riverviewlogs | The Yule Log

The Yule Log

who: The Norse and everyone else in the city!
what: The Norse celebrate Yule. Gods help everyone.
when: December 22nd, Winter Solstice
where: Somewhere outside
warnings: Alcohol, drugs, animal sacrifice, blood play, rough foreplay, sex. Will update if necessary.

The Yule celebration has gotten underway on the Winter Solstice and it promises to be a most interesting night. The Norse have gone all out with this affair to make sure it's going to be a success. First thing to be spotted is a bonfire, so big that you might want to be careful not to trip around it, because you'll fall right in. There's plenty of room for dancing too, if you feel like grooving to a beat that's a little more unusual than most.

The Yule celebration shares a lot of similarities with Christmas, so it's a good time for gift giving. There's little shoes on a table, mimicking the tradition where Odin would leave presents for good children by putting them in their shoes. Claim one as your own and maybe a friend will leave a gift inside one for you. Watch it though. Any grinches will be fed to the Yule Cat.

There's a table set up to the right of the bonfire with food, mostly of the hearty kind that the Norse seem to prefer, and of course, lots of alcohol. Please remember not to get into any drinking contests with the gods. They will observe no responsibility for what happens afterward.

There are also mushrooms for consumption, provided by everyone's favorite psychotic Viking, Ivar The Boneless. These ones are directly from his home world, which means they come with a variety of side effects. They have the ability to make a person hallucinate quite a bit. But they can also make people much more horny than usual. Lastly, there's the effect that hits some people in making them extremely violent. Sometimes one effect hits, sometimes more than one. In any case, anyone who consumes some is assured to have an...interesting time.

On a lighter note, there's mistletoe scattered around, hung from the trees and tent beams. Fun fact: the Vikings were the first one to use it for the tradition of kissing. Of course, they also believed it was a plant that was powerful enough to kill a god, so the kissing was ostensibly for protection.

At the height of the night, there will be an animal sacrifice done. A goat is slaughtered and the blood from it is gathered into a couple of bowls. If you'd really like to go all out like a Viking, paint your face in the still-warm blood, or drink a little bit of it. Otherwise, enjoy freshly seared chunks of goat as it bastes over the bonfire.

Have fun, drink, fight, and remember to make your ancestors proud!

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[Ivar looks down at Ragnar, blinking in an effort to bring him more into focus.]

You still haven't figured it out?

[Ivar let out a long sigh that turns into more of a groan. He wouldn't have even been thinking of revealing the connection between them if he wasn't high as a kite, but right now, it seemed like a good idea.]

[Ragnar leaned back slightly with a sigh of his own and rubbed his hand over his face. Right. The young man thought he was somehow his son. Ivar had dropped the claim quickly when they'd first spoke, but others had mentioned it. Gyda had mentioned it. He wasn't sure if there was an easy way to correct someone when they had something like this in their head.]

Ivar. [It was a start, right? He looked over the young man like he hoped he'd just magically come to his senses.] How old are you? You look... seventeen, maybe? I did not have a child when I was fourteen. Who is your mother? Why has she never told me about you? [Maybe if he just pointed out all the reasons why it basically couldn't be true, Ivar would concede.]

[Nope. Ivar definitely wasn't letting go. He could be ridiculously stubborn sometimes, much like a certain other Viking sitting beside him.] Didn't they tell you when you came through the portal? People come from all times here. I came from your future in 816. [So the timeline matched up a little bit there in regards to Ragnar not having a kid ridiculously young.] As for my mother...she was your second wife.

[Should he have revealed that second part? Well, not clarifying it likely would have led to more questions, considering that Lagertha never had another child after Gyda.]

[He felt frustratingly sober, especially considering how much he'd drunk throughout the party thus far. To his credit, Ragnar was actually listening to Ivar's explanation and he was obviously considering it, annoyed by how convincing it was.]

They may have. [They'd told him many things, all of it fairly confusing, and some of it hadn't seemed relevant to him.] I don't know what year it is. [It was the weakest argument ever and it didn't even matter. Ivar was from his future. That was really all that mattered. Not the exact year.]

My second wife...

[He was toying with his beard nervously, eyeing Ivar. It made no sense for him to lie about something like this. It wasn't like Ragnar had anything of value in this place. That, more than anything, was what was convincing him. His gaze very obvious moved to Ivar's legs, remembering their earlier conversation.]

I believe you. [He idly scratched his fingers through his beard.] And I don't know what to do about that.

[Ivar sometimes had a bad habit of completely misinterpreting what was in front of him. It stemmed from expecting the worst out of everyone. Kindness, for him, it hurt worse than cruelty. So what he saw was not a man trying to figure out a great revelation to the way he had known things. He saw a rejection. Ivar's eyes are by far the most expressive part of his face, and right now, they go ice cold, hard as if he's trying to protect himself from getting hurt.]

Well, I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment.

[He spits the words out with no small part of bitterness. What man in his right man would have wanted a cripple as a son? It has taken years for Ragnar to really come to terms with his son and realize his worth. Ivar had to remind himself that the man who'd told him how he would be the next great leader of their people was still years away.]

[A flicker of confusion passed over Ragnar's face.] I did not say that. I don't know you... How could I be disappointed?

[And then it dawns on him. He hadn't been discreet. He'd very obviously looked at Ivar's legs, understandably a sore spot for the young man.]

I was not thinking about that. [What Ragnar was talking about was vague at best, his gaze glued to the empty cup in his hands.] I was thinking... how you must hate me. For not being stronger. [For not having the strength to kill him as a newborn.]

[Ivar understands immediately. He knew Ragnar's greatest weakness had always been his children. No matter that he wanted to show mercy, he hadn't been able to grow through with it. His voice is hard as he replies.]

I did hate you for that. And for other things.

[Ivar didn't have the heart to twist the knife further and tell him how he'd abandoned his sons for ten long years, only to come strolling back into their lives practically on a whim. Then his eyes and voice both soften.]

But you gave me purpose when I had none, showed me that I had potential beyond what I thought I was, and I'll always love you for that.

[Ragnar didn't need Ivar's anger and hatred to make him feel guilty. Just knowing he'd failed, even if he technically hadn't yet, was enough to feel like the lowest of the low. He found himself wondering if he would hate the man he would become.

He laughed, a soft, bitter, breathy chuckle.] So you love me and you hate me?

[He thought about Lagertha and Rollo. Maybe Athelstan, except the priest would never admit he hated anyone. Bjorn? Floki?] Sounds about right.

You're an easy person to love. Even for someone like me.

[He leans over and pats Ragnar's shoulder in an affectionate manner. Ragnar was an infuriating bundle of contradictions, that charm and charisma he had clouding most people to his faults. Exactly how long had it taken Ivar to forgive his father when he came home? Pretty much the exact amount of time it took for Ragnar to acknowledge him as being just as good and equal to any of his other sons.

Now that most of what has been troubling him been aired out, Ivar feels a lot better, letting the buzz he'd been on wash back over him. Oh, he's going to be beating his head against a brick wall in the morning when he realizes what he's done this night, finally making his father see him as his son.]

[He wasn't sure how to take that. At all. So, he just moved on.

He was quiet a moment, brow furrowed in thought, thinking back the things they had talked about before he'd realized this was his son. Two huge things stuck out in his mind.]

I took you raiding? [Ivar had definitely mentioned England. As a Viking father, nothing could make him prouder than hearing that his boy had gone raiding, either with him or on his own.]

And... I am a grandfather? [The smile he'd had while thinking of the raids grew even wider.] I want to meet her. Winter?

[Best. Night. Ever.]

Yes. None of my brothers wanted to go with you on the trip but me. [He pauses for a moment.] Did I mention I'm the youngest of five?

[He's sure that will please Ragnar. The Seer had always predicated he'd have a lot of sons.

At the mention of Ivar's daughter, he visibly perks up.]

Yes! You must meet her. She's just perfect. [He pulls up a picture on his phone, though it takes several tries with how inebriated he is, and tilts it towards Ragnar. Winter's in a cute little outfit for the weather. Ivar's taste in clothes for his daughter can charitably be described as eclectic. He'd got her at the exact moment there was a look of wonder on her face as she reached out at a snowflake.]

[He'd been about to ask for clarification when Ivar beat him to the punch.

Five. Five!

He covered his face with both his hands to hide a smile that was almost so wide it hurt his face. He dragged his hands down his face, still smiling away, and scratched his fingers through his beard.] You... did not mention that. [He couldn't stop smiling.

He took the phone, not sure why it was being handed to him, though he quickly understood.] She's beautiful, Ivar.

Bjorn's the oldest. Then there's Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and me.

[This appeared to be a good night to be Ragnar Lothbrok. He was just receiving all sorts of good news from his son. Ivar had enough tact not to mention any of the hardships, or other things that would taint the news, and make it bittersweet.

He takes the phone back, looking down at the picture with a softness he reserved solely for his family.]

She is. She has a special power that allows her to heal people by taking life force from one and putting it into another.

[Honestly, it felt like his chest was about to burst from sheer happiness. And Ivar was the youngest. Nothing could make him happier.]

A power? Her mother was magical? And you already know she can do this? [It actually sounded interesting, potentially useful if terrifying. But she was so young and already able to do it? Toddlers and children weren't known for their ability to control their actions and emotions. It was... worrying. But he didn't want to dwell on it too much.]

Do I have other grandchildren? [Surely, Bjorn and Gyda would likely have families.]

Her mother could raise the dead and spent some time as a spirit in the afterlife. It did something to Winter, so she was born as what they call a healer in her world. She tends to use her power when she gets upset or scared, but never to me.

[Ivar appeared to be the only one that could keep his daughter's powers in check. Just a little bit more added responsibility for a teenager already caring for a small baby.

At the mention of other grandchildren, Ivar tells him a bit of the future.]

Bjorn had four children. A daughter by his first wife named Siggy, two sons by his second named Erik and Refil, and his wife's child by her first husband, Guthrum.

[Viking family trees. They could never be simple now, could they? Ivar's omitting the worst details from him, how Siggy had drowned as a small child, or that Gyda would never grow to have a family of her own.]

And you are... you are not married to her? Are you? Winter's mother? But you've adopted her daughter, who is not yours, correct? [He doesn't sound in the least bit judgemental about any of it, asking because he wants to make sure he has it all straight in his head.]

Two wives already? [But he can't help but smile softly.] And four children. Good. Good for Bjorn.

[They were both playing at the same game. Ivar was careful not to tell him too much and Ragnar was taking the unspoken hints. It left him wondering why Gyda did not have children, but not know was likely less painful.]

No, we were not married, and yes, I took her in. Letha rejected Winter as soon as she was born. She called her a monster and abandoned her. She didn't love either of us, not really. But Winter is mine in all the ways that count. I'm the only parent she's ever known. I wasn't going to let her be without a father. Children need fathers.

[Despite all his faults, his bad temper, anger issues, and psychotic nature, Ivar had stepped up when it counted. He loved Winter with the fierce, possessive love that only a father could have. He was going to make sure she had an easier childhood than he had and he was never, ever going to abandon her the way Ragnar had done to him.]

He's done much more than that. He found a map that led to a new part of the world. He and Hvitserk went there to raid.

[Despite the friction between them, Ivar is very proud of his big brother and what he's managed to accomplish.]

Edited 2017-12-17 08:30 (UTC)

[The woman sounded terrible and Ragnar's expression made it obvious that he thought as much.]

You are right. At least the child has a father. [Though Ragnar suspected that the abandonment of her mother combined with her powers might lead to some trouble for his son down the line. It was Ivar's choice, he would live with the consequences, not Ragnar.]

This new part of the world... it wouldn't happen to be called Frankia, would it? Paris?

[Ivar was definitely going to eventually get in over his head, especially since Letha had already returned to Riverview without Ivar knowing about it. Everything regarding the two of them and their child was going to explode like a nuclear bomb.

A much more pleasant topic is talking about Bjorn and all that he's accomplished.]

Farther than that. A place called the Moors that stretches all the way to a new sea.

A new sea? [Ragnar's eyes glint with pride.]

Good. [He can barely get the word out he's so pleased.] Good for him.

I'm sure I'm very proud of all of you. [He leaned back to drain his drink before reaching over to ruffle Ivar's hair before giving it a pat.]

[No matter how many barriers and walls Ivar put up around himself, the one who could knock them all down with only a few words was his father. It was what Ivar had spent years waiting for, to be acknowledged as being just as good as his brothers.

All Reangar had to do was say he was proud of Ivar and his son would practically melt like ice being thawed out on the inside. It showed in his eyes and in the way his voice chokes as he tries to get the words out.]

I'm--I'm glad. That you don't think less of me. You once told me I had a strength, not in spite of my legs, but because of them. I've always remembered that.

[The stray and, honestly, dangerous thought crossed his mind noting how easy it would be to 'motivate' the young man into doing what he wanted. Not manipulate. He wasn't manipulating anyone, especially not his own children, but if there was something they absolutely should do, that he absolutely required, the motivation was there. He hated himself a little bit for thinking about it, but it was better to consider these things than to be oblivious.]

What can I say except that I am obviously both wise and never wrong. [He smirked.]

[If Ivar had been less impartial when it came to Ragnar, less desperate for his father's love, he might have wondered that himself. Ivar's desire for acknowledgement and love from Ragnar did make him susceptible to just about whatever he said. While he'd never precisely used that to be cruel, he clearly had used it when planning his ultimate revenge on King Ecbert and King Aelle. Ivar had never even considered it.]

You were wrong. Just once. [He taps Ragnar on the side of the head.] You thought I wasn't going to survive. Guess that was proved wrong well enough.

So, if it weren't for you, I would have had a perfect record?

[Of course, he was teasing.]

Rollo and Lagertha must have been beside themselves in either celebration or jealousy. They'd been waiting for such a day for years.

Let me show you something. Several months ago, memories from our minds were shown on our devices for everyone to look at. Don't ask me how it worked, I have no idea. But mine were...perhaps it would be easier just to show you.

[He pulls out a phone, flipping back through old videos, messages, and other things until he comes to one from months ago. He starts it and passes the phone over to Ragnar. The first one is a bit of typical Viking carnage, though Ragnar might recognize the silhouette of the figure walking among the sleeping Vikings and slitting their throats. What it really shows off is just how Ivar's able to fight, something that Ragnar has probably wondered a time or two. It's the second memory, though, that Ivar really wants Ragnar to see. While it might be a bit shocking to see himself two decades older, careworn and scarred, it's what Ragnar says to Ivar, himself a year younger, that's important. It was for this reason Ivar would always love his father, no matter what else might occur.]

The Yule Log

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