“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.
Pot, meet Kettle. Ivar is a contrarian himself as well. Sigurd still didn’t know what to do with his new shadow but he knew he’d like to ditch it once and a while. How long is this going to go on?
“Ivar, how long do you plan to follow me around like a lost puppy?”
Ivar paused in cleaning his nails like he was actually giving the matter serious thought. "I might stop after you turn, oh, twenty-five or so." Was he serious? Or just being sarcastic? Only the gods knew.
Either way, Sigurd was doomed to a foreseeable future of having his little brother around. "You know, I've been thinking."
Sigurd was really very tempted to throw the closest object he could get his hands on at Ivar’s head but he stifles the impulse and drops down into a seat and ignores the pain that shoots through him at the impact that’s still a bit too jarring.
"We'd make a lot more progress if we spent less time arguing with each other and actually tried to work as a team." Smart as Ivar was, it had never really occurred to him before now the advantages that teaming up with his older brother would come with. But while Sigurd did have his many shortcomings, there was certain qualities he had that Ivar lacked. He was very good at seeing people as they were, good and bad alike, whereas Ivar liked to sweep the worst qualities of people under the rug if he cared about them.
Now that was a strange idea coming from Ivar all of all people. Sigurd couldn’t exactly say that he was wrong though. It’s hard to imagine Ivar actually being able to work with anyone as a team.
“That would require cooperation and compromise, neither of which you know how to do.”
"That's all you know," Ivar says peevishly. One of the best ways to get Ivar to do something is to tell him he can't do it. Between almost losing Sigurd and then coming up with this idea, he's determined to make it work. "Maybe if we both learn to give a little, we won't end up killing each other."
“Only one of us has made an attempt to kill the other,” Sigurd says and it’s a bit sullen but also Ivar isn’t wrong but he has trouble believing his little brother could actually manage to work with him and not against him as he usually works against everyone. “Do you know how to compromise, Ivar?”
"Don't act like you've never thought about it." He's still a bit sore after all the times Sigurd has said he should have been left to be eaten by wolves in the woods.
"I can learn," he says. It might be doubtful, but it appears he really is willing to try, if only for Sigurd's sake more than his own.
"We won't know unless you agree to try this," he says, which isn't really a yes or no answer. In truth, Ivar's unsure of if he really can set aside sixteen years worth of resentment to be able to work with his older brother. At least he can make the best attempt that he can instead of giving up before they've even started.
"I'll take that as a yes," he says with a touch of smugness. Ivar is definitely used to getting his way no matter what. He'll just continue to wear Sigurd down until he agrees with him.
Over the next couple of weeks, as Sigurd was still healing, they began to get along a little bit better. There was less bite and anger in their words to each other. Now that Sigurd was almost back on his feet, it was time to continue with their raids of England.
Ivar had turned his eyes towards a prime target: York. But he needed someone to back him up on this. "Sigurd, I need your help convincing the others that this is the right course of action."
It’d been slightly easier to get along with Ivar. Maybe it was both of them making the effort or the fact that Ivar wasn’t hovering quite as much. He still finds it a bit jarring when the other says he needs his help and it does make the older teen smirk slightly.
“Since when did you care if they were convinced or not, Ivar. The army follows you.”
"It's better to show a united force than to be divided." He'd seen in his mind what would happen if Sigurd had died. They would have all had their own agendas, and while Ivar likely would have made his succeed through sheer stubbornness, it was better for the army to think the brothers were still solid.
Sigurd contemplated that answer and he supposed that Ivar is right about that. He knows that Ivar’s previous behavior hadn’t endeared Ubbe to his cause but Hvitserk is much easier to consider swaying.
“We should start with Hvitserk.”
Björn has already made it clear he intends to go galavanting elsewhere.
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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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“Ivar, how long do you plan to follow me around like a lost puppy?”
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Either way, Sigurd was doomed to a foreseeable future of having his little brother around. "You know, I've been thinking."
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“What have you been thinking now, Ivar?”
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“That would require cooperation and compromise, neither of which you know how to do.”
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"I can learn," he says. It might be doubtful, but it appears he really is willing to try, if only for Sigurd's sake more than his own.
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“Can you?”
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“Maybe.”
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“Fine, Ivar. Now will you stop following me around like a dog?”
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should we do another time skip?
Sounds good!
Ivar had turned his eyes towards a prime target: York. But he needed someone to back him up on this. "Sigurd, I need your help convincing the others that this is the right course of action."
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“Since when did you care if they were convinced or not, Ivar. The army follows you.”
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“We should start with Hvitserk.”
Björn has already made it clear he intends to go galavanting elsewhere.
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