Ivar loved and hated watching (Y/n) dance in equal measure. Loved it, because it was obvious that it made her so happy; her smile always broad, as the moved to the beat of the drum and tune of the flute. It was moments like this that she appeared to be free; a caged bird that had been released from its prison. The way she moved, skirts flying, hair whipping; it was on one hand, so elegant, yet on the other, so wild. And then he hated it, because he could not join her. He could not get to his feet and make his way over to her; could not pull her into his arms so that they could dance together. Also, he hated knowing that the eyes of every man in the great halls were set on her; that even his brothers would watch her. Ivar not blind to the looks in their eyes. Not foolish enough to know that any of them wouldn't want to take what he had, if they were given a chance. But he would never give them a chance; (Y/n) was his, and only his, and no one would ever know her, but him.

                                                 >>-------------------------------------<<

All eyes continued to linger on (Y/n) as she stood in the doorway for a moment longer. Soft mutterings being heard, as she finally made her way into the hall with Torvi close behind. The shieldmaiden not giving the sons of Aslaug a second glance as she made her way passed them, to the empty seat that was placed between her mother and brother. (Y/n) greeting Lagertha, before sitting at Björn's side and placing a kiss to his cheek. The conversations starting again, as thralls rushed over and placed food and drink in front of her.

Ivar fought with every ounce of strength he had, to not look at her. To not even have her know that he had noticed her coming into the hall. Yet he was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. For despite what his mind might want, his body, his heart wanted her. He wanted to look at her, and see how her dress clung to her beautiful body; he wanted to have her take her usual place by his side so that he could keep her attention on him, and they could tease one another until they would finally slip away and make love for the rest of the night.

"You remember my daughter........" The sound of Lagertha's voice, breaking Ivar from his thoughts. The young prince looking over to see Harald lean across the table and take (Y/n)'s hand, bringing it up to his lips so that he could kiss her knuckles.

"How could any man forget a beauty such as your daughter, Queen Lagertha. And she is not just beautiful if Björn is to be believed. Your brother tells me that you are quite the shieldmaiden, just like your mother. Tell me, will you be joining us when we go to England to avenge Ragnar........"

"You are too kind, King Harald. And yes, Ragnar may not have been my father, but my brother is his son; therefore, I will be right by Björn's side when we venture to England. It is the least I can do, for the man that gave me my beloved brother........" (Y/n) replied, as her hand lingered in the palm of the king. Ivar feeling the anger grow inside him, as he saw the lust in Harald's eyes. Yet it was not just anger that clawed like a starving animal at his insides, there was also fear. He had not thought for a moment that (Y/n) would want to go with them when their plans to avenge Ragnar had been worked out; as she had said, she was not Ragnar's child. Ivar thinking that she would stay with her mother in Kattegat; but he knew that he should have known better. (Y/n) had always been close to Björn; from everything that he could remember, her brother had always been there to protect her, and she, him. Ivar always a little jealous of how close the siblings were. And now that closeness meant that she would be fighting, too. That she would be in danger and could possibly lose her life; but what could he say. (Y/n) unlikely to listen to him if he asked her not to go. Unlikely to listen to anything that he ever said, again.

                                                       >>----------------------------------<<

Ivar had not said a word since (Y/n) had entered the hall. His eyes watching every interaction between her and Harald. The king making it more than obvious that he was not just interested in her fighting skills, and Lagertha had said nothing, as the older man continued to drool over her daughter. That, and Ivar had been drinking, even more than he normally would. And no, it had not helped his temper any, but it was the only way that he felt he could get through the night without killing someone.

"I have heard that you are quite the dancer. Perhaps you will show us........." Harald said, as somehow, he seemed to move even closer to (Y/n), despite the fact that there was a table between them.

"Who am I to deny a king. Though I would need some music......perhaps...." (Y/n) looking down the table.

"Sigurd will accompany for me on his oud. He is really very good........." Sigurd looking up, seemingly a little taken aback by the request. The pale haired prince never ignorant of the fact that (Y/n) seemed to dislike him because of the almost constant arguments between he and Ivar. But perhaps now that she and Ivar were no longer together.........Sigurd, just like every other man in town, not blind to how beautiful (Y/n) was. A broad smile making its way onto his lips, as he glimpsed at a tight jawed Ivar at the end of the table. The grip his younger brother had on the cup in his hand, even tighter. Sigurd slowly nodding his head; sure, that he could feel the anger radiate from his brother, as he turned back to look at (Y/n).

"It would be a pleasure..........."