Part 5

                                    

                                          
The following evening the hall was empty except for the family who sat at the head table. Everyone was in their place but the youngest Lothbrok who was yet to appear. Lofn's eyes continued to flick over to the empty wooden chair that sat next at the end of the table.

                          
The tone was somewhat jovial. Jugs of ale had been shared as they waited for the platters of food to be brought out and placed down the centre of the long table. Beaming from the head seat, Aslaug continued to smile at Lofn, obviously, still relishing in the glory of receiving a true gift from the gods.
                          
The loud clearing of a throat at the entrance to the hall drew everyone's attention to Ivar standing, leaning on his crutch. A pale and uneasy looking Margrethe waited behind. Obnoxiously preening, Ivar made his way toward the table, grinning at no one in particular and without looking up, Margrethe followed close behind. Pulling back his chair, Ivar stood at the end of the table, scanning each person, his eyes lingering on Lofn for just an instant.
                          
"Good evening family."
                          
He spoke in a loud, formal tone as if addressing a full hall of people. Ubbe shot Hvitserk a questioning glance only to have it answered with rolled eyes and a quick shrug of the shoulders. Sigurd took a drink from his cup, his eyes never leaving Margrethe's downcast face. The guarded smile on Aslaug's face conveyed her uncertainty with the grandeur of her beloved son and Lofn stared at Ivar, pointedly. With pressed lips and dull eyes, she was already sick of his theatrics, realizing she still had the meal to endure.
                          
Dropping down into his chair, he flicked his head toward Margrethe who quickly dragged a chair over from a nearby table. Sitting cautiously beside Ivar, she looked down at her clutched hands, resting on her lap. Holding his hand out to Margrethe, Ivar's smile grew syrupy sweet but faltered when she did not notice causing him to jerk his waiting hand and snap his fingers to draw her attention. Glancing up, she jolted forward, taking his hand; her eyes were wide, and her bottom lip was pinched white between her teeth. She looked terrified. Bringing their held hands down to rest on the arm of his chair, Ivar's honeyed grin returned as he sat smugly, surveying those around the table. 
                          
Frowning, a look of concern crossed Ubbe's face as he again glanced at Hvitserk before looking to Sigurd searching for an explanation.
                          
"Anyway..." Sigurd said, bringing the attention back to his end of the table. "Lofn, are you feeling strong? You will be ready for the journey in two weeks time?"
                          
"I am not in pain. My mobility is still a bit tight flying on the down-beat, but I will be ready," Lofn nodded gently, grateful for the diversion.
                          
Sighing loudly, Ivar rolled his eyes, again, becoming the focus of attention. With a pensive face, Aslaug continued to eye her youngest from across the table.
                          
"I have quite an appetite this evening. Where is our meal?" Ivar said loudly, dramatically scanning the room. "Margrethe?" he spoke not looking over to her, "be a dove and feed me some berries."
                          
Fluttering her lids, confusion flashed across her face.
                          
"Now!" Ivar barked, his chin motioned toward the plate of fruit on the table. Pulling her hand from his, she picked up a bunch of blackberries, lifting the dangling bunch toward his face. He snapped his head in her direction. "Not like that. One at a time, you fool."
                          
Swallowing, she mumbled a shaky apology and began plucking the berries from the stem placing them on the plate in front of him. Opening his mouth expectantly, she slowly grabbed two from the plate, carefully bringing them to his mouth and popping them inside, one at a time. Smiling, he chewed obnoxiously, the skin of the berries darkening his teeth. 
                          
Hvitserk looked baffled. Sigurd looked utterly disgusted and Ubbe was out of patience. Lofn bit the inside of her cheek in hopes it would steady her amusement and prevent her from laughing outwardly right in his idiotic face. Shifting on the bench, she lifted her wings to adjust, ruffling them lightly before settling them back behind her shoulders. She could not stop herself from leering sideways at him but he continued to look everywhere and at everyone but her.