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Time is so fickle. It seems that no matter where you go and what you do, time is always running out. It matches forward in a stampede and not one of us has ever escaped it's crushing feet as it plummets us into oblivion.
We try, with all our might, but the sands of time wash away every ember of our being eventually. Some wish to be immortalised in history, some to be immortalised in physicality. But one day, when the final distant star in the eternal cosmos dies, there will be no further trace of any of our existences. And time will just carry on.
Ailbe touched the soft linen garments, her hand trailing along each fibre as servants scurried around the room. The thralls always preferred working when it was just Ailbe around as she treated them with as much decency as she would treat any free man or woman - which was a lot, as she treated every living being with all the kindness in her heart. But today, she was silent and reserved. It was as though the world, this dream life that she had built, was slowly falling away and she could see the cracks in each thin wall that led her away to distant realms far from here.
Outside, she could hear Ivar and his men yelling at eachother - as was custom when they discussed raids. But when the door creaked open, a harshly familiar voice rang through her ears. A voice that she would know anywhere.
He was family, and in her time he had died with her father in the great war. But this time he was alive, alive and well. Corrin, her brother, and a fully grown man now too. He was scarcely seventeen when she'd last seen him, and he was so driven and full of life. Even now, she could see it all in his eyes - that spark, that fire.
"Corrin?" Ailbe stepped through the door, gaining the attention of everyone there. Since she'd been here, she'd not seen him once. And he'd not seen her. In his world, he'd lost a sister - his Ailbe. In her world, she'd lost a brother - her Corrin. But now they were reunited. And both stared at eachother in awe.
"Sister," He smiled warmly, looking to Ivar for some form of explanation. "You're alive?"
"And she can see." Ivar chimed in, as though he'd had to explain this a thousand times already - which, in truth, he had.
Ailbe ran over, hugging her brother tightly. For a moment, the young king paused unsure what to do - but slowly he softened and he embraced the elder sister that he had missed so dearly.
"What brought you here?" She asked, moving along the topic of conversation.
"I'm afraid nothing good." He answered. As he and Ivar exchanged knowing glances, Ailbe was disturbed by the crying of Floki from the next room, making her leave abruptly. She raced down the hall, gently cooing the young boy back to sleep with her soft smile and melodic voice. But she felt this need to return, as though something was happening.
It is odd to put into words, but it is a feeling of foreboding before a storm, a feeling as though something is coming and there is nothing you can do to stop it. That is how Ailbe felt, powerless and afraid. Her gut wrenched, in that way that it does when danger is near. And she knew something was about to change the world that she'd been clinging onto for years now.
Slowly, Floki calmed enough so that the young queen could return to her husband and brother. But as she paused behind the door, her hand tracing that soft linen dress from before, she heard something that cut her heart in two and tore her guts apart.
"Our village was attacked by Saxons again, many of our men died in battle. Before they attack again, we need help. You owe me a favour, Boneless and I hope, for my sister's sake, that you will not go back on your word." Corrin explained firmly.
Ailbe could hear Ivar audibly clench his jaw, his tone filled with venom and resentment, "Then we will sail back with you to Ireland."
"We?" Corrin asked, narrowing his eyes. After all these years, he didn't trust Ivar as far as he could throw him - which likely wasn't very far as he'd probably be stabbed before he could even lay a hand on the vicious King.
Ivar narrowed his eyes in return, the same paranoia running through his head. After their history, how could he trust the other King? How did he know that this wasn't a trap so he could lure Kattegat's best men away, kill them, and then return to finish the job? "I will be going... Just to make sure my men return." Ivar answered stubbornly.
Ailbe's heart sunk in her chest, the world spinning in circles as she stumbled backwards in shock.
Ivar was going to Ireland, just as the sagas she'd read had said. And he wasn't going to come back.
She had to stop it. Even if it meant betraying her brother.
