King Ivar spends much of his time with his infertile first wife: neglecting his second wife, the mother of his children, a Freyjasdottir. Eventually, it catches up to him when a foreign King Sverri invades his lands.
tw: abuse, character death, etc.
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Defeat.
Ivar wasn't familiar with the word. He wasn't defeated on the battlefield. No, of course not. The plunder of gold and precious gems along with whatever the dead had was enough to please the greediest of his men. But still, he arose defeated.
The nights were intense. Some days, Avaldr's chest rose and fell harshly. Other days he could stop altogether. Tonight was a rare still night in your bed. Avaldr lay in between Ivar and you in bed as he had for months at that point. If he was going to die– he might as well die between his parents.
It burned him– Avaldr was going to die painfully. But you had taken the choice from him to off him himself. You lay on your hip, rubbing his forehead as he slept with the knuckle of your finger caressing him into his rest. Ivar lay with him upon his chest, the tips of Avaldr's tangled up legs touching the beginning of his.
It was the closest you had been in years to him. Instead of his excitement for this though, his heart felt solemn and reserved for what was coming. His son was going to die and at the end of the year, he knew it would be soon.
"It'll be soon." Ivar tells you, head thrumming at his words. "Are you ready?"
You feel your heart stop in your chest and you suck in lungfuls of air debating what to say. A sigh falls from your chest. "I don't think we'll ever be."
The thought of it made you want to slump over the floor. As hard as Ivar made himself, his breath came in small bursts that he greedily sucked in as if he couldn't breathe. The dread pools inside of him at the thought of not just losing his child but garnering hard emotions from you. He knew what was coming. How you already blame him and would continue to blame him mercilessly.
You would soon hate him– and it made his heart cold.
You weren't exactly there when it happened.
To be clear, you were walking back with your boys from a walk. You needed a walk along the beach to clear yourself. Uxi fishing with Veifnr and showing you the catch when Ragnhild's feet hit the ground by you. Her pale skin flush with red heat– not knowing how to tell you when you all but saw it strewn across her face.
"He's going to leave soon." She says. Her eyes are wide blown, weak with tears that have itched her rosy cheeks.
"Ivar?" You leap onto your feet, forgetting that your boys were in the water when Ragnhild calls out to them. All your thoughts, the blood humming in your head and the fear of not being there when he passed boils in your brain.
"He's with Avaldr. Queen Kitta.. She... didn't pick him up with enough time. He couldn't breathe and then..." Ragnhild huffs beside you, exhaling air harshly. "He sent her away."
He can't breathe! Pick his ass up!
Why can't you listen to me!?
Those words are a foreign voice beating around your head. The words aren't yours– they are Ivar's. Your nails bite your palms, cracking open your skin with blood when you dug your heels through sand for your shared home. Kitta darkens the entrance with eyes so boiled red, she had been in a panic too. Part of you wants to slap her– but the other part knows, you spent the time you knew your son waiting for this moment. Unfortunately for her, you didn't even acknowledge her as you walk inside of the space where Ivar was, trying to pin his son in place.
