"I would prefer a man who does not use a big mouth to compensate for the size of what lies between his legs."

Torhyl's hands shake as she places them in the frigid water, the chilling waves numbing her hands almost instantly.  She stares out over the waves, her eyes searching for something...anything. 

  "Why can you not let me go?" Torhyl whispers to the icy lake.  "Have you not taken enough from me?"

  Torhyl removes her hands from the waves and watches the pale skin quiver uncontrollably.  The pain of warm blood rushing back into her cold hands causes her nerves to ignite back into life.  Pain rushes through her veins.

  "Will nothing numb it?" Torhyl mutters to herself as she presses her quivering hands against her chest. 

  "Are you happy you left, mother?" Torhyl asks clear waves.  "Are you satisfied with your decision?  You surrendered to a fight that was not lone yours to conquer."

  Her eyes cloud over with tears, her cheeks burning with heat.  "Did you for one second think of me...What they were going to do to me?"

  The wind howls in her ears, the brisk air tearing at her skin.  Her face contorts in anguish at the silence.

  "DID YOU?!" Torhyl screams at the waves lapping at the edge of her coat. 

  Torhyl screams into the open space.  Her screams echo back to her, mocking her.  Her breathing slows as she attempts to compose herself.

  "Did you think of me when you left me alone?" Torhyl says lightly.  "How an innocent child had to become a woman with no one at her side?  How they beat me?  How they...took advantage of me?  How I could do nothing?  How nobody would protect me?  WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS SUFFERING IN SILENCE MOTHER?!  WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU?!"

  Torhyl body aches with sorrow.  Her screams seemingly disappear into the early evening air, her voice rasping with each heartbreaking cry.  Her stomach burns with anger and yet her heart sears with sorrow.

  "Where were you?" Torhyl whispers to the water. 

   A wolf howls in the distant, its sorrowful cry of loneliness fills Torhyl's soul with pain.  Its calls of companionship come back unanswered yet it continues to howl.

  "It's hard being alone isn't it, my friend?" Torhyl says to the distant shadow of the animal.

  Torhyl stands to her feet and loosens her coat.  The fabric falls at her feet and she slowly begins to discard the rest of her clothing.  Torhyl steps forwards into the icy waters.  Her skin immediately begins to prickle at the cold water penetrating its warm barrier. 

  Torhyl wades out deeper into the frigid lake.  Her body aches with numbness, each muscle tenses at the freezing aqua lapping at her neck.  Torhyl takes a deep breath before submerging herself completely under the bitter cold abyss of water and letting its wintry claws drag her down to its depths.

--

Ivar pushes his food about his plate, his stomach at too much of an unrest to eat.  The day is on the verge of dusk and Torhyl has still not returned to Kattegat.  His skin still sears with her touch, her electricity pulses through his veins.  His thoughts are all of her, each picture a vivid memory of her majestic being.

  "Isn't that right, Ivar?" Sigurd cuts into Ivar's thoughts.

  "What?" Ivar snaps, not catching the content of the question.

  "Magarethe is beautiful...is she not?" Sigurd leans forward onto the table.  "Perhaps she would be your best bet for your first night time companion."

  "She is not a free woman," Ivar dismisses his spiteful accusation.  "She would be with me by force."

  "How else would you expect a woman to come to a cripple?" Sigurd snidely adds.

  Ivar body tenses with anger, his whole body stiff with rage.  "Perhaps you mistake with me with someone else.  I would prefer a woman who willingly lie with me and as far as I'm aware, it would take a lot more than a command to make her bed you."

  Sigurd leans on the table to get closer to Ivar.  "It took a lot less to take her to my bed than it will to drag her to yours.  After all, what does a cripple know about pleasing a woman?"

  "Why do you ask?  Would you like some pointers?"  Ivar snidely comments, sipping his ale casually.

  Sigurd slams his fist on the table causing Ivar's ale to spill.  Ivar wipes his mouth gingerly, biting his tongue to avoid doing something he would regret.  "Prove yourself, cripple.  Bed Magarethe."

  "I do not need to sleep with a slave to be found a man, Sigurd," Ivar replies.  "As far as I'm aware, you have slept with her and you sit before us...an unchanged child."

  Sigurd stands up in a furious fit.  He puts his face right in front of Ivar's.  "Are you scared of a woman's touch, Ivar?"

  "I am not scared of anything, Sigurd. I am nothing like you, remember?"

   "Then why do you deny the pleasure of Magarethe's company?"

  Ivar takes another sip of his ale before replying.  "I do not find the desire to bed her, that is all."

  Sigurd slumps back into his chair, a sly grin on his lips.  "You fear you cannot please her."  He muses.

  "That is not truth!" Ivar snaps, slamming his cup down on the table.

  "Then prove it." Sigurd challenges a smug look contorting his features.

  "Unlike you, Sigurd, I have nothing to prove." Ivar spits venomously.

  The door to the hall is pushed open to reveal Commander Torhyl.  Her hair is wet and her skin glistens with moisture.  She takes the coat in her arms and hangs it at the door.  She strides over to the table and takes a seat next to Ubbe.  She looks over the now quiet table with a quizzical expression.

  Her eyes squint slightly at the unusual silence.  "Did I come in at a bad time?"

  "Your hair is wet." Ivar observes.

  "I went for a swim."  Torhyl gives him a dismissive glance. 

  "It is freezing outside, how are you not cold?"

  "I've learnt to adapt." Torhyl speaks lightly. She takes a piece of bread and slides it into her mouth.  Her body aches for food after a long day without and she is immediately pleased when the warm cooked dough touches her tongue.

  Sigurd leans against the table and looks at Torhyl.  "Commander, whom do you find more...attractive out of us?"

  Torhyl pauses mid-chew, the completely random question shocking her slightly.  "Excuse me?"

  "Out of Ivar and I, who would you find more...pleasurable?" Sigurd sends Ivar a spiteful glance.

  "At this very moment, I find the cooked turkey in the centre of the table more pleasurable..." Torhyl raises a brow and looks between the two young men.  Torhyl shakes her head in disbelief before turning to Ubbe.  "What have I missed?"

  Ubbe leans into her and whispers the answer.  "Ivar wishes not to bed a slave girl, but Sigurd believes it is because he is unable to satisfy her."

  Torhyl scoffs at the accusation on Sigurd's part.  "Are you so insecure of your own abilities that you chose to scrutinise Ivar's decision to wait?"

  "Any boy should be able to please a woman," Sigurd snarls at Ivar.  "Otherwise he is not a man."

  Torhyl's eyes roll back instinctively at the slander, clearly irritated by his childish insults.  She sticks the end of her tongue between her teeth to refrain herself from speaking out of disgust.

  "Or perhaps, you have a warped sense of what a man is meant to be." Torhyl counters, taking a ginger sip of ale.

  "Enlighten me, Commander." Sigurd waves her on.

  "A man is someone who does not need to prove himself by bedding a woman," Torhyl explains, her voice calm and collected.  "A man is someone that puts his needs last.  A man is someone who takes care of the woman he has chosen to spend the remainder of his life with, even if it means death for himself.  A man is someone who hath great stature, and who is honourable to all those around him.  Whether he can pleasure a woman to please his peers is matter of misplaced pride...not manhood."

  "Would you prefer a man who cannot satisfy you?" Sigurd challenges.

  "I would prefer a man who does not use a big mouth to compensate for the size of what lies between his legs." Torhyl remarks lucidly.

  Ubbe snorts at her words and coughs slightly to mask the humour he finds in her slander.  Sigurd sits fuming, his face slowly turning a shade of scarlet.  Torhyl sends him an amused glance, taking a sip of ale.

  "What's wrong, Sigurd?" Torhyl asks tauntingly.  "Cat got your tongue?"

  "He will remain a virgin then?" Sigurd comments harshly, turning to his brother. "Is that what you want, brother?"

  Ivar face contorts in fury.  His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare in blind rage.  Torhyl speaks up sensing the temper slowly rising on the opposite of the table.

  "Is it wrong for him to desire a free woman?" Torhyl questions loosely.

  "He can desire all he wants," Sigurd shrugs.  "No free woman would want a cripple in her bed."

  "How about we leave that decision to a free woman, hm?" Torhyl stares at Sigurd, her steel gaze burning straight through him.

Sigurd drops the subject and moves on with another topic. Torhyl's eyes fall onto her plate of food as she helps herself to the nourishment she longed for all day.  As she eats, she feels eyes burning into her.  Torhyl's eyes slowly rise to meet Ivar's, his gaze locked on her.  His face is still, emotions of confusion and pain etched into his features.  She sends him a gentle smile before turning her attention back towards the table's loose conversation.

  Ivar's jaw clenches, his blood running thick with rage.  His body fills with a burst of determined courage.  Ivar removes himself from the table and crawls out of the hall.  Torhyl's eyes follow him out the door, her face etched with confusion but he refuses to look back at her.  Torhyl turns back to the table but her mind is not here, but rather with Ivar.

  Torhyl turns to Ubbe and lowers her voice.  "Where is he going?"

  Ubbe looks up at the now closed doors then back at her.  "Probably back to his hut...why do you ask?"

  Torhyl's eyes fall down to her food once more, the meal looking less and less appealing with each passing second.   "He seems upset. Perhaps I should check on him."

  Torhyl begins to stand but Ubbe's hand catches her wrist.

  "He will get over it," Ubbe says, putting a hand gently on her shoulder.  "Please stay.  I enjoy your company."

  Torhyl gives Ubbe a small smile and returns to her seat. "As you wish."

  Torhyl proceeds to push her food around her plate, her mind not on the conversations that fill the air with ambience, but on Ivar and where he, in the still of evening, chooses to be.