"We wear our traumas like the guillotine wears gravity. Our lovers' necks are so soft."

chapter VIII, act II ✧ 𝒏𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔

held an apple on her hand, chewing on it quietly as she leaned on the pole holding the makeshift shops together. Her left leg leaned on her right as she watched, in amusement, her husband's doings.

It was quite a lovely and calm scene, different than their usual scenario. The redness of the apple that the girl bit onto contrasted with the darkness of her hair and the brightness of her teeth. Her eyes looked brown as they bore onto Ivar's blue ones.

Taking care of the war plans wasn't easy and it certainly took a toll on the girl, but she loved doing it, especially when she could come home to a happy Ivar.

While she worked on tactics he worked on his the mathematics behind his new metal helpers. Both of them were always exhausted when they laid on their bed at night, yet they were pleased. He caressed her hair and she kissed his cheek, they never needed many words, did they?

Soon, she felt two of her loves approaching, and held the hand, that was holding the apple, up, signaling for them to stop and watch.

They did as ordered, Ubbe leaned on her shoulder, using the girl's body to support himself as he looked, mesmerized, his crippled brother get to his feet.

Ivar's struggle was clear, and though she wanted with all her will to rush and help him, she waited until he came to her. She would never wish to hurt his pride, nor minimize his efforts.

Her face beamed with happiness, the little crush she pulled around in a cart when she was a kid was not only her husband, but was fulfilling his lifelong dream. Odin, being with this man was always amazing, was always amusing.

Ubbe was... scared. Hvitserk held on his face his usual amused puppy look, while Nero only held pride. Unfortunately for the trio, the only person whose emotions were actually spot on... were Ubbe's.

Ivar could finally walk like a 'normal man', and no one would stop him from enjoying the parts of life that he couldn't enjoy because he had spent way too much time slithering on dirty grounds.

He spent way too many nights (and days) watching his brothers do what he had always wanted to do, watching his brothers have what he always wanted to have.

He wouldn't let that be no more. He would have it all. All his impulses wished for, they would get. The leash of his disability had slightly loosened around his neck, and he would run free and wild.

Snapping him out of his thoughts, Nero grinned. She handed her apple to Hvitserk and even when though she wasn't looking at him, she knew he would still take it, he was not one to turn down food.

She skipped in front of her lover, mesmerized by the height difference as her husband stood way taller than her, the top of her head reaching his chin.

He looked down at her, grateful that for the first time he was actually looking down at his wife. Her hands trailed to his chest and she bit the insides of her cheek, no longer containing herself from asking the question that cursed her mind in the most playful way, "Do I have free access to you or are there any other metals stopping me?"

Ubbe choked at her inquiry and Hvitserk fell into a fit of laughter. Ivar smiled, but didn't answer, instead, using his free hand he gripped her face and brought it up to him, kissing her lips passionately as for the first time ever, they shared a standing kiss.

Ivar had a lot of firsts on that day.

The girl was swooning in his arms and he was grinning against her mouth at how powerful he had just become.

There was no stopping Ivar Lothbrok now.

The wolf could feel her heart beating inside her teeth. Her skull rattled with each tormented pump. Nero's dangerous figure stood tall and proud, the slit in her black dress showed her left leg, filled with scars. She only wore the dress for the sacrifice and for Ivar and at the moment, it seemed she was having none.

Ivar's eyes trailed up the woman's body, finding more arousal in her bare leg than in the entirely naked servant in his lap. Strapped around her thigh, the place where she usually kept her sheathed knives was loose and empty, but the leather brought an edge to the girl's skin, and Ivar found himself leaning forward, towards her.

The knife that was never wrong in path, latched itself beside the servant's hand. Just close enough to tear a thin layer of skin off the girl. Nero's stomach was turning.

Around them, the world seemed to have stopped. Nothing had ever mattered before and nothing would ever matter after. It no longer mattered that in those same church steps days ago, they had shared a kiss much more passionate. It no longer mattered that those church steps were theirs because 'theirs' no longer existed, now all they had was his... or hers.

Nero had walked in on them, oh she had, but Ivar and his company only noticed her overwhelming presence when her knife latched onto the side of the girl's hand.

Her insides trembled but she did not show it. Her entire being was filled to the brim with malice. She opened her mouth, but suddenly decided against her own words and bit her teeth closed.

She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, a small smile on her face as she reopened them, almost laughing at her own misery. Her features weren't as angelic and lovely as the two that watched had once remembered.

She did a double-take of the scene in front of her. And then a third. And then a fourth. Yet her mind could not simply process how her Ivar had a naked servant on his lap. On why her Ivar had a naked servant on his lap.

Nero was finally gone. This... this was Ivar leaving, or planning to leave by all means. No one seeks pleasure outside of a house if they wish to stay for long.

Her lips suddenly pulled into a shit-eating grin, and she opened her arms. Her two hands toying with her butterfly knives as she did, inducing the two to explain themselves, to at least try.

"Wol—" Ivar tried, but the girl on his lap was feeling powerful, she was sitting with Ivar The Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok.

She knew Vikings and knew their love for shared sex, unfortunately, she didn't know Nero Gunnolf. The girl was more wolf than Viking, more wild than human, more pain than love. The servant pecked Ivar's lips, interrupting him.

Closing the cripple's mouth was the girl's first mistake. Not even Nero disrespected him so.

"I know who you are," the lady shifted in his lap, turning to face the devil who stood at the entrance of the hall.

She regretted that decision once her eyes laid on the furious wolf, meeting her eyes was the blonde's second mistake.

"Then you know that the only reason I've missed was to see if you were truly sitting on my Ivar," Nero growled, her voice betraying her smile, which only made the whole scene even more terrifying.

The sound her tight throat produced was so animalistic that the servant snuggled even further into Ivar, oh that was the girl's third mistake. The man smiled proudly at his wife's jealousy and possessiveness, not half understanding how mad she really was.

"You are Nero Gunnolf, the warrior wolf that fights for the gods, the greatest female warrior of the Great Heathen Army."

"Mind if I ask, dear..." her sickly sweet voice, paired with open arms and sharp canines, brought shivers to the slave's spine.

Nero's knives spun around her gloved fingers, almost begging her to immobilize the girl and rip her apart, limb by limb.

The sunny skies began thundering, clouds were drawn together bringing darkness outside.

Thor's hammer began cursing Midgard, "What were your plans as you lay naked on my husband's lap?"

Ivar wasn't sure he was aroused or scared, he had never seen her so menacing. He had never heard this tone of her voice, never seen this side of her face, never noticed this color in her eyes.

His insides grew warm and fuzzy. He loved her. Ivar fought the urge to push the woman with him away, he wished to see just how far his wolf would go out of jealousy.

Darkness covered the walls as the storm outside grew stronger. Ivar decided he was scared of two things: Odin and his wife. At that particular moment, neither of the two were happy with him.

He was beginning to understand how mad she was.

Thunders cursed harder as Nero's voice dropped, destroying her happy facade. Her eyes questioning and challenging, her knives still steadily spinning around her fingers, "Are you going to answer me, pup?"

"He or—" she began, her voice quivering and failing, the look on Nero's face told her that was not what the wolf wanted to hear. She wanted to hear how the girl ended up there, she wanted to know how worthy of her life the girl was, how disposable the girl was, "I'm just a slave."

Ivar let out an inaudible sigh at her words, turning his head away from the situation with an amused yet annoyed smile on his face, there we go again, Nero and slaves.

"Oh, poor thing, have it hard, do you?" she taunted, walking closer. With each step, the servant brought herself closer to Ivar, knowing full well he was the only one that could ever match the wolf's anger, "I protect, I fight and I bleed for Odin's legacy and I get a cheating husband in return?"

A laugh slipped from her throat, the raspy noise booming through the halls as the guards outside debated whether they should interfere in the interactions. They feared for the blonde, but they loved their lives too much to walk in and interrupt what seemed to be the devil itself.

"Is that it, Ivar? I am no Lagertha to walk away from a cheating man and remain loving him. If I walk away from you, there will only be hatred between us. And I refuse, to stay after this," she roared, and the slave closed her eyes and began praying, hoping, the wolf would disappear, unfortunately, she knew Odin stood by the wolf on this.

"Nero."

He wasn't heartbroken. Wasn't sad. Wasn't begging for her to stay as she had expected. As she had hoped. His voice was humorous and amused as if that was some stupid fight they used to have when they were kids and in the morning all would be well.

That tore her apart even more. She wasn't angry. She was bloody livid.

"Well, Ivar the Boneless, I hope you're smitten with the choice you've made because there is no turning back from it now." she smirked, leaving him and the girl in each other's arms. Leaving her love, her anger, her will, and strength right there, with them, "Oh and, you best find someone else for the sacrifice, the gods know who is worthy."

Ivar had left her and she left herself.

The girl walked home rather quietly. She changed into pants, boots, and a tunic and prayed to the gods that they forgave her for not attending the sacrifice. Gathering her weapons, she jumped on her horse and strolled around York, not caring that it was too small to need a horse for a walk.

She managed to get as far from the church as one could while still remaining inside the walls. Her mind seemed not to process the events that had just happened and she knew there was simply one way that such would remain.

Nero tied up her horse. Kicked the door with her feet, startling the many, gigantic, men inside and settled right in the middle of the bar. Her fist hit the table and a servant scurried to fetch her mead just as if she was any of the others present.

Everyone quietly asked themselves why she wasn't in the company of her husband. Or maybe why her presence held so much anger and evil. She looked down at the wooden table, smiling softly, Nero was completely out of her mind, "I do not bite."

At those words, the men around continued their talks and even sat by her, pouring her more mead for each cup she finished. Time came and went and she didn't see it pass, she couldn't see it pass, any second she admitted to have gone by, was a second she admitted to have seen Ivar cheating on her.

When the bar emptied for those to attend to the sacrifice, she stayed, and kept on doing what she seemed to do best at the moment: drink.

To say Nero was drunk would be a misunderstanding. She was borderline dead. Ubbe and Hvitserk watched her from afar, betting in between each other just how many more cups she would be able to down.

The two of them got it terribly wrong, she had in her to drink as much as possible.

She had not attended the sacrifice, and when the brothers noticed that the girl raised by Floki and married to Ivar was not somewhere with blood and gods, it meant something was terribly wrong.

When they found her, they didn't have to hear to her drunken slurs, look at the trashed placed, nor notice how she toyed with her wedding ring understand that it had finally happened, what they had been expecting to happen for so long. Ivar finally broke the girl.