"You could do better."

Everyone always told her that. Whispered, sometimes, like it was some sort of secret. Like he wouldn't notice their sideways looks as they whispered into her ears. Her mother had even told her that the very same day she met him.

"Anny," she had said, quietly after he had gone home and they were washing dishes and cleaning up together after dinner had ended, "you could do better."

A hand had reached for her shoulder then as she steadfastly kept her gaze on the dishes she was washing. "I don't think I can," Antoinette had replied in a low whisper.

"You could do better", a sentence told to her at every turn, even from strangers she had never spoken to. Even from people she had barely spoken to in her college courses. And still, she didn't think she could.

For all of his faults, Ivar Ragnarsson held her heart. He was someone that scared professors and students alike with his anger. In freshman year, she had witnessed him knock out a guy with a punch to the temple for calling him "Boneless". She had later found out that it wasn't just teasing about him being the crippled son of the well-known Ragnar Lothbrok. It had something to do with an incident from his senior year of high school. But that didn't bother her.

She wasn't bothered by the way he spoke to her when he was in a lot of pain, all full of anger and condescension. She wasn't bothered by the crutches he had to use to get around. She wasn't bothered by the antagonistic way his older brother, Sigurd, spoke to her when she came across him at school.

"You could do better" was just a common thing for her to hear. She just wasn't used to it coming from him of all people. He was lying in bed beside her, shirt off and left arm around her waist. He wasn't looking at her, staying up at the ceiling of his room. "Why are you still with me?"

She looked at him, taking in the beautiful features of his face. "I don't think I can," she replied.