Summary: In court, there's a man with sad blue eyes.

In court, there was a Christian man named Athelstan that always looked sad. In his face lingered the expression of someone that has seen a lot during his lifetime, and he was not that old. Mostly, he tended to keep to himself in social gatherings, but he seemed rather close to King Alfred. Even though back then I was fairly new to the King's villa, I heard he had not been there long either. Perhaps it was the desire to meet someone like myself, someone who was also lost in the vastness of court and the emptiness of etiquette. Or maybe there was just something in his dark eyes that attracted me to him. I am not sure what it was, nor do I care, but it was that sentiment there that lured me to speak to him.

It started out as a simple greeting when our paths crossed. At first, he did not respond to my advances. I was not discouraged, and I kept trying to find opportunities to talk to him or even be in the same room as him. I was aware that it was not very ladylike to chase a man. However, my feelings back then were not romantic. The connection, or perhaps curiosity, was merely platonic. I wanted to figure out the reason behind his sad blue eyes and the way he would stare at the sky so often. I wanted to discover why he would always reject alcohol, whilst other men drowned in it. I craved to know the reason behind the scars lingering on some parts of his body. For a moment, I also wondered if he had other hidden ones as well. I felt the need to hear everything he had to say about his life's misfortune that made him look so sad and yet so confident. Sometimes, more than I would care to admit, I would stare at the way he would grip the cross around his neck with more force than necessary.

So I did, I search for him every chance I got and did my best to get noticed. My first tries were completely unsuccessful. Just like any other lady or lord in court, he would ignore me. Athelstan was clearly not interested in befriending anyone. Or, at least, anyone besides the King. The talks about him were so scarce that I did not know he was a Prince until two months after my initial resolution. Not that it changed anything, because I continued to pursue my answers.

Eventually, my insistence paid off, and he started to return my greetings. Our bonding became something slow and steady. We would smile and make superficial small talk, then we would go to the garden for a stroll, and eventually, we would even play some chess -or more like he would play chess and I would pretend to do so-. In those first moments of our friendship, nothing relevant happened. I understood that he was not about to recount his whole life story to a complete stranger. Yet, I was patient enough and interested enough to wait. I used to think my resolution came from a deep interest in the sadness behind his eyes. It might've been at the beginning. But then I would think about the way he would smile at me when saying something amusing, or the way his hair would shine brighter on summer days, or even the bright glow that would banish the darkness in his irises when I would make him laugh. Whatever attracted me towards Athelstan was beyond curiosity, otherwise, why did I crave to expel the anguish so much?

So, our relationship kept on growing until it became something more. I am not sure how or when exactly did the shift occur. We simply started spending more time together, to a point that the gossips of the court decided he was courting me. I was surprised when he told me he did not know what that was. I had to explain that courting happened when a man was interested in a woman to take as a wife. To say that that conversation was very awkward is an understatement. But something good came out of it. When I questioned if he was mad about the lies people were spreading about us, that is when he decided to confess to me. He took my hands in his and told me that no one was lying because he was, indeed, courting me. I was completely and utterly surprised. Before then, I had briefly wondered what it would be like to be with a man like Athelstan, and I had shocked myself when I decided I was alright with it. I was probably more than alright with it. The happiness that his confession brought was quickly crushed by his next words. He told me there was something I needed to know about his previous life before I decided if I wanted to marry him. That confession was what I was searching for since the beginning of my pursuit. That is when he told me his real name was not Athelstan.

So, even though in the eyes of the church I am now marrying Prince Athelstan the Christian, I know that the real man I am making my vows to is Prince Hvitserk the Viking. I cannot say it out loud and neither can he because his conversion is the condition for him living here. And yet, I know that when he told me the reality about himself, the burden behind his eyes, and some of that darkness within, left. I know that Hvitserk is broken and I can never mend the loss he has gone through, but I believe I can help him begin again. I trust he can let go of his sadness with me sometimes. And I know this, because right now, while I stare at him in front of the altar, his eyes are bright blue.

A/N: I don't know if you noticed, but in the ending scene with Hvitserk, his eyes are a deep dark blue. Hvitserk's eyes are never quite as blue as Ivar's or Ubbe's, but in the end they're so unlike the bright ones characteristic of the sons of Ragnar.

Consider supporting me on Patreon if you're liking my writing so far! The link is on my profile. Or you can also vote and comment.