Chapter Text
Life with Ivar had not always been easy.
He was not a fussy child but he did sometimes become impatient with himself.
Especially when he tried to move his legs.
I had taken it upon myself to rub his legs and move them to try and get them to form some muscle.
I knew he wanted to crawl and walk like other children his age.
It was very difficult at times to watch him struggle.
He did enjoy his lessons which made it easier to teach him.
He was a very good learner and he absorbed everything quickly.
Once he was able to talk I taught him Latin, English and what little I knew of Norse.
Ragnar taught him the history of his people and more of the language.
Once Ivar began to eat more solid foods, Aslaug stopped coming by.
We saw her at the market sometimes and at the great hall but she always kept her distance.
My son had yet to ask me about his mother and I was relieved about it, yet dreading the time when he became curious enough to ask.
“Priest.”
I look up as Ragnar walks in.
“I am not a priest.”
“You will always be my priest.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
He sits down next to me.
“Because it’s true.”
I continue writing down the schedule for that week.
Ragnar had set aside a permanent time after supper for himself, when he wasn’t raiding that is.
Aslaug sometimes sat in but not always.
Lagertha came every six months and she also scheduled permanent time for herself.
Bjorn was a regular student as was Rollo.
Floki sometimes sneaked around but he had made no move to actually sit in on lectures.
Torstein was also a regular student.
“I have been meaning to ask you. Do I have to bring Ivar to the Thing?”
“He is still too young.”
“He’s eight and considers himself to be grown up. At least, too old to be read to but still young enough to be tucked in.”
Ragnar smiles.
“In a few years. I will tell you when.”
I nod.
His hand touches the nape of my neck.
I look at him.
“You look very beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“I was thinking that tonight we might have our regular lessons in your bed.”
“Why would we do that?”
He leans in closer.
“Take a guess.”
His hand moves up my thigh.
Ivar hobbles in.
I sit up straight and remove Ragnar’s hand from my leg.
“Father, Lord Ragnar.” Ivar says.
“Call me Ragnar, there is no need for formality between us.” Ragnar tells him.
Ivar nods and sits.
“How was your lesson?”
I stand and walk over to him.
I crouch down in front of him and massage his legs.
“The priests have so much knowledge.”
I nod my head.
“Are we Christian father?”
“Why do you ask?”
He touches the crucifix around his neck.
It was the one I had brought with me from Lindisfarne.
“The priests say you used to be a monk but that now you are a pagan.”
I look at my son.
“What else do these priests say about me?”
He touches my face.
“Do not be angry with them, it is my fault.”
I grab his small hand and kiss it.
“Why would it be your fault?”
“You don’t ever speak of your life before you came here or how you acquired so much knowledge. I just wanted to learn more.”
I surge up and kiss his forehead.
“I promise I will share more of my life with you.” I smile.
“Thank you father. But you did not answer my question.”
My eyes meet Ragnar’s over my sons shoulder.
“It is a difficult question to answer.” I say looking back at him.
“Why?”
I sit down beside him.
“There are days when I think that I have once again found my love for the Christian God and then there are days when I am tortured by the old gods.”
He nods.
“I think I understand.”
“Good.”
“Will you tell me about your life in England tonight?”
“I will.”
He smiles up at me and my heart surges with love.
I smile at Ragnar.
His smoldering eyes bore into mine.
“Perhaps I too can sit in on your bedtime story.” He says.
I swallow.
“Perhaps.”