Chapter Text
(Eerika)
Kattegat is just as she remembers it, the heavy mud sticks to her boots and threatens to drag her down as she pushes her way through the throngs of people. The smell of rain and salt hangs in the air, a familiar blanket that reminds her of home. There are more houses and buildings than before, more people venturing in to trade, a far cry for the small Earldom that it had once been when she was a child.
Few people turn to stare as she moves her way through the crowds, their eyes drawn to her shield upon her back that still carries the colour's of Ragnar Lothbrok, her guiding force to bring her home. The guards at the entrance to the great hall eye her suspiciously as she trudges up the steps, one of them recognizes her and allows her to pass through with a small nod in her direction, the warmth of the great hall wrapping itself around her as she walks forward
"I am here to see King Ivar" she addresses the figure at the front of the hall a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth
(Ivar )
The scent of the sea pulled the young man from his sleep. Bright blue hues shifted over to the very pregnant ivory haired demi-god sleeping soundly next to him. A calloused hand reached out lightly brushing over her cheek before he sat up with a soft huff. Running the same hand over the length of his face Ivar let loose a heavy breath. Like most mornings now that he ruled Kattegat, being the new King for a few months now, he dressed in his dark garments and black leather armour. Worn steel braces hugged his legs that grew stronger with each day.
Quietly he left his sleeping chambers to the Great Hall where slaves cleaned or prepared food for breakfast. The hearth was ablaze with the warmth of its fire. Shivering the young Warlord shuffled slowly over to the source of heat to warm his brittle bones. A blonde slave quickly offered him a horn of ale which he silently took. Taking a drink he picked up on the doors to the Great Hall opening and the soft patter of feet coming his way.
It was the soft feminine voice he hadn't heard in years say his name that caused those famous Lothbrok blue eyes to shift to the dark haired woman. Eerika. It was as if he were staring at a ghost. How long had it been since he last saw the woman he considered a sister? Far too long. Shock blossomed throughout his body as he sat up a bit straighter. Waving his hand to the guard she was currently speaking to, he directed her to the new King.
"Sister of mine! How the time apart has benefited you! Come, come. It's warm by the fire. Slave get her a plate of food and a horn of ale." He demanded with a light tone, though it still held authority. Ivar was in a good mood which put most on edge, even more so than when he was in a pissy mood.
(Eerika)
The heavy sound of metal dragging against wood catches Eerika's attention instantly, the familiar sound one she had lived with for years. Blue eyes and brown eyes locked as Eerika set eyes on Ivar, her smile growing as she waved off the guard and made her way towards him.
He was no longer a child she thought, he looked stronger, always a strong-willed boy he had been determined to not let his impairment stop him from doing as he wished, and it showed.
"Little Brother!" She teased now within arms reach of him " it has been too long" she sighed sadly.
The years had clearly been tough on the both of them, war and time had taken its toll on both of them, here he sat a King in his own right, her she stood a former shield maiden and widow.
(Ivar)
Even though his body protested against the quick movements of him standing on his own as the woman drew near, Ivar wrapped his arms around her. His chin rested at the crown of her head, he may be the youngest of Ragnar's sons but he certainly wasn't the shortest. A smile graced his face full of mirth, it brightened his already strikingly handsome features.
It had been ages since he had heard the term of endearment Eerika had titled him with. "Yes, it has! Tell me, sister, where did you run off to?"
Patting her on the shoulder, Ivar sat back down roughly before patiently waiting to hear the stories his sister had to offer him. The same blonde slave quickly scampered over placing a plate of flatbread, goat's meat, and salted dried fish with a horn of ale next to the dark-haired shieldmaiden before slipping off once more to continue her duties.
Ivar could see that the years had been hard on his sister, it made her look older and wiser. Those dark pools having seen many things from great and beautiful lands to the nightmares of war. Within his own ocean hues held a certain madness mixed with good intentions. Ivar was smarter than the average man of his time which made him that much more dangerous, plus the unpredictably in nature he carried.
"You're little brother isn't so little anymore, sister. As you see I am King now and soon you will meet my wife to be. Hopefully, you'll stay for the birth of my divine children." He stated as that lick of madness laced his tone as he grinned wide at his beloved sister.
(Eerika)
If she hadn't grown up with him she probably wouldn't have noticed the way his body strained as he wrapped his arms around her. She held him tight for a moment, her hands gripping his tunic securely revelling in the secureness of the embrace. She might have been older than him but he dwarfed her in height.
Raising an eyebrow in his direction as she sat down beside him she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly "I wish I could tell you some exciting story of how I battled monsters and concurred my enemy's little brother, you used to like those stories " she recalled both fondly and with an air of sadness to her voice, of a young Ivar begging her to tell him stories of the gods and all the battles they would fight.
"But alas after the death of my husband and children, I have wandered the hills and country hoping to find my way, but my true home has been calling for me and now here I am, returned to my family" she finished with a smile, her chin on her shoulder.
War had left her scarred and broken, alone, it had taken her husband and her children, Abandoned by those she called friends and family. Gone was the young hopeful girl in her place a broken soul.
Eerika found herself relaxing as she listened to Ivar talk, a proud smile upon her features as she moved to rest her hand upon his own "Nothing would make me happier Little brother, I am so very proud of you of all you have achieved" she motioned with her free hand to the hall around them "I always knew the Gods had great things destined for you..." she paused for a moment " I hope you will forgive me for my leaving and my absence....." she smiled sadly, giving his hand an extra squeeze.
(Ivar)
It was true, Eerika had marvelled him with all the stories she told him growing up. From her own experiences to stories of their beloved Gods. Oh, how he missed the simpler times, back when they were all children. Back when everyone was happy. The grin melted away into a straight line as he focused his intense gaze on the flames coming from the hearth.
"You have lost much like me... Father was killed in England, as I'm sure you've heard. Mother was murdered in cold blood by the usurper Lagertha... During our raid in the revenge of father, I killed Sigurd out of a fit of rage... Floki abandoned me, as well as Ubbe... All I have left is Hvitserk and Luar... But the Gods brought you back to me." He offered her a sobering smile.
The warmth of her hand over his caused him to lace their fingers together. He had missed his dear sister. Eerika had been one of the few to not judge him for being crippled and believed in him. She had been there to keep Sigurd at bay from his bullying and taught him how to throw an axe. Hearing how proud she was of him invoked an emotional response from him. With heavy shuttering breath, he gave her a teary-eyed boyish smile. No longer was the hardened face of a mad warlord but the young innocent boy she once knew.
"No one has ever said such things to me... Thank you, sister. Now eat before I sit on your chest and force you." He teased lightly as he too squeezed her hand letting her know that he was there for her. They may not have been blood but they were bonded in a way that was unlike anything else.
(Erika)
Eerika sighed and nodded, listening intently, Ragnar's death had been a tragedy to all of them, but their revenge had been swift and deserving, She and Ragnar had had their difference's in the last years of his life, having arranged her marriage and then abandoning his family, There was no love lost between Eerika and Queen Aslaug, but Eerika had loved Ragnar and eventually found love for her children, Eerika had once trusted Largertha and had at one point seen her as her mother, but she too turned her back on them.
At Ivar's mention of Sigurd a dark smile crosses her face, she remembered the cruel way in which the young boy had taunted Ivar, She had no love for that child and had done her best to shield Ivar from his cruel ministrations, It was only fitting that he die by his brother's hand.
His smile mirrors her own, on the outside he was a grown man capable of killing and taking his own, but on the inside he was still the small boy she used to pull along behind her in his cart, the small boy who would accompany her to all her fighting lessons, blood did not always make a family.
Laughing at his threat she picked a piece of fish from her plate and waved a warning finger at him " Careful little wolf you may be stronger and bigger than me but I can most certainly run faster than you "She teased him jokingly, using the same pet name she had given him as a boy as she bumped her shoulder against his
(Ivar)
Her laughter filling the Great Hall pulled a chuckle of his own from deep within his chest. Her teasing made him roll his eyes dramatically, as if. It was the little pet name she called him sparked a realization within him. Ivar called his lover Little Wolf often, seeing how she was the offspring of Fenrir. The Mother of wolves, The Great White Wolf of Norway, Luar.
Funny how Eerika had always referred him to a wolf and yet he was deeply and madly in love with one. It reminded him of the story of Hati and Skol, the wolves who chased the sun and moon.
Her bumping shoulders with him coaxed a little giggle from him as he reached up ruffling up her dark tresses. If it weren't for their eyes they would have looked like as if they were blood-related. Same dark hair, same wolfish sharp smile, the same burning heart full of dreams and ambitions.
"I'm glad you're back Eerika. Welcome home.