Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless)

9- Conflicted

"So, she is to be a blacksmith now?"

Ubbe stares down at his youngest brother, sat on a stool near the entrance of the shop. Ivar was oddly quiet, carving a wolf out of a small wooden block with his favorite dagger.

"Is she any good?" Hvitserk's curious voice calls from behind Ubbe, eyes peering over his shoulder. Ivar's lazy blue eyes stared up at his two older brothers, clearly annoyed.

"Go see for yourselves," He snaps at them, blowing the dust off the wooden block. It didnt look like much now, but the snout of the wolf was now visable.

Both Ubbe and Hvitserk didn't hesitate stepping inside, graced with the sight of Ivar's thrall pounding mercilessly upon an anvil.

And there it was, the source of Ivar's annoyance, Ubbe knew at first glance.

The blacksmith's son surveyed over her like a hawk scavenging its meal. He follows her movements with a smile and arms crossed, drinking in the new techniques he could possibly apply to his own work.

She certainly looked like a blacksmith. An apron was draped over her wool dress and the gloves she wore were far too big for her hands, but she seemed to manage it. Her cheeks were tinged with a dusty pink, from the proximity of young Arvid or the labor intensive work, Ubbe didn't know, but he supposed he'd find out soon enough.

Artemis's arms were sore, just as they always use to be when she first began her training. She wiped her face with her arm, pointing a gloved finger to the sharp metal point she had welded onto the opposite side of the blade.

"This is the preferred style of the Emperor's men. The point is used for quick jabs and minor hindrances." Arvid scratched his bearded chin in thought watching as Artemis dipped the axe head into the cool water. When he turns at the figures approaching them, a grin spreads across his lips.

"Princes!"

Artemis nearly drops the bucket from Arvid's sudden outburst, whirling around to see him moving over to give both Ubbe and Hvitserk a quick pat on the shoulder. It was clear Arvid enjoyed their company more than Ivar's, who sat sulking like a reprimanded child.

"Prince Ubbe, Prince Hvitserk." She greets them with a nod of her head.

"Any business with my father?" Arvid asks.

"We came to see the work of the woman blacksmith." Says Hvitserk with a lopsided grin. It was enough for the smallest hint of a smile to tug at her lips. His playful nature was something Artemis had begun to notice, and she decided weeks ago that this particular Ragnarson was not as bad as she had deemed at first glance.

"You're making a battle axe," States Ubbe, peering over the table with interest, "Pull it from the water." He was expecting amature work, nothing worthy to be taken to war, though he was quite surprised when she obeys, pulling out the glimmering metal and placing it on the anvil.

The axe head was not complete yet, but it was by far one of the most impressive pieces he had seen. Its construction was different to say the least. While the axes of the northmen were blunt in appearance and used for a quick kill, the one he saw here was finely detailed and intricate, like nothing he had seen before. Ubbe brings his eyes to her, brows raised and an impressed chuckle bubbling over his lips.

"You made this?"

"Upon Prince Ivar's request." Artemis nods. Ivar turned quickly at the mention of his name, peering to look at her with an odd intensity, but when he noticed Arvid beside her, he frowned, turning back around to work on his wood carving.

"What do you think, brothers?" He calls out to them, his dagger lodged deep into the wood.

"I say you have a talented thrall on your hands." Hvitserk replies, still admiring the unfinished axe head with childlike eyes.