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You enjoyed this foreign place with their plain, beautiful people. The looks ranged, but of your favourites, those with hair as light as wheat. They were beautiful! Your own hair fell thick and heavy, braided back from your bright eyes as you bent beside a few little girls who marveled at your manner of dress. More specifically the golden chain that relieved the weight of such heavy gold chandelier earrings.
"It's so shiny!" Her tiny hands poke one of the many diamonds glistening on your large nose ring, then looking at the septum ring decorated in sapphires that glittered when you moved.
"Where are you from?" The other little girl marvels at how the gold hooked into your hair and how the headdress that glittered on your hairline was her favourite.
"A long way aways. I met Prince Bjorn a long time ago." You smile to the both of them, lips pursing.
"Come along girls!" Their mother called, causing you to rise to a stand. Your hands unclasp to wave at them when you hear heavy steps and an even heavier shush behind you. Immediately your hands fall to your veil, pulling it over your face.
A blond man steps forward, slender and tall with long hair tightly knit together in a wrap. The one they called Bjorn Ironside, you recall. He rounds about you, close, too close for your guards who stutter forward when your brother sides in, his skirt at his knees over pants. He motions his hand to will the guard down as Bjorn spins last second, those striking blue eyes as cool as the waters of home.
"Wait here." Your eldest of brothers motion you to stay with the other brothers. Your hands stay at crisp golden edges of your veil, shaken from these Viking men who were for lack of another word– massive. As unsettling as it was for him, he leaves you with a bounty of guards who stood behind, hands lazily at the swords on their belts. The thinner sons of Ragnar mirrored them. All but one.
You fell onto your knees before the young prince, two guards on either side of you. Your bangles click as you wave to him. Your dark skin contrasts against the yellow gold. Ivar's eyes glaze over your dress up to your dark ones lined a clean kohl and something to tint your upper eyelids. The veil isn't dark enough that he can't make out your features. Then you speak to him with a voice so thick with accent he has to listen close, leaning in against you. His brothers talk amongst each other, arms folded over one another. Bjorn picked him to marry this girl for a stupid reason– to keep him in check. If Torvi didn't check his, what use would it be for him to marry?
Still... a wife? It sounded interesting.
"Hello Ivar the Boneless."
You spoke his language? You knew his name. Ivar holds the lightest of grins, bangles sliding to your palms as you hold them on your lap. His eyes– they were of the finest blue you had ever seen. In fact! You had never seen blue eyes before, not before these brothers. But unlike his brother, the quality of them was too enticing to look away.
