𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 ✩ Ivar The Boneless

✩ chapter III, act III ⓲

"I thought I could fix this, whatever this may be. But sweat and tears make oceans, and now we're drifting off to sea."
chapter III, act III ✧ 𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔

"I am making it my business to make friends with the sons of Ragnar."

"Forgive me, Astrid... but we already have a woman in our family, and she is already trouble enough," Ubbe huffed, his thoughts trailing to his friend as his mind began spinning with worry. If she was dead... they wouldn't be able to handle it. Not after their mother's death. Scoffing, he continued, "and I'm afraid that we — "

"Ah, yes, Nero Gunnolf," she smiled, shaking her head slightly at the name of the girl who had saved her wife, "and yes, you should be afraid."

"Everyone will always underestimate you," Ragnar warned, his previously somber expression becoming a light one, determined yet... peaceful, "you must make them pay for it."

"I will father," the boy breathed out, his hands reaching out to his father. Weak tears trailed his cheeks, his lip quivered, the sight was heartbreaking, but he looked just as determined as the Odinsson.

"Care for the wolf and it will care for you," he smiled, the guards breaking in to separate the two. They dragged the boy away and at that moment he was sure he would be back, and he would tear that place to the ground, "be ruthless."

Ivar's head spun. He refused to grieve for his father. Revenge came first.

He wanted to think of anything else, but couldn't. His mind trailed to the girl, no matter how many times he focused on the ways he would kill all those who were in the same boat as him. He would still think of killing all of them but with her by his side instead. He missed her... he felt too warm, too angry, without her.

He wished to know of her, to know if somewhere, on the same sea under the same sky, she was alive and well. He hoped her heart did not ache, and if it did, he hoped he could end whoever made it so.

And once he reached Kattegat. His brothers waited for him at the port. And the inevitable truth that his father and mother were dead, didn't make him sad, it made him murderous. This time, there wasn't anyone to kiss his knuckles, to hold his hand. And there would be Hel to pay for that.