Book two of Blind Love
After being saved from the Saxons and brought back to the man she loves, Ailbe has grown far less naive. Still a gentle soul with a heart of gold, Ailbe begins to find the balance between compassion and subservience. She becom...
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Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time;
Whitehair returned to Kattegat solemnly. He couldn't even make sense of this awful situation. Only days before he'd watched as Ailbe smiled, holding her daughter. It all just seemed so sudden, so unnecessary.
He wasn't sure exactly how he could tell Ivar. How do you tell someone that their wife has jumped from a cliff and it's their fault? He knew how alienated Ivar would become without her. People would talk about why, especially since she seemed so happy after the birth of Aslaug. It wouldn't be long until blame was at Ivar's door. And they all loved her, did they love him?
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
When he entered the Great Hall he took a deep breath. There had been water in his eyes since he saw, but he pushed it back and remained strong.
It was so shocking, so out of the blue, so unfair.
Ivar was sat in his throne, his eyes darted to Whitehair in the hopes that Ailbe had returned. But his heart soon sank when he realised she wasn't there. Had she left him? Had she betrayed him?
"Well?" Ivar spoke impatiently, as Whitehair stood contemplating his words.
"The Queen is dead." He answered bluntly, not exactly knowing what to say. "I tried to stop her but she jumped into the Fjord." He bit back sorrow as he spoke. "I couldn't get to her in time."
Ivar stared at him in disbelief. Pure disbelief. "We'll send men out to look, she could've survived-"
"My King, she is dead." Whitehair answered. "I saw it with my own eyes."
Ivar slumped back in his throne, contemplating all the many ways she could've escaped death. But he knew. He knew that she was gone. He could never get her back.
All the joy she had brought him, the peace and warmth, it was all ripped away without explanation. Their previously happy lives gone without a trace.
All that was left was pain, suffering, misery.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more.
Suddenly, a loud cry sounded from the next room. Aslaug. She was now motherless and too young to understand, too young to one day look back and remember her mother's beautiful smile and gentle words. Too young to never see her again.
Ivar gulped back his sorrow, clenching his jaw, but the pain was still everpresent in his ocean eyes. There was no mistaking the agony that he tried to hide.
"I'm sorry Ailbe." He whispered, a single stray tear running down his face. He swore to protect her, but all he did was cause her pain. And now she was gone. He just wished that he could see her one last time, tell her that he loved her and that he wished she was still here.
One last goodbye.
It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing
And some part of him, for some reason, knew that he would see her again one day.
(The next chapter is the last chapter and I can't wait to share it with y'all!) -rhi
