Straight Out Of A History Book; Open!

[ragnarsson]

who: Ivar and you! Open and closed prompts
what: Hopping aboard the memshare train
when: Throughout the event
where: All over the place
warnings: Lots of canon-style violence, child death, a PG-13 sex scene
notes: Open prompts can be either first person or dreamscape. Want a specific memory? Pick one from the list, comment here, PM, or send me a Plurk at Light_shade



A. Loss of Innocence (tw: child death)

[Watch here!]

Whoever's memory you've ended up in, it's clearly set a long time ago. The village and the people in it both look archaic. Some children play a ball game that has no set rules besides tossing it from person to person. But there's one little fellow not playing. Instead, he's sitting off to the side, learning runes from a man with kohl smeared around his eyes.

Then he looks out rather longingly at the game. "Ivar, do you want to play?" His mother asks. Yep, this is Ivar, age five, still small and adorable, not quite angry at the world yet. He's taken out in a wagon, but children are thoughtless at the best of times, and this bunch is no exception. They have no time for the little cripple in their midst who can't keep up. Finally, tired of seeing him left behind, the man with kohl around his eyes, Floki, yanks the ball away, and gives it to Ivar.

But when another child tries to take it away from him, he doesn't want to let go. A childish tug of war ensues. Then things escalate in a brutal fashion as Ivar takes an axe from beside him in the wagon and slams it into the other boy's head. Everyone starts to scream and Ivar does too, horrified by what has just happened. His mother, the queen, swoops in, and carries him off, whispering things to him like, "Do not be afraid. It's not your fault. Everything is alright."

This, ladies and gentleman, is how a killer is born.

B. Spoiled Brat (tw: child death)

[Watch here!]

Ivar is sitting the great hall of Kattegat, his mother across from him. It's clear that Aslaug is already dead drunk. Ivar doesn't care. "Your move," he demands, a game board set up in front of him.

"I don't want to play," she slurs out.

"Move," he insists. While he is being rather spoiled, it's clear that this is the start of where Ivar learned strategy. Other children got to play outside, but being mostly immobile, he learned board games like hnefatafl and chess instead.

Aslaug finally moves a piece on the board. And in one more move, Ivar wins the game. "That was stupid of you. You lose"

As much as she dotes on her youngest, even Aslaug has her limits with him. "Don't call me stupid," she warns him.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the only reason you're still alive." That gets the little brat to shut up, an expression on his face like he realizes she's got a very valid point.

Another boy, having stood silently in the background, finally speaks up. This is Sigurd, Ivar's older brother, age six. "Siggy is dead." Siggy is their half-brother Bjorn's daughter, a little girl no older than three. Aslaug clearly doesn't seem to care, for it takes her a moment to even remember the girl. It's not clear what she plans to do about it, but Sigurd clearly has had it up to here with his mother's neglectful attitude.

Then Ivar breaks the tension by merely scoffing and saying, "Who cares?"

Sigurd runs out of the room as Aslaug goes back to her wine, smiling at her youngest.

C. Sparring

[Watch here!]

Ivar's just a little bit younger than he currently is in Riverview, fifteen instead of sixteen. He's out in the woods with three of his brothers, and judging from the amount of weapons and targets set up, they plan on sparring for quite some time.

Ubbe, the oldest, and Ivar, start shooting at a deer's head serving as a target. While Ubbe is very good, Ivar gets off an even better shot, skewering the deer right through the eye. Ubbe is pretty well amazed. In the background, Hvitserk and Sigurd spar with a pair of axes and swords. Ivar slowly takes out another arrow, and at the opportune moment, shoots right through the two of them to another target.

Seeing this as a challenge, Hvitserk and he pick up a pair of swords. One might think this is where Ivar is going to be at a disadvantage, but they would be wrong. Ivar is quick to counter Hvitserk's moves, and actually manages to tie his brother in a draw.

While Ubbe and Hvitserk seem to be congratulatory towards their youngest sibling, Sigurd seems jealous. He throws an axe towards Ivar as he reaches for a drink. He retaliates by throwing an axe right back. For a moment, as it embeds in a tree, it appears he missed. But Ivar never misses. As he glares at Sigurd, a bit of blood drips down his brother's face from where the axe grazed him.

D. Father-son Talk

[Watch here!]

It's the middle of the night. Ivar crawls over to one of the thrones at the edge of the room. There's a man there picking through the food leftover from that night's dinner. While he doesn't look like much, this is King Ragnar, Ivar's father. Some might recognize him as the ghost that was haunting Ivar earlier that month. He's got the same ice-blue eyes as his son.

Ragnar sits down on the throne next to Ivar and they talk. There's a certain amount of vulnerability as Ivar talks to Ragnar, something that no one in Riverview will have ever seen from him before. Ivar's relationship with his father, while brief, had shaped him in countless ways. He talks of being abandoned by his father, how much he hated and needed him.

Then Ragnar shocks Ivar by inviting him on what will be his final raid to England. Ivar can't believe it, incredulous, and almost angry that his father would take a useless cripple on such a journey. But more than that, he's pleased, eagerly agreeing as soon as he gets his father to properly ask him. The memory ends with Ivar sitting back on the throne, looking immensely satisfied, and Ragnar giving his son a look like he's realizing just how alike they are.

E. How To Fail At Losing Your Virginity

[Watch here!]

As the memory starts, Ivar seems to be having some trouble in the bedroom. His first attempt at having sex has ended miserably, for the condition that affects his legs has made him impotent as well. Humiliation soon turns to anger as he attempts to strangle the slave girl he's with. Margrethe, for her part, despite being scared out of her mind, tries to talk him out of it.

Eventually, some of her words about the gods seeing his actions seem to get through to the young Viking. His heart wasn't really in killing her or he would have continued. It was more a knee-jerk reaction to being embarrassed and humiliated. He rolls off her, lying there. Instead of running out, Margrethe actually attempts to comfort him a little, telling him that while sex is easy because most men can do it, being a son of Ragnar and finding greatness is hard. Ivar, his emotions in a turmoil and unable to even attempt to deal with them, starts to sob.

F. Last Goodbyes

[Watch here!]

Sitting in a chair in a castle is Ivar. Across from him in chains is Ragnar. This was the last time Ivar would ever see his father, who explains that he's going to be killed by King Aelle. While Ivar is clearly upset over knowing his father is going to die, he covers it with sarcasm and anger, afraid to show how much this is hurting him.

Ragnar decides to get some things through his son's thick skull. He talks of how Ivar is important, that his anger can be used as a gift, how he will become a leader among their people. Ivar is soaking it all in, clearly trying to remember every last thing that Ragnar is telling him. Subtly, it's clear that Ragnar is manipulating his youngest son just a little bit, but Ivar either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

Ivar mentions that he wishes he wasn't so angry all the time. Ragnar responds he'd be nothing. "I might have been happy," Ivar says.

"Happiness is nothing," Ragnar replies, words that Ivar's parroted back to several people in Riverview.

Ragnar goes on to tell Ivar of how his revenge is to be carried out through his sons. Ivar understands completely. He gives Ivar some sound advice. "Everyone will always underestimate you. You must make them pay for it."

As Ragnar hands over his arm ring, the symbol of a Viking's strength and power, Ivar is close to tears. "I will, Father."

Ragnar leans in, knowing this is the last time he will ever have a chance to touch his son. He whispers words in his ear that Ivar will remember for the rest of his life. "Be ruthless." Then Ivar is dragged out of there by soldiers, knowing that he will never see his father again.

G. Meeting Odin

[Watch here!]

Ivar is busy at the forge, hammering out a new weapon for himself. "Ivar." The sound of his name being spoken in a low baritone, thunder crackling in the background, makes him look up in surprise. There is Odin, King of the Gods, and Ivar's paternal grandfather. He has come to deliver a message. "Your father is dead. Killed by serpents."

The one-eyed god approaches his grandson, placing his hands on either side of Ivar's shoulders, in a comforting move reminiscent of what Ragnar himself used to do with his son. "Cold. In the cold, dying earth, Ragnar lies." Then, as swiftly as he has come, Odin departs. Ivar is left to grieve in his own way: pounding the metal on the anvil in front of him as hard as he can, screaming out his pain as loud as he can.

H. Blood-eagling (tw: gore)

[Watch here!]

It is a cold, rainy day and the Ragnarssons look bloodied from battle. They stand (Or in Ivar's case, lie) over a large pit. This is where Ragnar died. There is a disheveled fat man with scraggly black hair, an axe being held to his throat by Sigurd. He's not very impressive scared out of his wits like he is, but this is King Aelle, Ragnar's killer. He tries to bargain with Ragnar's sons, promising them gold, silver, anything that they want.

"You are mistaken," Ivar replies. "My father was worth far more than gold and silver." He turns to look at Aelle with fury and hatred in his eyes. "That is not the price that you must pay."

As day turns to night, the killing of King Aelle gets underway. They plan to blood-eagle him, a punishment so severe it's only been performed one other time in living memory. They nail his hands down and it begins. It is done by Bjorn, Ragnar's oldest son. Ivar would have liked the honor, but he can't stand long enough to get it done, and Bjorn has earned it more than him. He watches from the other side in fascination.

It starts with a red-hot knife cutting away the skin and muscle in Aelle's back. This is peeled back until two large strips are formed on either side of his body. Then an axe is taken out, hacking away at his ribs until they're broken. Ivar crawls towards him as the blood splatters through the air, equal parts fascination and delight on his face. He crawls right up to Aelle, wanting to see the very moment when the spark of life leaves his eyes. Aelle finally dies when his lungs are ripped out of his chest, dying from a combination of suffocating and shock. Ivar looks immensely satisfied.

By the next morning, they've hoisted Aelle's body up, and it is hanging from two poles, with the two flaps of skin serving as "wings", showing why the blood eagle is called such. His sons look on, Ivar on Floki's back, recalling their father's words. 'How the little piggies will grunt, when then hear how the old boar suffered.' He's gotten revenge for his father, just as Ragnar wanted him to. One king down. Another to go.

Comments

For Dodger

[ragnarsson]

The memory starts with most of Ivar's family sitting around a table for lunch, three of Ivar's older brothers and his mother on either side, with Ivar at the head. Talk starts off pleasant enough, some gentle ribbing from his brothers over keeping Margrethe, their sex slave, to himself. Aslaug tells her sons they should be married and have children, going on to tell them why finding the right woman is important

However, things start to get a little more tense as Sigurd starts to bring up old memories, things that everyone would rather forget, like his mother's infidelity. He asks if she's ever loved anyone. Ivar is quick to defend his mother, telling his brother, "Of course she has loved someone else. She has always loved...me."

Sigurd then decides to be cruel. "She feels pity for you. That's all. We all feel pity for you. But sometimes, we wish she'd have left you to the wolves."

It's an old insult, but one that hurts nonetheless. Ivar decides to get up and teach his brother a lesson. However, it's hard to punish his brother when he's basically limping from table to chair, unable to really support himself on his legs.

In something that closely resembles how Dodger first treated Ivar, Sigurd taunts his brother, egging him on, before yanking the chair he's holding out from under him, sending him tumbling to the floor. Contemptuously, he doesn't even look back as he leaves the hall, leaving Ivar to scream his frustrations out as he futilely tries and fails to crawl after him.

---

The second memory starts off with a bunch of Vikings hiding from English soldiers, Ivar among them. When they get up, he tries to follow, but as usual, he's left behind. "Forget that thing. Just crawl," Ragnar tells him.

He tries to adjust a pair of braces on his legs. "With this, I can walk like a normal man."

Ragnar has clearly lost patience with his son's delusional attitude and decides to give him a harsh reality check. He tosses Ivar to the ground, sits down on top of him, and forcefully yanks the braces off. "I'm not going to stand around all day, watching you try to be normal, when you never will be!"

"I am-- normal!" Ivar stubbornly replies as Ragnar tosses the braces off the hill, but it's clear even he doesn't fully believe that.

Ragar flips Ivar back over, staring down at him. "No, you're not. Once you realize that, that is when greatness will happen." Ivar is clearly too upset to respond with his usual sarcasm, but he's taking in Ragnar's words. A seed has been planted in his head about his capabilities, one that will continue to grow. He's learning that he must do things with his disability, not in spite of it. Ragnar points down the hill. "Now crawl." Grumbling and growling, Ivar takes up his father's challenge, and starts to crawl.

[smokedout]

[Dodger chooses to turn invisible during these dreams; even if the current Ivar is around to talk to, he doesn't want him knowing that he's there. But he watches them both, and thinks...

...It's only after they meet in his own dream that Dodger decides it's time to deal with this. Maybe it's that he now sees a bit of Anthony in Ivar. Maybe it's that he sees a bit of himself. Maybe it's that Ivar is one of the few people left in this city that still speaks to him regularly. But he finds the memories... pretty endearing. And maybe it's worth giving him another shot at burying the hatchet.

It doesn't take long to track Ivar down, and he catches him headed for the stables. With a smooth motion he slips his foot between the spokes of Ivar's chair, catching the wheel and forcing it to stop.]

Your father would think that thing was genius, you know. Letting you be abnormal and still keep up. [He cocks his head.] Come on. We're going this way now.

[His tone is matter-of-fact; he's not making a suggestion, Ivar is following him now and that's that. Though, observant as he is Ivar may notice Dodger has a bruise on his forehead and a red line of blood drying under one of his wrist wraps. Normal Dodger things.]

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar frowns up at Dodger when he stops his wheelchair on the way to the stables. He's got about five things on his mind he could say to him and none of them are pleasant. His frown only deepens when Dodger mentions Ragnar. Clearly, someone's been seeing something Ivar would have preferred to keep to himself.

With a grumble in the back of his throat that sounds an awful lot like a growl, he follows Dodger, and it takes an awful lot of willpower to not run over Dodger's feet with his wheels or bump into the back of his legs. Still, judging from the looks of it, he's not the first person to want to beat up Dodger this week.]

What did you see?

[Ivar is intensely curious about that.]

[smokedout]

I saw enough.

[One really shouldn't expect more than vague answers from Dodger when he's got something on his mind.

He leads Ivar through the streets, clearly having a purpose in mind but betraying nothing. Still, silence isn't what he's going for and he is speaking after a few minutes. Just not about their purpose.]

You know, that chair you're riding in didn't get invented until the 16th century. That's, what... a millenium or so after you died, yeah? [That's how you talk to historical figures, right?] Funny it took people so long to figure out a way to compensate for legs... just about the second most necessary part of your body.

[Is that... nervous chatter? What are you up to, Dodger.]

[ragnarsson]

You are a very difficult bastard, you know that?

[Of course he did. It was one of the reasons Ivar and Dodger would never get along. He was too forthright while Dodger played things close to the chest. It made Ivar all the more curious as to what memory Dodger had seen. Was it something to be used against him? He'd mentioned his father and Ivar held many of those memories to be among his most private. Ragnar had made him vulnerable in a way no one else could.

Ivar's eyes narrowed when Dodger started to make polite conversation. Ivar didn't believe in being pleasant with his enemies, so he couldn't begin to understand where Dodger was going with this. He listens, the ever-present anger making his eyes icy.]

Probably because that's when cripples actually started living for more than a year or two.

[He spits the words out with no small amount of bitterness. Ivar had been the rare exception in that regards. Most cripples were left to die in the woods as soon as they were born, or if kept out of misplaced sentiment, expected not to live past infancy. The fact Ivar had made it this long was a small marvel.]

[smokedout]

You're not special, you know. [He glances back at the kid as he speaks.] Other people learned to cope with much worse. Some people were even so fucked-up they were kept as pets instead of housemates. People born with malformed hands, or a second head, or people locked up in rooms so they had the language skills of a dog. And for every freak like that there's a mother that couldn't bear to admit how horrible a creature they were. Someone or other would raise them and they'd live with the consequences of a life they shouldn't have had.

[This is not vague knowledge; this is something Dodger has a rather unhealthy interest in, so he could go on for a while if he wanted. But he'll spare Ivar the details, and instead slips into a building and motions for him to follow.

He's led him into a shooting range, and rents equipment without even bothering to clear Ivar on what he's planning. Not until he's parked him in front of a target, and he tosses a pistol in the air to catch it by the muzzle and offer it handle-first to Ivar.]

Anyone taught you how to use these yet?

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar listens to Dodger, but not in that focused way that means he's actually taking in the words. It's more of the type that most teenagers perfect at some point or another, where they look like they're paying attention when they really couldn't care less.

He finally tunes back in when Dodger leads him into the shooting range. He holds onto the gun like it's not his first time.]

I've learned.

[He doesn't offer anymore information than that. Loki had taught him how to use the weapon, both to shoot, and how to care for it. But then he'd sworn to Bucky that he wasn't going to try out guns again until his friend had deemed him ready. He can feel that promise thrumming around the inside of his head as he holds the gun in his hands.]

For Hiccup

[ragnarsson]

There's the start of a battle in England going on. Though really, with how outnumbered Aelle's forces were, it was really more of a massacre. Ivar rides up in a war chariot. The Great Heathen Army pauses for a moment, facing the enemy's far outnumbered forces. Then they start up with their war cries and charge.

It isn't long before Ivar is in the thick of it, using his axes to their full degree. Heads are caved in and chests left with gaping holes in them wherever he passes by. The horse shies as two warriors move right in front of him, causing the chariot to pause. A knight on horseback thinks this will give him the opportunity to kill the cripple. He comes charging up with his sword. Ivar swiftly ducks, and with a backhanded move that's almost casual, beheads the knight instantly.

The rest of the battle is filled with more such carnage, Ivar spreading death wherever he goes. Men are left to die in agony, their entrails spilling out of their bodies, and limbs hacked off. Ivar wants them to suffer just as much as he wants them to die. And throughout the whole scene, he seems nothing but happy, the fierce light of battle in his eyes.

[thisisamazing]

Hiccup can guess at whose memory this is. Those are clearly vikings; he would recognize... not exactly his people, but his people in a sense still, anywhere. Except, they are so much more brutal than he remembers. Berk has not been at war with other tribes for years, and even its war with dragons seems very far away now. He has seen death, has felt the inferno of the Red Death's dying blaze and come out with one less leg, but this...

It's so much bloodshed. A massacre more than a battle. A field of slaughter. Ivar is very skilled, no doubt, but he gets the after-image of a feeling with it, one of satisfaction, of joy. Hiccup is a peacekeeper, not a warrior. It turns his stomach, even though he knows that this is a reality for some vikings.

When he finds Ivar, Hiccup is alone, clearly unsettled, a little pale under his freckles. "I- What did I see?"

[ragnarsson]

Ivar can guess at what memory flash Hiccup has seen. He'd seen it in his dreams, one of the happiest times that Ivar can recall being in a long while. "That was the first battle we had when we got to England. Kind Aelle was the one who murdered my father. He greatly underestimated our forces." Stronger men than Hiccup had fainted or vomited at the sights he'd just witnessed.

Ivar grins sharply. "By the time we were done with him, every person in England was afraid of what we would do next." Hiccup should just be glad he didn't get to witness the blood-eagling of King Aelle. That truly was the stuff of nightmares.

[thisisamazing]

Revenge for a murdered father he can sort of understand, but... the images flashing through his head are so vicious, so graphic. He has never been on the front lines of any viking vs viking war, has never seen human beings at battle quite like that. That much is probably evident from how pale he is, a little green around the edges.

"That's- I don't even know what to say. I've never seen anything like that before." He takes a slightly shaky breath, sinking down into the nearest seat. "It was brutal." He doesn't exactly sound approving, but he's still mostly too much in shock to criticize either.

[ragnarsson]

Hiccup looks like he could use a little something to fortify himself, so Ivar starts to wheel towards the nearest bar. They could both use a beer. He snorts when Hiccup calls the battle brutal. "What did you think war was made up of? Rose petals and fuzzy bunnies?"

Ivar had understood death from an early age, and while he'd been spared the worst of the carnage that Viking pillages entailed growing up, he was under no delusions about exactly what he was getting himself into when he committed himself to battle. War was a terrible thing, where men were terrified beyond belief, tried not to die while men around them slipped in each other's blood, and ultimately emptied their bowels when the killing blow ultimately came.

[thisisamazing]

He follows without a word, pensive. He'd probably accept that beer right about now, even though he doesn't drink much. "No, I... I know what war is like. Just, my tribe was at war with dragons up until about five years ago, and. It's different." Dragons tended to... to carry people away. Like his mother. You knew something bad would happen to them but it was less visible somehow. "Berk hadn't been at war with another tribe for a long time. And my father tried to keep me away from all that, anyway. I was the runt."

A pause. "It's just different to see it, I guess. To- to experience it like that."

For Marco

[ragnarsson]

It's a battle of the Great Heathen Army against King Aelle's forces. Ivar is causing chaos in the ranks, speeding through in a war chariot as he tosses his axes with deadly force. Then, from the side, one brave and very foolish knight tackles him, knocking him out of the chariot, and onto the ground. He thinks he's found an easy opponent in the cripple, but Ivar's anything but.

Rather than let the knight get back to his feet, Ivar quickly pulls out a knife, slashing through the Achille's tendon of one ankle. It brings the knight down to his knees and Ivar is quick to start trying to stab. But it's hard to find purchase when he's covered in chainmail. Using his superior weight, the knight rolls on top of Ivar, grappling with the knife. It's an even match, and could go either way. That is, until Ivar starts fighting dirty. He leans up and bites into the exposed area of the knight's cheek.

Screaming in pain, the knight loses focus for a moment, and Ivar pushes him off. He's quick to stab him through the throat. With a gurgle as he chokes on his own blood, his opponent finally dies. Then Ivar, mouth covered in blood, starts laugh. He's always been most happy when killing. Crawling back over to his chariot, he gets back in, eager to continue spreading death.

[brightline]

Whether it's a gorilla, bear, tiger, wolf, hawk, and Andalite or a bunch of regular humans dressed in armor and carrying heavy weapons, war is war. Marco recognizes it the moment he opens his eyes in the dream, standing in the middle of an ancient battle. For all that the scene is gory, violent, even before he realizes what he's seeing, Marco doesn't flinch, he doesn't scream, he isn't disgusted. Battle is still familiar, even three years after the end of the war.

Marco has seen battle. He's seen medieval knights hacking each other up, he's seen dogfights in space, he's seen aliens and animals throwing themselves at each other with teeth and claws, he's seen regular old modern warfare on an aircraft carrier. No matter what it looks like, people scream and bleed and die.

The only thing that's different about this is that he knows the person in the center of this battle. Ivar, smiling, slightly shy, more than slightly psychotic Ivar, sitting in a chariot, fighting until he's pulled out of the chariot. Gasping, Marco leaps forward, makes to start morphing, even though he knows he can't really do anything to affect this. It's a memory, after all. But he wants to.

It seems like Ivar doesn't need the help, though. Biting and slashing with a knife, Ivar defends himself, goes on the offense. The knife bites through the knight's throat, blood spurts, and Ivar laughs. It's sharp and loud and a little unhinged and it reminds Marco so much of Rachel that he hurts for a moment.

"Ivar."

[ragnarsson]

It's a memory that Ivar savors. For Vikings, respect and honor were only found on the battlefield. Being a cripple, sometimes unable to go on raids, and other times with people unwilling to allow him to go along, Ivar has always felt less than he should be. That changed when his brothers and he took their army to England.

For the first time, he was able to fight, and show that he was just as much a Viking as any of them. Even without his chariot, he could still kill, and do it very well.

The chaos of the battle means that Ivar doesn't spot the very modern-looking and rather short figure in the middle of it all. Ivar himself stands off to the side, watching everything with a satisfied expression, a smile on his face that mirrors the bloodied one he sports in his memory. When he's addressed by name, Ivar finally notices Marco.

He walks over to him, noting that he's taller than Marco standing up like he is. He gestures around to the battlefield, men screaming, falling, and dying all around them. "Isn't it glorious?" He says happily.

[brightline]

It's a little unnerving, but in the same way Rachel had been unnerving - beautiful and terrifying and thrilling all at once. Exciting in that dangerous way that Marco's attracted to and kinda desperate to avoid all at once. But there's no real repulsion with Ivar the way there had been with Rachel, maybe because Ivar is from such a different place, doesn't have such an intimate knowledge of all the painful places to hit Marco, the way she had.

Maybe it's partly because Ivar's not completely unavailable, like Rachel had been for so many different reasons.

So when Ivar comes over toward him, walking just fine instead of stuck in his chair, taller than Marco and so broad across the shoulders, that gleeful grin on his face as the battle wages itself on around them, Marco feels a little thrill of something that's not really fear even if it has a few of the trademarks of it. Heart pounding, breath a little shallow, he smirks as Ivar asks his question.

"If by glorious you mean totally terrifying."

It's meant to be a joke, but it comes out a bit squeaky.

"Not that I'm scared. I mean you're terrifying. On the battlefield."

[ragnarsson]

Ivar's eyes light up at Marco's words. "Thank you. Everyone always underestimates a cripple." He's appreciative that his crush has a chance to see what power and might he really possesses. This is where Ivar shines, what he's always been made for. Everyone else in the Quarantine tries to chide him and impress on him how wrong it is to kill. But if he's so good at it, and it feels so right when it makes him happy, why should he stop?

In the memory, Ivar swivels to the side of his chariot, slamming his axe one-handed with enough force into a man's chest to completely shatter his rib cage, caving his chest in. The Englishman drops to the ground, stone cold dead. Then turning to the other side, he sees his brother Hvitserk block a blow with his shield, slashing at his opponent with his sword. He doesn't see the other one sneaking up behind him. Ivar does. He tosses one of his axes with perfect precision, the man collapsing as it gets buried in his skull. Hvitserk, seeing it out of the corner of his eye, turns around. 'I had him,' he tells Ivar.

Ivar pulls the chariot alongside his brother, blocking most of the battle out for a moment. They trade words even as Hvitserk finishes off his opponent. 'Sure you did. Tell you what, you can get the next one that tries to take me down.'

Hvitserk grins. 'Deal.' He's one of the most handsome of the brothers, even covered in gore, but there's a darkness to his smile that matches Ivar's perfectly. There's a reason they get along so well.

[brightline]

"Dude, being in a wheelchair doesn't make you a cripple. Pretty sure this whole scene proved that true."

Marco's voice is confident, has a lilt of amusement in it, because he's never thought of people who can't use their legs or who can't hear or whatever to be crippled or damaged or less in any way. People are people. Ivar's got just as much going for him as any other guy, just like Collette and the other auxiliary Animorphs had. For a moment, he feels a pang about that, of guilt and grief, over the deaths of those Animorphs. But it passes, as he looks around at the battle, and notes the similarities between them - the beauty, the dangerous smile - and feels a bit of a thrill in his gut and chest.

"Your brother? You two look alike. In a good way."

Marco's eyes follow Ivar's brother, watching as he smiles through blood and gore, as he grins that dangerous grin and heads back off into battle. But his gaze is inevitably dragged back to Ivar, the one he knows, the one he's sorta invested in.

Impulsively, he adds, "You look better."

For Ronan

[ragnarsson]

The scene is set somewhere rural, in a field near some woods. Ivar is riding on the back of his father Ragnar, an older bearded man with faded tattoos on his head. "Come on, donkey!" He jokes with him. Shockingly enough, Ivar is actually smiling and laughing, two things he's done only rarely since his father died. He's never looked this relaxed or happy during his time in Riverview. "What if we are walking in the wrong direction, hmm?"

Ragnar has a ready answer. "The we'll turn around and walk the other way." Then he brays like a donkey.

Ragnar and he begin to talk about how Ragnar seems to no longer be favored by the gods. Ragnar talks about how he makes his own fate. For the Vikings, this was a huge deal, for they believed their lives to be predestined. To say that one had taken his fate into his own hands was saying that he had chosen to do things without any help whatsoever. Ivar listens and the respect for his father grows. He contemplates what he has just heard. "Well, I guess that is why you are who you are. I never thought of that before. You were just my famous father. I thought you must have got lucky because the gods chose you, but...maybe that is not true."

As Ragnar looks back at his son, and they continue on, it becomes apparent that what Ragnar was telling his son was a lesson he was trying to instill in his youngest son. If he could make his own fate, so could Ivar.

dreamscape time

[somnioergosum]

No blood-- that was a relief. This was a private moment, but one he could understand. Even centuries apart, sons always sought their father's attention. Ronan felt strange witnessing it. Did he feel sad and wistful because he knew what happened to this man or because he was only thinking of his own dad? He used to laugh with his own father like that.

"Were you going the wrong way?" It seemed safe enough to ask for both of them. Ronan had to take a moment to process being in someone's mind and seeing that same someone's dead father. Who knew how Ivar felt.

[ragnarsson]

Ivar stands there, legs working as they never have in the waking world, watching the scene with longing. He's from the time before pictures or even portraits were common. He's had nothing by which to remember his father by besides the arm ring given to him and his own memories. He feels vulnerable letting someone else see one of these moments between his father and him.

But he knows Ronan will understand. Ivar turns to his friend. "No. He always did have a knack for being right about everything." Ivar pauses, letting the memory of the two of them walk across the English countryside continue on. "Almost everything. Besides me." Ronan had seen that memory too. Putting both of them together, it was easy to see how Ragnar had been instrumental in shaping his son's mind. He'd taken a purposeless kid and shaped him into a man worthy of being a leader among the Vikings.

[somnioergosum]

The corner of Ronan's mouth quirked into a smile. "I used to think that about my father." That ended when Niall dug his own grave and almost dragged his family into it as well. Still, Ronan loved him.

He watched Ragnar carry Ivar for a while longer before turning to Ivar. It was odd to see him standing but the look on his face didn't surprise Ronan in the least. He wondered if he'd worn the same expression the one time he dreamed of his father. Then he wondered if that was the real reason he and Ivar got along. They were both violent but lonely orphans.

For now, Ronan's face was unreadable. While he'd made significant progress, he'd yet to master processing feelings other than anger. His face didn't always know what to do with them. "Do you think he was right about fate?"

[ragnarsson]

Ivar had never quite saw the heroic shine around his father dim. It came from being around him so very little, only a scattered handful of years when all was told. "He had his faults. But he was better for them. They made him more human." It allowed Ivar to see him as less of some half-mythical figure and more someone that he could look up to.

He hesitated before answering Ronan as the dream version of himself made a crack about the old man slowing down. Ragnar grinned and threatened to drop him, but they both knew he wouldn't. "I don't know. Fate governs everything in a Viking's life. Certain things are predestined. My mother made a prophecy before I was born and it was fulfilled" It was easy to infer just what that prophecy was about. Ivar had believed in fate ever since then. "But my father always seemed to make his own fate. Even when he seemed forsaken by all, he knew exactly what he was doing.

[somnioergosum]

Ronan nodded. "I get you. My father was a liar and a swindler and I only loved him more for it." Accepting his father's flaws was an ongoing process that took place mostly in his subconscious.

"Do you ever think it's both? God-- or gods-- know everything that happens. For them, we're making the decision and have already made it. Time doesn't flow from point A to B. It's just the only way our tiny mortal brains understand it." He paused, then shrugged. "Or something like that."

Ronan followed Ivar's doppleganger and father. He'd ask if it was fine, but Ivar must want to see his father as long as he could. Ronan would.