He hadn't meant to throw the axe. Not really. The moment it left his hand, he regretted it already. But it couldn't be taken back as it landed in Sigurd's chest. Ivar froze as he realized just what he'd done. He'd finally done it. He'd killed his brother. As Sigurd yanked it out and came towards him, it seemed he was going to return the favor. But he collapsed before he got all the way.
Ubbe and Hvitserk immediately leaped up to check on him. Ivar thought for sure he was dead. But he was still breathing and Ivar's heart finally started back up again as Ubbe announced he was alive. The axe had punctured his lung rather than his heart, a terribly painful injury, but one that could be lived through, provided infection didn't set in, and that Sigurd was tough enough to live through it. All of Ragnar's sons had plenty of that trait to spare.
Still, such a serious injury would take a while to heal from. Sigurd was unconscious for days. Ivar never left his side. Even when Ubbe tried to convince him to get some rest, he'd barely sleep for a few hours, maybe automatically eat something he didn't even taste, and then be right back at his vigil. This had been too close. Ivar had always thought he wanted his older brother dead, but apparently he'd been wrong. He really did care for Sigurd, deep down, like he did for all his brothers. He made silent promises to the gods, telling them he'd do better, that he wouldn't fight with Sigurd so much, promising them anything if only Sigurd would live.
Sigurd had never thought that Ivar would actually go so far, that he could actually kill them. They had both skirted the edge of deadly throws but if either of them had intended the blades would have hit their mark -- at least that's what Sigurd always thought. He loathed so much about Ivar but he didn't want him dead -- maybe they all would have been better off if Ivar hadn't lived as a baby but now he was his brother and even a symbol of so much of what Sigurd had never had from their parents he still loved him.
So it'd been a shock, sadness and anger together when the axe had hit and Sigurd had been certain he was going to die his only thought to get to Ivar to... well, who knows really but the world had gone blurry and then dark.
When he finally starts to gain consciousness again only to find that Ivar is the first face he sees he manages, of course, the most friendly of comments though his voice is low and rough. "Did I end up in Hel, then."
Ivar was sitting nearby, propped up against the wall, almost dozing but not quite when Sigurd finally woke up. There was shock written all over Ivar's face. He was beginning to think his brother never would, that he'd just slip away, his wounds too great to survive.
He crawled up to the bed, pulling himself up onto his knees so he would be at eye level with his older brother. "Still in Midgard." His face held an expression of guilt written all over it. This was entirely his fault. For the first time in his life, Ivar regretted what he had done. It had been far too close. A few inches higher and they would have been preparing a Viking funeral instead. It was going to be difficult to get an apology out of him, but really, all Sigurd would have to do was tap into the guilt Ivar was carrying around with him to find one.
As consciousness fully began to set in so did the pain and Sigurd having tried to sit up drops back down with a grunt.
"Waiting around to see if you needed to finish the job, Ivar?" Sigurd says, glancing to see if there is anyone around in the room that would be there to stop Ivar from dealing a fatal blow. It's a bit difficult to think that his little brother would be there for any other reason after all. Sigurd isn't looking clearly enough to notice the guilt on Ivar's face before he speaks.
Alright, he probably deserved that, but it still hurts to hear coming from Sigurd right now. "I--" His voice sounds completely broken and his face is stricken. "--I didn't want to kill you." It's such a lame-sounding excuse, but it's the truth. Ivar had thrown the axe in a fit of pique, nothing more. It would have just been a lot less deadly if he'd just thrown something like a plate or fork.
He reaches over, grabbing a pitcher of water and a cup. He pours Sigurd a glass and passes it over.
Well, Ivar might deserve to get a little hurt but it hadn’t actually been said with that intent but almost as if resigned to the expectation of it by Sigurd. After all, any concern had always been absent from Ivar about anyone but himself and then perhaps slightly their parents — if only a little there as well.
“You made a good showing of not wanting to kill me,” Sigurd says but all the same he accepts the water, shifting ever so slightly so he could drink it without spilling, every movement and breath was pain but his throat is parched at least that is one thing he can tend to.
Ivar shifts around a little with guilt as Sigurd talks. "If I really wanted to kill you, do you think I would have missed your heart?" Sigurd knew just how good Ivar was with his axe. He never would have unintentionally missed a target that was that close even in a blinding rage.
He really should go inform the rest of his brothers that Sigurd's finally woken up, but he's reluctant to leave. After watching over him for days, he's got a weird notion in his head that the minute he leaves, Sigurd will die without him there to watch out for him. Ivar's always been superstitious like that, a product of being raised by Floki, who was always going on about the god's favor and wrath in alternate moments.
"Not even you are perfect, Ivar," Sigurd mutters, even though he probably should know better than to poke at Ivar especially when there is such an intense pain and a strain to his breathing to remind him of the danger.
He takes another sip of water and reaches to try and set it down before settling back down with a grimace though he bites his tongue not to make a sound out of pure stubbornness.
Normally, Sigurd's words would have been enough to get Ivar irritated, if not outright picking a fight, but he was still too distraught to think about rising to the bait. If Sigurd wanted to point out all his failings, he would let him.
"Ubbe has been in charge of keeping the army together. Bjorn was going to leave, but he wanted to see what would happen to you before he did." Just because their brother hovered near death didn't mean that they were going to halt all their plans. "Hvitserk is off on a raid to gather supplies." Causing carnage was definitely something their middle brother could easily do.
"I should go tell them you're awake." But he didn't move. There was still that superstition in his mind that the minute he left, something would happen to Sigurd. Maybe this was some last desperate rally of strength before he died.
Sigurd is surprised that anyone seemed to care at all. He doesn't say it out loud and He's sure it's not really about him but about Ivar's temper and instability. If he died would there be consequences and the like?
"Then why are you still here?" Sigurd mutters, glancing at Ivar again.
He still doesn't make any move to leave to go get the rest of the Ragnarssons. He stays right where he is by Sigurd's bedside. "Making sure you don't drop dead the minute I leave," he says simply.
Sorry, Sigurd. You now have an unwanted shadow for the foreseeable future.
"I would, despite what you may think," Ivar says with just a little bit of irritation. He knows he should apologize, but Ivar never admits when he's done anything wrong. Still, his actions tended to show more than his words did, so he was going to prove to Sigurd that he did in fact care for him.
Sigurd makes a disgruntled sound and makes to move to get up but just groans before he’s right back where he started. He’s just shy of saying he didn’t think they’d really care anyway and he mostly believes it — nothing past duty that Ubbe would feel.
“Go. I’m in too much pain to be dead before you get back.
"Alright. Don't you dare die before I get back," he warns. If he does, Ivar is finding a way to bring him back to life solely so that he can smack him in the face.
Ivar crawls out of the tent and goes off to find his brothers. He knows they'll all be relieved and happy that Sigurd has pulled through. They all care about him, even if he'd like to think otherwise.
The rest of Ivar's brothers seemed to have silently agreed not to bring up precisely why Ivar had tried to kill Sigurd. The important part was that he hadn't succeeded and so they seemed to have chalked it up to just another instance of their youngest brother's moods of anger-fueled insanity.
After Ivar had delivered the message that Sigurd was awake, he immediately returned back to Sigurd's side. The rest all came in during various points during the day, checking in to make sure that he actually was going to live through this, and making sure it wasn't just one last burst of energy before death took him. Ivar remained unusually silent during all this, carrying on his self-proclaimed duty as Sigurd's watchdog now.
Sigurd was sure that once the others had come through that Ivar would leave him alone. He still slept a lot, not really having much of an appetite and still in too much pain when he moved to even sit up much at all, though he'd tried when others came. Ubbe had promptly told him to stop being stupid, though.
But now it was just Ivar again and Sigurd sighed heavily. "Are you just going to stay here, really, Ivar? Don't you have anything better to do since no one else can possibly know anything but you right?"
He's bored and in pain, what else is he going to do but prod the bear.
Ivar was busy using one of his knives to scrape gunk out from under his fingernails. He removes some from under his thumbnail and then flicks what came out expertly towards Sigurd. "I don't know better than everyone. Just you."
He hadn't answered the first question because it really was very obvious that he wasn't going anywhere. He was staying with Sigurd for the foreseeable future and possibly even well beyond that. He'd made a promise to the gods to be a better brother if they let Sigurd live and he was going to live up to that.
Sigurd makes a face at Ivar’s action but there really isn’t much that he can do about that. He sighs in annoyance. It’s not as if he can walk off and get away from Ivar the way that he usually could. He is currently the one more crippled.
“now you’re just lying. You argue with Ubbe all the time when he is often the one more right than you are.”
Ivar snorts at the comparison, moving to clean out his thumbnail. He kept careful care of his hands. Without their use, he'd be helpless. "Ubbe only thinks he's right. He likes to think everyone is as good and noble as he is." He says this with a bit of contempt.
"I don't think he'll ever learn otherwise." Much as he and Sigurd butted heads, one of the things they had in common was that they saw life and people as they were, without any illusions in place.
Ivar glares at his brother, hand straying close to where he keeps his knives. "You are really trying hard again to get stabbed, aren't you?" Whether Sigurd chooses to see as such or not, Ivar is trying to behave here.
Sigurd doesn’t miss the others movement but this point he refuses to cower either. After all all Ivar could do at this point was put him out of his misery.
Ivar looks furious for a moment before he childishly turns away and refuses to look at Sigurd anymore. What little patience he possesses is sorely being put to the test.
"Why do you always have to be like this?" Not that Ivar doesn't give it back as good as he gets, but neither one of them ever seem willing to give in even an inch.
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For Sigurd
Ubbe and Hvitserk immediately leaped up to check on him. Ivar thought for sure he was dead. But he was still breathing and Ivar's heart finally started back up again as Ubbe announced he was alive. The axe had punctured his lung rather than his heart, a terribly painful injury, but one that could be lived through, provided infection didn't set in, and that Sigurd was tough enough to live through it. All of Ragnar's sons had plenty of that trait to spare.
Still, such a serious injury would take a while to heal from. Sigurd was unconscious for days. Ivar never left his side. Even when Ubbe tried to convince him to get some rest, he'd barely sleep for a few hours, maybe automatically eat something he didn't even taste, and then be right back at his vigil. This had been too close. Ivar had always thought he wanted his older brother dead, but apparently he'd been wrong. He really did care for Sigurd, deep down, like he did for all his brothers. He made silent promises to the gods, telling them he'd do better, that he wouldn't fight with Sigurd so much, promising them anything if only Sigurd would live.
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So it'd been a shock, sadness and anger together when the axe had hit and Sigurd had been certain he was going to die his only thought to get to Ivar to... well, who knows really but the world had gone blurry and then dark.
When he finally starts to gain consciousness again only to find that Ivar is the first face he sees he manages, of course, the most friendly of comments though his voice is low and rough. "Did I end up in Hel, then."
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He crawled up to the bed, pulling himself up onto his knees so he would be at eye level with his older brother. "Still in Midgard." His face held an expression of guilt written all over it. This was entirely his fault. For the first time in his life, Ivar regretted what he had done. It had been far too close. A few inches higher and they would have been preparing a Viking funeral instead. It was going to be difficult to get an apology out of him, but really, all Sigurd would have to do was tap into the guilt Ivar was carrying around with him to find one.
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"Waiting around to see if you needed to finish the job, Ivar?" Sigurd says, glancing to see if there is anyone around in the room that would be there to stop Ivar from dealing a fatal blow. It's a bit difficult to think that his little brother would be there for any other reason after all. Sigurd isn't looking clearly enough to notice the guilt on Ivar's face before he speaks.
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He reaches over, grabbing a pitcher of water and a cup. He pours Sigurd a glass and passes it over.
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“You made a good showing of not wanting to kill me,” Sigurd says but all the same he accepts the water, shifting ever so slightly so he could drink it without spilling, every movement and breath was pain but his throat is parched at least that is one thing he can tend to.
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He really should go inform the rest of his brothers that Sigurd's finally woken up, but he's reluctant to leave. After watching over him for days, he's got a weird notion in his head that the minute he leaves, Sigurd will die without him there to watch out for him. Ivar's always been superstitious like that, a product of being raised by Floki, who was always going on about the god's favor and wrath in alternate moments.
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He takes another sip of water and reaches to try and set it down before settling back down with a grimace though he bites his tongue not to make a sound out of pure stubbornness.
"Where are the others?"
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"Ubbe has been in charge of keeping the army together. Bjorn was going to leave, but he wanted to see what would happen to you before he did." Just because their brother hovered near death didn't mean that they were going to halt all their plans. "Hvitserk is off on a raid to gather supplies." Causing carnage was definitely something their middle brother could easily do.
"I should go tell them you're awake." But he didn't move. There was still that superstition in his mind that the minute he left, something would happen to Sigurd. Maybe this was some last desperate rally of strength before he died.
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"Then why are you still here?" Sigurd mutters, glancing at Ivar again.
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Sorry, Sigurd. You now have an unwanted shadow for the foreseeable future.
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He grumbles, really not knowing how to deal with anyone, much less Ivar, behaving this way with him.
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“Go. I’m in too much pain to be dead before you get back.
Because that’s logical right?
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Ivar crawls out of the tent and goes off to find his brothers. He knows they'll all be relieved and happy that Sigurd has pulled through. They all care about him, even if he'd like to think otherwise.
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After Ivar had delivered the message that Sigurd was awake, he immediately returned back to Sigurd's side. The rest all came in during various points during the day, checking in to make sure that he actually was going to live through this, and making sure it wasn't just one last burst of energy before death took him. Ivar remained unusually silent during all this, carrying on his self-proclaimed duty as Sigurd's watchdog now.
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But now it was just Ivar again and Sigurd sighed heavily. "Are you just going to stay here, really, Ivar? Don't you have anything better to do since no one else can possibly know anything but you right?"
He's bored and in pain, what else is he going to do but prod the bear.
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He hadn't answered the first question because it really was very obvious that he wasn't going anywhere. He was staying with Sigurd for the foreseeable future and possibly even well beyond that. He'd made a promise to the gods to be a better brother if they let Sigurd live and he was going to live up to that.
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“now you’re just lying. You argue with Ubbe all the time when he is often the one more right than you are.”
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"I don't think he'll ever learn otherwise." Much as he and Sigurd butted heads, one of the things they had in common was that they saw life and people as they were, without any illusions in place.
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"He could and has been right about many things just as much as you've been wrong about things only you're too stubborn to see when you've been wrong."
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“You know I’m right.”
Sigurd says instead of a direct answer.
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"Why do you always have to be like this?" Not that Ivar doesn't give it back as good as he gets, but neither one of them ever seem willing to give in even an inch.
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I CANT FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO NEXT
When all else fails, time skip!
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should we do another time skip?
Sounds good!
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