Warlord in love

Brothers

Sun defeated gray clouds and brought its rays to bathe her peaceful expression, while she was observing landscape of distant places.

She was holding tight on hard rock waist of a Prince and adventure was singing her name from the distance. Life was good; life was starting to become exciting and interesting like she always thought it should be.

Recalling past years in the village, she remembered unhappiness and loneliness, cold nights and reserved people. Lack of human touch and total absence of love it was like she had some unconscious fear of love and every time when someone would approach her, she would give her best to keep him as further away. But then it was easy to keep her shield up; to be the ice queen.

Now with his presence all around her, she could not stay indifferent. But he was the king of cold, after their last conversation in the tent, he didn't speak with her. He was always busy, rarely outside, and he not once came to visit his brother.

Hvitserk was healing fast. She was at his side when he opened his hazel eyes; he was watching her with obvious admiration. Since then they got closer, he was cute and very relaxed, totally opposite from his intense brother. He was so grateful for everything she done to save him.

They were riding true the woods on his horse, he was smiling the strength was again in his body. Then she heard another horse, then the chill touched her skin, and air became dense. Chariot was heading their way. She could hear Hvitserk's jaw clenching, and wide smile left his face.

With all his might and beauty, with his eyes melting everything, killing reason, great Ivar the Boneless came, stoping his horse in front of them. His focus was on Hvitserk, and she noticed how happy he was to see his brother healed. But Hvitserk was not sharing that feeling; she could feel his muscles tenses as he held strong her hands around his waist.

"You can't go further brother!" Ivar said visibly worried.

"I will go wherever I like!" From the tone of his voice she realized that the brothers are not getting along well.

"Listen brother, I won't let you pass, it is too dangerous!" He raised his tone.

"And how are you planning to do that without your army, I may be healing still but you are still just a cripple!" Ivar was rolling his eyes, like he was more than used to be called like that.

"I don't want to fight with you. Bishop troops  are all around; it is just s matter of time when will  they  attack us!" Ivar said giving his best to keep his calm. She was staring at his sharp jaw line and full lips, perfectly groomed beard, wondering could she admire him more. Especially now knowing, that he is risking his life going alone into territory, which is probably full with enemies.

Hvitserk turned his head, expecting to hear her opinion.

"I think we should listen to your brother, I don't want troubles!" But she just said so to support Ivar, seeing how worried he is. Deep inside spending time with Vikings she craved fight, like the fight was big part of hers forgotten nature.

Ivar finally gathered courage to drown in her eyes again. He had nightmares with her in main role. Since that day in the tent, his thoughts became messy and confusing and he hated mess. He hated daily reminder that he is so damned and so different from other man. His will was strong enough to deny desire, but night would tear him apart every time. He needed another fight, another challenge to take him away from dangerously attractive reality.

But the way she was responding to his gaze, with instant change in skin color and breathing, the way she was silently telling him that he is gorgeous, that she needed him. Impossible just an illusion that had created, that was his theory, but still... He looked away, and turned his back on them sure that they will follow, sure that his brother is still thinking with his masculinity.

They traveled together back to the castle. She was holding Hviserk but imagining how would be like to be so close to Ivar, to fell his strong muscles contracting under her touch. He was so well built, so strong from the years of using only arms to move around. His hair was long and dark, entangled into braid. She wonder is he aware that there is no man of greater beauty in their world.

How dark his soul was, how much pain he had suffered, and all the bad things he had done. He wondered if she found out so far. Did she knew why Hvitserk refuses to speak with him, why his people tremble on only mention of his name, and why he is always alone, always first to leave feast.