for Ivar to feel more insecure, it was unknown for him.

He found a way to sit down, so he could place the little one on the bed and ensure it wouldn't fall or anything like that. But as soon as he laid the little body over the bed, the child yelled so loud that Ivar thought the bed could be on fire or something horrible like that.

It was instinctive to lift her once again against his chest.

"Gods! How come such a little thing can scream this loud?" he spoke, looking at the sobbing child in his arms. "You could scare a whole army with a single scream, girl!"

For some reason, the sobbing baby started reducing its cry. Her eyes, reddened by the intense cry, became wide into Ivar's, showing him she was paying full attention to his voice.

"Oh, so you like to hear me speaking, uh?" he spat, ironic. "That's something, for a change, since your sister doesn't care about what I say. I told her dozens of times she should ask for more help from the maidens, but does she listen to me? Of course, no!"

He was angry.

Angry, Ivar was almost theatrical.

His irony and sarcasm, mixed with his intense expressivity, started calling the little one's attention and, before he could notice, she wasn't actually sobbing anymore.

But putting everything out was something he was needing.

So, Ivar just kept talking and talking, not noticing your sister had stopped crying in his arms.

"It's not that I don't want to have children or to have you around, but gods, sometimes you scream louder than the Christian men I've slaughtered in York, girl! We should sit and talk about this loudness! You're too young for screams like that! You're gonna end up mute before you reach six Summers! And I'll be deaf before your third!" he continued venting.

Not really minding what he was saying. Nothing was really more than a vent.

But somehow, the little girl thought his speech was funny.

And when he said he should take her with him next time he was to enter the battlefield - cause her screams would definitely scare the enemies more than his men - she burst laughing, finally catching Ivar's attention to the fact she was fully calm in his arms.

"Oh, so you think I'm funny?"

She opened her toothless mouth, looking at him with expectation stamped on her face, clearly waiting for his next expression to burst in laughter again as if his vent was some kind of joke for her.

Ivar decided to take the test. He twisted his face, pretending to be angry, snarling at her. And instead of being scared, the girl laughed even louder than before, causing his anger to subside in surprise and disbelief.

"I didn't expect it," he murmured, disarmed by the girl's laughter. "Are you trying to conquer me, uh, little thing?"

At every laugh, Ivar saw himself more taken. He didn't even notice when the maidens came back with the herbs for your tea. Nor when you came back with the bag with the tea for her to suckle.

He did not notice you stopped at the door to watch that scene, with your husband making dozens of faces just for your sister to laugh. Not until you spoke, calling his attention.

"You'll be an amazing father," you said, surprising him with your reaction.

It was clear he thought you would be mad at him for losing the focus on the little girl's fever. But she was so calm and laughing so hard that even her fever diminished. She suckled the sweetened tea holding Ivar's shirt. And until she fell asleep, she didn't want to leave his arms.

When he finally placed her on her crib, tranquil once again, you could see something had changed in your husband's eyes.

"She likes you, Ivar," you mumbled, caressing his chest.

"She has good taste," he answered, cocky for a joke but embracing your waist.

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to have your little sister around.

It was good to have someone that wouldn't fear Ivar the Boneless, after all.

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She became my queen.

From a woman I couldn't handle looking at to the one I didn't want to take my eyes off, Y/N became the most precious of my treasures.

And perhaps it was the reason why finding that piece of metal hidden beneath her pillow was such a huge betrayal to me.

Perhaps it was for loving her too deeply that I let out raw screams of rage that woke up the whole Hall when I found that symbol of her lies.

I could remember every trace of our story.

The day I chose her from the line of our Saxon's slaves because she noticed I was in pain.

"I know how to care for these pains, my lord."

Her ointments, her treatments, how slowly she eased the pain of my body more than any healer was able to do. How, one night at a time, it brought her closer to me like a companion.

How it made me talk to her, be gentler, try to get her smiles.

How her presence became the easiest way to get mine.

My fingers pressed that piece of retorted metal, remembering how deep I'd fallen in love with her. How she promised she would leave her past for me. How I asked her to come home with me. To come into my life. To be mine, and no one else's.

Every single promise of hers was broken by that piece's presence.

How could I trust her when she was betraying me like that? Laying beside me with that symbol as if it wasn't a crime by itself against my trust, against my love.

Against everything.

"How could you?" I yelled when she came into our room, attracted by my screams. "How could you lie to me like this?"

The metal cross, made of gold and silver, hanging from my fingers for her major shock and surprise.

"Ivar..."

"No!" I yelled again.

My voice was as loud as the pain was big in my heart.

"I've been trusting you all these years, Y/N. I trusted your promises! I made you my wife!" I said, looking at her with fierce and sharp blues. "I made you my queen... I gave you everything and this... This is how you repay my love!"

"Ivar no!" she insisted, trying to approach. "It's not what you think..."

I pushed her away, watching as she fell near the fireplace.

"Don't come to me with more of your lies, woman!" I kept yelling, furious. "What more, Y/N?" I asked.

My eyes deep inside of hers.

"What more about you is a lie? What more did you tell me you would do that you're not doing, my dear wife? Uh? What more?!"

Her tears started rolling down her face, but I could see her eyes were focused on the piece in my hand, and it just made me angrier. She wasn't really feeling bad nor guilty about lying to me.

No.

Her major concern was that piece in my hands. That cross was so beloved that she could ignore my deepest wounds to look at it with all the fear of Midgard in her eyes.

She wasn't afraid of losing me the same way she was terrified by the idea of losing that scrap of meaningless metal I had in my hands.

I've seen it in red.

I didn't see when I threw that shit in the fire, hearing with contempt the yell of despair her voice converted into. Watching with deception while she burned her own fingers to pick that piece from the fire, hurting her hands I'd caressed so many times.

Everything just to have back that meaningless symbol of her treason.

The metal didn't even have time to get warm enough to be damaged, but she had marks from the burning wood she had touched fearlessly for that insignificant proof of her crime.

"Is it this strong?" I asked, looking at her with disdain. "Your faith in him is so..."

"It was my child's!" she cried out loud, cutting my voice.

Freezing me in place when her sobs broke her voice, and I saw her bringing that cross close to her heart, embracing it with her wounded hands as if it was the most precious thing in this world.

"It was my child's crucifix," she sobbed. "It was everything that's left from my baby boy. I didn't have time to pick up his clothes. I couldn't pick up anything. This is everything that's left."

My shock was maybe as big as my confusion.

"You... Had a child?" I asked, totally stunned by those words.

Still trembling, Y/N lifted her face, looking at me with thick tears in her eyes full of sorrow.

"My little Rafael..." she mumbled, making my face frown with all the love in the way she spoke his name.

I could remember hearing something about a Rafael from Bishop Heahmund, cycles ago. Something about an arch-angel or something like that.

"I named him after the archangel of healing, begging God to heal his awful pain. Begging anyone who could bless my hands to relieve his constant misery," she continued.

Crushing my heart with the sigh of my mother's eyes on hers.

She was speaking of her Rafael the same way mother used to speak about... Me.

"He was my everything. My one and only child my husband didn't want to accept. He left me because of Rafael's condition, saying I'd given birth to a demon. But My child wasn't a demon!" she yelled.

Defending her child... The same way mother would do to me...

"He's not a monster!"

I swallowed dry as she continued, making that knot in my throat almost suffocating.

"Rafael was just a child in pain. His legs were like yours," she cried.

Her burnt fingers caressing the jewel in her hands.

"Sometimes, I couldn't even hold my son without hurting him," she mumbled painfully. "Sometimes, even the minimum movement would break his little bones, so I was twice as careful when doing anything to my little angel. But..."

The pause in her voice filled my heart with sorrow.

I had never scratched that part of her story. I could imagine why.

I could imagine how it would end.

"First, I thought he was indeed a little angel God decided to take back to the sky. Then... Then the anger came. Why would God make such an innocent angel suffer like that? Why giving him to me if I would have to bury his little broken body with my bare hands? I yelled at God. I cried at him. But he never answered me. And then... I got revolted. My little Rafael wasn't with me anymore. And it was God's fault for doing him that way! It was God's fault for allowing my child to suffer. It was my fault for producing him imperfectly. It was everyone's fault!" she paused, swallowing her sobs for a moment. "And when your men came, when your faith came, and I've heard your words about yourself, I finally understood. It was no one's fault. It was his fate. It was my fate. And God didn't make him like that to suffer. No. The gods had given him to me as a gift so he could spend the most beautiful days of my life in my arms. The gods had cut the thread of his life to spare him from suffering cause his condition was worse than yours. And he wouldn't survive as long as you did."

Her words were killing me inside, softly.

She'd found relief in my faith. She'd found an answer to her questions in my gods. And there I was, hurting her because of a stupid necklace.

"The gods showed me their mercy bringing you into my life so I could understand my child's fate. And so..." Y/N looked at me. "So I thought they wouldn't be mad if I saved this little memento. It means nothing the faith it carries, Ivar. It's not Christ's cross anymore. This... This is my remembrance of my sweet Rafael. This doesn't turn me to the skies, Ivar. This makes me remember his tiny little fingers trying to catch this cross in my hands, or his giggles whenever it would shine for him to see."

Her voice broke. The sobs engulfed her. And I saw her embracing the necklace again as if she could embrace her child the gods had taken from her so soon.

How stupid I was. How unfair could I be?

I sat in my bed, taking off my braces and dragging myself closer to her, bringing my bandages and ointment I took from my nightstand. Slowly, I took the small piece from her hands, treating it with the proper respect when I placed it gently on her neck, carrying for her hands and bandaging the burns after spreading the ointment over them.

I kissed her fingers and cupped her face, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking into her eyes. "I'm deeply sorry for what I did, my love. Forgive me, please." I asked.

No shame of showing my regret, gently caressing her cheeks.

She leaned into my hands, so mine. Her eyes closed as she felt my caresses, sighing as if they could soothe the pain in her heart.

"I didn't lie to you, my heart. I swear," she mumbled.

"Shhh..." I said, touching her lips gently. "I know. I was wrong," I mumbled, touching our foreheads, slowly nuzzling my nose to hers.

"He taught me how to take care of you, my love," she said, opening her eyes so deep into mine. "I've learned with my child how to soothe your pain. He was so important in my life... I would've never known how to care for you if it wasn't for his existence. He allowed us to exist. And I'm so grateful I had him, although it was for such little time, I'm grateful."

I held her in my arms, cradling her body against mine. And I stayed there a long time trying to compensate for my horrible behavior.

When she fell asleep that night, I went out of our house. I crawled up on the hill, and I gathered stones. I placed them all together, and marked them with runes, placing some flowers and small decorations around them.

I made it as if it was my own child. And I prayed for him, asking the gods he could hear me that single night.

"I don't know where you are. If with Hel or in heaven, as the Christians believe. But I want you to know I'll take care of her. I swear on my arm ring I'll never make her cry like this once again. And when your brothers and sisters come, I'll tell them about you. I'll tell them your story. So, you shall live through them. So, you shall live forever."

After that, I saw my dear Y/N with her precious cross here or there. She didn't have to hide it from me anymore, so, sometimes, I would see her holding the small jewel with tenderness. But now, it had a whole new meaning to me.

And I knew, somewhere in the afterlife, a child was very happy for the loving mother that brought him into this world someday.

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"I could marry him."

She saw him what? Twice in a lifetime?

And there was my little sister: wanting to solve a whole conflict between Englishmen and our men by marrying that thin rag of a man the English had the guts to call "The Great".

Beyond the phlegm of looking me in the eye and smiling at that idea, I couldn't see what else in Alfred was really that great.

"It sounds like a plan to me."

The stupidity, maybe.

"Are you suggesting you would marry my sister for an alliance with my people, is that it?" I asked in disbelief.

"I'm saying I think her idea is pretty good once it would not only avoid unnecessary slaughtering between our people but, perhaps, establish a solid relationship between our crowns, my friend."

I'm not your friend! Don't call me "friend"! I wanted so bad to cut his belly open right there!

But Y/N was smiling so proud of herself and the recognition she was receiving from that stupid smile on his face... I couldn't do it.

Although it would be a pleasurable end for that content - definitely a thousand times better than seeing my sister getting married to that thin stick of a king! - I couldn't be the one responsible for the tears I would see in Y/N's eyes for him.

It was true that she never stopped babbling about Alfred since the first time she saw his slender figure.

"Have you seen his pale tone?"

"His hair is so beautiful!"

"Oh, he has a sweet smile!"

"His voice is so peaceful."

Fucking shit.

More praises and I would stab my own ears not to spend my time hearing about that Christian prince.

I knew her heart. Y/N's could have my eyes and my traces, but she wasn't like me. We were the perfect opposites, and I knew it!

She was placidity where I was wrath. Her eyes were the blue sky of a sunny day, while mine were the thin blue of the furious sea. And I knew it.

Her place wasn't beside me.

And, although it would hurt me forever, I knew it.

"What grants me my sister won't end up being burned like a witch by your superstitions bunch of Christians you call a people? uh?"

I knew it! But I wouldn't give up on her so easily!

"First of all, I'll make her the Queen of Wessex, which is already reason enough for her to be safe from the peasants," Alfred started.

"You're gonna have to give me more than that if you want me to trust you, my friend," I mocked the words. "You're asking me to give you my most precious treasure in exchange for something I could easily get by cutting your throat and slaughtering your men. Besides sparing me from the pleasure of the bloodshed, you're asking me to trust you will care for my sister and keep her safe the same way I have been doing since our father was killed. By your grandfather, by the way!" I remembered.

"Which is nothing but the second reason in my arguments, my friend. Ivar, we have been at war with each other since before we were born. Our fathers were enemies, our grandfathers before them would've been. But I'm not my father nor my grandfather. I recognize my ancestors wronged yours. And unlike them, I'm up to fix these mistakes."

"Go on," I said, bothered.

But interested in what he had to say.

He giggled, noticing my boredom.

"I've tried this first with the Danes and your brother Ubbe. But his power wasn't the same as it is yours. He wasn't the king of Kattegat. You are."

Massaging my ego won't make you come closer to my sister's skirt, my friend... I wanted to say that. But Y/N was there, beside me in my chariot. I didn't want to be... Unpolite.

"And from a king to another, I know your people want the lands I have idle around my town. I know your people have techniques that could increase our production. And I know pretty well, from my experience among the Danes, that our people can coexist. A marriage like this could turn real the dreams of your father and my own."

"And what are these dreams you call your own, King Alfred?" I asked, curious. "I know my father's dreams your kind many times has tried to use against us, to manipulate our people into believing in your God and the false promises of the same land you promise me now. But I know no dream of yours... Clarify me."

"What are the dreams of a king other than making his kingdom the greater, King Ivar?" he answered me.

Showing me some of that ambition I thought he didn't have behind that peaceful facade.

"Your people have been showing your military superiority throughout the years. Mine has the fields necessary to feed the armies, materials, and resources to supply them, the finest smithery to increase your power... Follow my thoughts, king Ivar. We've been fighting for years. What could we do together?"

Here was a fire I wasn't expecting to see inside that man's eyes. I leaned my head, looking at him with surprise.

And I rose my hand, mutely ordering my men to lower their weapons.

"I think you have something in mind that might interest me enough to make this matter something I want to discuss longer. Let us propose a truce among our men, my friend. Set the chess table for two and let us talk about these ideas of yours."

Alfred smiled, and so did my sister. His smile was full of hope. Hers was full of an amount of passion I didn't want to see in my sister's eyes towards a Christian.

"But I have to advise you..." I warned. "Do not invite me into your home planning a trap, my fellow king. I may have a huge army behind me, but I'm more than enough alone to make you pay for breaking my trust."

He knew I wasn't kidding. And Y/N knew I wasn't doing that by my own will.

But what would she ask me to do that I wouldn't do with a smile on my face? Uh?

"The truce is settled then," Alfred declared.

His men inverted the spears around us, showing the flags instead of the spikes as a sign we wouldn't make war.

My men did the same as I sighed on my chariot.

"We'll see each other again tomorrow," Alfred stated. "At the dawn, in my castle."

With what I agreed, although it was clear I wasn't willingly giving up on that fight.

"Chamomile, and wildflowers," I said, getting Alfred confused for an instant before I turned my chariot, looking at him from upon my shoulder. "Sweetened with honey. It's her favorite," I completed.

Rolling my eyes at the way Alfred's smile became a mirror of happiness reflecting my sister's blushed cheeks.

Fuck.

It would be hard to get used to how delicate my brother-in-law would be.

"Thank you, brother," Y/N's voice echoed right before her warm lips kissed my cheek.

Her body bouncing on her heels in that habit she inherited from our older brother Hvitserk to show up when she was happy.

I sighed. It would be hard indeed.

But it was for her.

I could change the whole Midgard for her.

I could do it.

For her.

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It was more than time for you to move on over that childish passion.

You had been cultivating that hidden love for so long that you couldn't even remember when it was the first time you'd looked at Ivar and thought he was the owner of your heart.

But it was past the time to be over with that and move on with your life.

You were his friend.

Period!

You weren't his kind of girl. You mean... Look at Freydis! She was completely different from you, right? And Margrethe before her...

It is ok that Margrethe got the record of banging four of the five Lothbrok brothers, but Ivar was on her list, and you weren't like her.

At least, you never felt pretty like the two of them.

At least...

At least, Ivar never looked at you with those flickering eyes he had for them here or there in the story of your lives.

So, when Hvitserk told you he'd settled a date for you with someone he was sure was perfect to be with you, you've decided to give him a chance. He also knew you pretty well, and if he was saying someone could conquer your heart, then probably this person could have a chance to really do it.

So, at the date he settled, you got yourself prepared. Your best dress, soft makeup. Gods, you even made your hair in a saloon to feel prettier for that night!

However, the last person you thought you would find in that restaurant was Ivar: sitting at one of the tables, he seemed to be as prepared as you were but waiting for someone who dared to get late for whatever they had settled together.

Oh, great.

Your past and your feelings would be right there while you would be trying to surpass them.

Fuck!

At first, you tried to dodge his presence, sitting on a table that was a little away from his.

But, as the minutes passed, your heart shrunk by seeing he was becoming angrier as the person he was waiting for didn't show up. And your "perfect date" was also getting late...

Did Hvitserk lose his good finger? He knew how much you hated people who weren't punctual!

When you noticed, your date was about ten minutes late! And Ivar's angry grunt reached your ears as your friend seemed to be frustratedly threatening to get out of the restaurant.

You could almost read Ivar's thoughts.

Another failure.

OF COURSE, she wouldn't come! Nobody wants to date the crippled.

And that whole ableist bullshit you knew he would be thinking throughout days, maybe months after that failed date.

Fuck the perfect guy! You got up and walked towards Ivar's table, pretending you had just arrived and taking a seat right beside him - just to avoid taking the place his date would be taking in front of him if she was ever to come anyway.

"Ivar! What a coincidence!" you tried to start as if you didn't see each other there.

But Ivar's surprised blues told you your dodging skills were better than you thought: he didn't really have seen you before.

Or the thing with the dress and makeup had really gone right somehow...

"Whoa... You're pretty, Y/N".

Your cheeks burned hot! Did he have any idea of what was that simple sentence doing to you?

"T... thanks," you answered. "You look great too. Occupied?"

His eyes looked at the empty chair in front of his table, and he sighed.

"I guess I'm not. Want some fries?"

Your favorites!

Ivar knew everything about you. And you, about him.

"And ribs!"

His favorites... Ivar couldn't avoid smiling.

One hour of conversation and the two of you had completely forgotten the late dates that never came.

Two hours and Ivar was betting you would be drunk with half of a quarter he was able to drink!

When the two of you took notice, five hours had passed from the time settled for your dates, and no one had come through those doors searching for you guys.

Nevertheless, that was the best night the two of you shared together. You had gotten rid of your heels under the table, he had left the fancy coat on the back of his chair, and the two of you were now side by side on the table, playing with each other at the cellphones with an interesting application he had found to play hnefatafl against you online.

"That's not fair! You always win!" you complained after losing the tenth match for a proud Ivar smiling beside you.

But his smile had a different tone. A gentle tone.

"Thank you," he mumbled, confusing you.

"For what? For repeatedly losing ​to you in this complicated game?" you tried.

"For making this shit of a night something good for me to remember," he answered, impressing a serious tone to the conversation you'd started.

"Ivar," you mumbled.

"No, Y/N. This would've been a disaster if you weren't here to make this night perfect!" he completed, looking at you. "I'll never listen to Hvitserk ever again, but I cannot say I regret coming to this date he settled for me. You were here. And it was amazing to be with you tonight."

"Wait..." you said, looking at him. "Hvitserk settled a date for you  here?"

"Today, at..." he started.

"...eight." you finished, and your eyes became large. "Oh, my gods..."

"Y/N, what happened?" Ivar asked.

For the first time since you knew him, not being the one able to figure out the whole picture.

"Your date didn't come, did she?" you asked.

"No. The 'girl that would be perfect to me' doesn't exist, and I got Hvitserk's stupid pun."

Oh, no. He got it wrong...

"That's not the actual pun, Ivar," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burning hot once again.

"What do you mean?" Ivar asked, already annoyed things were happening faster than his mind could understand.

"My date didn't come either," you said, looking at him. "I had a date today, here, at eight... Hvitserk said it would be the perfect guy to conquer my heart..."

"The motherfucker decided to make the same stupid prank with the two of us!"

Oh, how charming... There was a detail you always thought was cute about your brilliant best friend: he would always become dumb when he was too angry to think properly.

"Indeed, he pranked us, Ivar. But..."

Shit!

Why was it always so hard to tell him the truth?

"I'll punch his face for hurting you like this!" Ivar said, disposed to defend you with all his strength, but you held his hand, looking at him in the eyes.

"It is you, Ivar," you said, breaking his focus and causing him to look at you, confused.

It took him a second to figure out what you were talking about. And then another ten seconds for his face to frown in complete disbelief.

"Excuse me, what?" he asked, looking at you. "Are you telling me Hvitserk settled us on a date in the same place and at the same time trying us to..." he stopped.

His brain was finally making the right math this time.

"He was trying for us to date each other," you mumbled.

Already feeling, by his reaction, that he would somehow burst into laughs and say his brother was completely insane.

That you could never be perfect in any way to conquer his heart.

However, his head leaned, and he looked at you with a surprised expression.

"Sometimes I think there is a genius inside my brother's mind that he drowns every day with the amount of different alcoholic shit he drinks," he said.

Causing you to burst into laughing the way you would always laugh at his jokes.

Only you were able to understand his jokes, no matter how deep they were. And you would always think they were funny.

You would always be there for him, by his side, making his worst days better and his better days the best.

How come he'd never noticed this?

You were still laughing when Ivar's fingers touched your chin, catching your eyes.

"Hvitserk was right... You are the perfect woman to conquer my heart."

You froze.

And it was your time to frown and look at him, taken aback.

"Excuse me? What?" you mumbled, causing him to smile.

"Unexpected, but predictable," he mumbled, looking at you with a larger smile. "You know me better than anyone else. You like the same things I do. And you make me happy... You're prettier than any other woman I know... And by the way you're shocked by these conclusions now, I can almost say I finally discovered what's the only secret you've always kept from me..."

Fuck!

Fuck fuck fuck a thousand times!

You'd always told him that: there was only one thing about you he would never discover. And it was that he was the love you had hidden in your heart as deep as you could to keep your secret safe.

"And... What would be this secret, if you're so smart, Mr. Smartass?" you said.

Trying to keep your pose until the moment he approached, sealing his lips on yours all of a sudden, surprising you with the most delicious stolen kiss you had ever tasted in your life.

You melted in his hands, sighing against his mouth.

As his hands landed on your waist, yours embraced his neck and it was almost as if the two of you had been made to embrace each other like that.

The kiss didn't last too long, but it was enough to feel like an era for you. And Ivar smiled against your lips, fully cocky about his next words.

"I'm the one who has your heart," he said, revealing the only secret of yours he'd never laid hands on. "It's mine... You're mine. How could it be different?”

His fingers caressed your face and you noticed he was genuinely happy with that discovery

"I didn't want to lose our friendship," You mumbled, justifying your silence for so long beside him.

"We didn't lose it," he said, "It just evolved to a better level," he completed.

"And it was about time!" Hvitserk's voice sounded from the restaurant's door.

"You motherfucker!" You grunted at him.

"You little asshole!" Ivar growled.

And Hvitserk burst into laughter: his plan was a success and he smiled, throwing the car keys to Ivar who caught them.

"Mother told me to take you home, but I don't want to bother the love doves..." he joked just to receive a pair of fries from you and a cube of ice from Ivar's cup against his head. "Fuck, stop it!" he laughed. "You should be thanking me!"

"We're throwing food on you! Count it as gratitude!" Ivar joked back causing you to laugh out loud.

Hvitserk crossed his arms, smiling at the two of you.

"'Take care of each other," he said.

You would remember to prepare his favorite Damascus pie as a reward for being the perfect friend.

You couldn't be happier with the date he chose for you.

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