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.
Poor Ivar! Sigurd snorts at Ivar’s question, rolling his eyes. “I could ask you the same question. The answer is probably our wonderful mother and father,” the sarcasm drips off the word wonderful but the answer is what he thinks is probably true anyway.
They both like to blame everyone but themselves for who they are.
"As if you ever acted like you even wanted to be a member of this family," Ivar snaps out. He's well aware of the faults his parents both possessed, but he chooses to ignore them. Even Ragnar's abandonment had been swept under the rug the moment that he'd come back and shown the smallest scrap of affection to his youngest son. It was one of Ivar's traits, that any bit of kindness shown to him made him forget the recipient's worst traits in an instant.
"Maybe they should have considered leaving you in the woods instead of me."
“None if you ever wanted me around!” Sigurd said and his voice raised and by the end of the sentence it was strained and ended in coughing. He dropped back down with a grimace.
“Leave, Ivar. You’re making me wish I was already dead.”
"You never even put forth an effort like that's what you wanted. Ever since we were children, you just pushed everyone away, and then liked to complain about poor Sigurd, so unloved and ignored." His voice is full of contempt and anger. If only Sigurd had met him halfway at any point, they wouldn't be in the situation they are right now.
Ivar snorts at Sigurd's words. "Stop being dramatic."
“You don’t know as much as you think you do!” Sigurd really wishes he had something to throw at Ivar, namely an axe or something otherwise painful.
“Ubbe and Hvitserk has no interest in spending time with me and you were too busy sucking mother’s tit not that she’d let you actually play with anyone anyway,” he really shouldn’t bring that up again, right? Oh well.
“I only had siggy and no one even cared that she died except me. Björn barely gave her a thought. You all were terrible.”
Ivar grabs the pitcher of water he'd filled Sigurd's cup with and throws it at him. Really, anytime Sigurd brought up the breastfeeding, it was inevitable he reacted in such a way. Hey, at least this time he'll just get damp instead of having a hole in his chest.
"You blame me as if I had any say in the matter. It's not like I asked for all of Mother's attention. In case you forgot, I was a child too!" Ivar says irritably. It galls him to admit that Sigurd is partially right. He'd been the forgotten middle child in the midst of the attention the other three got.
Ivar's still fizzling with anger, but the worst part is that he knows Sigurd is right on some level. He's never been good at admitting that he had made a bad choice or the decision he shouldn't have.
He looks down at the floor so that he doesn't have to meet his brother's eyes. "I was wrong." The words are said so softly that Sigurd will be hard-pressed to hear them. "I was wrong to almost kill you."
"You whine too much. I am going nowhere, so unless you'd like me to tell you a bedtime story to fall asleep to, get used to having me around." Ivar's stubbornness had reared its head again and he wasn't going to leave no matter what. Maybe once Sigurd was feeling better he could bodily throw him out, but until then, he was sleeping in here.
“Like you could come up with a decent bedtime story,” Sigurd mutters. “Maybe I should get Ubbe to carry you out of here.”
Because unfortunately he is a long way from even beginning to be able to move Ivar or run off away from him as he often had after taunting him before. Just wait until he’s strong enough to get on his feet again!
"Like he ever would. Ubbe likes me better than he does you." Mean? Yes. But also probably true. Ubbe had been watching out for Ivar his entire life, making sure his youngest brother could keep up with the rest of them. Sigurd hadn't just been forgotten by their mother.
Sigurd's jaw tightens. "Yes, everyone likes you better, Ivar," Sigurd mutters and looks away from Ivar. He didn't need a reminder of the fact but Ubbe tended to be fair where Aslaug certainly hadn't been.
While their own father hadn't been around, at least Ubbe had provided a paternal presence of sort growing up. He'd definitely been the one trying to act as a mediator between the two of them when the arguments got out of control, which they frequently did.
"It won't be good for either of us. Just let me stay in here. I'll be quiet." Famous last words. Let's see how long he could actually manage it before he exploded.
“How would it not be good for me, Ivar?” Sigurd says and the level of fed up with his little brother has to be clear in the exasperated tone if not the rolling of his eyes.
“You are not anymore rest inducing quiet than you are spouting off,” Sigurd mutters. It really is hard for him to accept that Ivar might actually really care even if he had actually seemed sincere. There’s an unease to being around him like sharing a room with a venomous snake.
"Stop being difficult and just go back to sleep or something," Ivar says, almost as grumbly as Sigurd himself is. As it is, Ivar's settled himself nearby. It's clear from the blankets and pillow he's pulling out that this is isn't the first time he's been staying in here for any length of time.
Ubbe and Bjorn had both tried to convince him to go find somewhere more comfortable to rest, but in the face of their brother's pig-headedness, they'd given up. Ubbe had even started bringing him meals, so really, he was only encouraging the absurdity of Ivar's whims at this point.
Sigurd is thoroughly annoyed still and it makes it hard to go to sleep but he doesn't say anything for a while and hopes that Ivar will just fall asleep at some point soon. Maybe Sigurd could then get the strength to just move himself somewhere else.
The two of them fell asleep, but if Sigurd thought this was going to be the end of things, he was proven sorely wrong. Over the next few weeks as he healed, there was hardly a moment where Ivar wasn't by his side watching over him. He was a constant shadow, and if Sigurd wasn't happy, at least he seemed to be tolerating Ivar a little better.
At least he'd stopped trying to convince Ubbe to drag Ivar out of there forcibly. Ivar had been good at convincing his older brother that he needed to be there for whatever absurd reasoning he could think up. By now, he really was trying to behave better, though it still often devolved into sniping much of the time. Still, there was no signs he wanted to stab Sigurd through the chest with an axe, so hey, progress?
Sigurd has finally given up on constantly trying to get Ivar to leave him alone. There had been virtually no moments of privacy and more than a few fights. Somehow they’d never come to physical blows, though Sigurd might have tried but was still incapacitated enough by pain and injury that his attempts hadn’t really mattered much.
“I’m clearly not dying tonight can you leave me be?” Sigurd asked after dinner had finished. He was moving around on his own and the pain is mostly manageable if he doesn’t exert himself too much. He would like to try and exert himself in a fun way but not with Ivar around being a creep.
"No," Ivar said blithely and with such certainty that it made it seem like the subject was already closed before it had begun. Really, Sigurd was so contrary. He'd complained his whole life that he'd never gotten enough attention, and now that someone was finally giving it to him, he didn't seem to know how to react.
He was sitting in the corner, using a curved knife to clean the muck out from under his fingernails, flicking it onto the ground with practiced ease.
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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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They both like to blame everyone but themselves for who they are.
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"Maybe they should have considered leaving you in the woods instead of me."
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“Leave, Ivar. You’re making me wish I was already dead.”
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Ivar snorts at Sigurd's words. "Stop being dramatic."
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“Ubbe and Hvitserk has no interest in spending time with me and you were too busy sucking mother’s tit not that she’d let you actually play with anyone anyway,” he really shouldn’t bring that up again, right? Oh well.
“I only had siggy and no one even cared that she died except me. Björn barely gave her a thought. You all were terrible.”
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"You blame me as if I had any say in the matter. It's not like I asked for all of Mother's attention. In case you forgot, I was a child too!" Ivar says irritably. It galls him to admit that Sigurd is partially right. He'd been the forgotten middle child in the midst of the attention the other three got.
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“You are no longer a child and you cannot accept that you could be wrong about anything!”
How long before Ubbe shows up to tell them to stop fighting honestly?
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He looks down at the floor so that he doesn't have to meet his brother's eyes. "I was wrong." The words are said so softly that Sigurd will be hard-pressed to hear them. "I was wrong to almost kill you."
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Did anyone expect Sigurd to make things easy?
“Can you just leave me alone? I can’t rest with you around.”
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He shakes his head. "I am staying right here," he says, tapping the ground twice with his finger. Sorry, Sigurd. You have a faithful guard dog now.
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He really doesn’t know how to deal with attention once he has it apparently.
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Because unfortunately he is a long way from even beginning to be able to move Ivar or run off away from him as he often had after taunting him before. Just wait until he’s strong enough to get on his feet again!
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"He'd take you away for your own good."
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"It won't be good for either of us. Just let me stay in here. I'll be quiet." Famous last words. Let's see how long he could actually manage it before he exploded.
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“You are not anymore rest inducing quiet than you are spouting off,” Sigurd mutters. It really is hard for him to accept that Ivar might actually really care even if he had actually seemed sincere. There’s an unease to being around him like sharing a room with a venomous snake.
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Ubbe and Bjorn had both tried to convince him to go find somewhere more comfortable to rest, but in the face of their brother's pig-headedness, they'd given up. Ubbe had even started bringing him meals, so really, he was only encouraging the absurdity of Ivar's whims at this point.
I CANT FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO NEXT
It wasn't likely.
And he'd soon fall asleep.
When all else fails, time skip!
At least he'd stopped trying to convince Ubbe to drag Ivar out of there forcibly. Ivar had been good at convincing his older brother that he needed to be there for whatever absurd reasoning he could think up. By now, he really was trying to behave better, though it still often devolved into sniping much of the time. Still, there was no signs he wanted to stab Sigurd through the chest with an axe, so hey, progress?
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“I’m clearly not dying tonight can you leave me be?” Sigurd asked after dinner had finished. He was moving around on his own and the pain is mostly manageable if he doesn’t exert himself too much. He would like to try and exert himself in a fun way but not with Ivar around being a creep.
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He was sitting in the corner, using a curved knife to clean the muck out from under his fingernails, flicking it onto the ground with practiced ease.
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should we do another time skip?
Sounds good!
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