The black sheep [Björn]

If I had a heart I could love you ,

If I had a voice I would sing.

The long strain of grass rolled between his fingers while he looked over the ocean, asking himself over and over again when he would be there raiding. He heard so many stories over England, about that king Ecbert, his teeth clenched only by the thought of those Christian souls not worth to live even under that one God, or whatever they called it. The strain of grass broke between his fingers, his cold bleu eyes traveled down for a moment, throwing it away and looking back over the water. Should he … one day? Daring to sail this water, with or without a father? He was certain of one thing, he wouldn’t go there to be slaughtered like a pig. In some way the youngest son of Ragnar already thought it through, every bit of it. He thought back to what Floki him always told him; when the time was right. His eyes rested on his legs again, his crippled legs, strapped together with a belt. After years of struggling, months under the care of Floki he knew one thing, he didn’t had those useless legs for nothing. The gods must have something coming for him and until that moment came Ivar amused himself with Kattegat, although, Kattegat was hardly amused with him.

He pulled his body up on the stairs before the great hall. People hardly watched at him, or the difficult way he had to drag his body around all the time. His arms didn’t got tired but the pain was sometimes a little worse. When he was up the stairs he turned his head, looking over the square piece of ground before the great hall, the woman looked down as soon as he met her and she walked away, leaving that arrogant smirk on his face before he crawled in. Surprised there wasn’t much audience he began to look for at least one brother. But not even Ubbe was around, who usually was. He would even take enough with Sigurd, if he had to. ‘Where is my mother?’ He asked one of the slave girls in the corner. ‘I have no idea.’ She answered without looking up. Ivar held still on the little platform, leading to two thrones. ‘What are you doing here even if you don’t know that.’ He spitted out, frustrated because she didn’t had the answer. ‘Get out.’ And she ran, faster than her feet could carry her. His eyes fell on the two thrones, one for his mother and the other for his father, just standing there ready for someone to sit on it. That grin creeped back on his lips while he pulled his body up to the throne, making himself comfortable in it. Nobody sat here and here he was, Ivar who never obeyed any rule, sitting on the throne that Ragnar owned. His hand stroke over the fur in which it was covered before he looked up when the heavy footsteps came into the building. ‘Brother.’ He reacted way to joyful when Björn walked in. And there you had it, the tormenting look that half-brother of his already gave.

For Björn

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If I had a heart I could love you ,

If I had a voice I would sing.

That was quite the good brother who walked in there to entertain his day. Or at least, for Ivar it was a whole lot of entertaining while Björn would probably get out his frustration, sooner than later. His mother wouldn’t even make a comment about it, for her Ragnar was gone and he was her favorite son. His other brother, especially Ubbe would try to get him of there but probably fail. Shame they were all that soft inside, not wanting to challenge their brother further than they would call safe. But Björn, he didn’t expect that this chunk of ego would walk in here. Ivar never truly appreciated Björn, on a level they weren’t that different, they thought both that they knew everything better. Only the way they expressed it was different. Yes, Björn was the first son of Ragnar, the one who had battle already so much battles, Ironside, he spitted that name almost onto the ground. And here he said, a cripple where everybody thought he presented nothing. But they should pay more attention, Ivar was the smartest, he knew that, he used it, he would taunt his way through Kattegat with it.

‘Ivar.’ He roared angry. Ivar frowned his eyebrows, already amused by the temper Björn put on. Ivar leaned a little forward, his elbow resting on his upper leg while he looked how Björn walked in, looking for him and finally finding him. And oh, he enjoyed that look. His blue eyes darkened in the threating posture Björn represented. Björn started to threaten him, commanding him to get of there and the only thing Ivar did was making himself it more comfortable. He leaned back, pushing his back into the fur, moving his head from left to right while he snuggled his body further into the throne. ‘Why would I do that brother? Father isn’t here.’ He held his hand up, looking around in the great hall. It was silent, some walked out, and others looked in tension. ‘He probably isn’t coming back so,’ he pulled up his lips into a amusing grin. ‘let me keep it warm, somebody has to.’ He let his head fell aside, smiling towards his bigger brother, half-brother. ‘Did you had a bad day?’ He noticed the furious frown in Björn his forehead. He talked like he was talking to a little child, knowing this would bring him in so much problems and hardly caring about it.

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If I had a heart I could love you ,

If I had a voice I would sing.

He knew he irritated Björn with this a lot … more than a lot and still he wasn’t moving despite the way this was heading. Ivar often thought that he was the better man, yet he was just a boy. The fact everybody underestimated him was something that held him in moments like this on his place. Proving himself was key in his life and he didn’t do it only for himself, he did it for his father to. Ragnar leaving had a huge impact on his life, making him maybe more unpredictable than he already was. And now Björn had to deal with him, from which he already knew it wouldn’t be an easy.

Björn started to talk about that throne, that is was something you had to deserve and Ivar just laughed, nodding his head because he had seen this coming from a mile away. One of the slaves looked in his direction and he asked for a cup of ale without using any words. She hurried away and Ivar pointed his attention back towards his brother. ‘Why do you think you deserve it?’ He asked. ‘Because you fought a battle? Eumh? Because you was more around father than we were?’ It was all about the ego with Björn, getting fame, being recognized as the only living son of Ragnar Lothbrok. The slave came back, giving a little bow before offering him the cup and Ivar gave his brother a rather amused smile, looking how that girl walked back away. See, he would be fitting to bow for.

He was looking down in his cup when Björn spoke again. ‘You didn’t even knew our father.’ Ivar his stone-cold blue eyes slowly trailed up to Björn again, hooking themselves without any form of emotions. His face was blank while his fingers curled around the cup, tensing more with every words Björn spoke. ‘Don’t talk in behave of father!’ He shouted, leaning forward again, without any form of hesitation he wanted to take down that brother to just show him how good the ground really was. ‘You always think you know everything, because you did everything and we did nothing. All you did is following father around like a lost dog and all you do now is,’ he felt silent, chuckling for a moment. ‘walking around like a sheep without a herd, lost. You hide with your mother in some far of village, what son of Ragnar would do that. And in the meantime, while you are pounding with mother we are here supporting the greater good.’ Ivar jerked his body back in the seat, turning the cup around in his fingers. ‘Don’t think you are any different brother, and don’t take me for a fool thinking otherwise. We may be younger but we are still his sons, for which we have the same rights. So,’ that outstanding arrogant smile came on his lips again, almost satisfied by his own words but knowing this wasn’t over just yet. He brought the cup to his lips, drinking without losing any eye contact with Björn, not for a second. He could contain a lot of his anger but you really didn’t want him to explode. ‘You are not smarter than us, you only think you are. I will prove you that someday.’ He pointed his finger his finger in which hand laid his cup towards his brother. If Björn couldn’t treat his brothers equally what was the point of being brothers than. But otherwise, the wold never was fair for Ivar the Boneless, so why should he be that to the world?

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If I had a heart I could love you ,

If I had a voice I would sing.

Ivar was just more annoying to Björn by only using expressions rather than using words. It didn’t need much to frustrate the eldest son of Ragnar. He petted his fingers on the arm chair, making that hollow sound in the silence around them. He knew how badly Björn wanted to smack that grin of his face, or pull him out of that throne … but he didn’t. And Ivar was always curious way. Why did Björn Ironside only talk rather than using violence. He knew he wouldn’t win by talking, words did nothing but only sparking his anger. And angry was not the way to handle Ivar, it would only solve into his first instinct reactions and that mostly hold the thoughts of killing the one pushing him. In this case, Björn. But where was the fun in that. Ivar looked at his brother like he was looking at a little child, like he was the father in the throne bossing everybody around. Stronger … better … he let his hand fly through the air with those words, not interested in any of that. ‘So you keep saying.’ He nodded fast, like he was actually agreeing with it. ‘What is there to be proven Björn, other than sitting here in this hellhole of a place. It’s not that you give us really a change to do that.’ He leaned a little forward, bringing the conversation back from Ragnar to the current situation. ‘Don’t you think our brothers think the same? They all want to do something? They all want to raid, to prove themselves and who is keeping us here, not mother,’ he lifted his hand with the cup, pointing his finger towards Björn. ‘You.’ He finished. ‘What is Sigurd doing, playing music for the people, how can a son of Ragnar turn out like that, playing songs. Because we don’t have anything else to.’ He stated. ‘What do you think Ubbe and Hvitserk doing, hunting down the girls, pleasing them. So what’s wrong with me commanding slaves around. At least I do some effort to actually command somebody.’ He chuckled about his own statement. ‘You don’t give us a chance to prove ourselves.’ He hissed softly, rolling his eyes in his own thoughts. ‘Give us something to do, maybe I become less annoying in the process. Maybe I pull that cripple ass of mine of this throne when you ask.’ It was les anger, more stating the obvious, they needed something. If they wanted to raid someday, or conquer someday then they had to grow first, but that didn’t worked if Björn stopped them from it.

Father … it went always around father. If he could use his legs he would been looking for Ragnar, pull him back to his duties as a king. But he couldn’t and nobody really did something about it. Nobody went looking for the king of Kattegat. Something that frustrated the boy. Instead he had to listen to all the ramble Björn was accusing him from. ‘I don’t desire to become the man that you are brother. I want to be my own man, you just do what fathers told you.’ He spitted out. Emotions shifted quite easily in Ivar, what made him a dangerous type to own a throne someday. He wasn’t fit to rule, not with all the power he so badly wanted. His fingers clenched around his cup, jaws pushed together with every word Björn more said. When he talked about his mother he felt that raging anger in his chest, knowing it would cost him no sweat to take something and pierce it through Björn his body. His eyes so much fired the hate, cold bleu flames while he tried to contain his raging storm inside. Ragnar kept him alive … he always believed it was for a reason. He didn’t said a word, he didn’t moved an inch when Björn said those words, but his face … shouted out everything he wanted to spit out. ‘Do we, do we work together?’ He asked after a long time of silence, tilting his head. ‘Because all I see is you leading. Mother had great plans for this town, I just can easily push her a little further because we all know,’ He felt silence, a slithering smile forming on his lips. ‘I’m the favorite son.’ He stated. ‘You can’t stop Aslaug, for all, she is the queen. I have influence on her, you … not. So maybe you should pay more attention to that brotherhood you want so badly more than you want to rule on your own.’ He followed, drinking from his ale again. He calmed himself in some way. ‘Give me a reason to follow you Björn, because now you only give me reasons to hate you for the man you became.’ It was said, he was happy, Björn … probably not.

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