When Ivar meets a girl with flaming red hair and eyes that cannot see, he begins to wonder how a sightless girl can see so much beauty in the world... And in him.
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Ailbe felt numb like she'd never felt before. Her voice was as nonexistent as her sight by now, but only because she was too broken to speak. Her eyes were dark and hollow, black rings surrounding them, and her hair fell loosely down her cheeks.
She wasn't sure that she even wanted to survive anymore. Not now that Ivar was gone. She had no idea that he'd spent his every waking moment trying to bring her back to him.
"My princess," The Saxon King spoke, gently caressing her cheek as he finished forcing her to eat for the first time in over a week. "You're not still upset about those heathens, are you?"
She didn't move. She couldn't. Instead, her vacant eyes stared blankly into the distant. Her once unbreakable cheer became an abyss. There was no hint of emotion in her now. She couldn't even bring herself to cry. She'd always been an optimist, but the things that she had endured were enough to send anyone over the edge.
"Tell me that you love your King." He whispered arrogantly.
In a raspy whisper, she repeated. "I love my King." But she still wasn't talking about him. It was Ivar that she loved, and Ivar would always be her King. Nothing could ever change that. No matter how abandoned and afraid she felt, she could never feel anything but love towards Ivar.
"And tell me his name." He grinned happily.
At this, she answered flatly, her voice hoarse from lack of use, "Ivar The Boneless."
As if on cue, a loud yell of "Heathens!" Emerged from the guards as Ivar's Army stormed the gates. His chariot was in lead as he mowed down the Saxon warriors, determined to find the woman he loved.
Ailbe's head shot up when she heard that familiar yell. It was him. There was no mistaking that voice - that rage. A wide grin spread over her before she could even stop it, and she felt a stab of guilt for believing that he would leave her. But she blamed it on her delirium and moved on.
"When I was little I used to dream that one day I'd fall in love just like my mother had done with my father." Ailbe explained with absentminded cheer, gently tracing circles on Ivar's chest. "But I never thought it would actually happen."
Ivar scoffed. "You're joking, right?"
But Ailbe's confused expression gave away her answer before she even spoke. "No...."
"I know you can't see yourself, but you would understand if you could." He sighed at her naivety.
"Ivar," She grinned widely. "Did you just call me beautiful?"
"maybe." He smirked back, watching her movements carefully.
She lent in, kissing him sweetly. "The big bad Ivar The Boneless."
Next she knew, the Saxon King had a hold of her throat as he pushed her against the wall. "Did you know they were plotting this? Hm? Tell me!" He yelled at her.
"I thought they'd left me." Came her broken voice in response.
When Hvitserk had heard it through the door, he'd hardly recognized it. It was barely above a whisper, heartbreaking to listen to.
A loud commotion came from within the room, almost like a fight, and Hvitserk Burt through the door with sword in hand.
Ailbe was crumpled on the floor shaking fiercely, her blood decorating the floor. She was battered and bruised, her clothes tattered with injury. She had tears on her cheeks, and she was clutching a tiny dagger sobbing with blood on her hands.
The King wasn't dead, but he was wounded enough to stagger back in shock. He looked at her with fury, too angry to notice the Viking in the doorway. But as he lunged at her again, Hvitserk held his sword up to his throat.
"I wouldn't touch her if I were you." He threatened. No, he wouldn't kill him here. They had other plans for him.
When other warriors ran in and subdued the King, Hvitserk walked over to Ailbe. Gently, he put his hand on her arm to inform her of his presence. She flinched suddenly.
"Hey, it's me, it's Hvitserk." He told her softly.
"Hvitserk?" She whispered with that timid broken voice.
"We're getting you out of here, come on."
She wept agonizingly, "I thought you left me."
Hvitserk pulled her into a hug, gently silencing her sobs, "We could never just leave you." A small smile came over him when she quieted a little. "Ivar was ready to burn all of England to get you back."
"What's wrong?" Ailbe asked gently her voice like the soft summer rain, a symphony of serenity.
"I-" Ivar started but quickly stopped himself, reluctant to share his weakness. "Nothing."
But Ailbe persisted, gently holding onto his hand. "You had a dream." She recounted. "It's okay. What happened?"
For a moment he was quiet, before tears began to sting his eyes, and he looked to her vulnerably never removing his hand from hers. "I lost you." He answered. "You- You died."
At this Ailbe frowned a little, kissing him with a sad smile. "You'll never lose me, Ivar." She told him. "I won't die until I'm old and wrinkly and I've lived a full life with you."
"You want to live your life with me?" He chuckled with a sad bitterness.
"Right up until I die." She beamed.
Ailbe and Hvitserk were running. Running through the blood strewn streets. War torn and filled with screams.
"Ivar!" Hvitserk yelled, pulling his brother's attention from a warrior who Ivar had bashed the brains out of.
When he saw her, he swore that his heart stopped. Not just because the mere sight of her made him feel a joy he never even thought he could feel, but because he couldn't stand the thought of all that she'd been through.
"Ailbe..." He gasped in almost a whisper.
Ailbe stumbled forward, trying to return to Ivar but her strength was limited at this time and she could feel herself growing weaker by the second. Still, she tried.
Ivar watched her in a daze, everything stopping for just a moment. But, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that snapped him back into reality. A Saxon soldier lay on the ground, clearly already severely wounded. He took his bow and a single arrow, and aimed it straight towards Ailbe and Hvitserk.
"Get down!" Ivar yelled to his brother, throwing his axe at the assailant.
But it was too late.
He watched in horror as the arrow hit Ailbe in the chest right above her heart.
