Is that a knife in your pocket...

[ragnarsson]

who: Ivar and Letha
what: A sparring session!
when: 3/15
where: Training center near the housing
warnings: None yet



Ivar's curiosity had been perked when Letha had said she wanted to spar. He was interested to see what sort of differences there were in their fighting styles. He wasn't going to be going easy on her either because she was a woman or because she was pregnant. If she was good, her skills would speak for themselves. He got up early in the morning, strapped on on his weapons, and rolled out down towards the training center he'd been told about when he first got here.

He brought the ax, sword, and his knives with him, not sure which she has a preference for. The center had its own weapons to borrow, but he preferred his own, knowing every groove and nick in the weapons. He ran his fingers over the edge of his ax. There was a few minutes until the time he'd told her. Enough for a few practice throws. He selected a target and tossed his ax, hitting a bulls-eye. He wheeled the chair over and yanked it out, examining his mark. Not bad, but he could do better. He rolled back into position and took aim once more.

Comments

[ragnarsson]

"You married your cousin?" He raises his eyebrows. "That's a good way to end up with a child with nine toes." He glances meaningfully at the bump under Letha's dress. Vikings didn't have a taboo against kissing cousins, but it wasn't exactly condoned either.

"I come from a family of heroes and trust me when I say the reality is a lot harder than the stories make it out to be." He'd learned that from traveling with his father. Ragnar had been the most famous Viking alive and Ivar's fuzzy childhood memories had made him out to be more myth than man until he'd walked back into his life. Getting to see him as a human being hadn't diminished his hero worship. If anything, it increased him by allowing him to see his father as someone with faults and humanity.

[burntbridges]

"My parents were cousins, and I turned out fine." Arguably. "Anyway, the only other option would be marrying a peasant. And that's a perfect way to ensure any children you have will be treated lower than dirt."

There's a little pause as she listens to him, and her shoulders slump. "Hardship is a rare commodity in Thornwell, and not one any sane man would actively seek. But I've found that life can be... boring, without it. Back home I had maids and servants to handle every little thing I might desire, and it left me with so much free time I never knew what to do with myself. And now that I've come here... I'm starting to realize how empty it all was."

[ragnarsson]

Ivar snorts at her comment about turning out fine. He just gives her a look and says, "Of course you did." Because raising the dead is a perfectly sane hobby for a proper young lady to have. He didn't really have anything to say about marrying a peasant. Nobility was equaled with might in the Viking world. If you wanted a title, you went out and killed whoever had it.

"You know what they say about being careful what you wish for. You just might get it. I always wanted a more exciting life. I got it at the cost of my parents." Life certainly had become more interesting since Aslaug and Ragnar had died. But it didn't replace the hole in his heart left by them. He would have given anything to have his mother stroke his hair one more time or receive a hug from his father.

[burntbridges]

"I suppose I got my wish. I ended up here... alone, without my family or my husband." She gives a small shrug, "But I have a job to work for, new places to explore and new people to meet. I never had any of that back home."

And with that she turns to him, watching him with open curiosity. "What would make a man that's lived like you do want more excitement?"

[ragnarsson]

"My father. He was the most famous Viking of them all. When he went exploring, he discovered new lands that no one had ever found before. He raided cities that had been impenetrable up to that point. He became Earl and then King when he started out as just a humble farmer. I wanted to be like him, make my own stamp on the world."

There's love and affection when he speaks of Ragnar. Ivar had come to adore his father in the short time he'd been back in his life. He was the only one to ever take a chance on his crippled son, seeing past the exterior to the strength that lay beneath. For that, Ivar had turned his keen mind towards revenge when he died. He wouldn't be satisfied until all of England had been raided.

[burntbridges]

She's a little jealous of that sort of affection; mostly of the fact that he can feel it. Her parents were good to her, if strict, but nothing worth bragging about.

"My grandmother was the head of the Elder Council in Thornwell. That's... a bit like being Earl. But as much as she liked my father, she was never very fond of me. If I was ever in her shoes, I'd do everything very differently."

No, she wouldn't, because she'd be old enough to understand why Laurentia did the things she did. But she'll never know anyway.

[ragnarsson]

"I think that's all we can do. Imitate the best part of our parents while putting our own stamp on the world."

It was rather introspective for someone as young and violent as the Viking was, but Ivar had learned a lot from watching people, and figuring things out in his own head. His father hadn't been perfect and Ivar had known it. But he'd make his own way in the world and do properly as a son of Ragnar Lothbrok should.