Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter/the introduction of my reboot! I hope that you enjoyed and that you like this chapter just as much!
It had been a month since Inga had arrived in Kattegat and she was beginning to adjust to her life as the Lothbroks' slave. She had found that her duties as a servant were not overly demanding and were instead quite simple. Most of what she did consisted of regular house chores; things like washing clothes and serving dinner.
While she didn't always enjoy having to wait night and day on the royal family, she was grateful for the kindness they showed her. Not once did any of them push her to discuss her past; they were all respectful of her and her wishes.
Still, she tried her best to avoid them. It wasn't that she was particularly weary or angry with any of them, it was rather that things felt different. She was no longer a free woman and so having friendly conversations with the Ragnarssons felt odd; almost like she was breaking some unspoken rule.
There had only been a few occasions where she had actually had the chance to catch up with any of the sons. Her exchanges with Hvitserk usually consisted of joking; he would tease her sometimes as she worked or tell her funny stories when she was free from her duties. Ubbe didn't try and talk with her much; she could tell that he wanted to give her space and time to adjust to her life, which she found to be very considerate.
Ivar, as expected, paid little to no attention to Inga, or at least he tried not to. In the rare instances where he would acknowledge her existence, he would spend his time asking her to do tedious chores for him. He never thanked her or made eye-contact with her, and he was always sure to speak to her in a condescending tone, almost as if he thought of her as less than human. Still, Inga remained patient and prayed that there would be a day where Ivar would accept her.
As for Sigurd, well, he was the exact opposite of Ivar. Instead of ignoring Inga or insulting her, he constantly tried to praise her for her work or give her a hand with whatever she was doing. She didn't feel right allowing him to help her with her work but seeing as though he had the authority to order her around, she had no choice but to allow him to assist her. And as much as she appreciated his kindness, she couldn't help but wonder if he was merely trying to gain her favor so that she would someday be willing to go to bed with him. She didn't want to believe that to be true, but that constant fear always hung in the back of her mind.
One particular morning, the four sons had asked her to accompany them to the forest where they trained. Inga had initially tried to decline, but they guilted her into coming. She knew that Aslaug would most likely not care if she slacked off with her work, but Inga couldn't help but feel as though she was breaking the rules and failing at her job; after all, she was a slave, not a playmate. Still, she woke up early and followed them out into the forest. On the walk there, she did not talk much and instead listened to them discuss the arrival of their father, Ragnar Lothbrok.
In the month that Inga had returned back to Kattegat, the absent King, Ragnar Lothbrok had also made his return. He had been missing from Kattegat for ten years, so as expected, his arrival caused quite the stir. Many people were angry with him because of some news regarding a settlement that was destroyed. Inga knew little of what they talked about but was still equally weary of him because he had abandoned his sons. She did care for the King and knew that her father had once been friends with him, but she couldn't help but feel upset at the thought that he abandoned his kingdom and his family; what kind of king did that sort of thing and then returned home, acted as though nothing had happened, and tried to invite his sons to raid with him to England?
Although she felt strongly about the situation, Inga did not bother to speak up. Even if she hadn't been a slave, she still would have kept out of the conversation. She was not Ragnar's child, so she found that it was not her place to join in on the discussion. And besides, all the sons except Ivar seemed opposed to siding with their father; there would be no swaying them.
She continued to walk behind them, lugging a basket full of food and other miscellaneous items. Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd all walked before Inga, carrying Ivar on a chair. She wasn't sure how far into the woods they planned on going, but it wasn't long before she noticed a clearing filled with various targets and animal carcasses.
When they reached the clearing, the three brothers set Ivar's chair down on the ground and began to unsheathe and sharpen their weapons. Inga, who had never witnessed the sons' training sessions before, awkwardly unpacked the basket of food and worked on setting it out on a misshapen log table. She was unsure as to why they had brought her along in the first place but didn't ask or argue and instead tried to make herself look busy by rearranging the various platters and pitchers on the table.
She continued her pointless task until Hvitserk teased her for her meticulousness and encouraged her to watch. She tried to object but found that it would just be easier to comply. So, she sat down on one of the stools and watched as the sons trained. It was a fascinating process to watch; seeing how they easily jumped from match to match and how they effortlessly delivered blows and shot straight, precisely angled arrows. She was unsure of how to react to everything she was observing, and so she settled with a grin; genuine and in awe. Inga, herself, had never been interested in learning to fight, but watching the sons' fight now and remembering how they used to be years ago made her smile; they had all come a long way.
After another hour or so of intense training, the four Ragnarssons finally decided to take a break and indulged themselves in the food Inga had set out. As usual, they sat and talked about issues regarding their father and the town's trade. Inga had grown accustomed to hearing their mature conversations but could find no interest in them. She knew little about the town's trade, and there was no need for her to start discussing a man who was not related to her in any way. She hated ignoring their conversation but grew bored and slowly began to block them out; drifting far away into a blank, empty state of mind. She almost felt as though she were dreaming, until she heard someone say her name which snapped her right out of her trance.
She was unsure of who had called her name, so she looked around at the four brothers wide-eyed. At first no one said anything and then suddenly Hvitserk began laughing. Sigurd joined in and Ubbe cracked a smile, his eyes crinkling like his father's. Ivar sat stone faced, scowling at his joyful siblings.
"What...what is so funny?" Inga asked. She admitted that she enjoyed seeing the sons looking lively and full of laughter, but she couldn't quite understand what they were laughing at.
Hvitserk, who's face had turned bright red from laughter, flashed Inga a smirk, "You looked like you were zoning out, so we called your name. You should have seen your face when we did that!" He exclaimed, suppressing another laugh, "You looked so confused."
Ivar groaned, "Why must you all be so immature? There was nothing funny about that."
The other three did not respond to his question, but instead continued their conversation with Inga.
"Is there something you needed?" She asked Hvitserk earnestly. He nodded in a sly fashion before turning to Sigurd who was now holding a lute in his hands.
"We wanted to know if you still knew any of those songs you and Sigurd used to sing along to or if you knew any of the dances. We thought it might be fun for you to relive some of that."
She blushed at the memory of dancing with Sigurd in the Hall. It was something that seemed so silly, and yet it brought her so much joy. She shook her head solemnly, "No... I don't remember the songs or the dances. There is no time for such things when you are a slave."
Hvitserk gave her a small nod before looking to Sigurd with a somewhat defeated expression plastered on his face.
"Why would we want to see her dance anyway?" Ivar inquired, "It's not like she was any good then, so who says she's any good now."
Sigurd, who had been biting his tongue since the moment Ivar had even opened his mouth, cast Ivar a furious look.
"I don't know why you are so opposed to Inga being around us and having a little fun. She may be a slave now, but she wasn't always a slave; she is our friend."
Ivar rolled his eyes, "She is your friend, not mine."
"And who's fault is that Ivar?" Sigurd shot back. He gave his brother another piercing glare before turning back to his horn of ale.
"Please do not argue," Inga responded quietly, "I do not wish to cause any problems between the two of you."
A respectful Sigurd gave her a nod, while Ivar only glanced her over before grunting and pulling himself down from his stool. He did not say where he was going, but no one asked; no one cared.
Once he was gone and out of sight, the mood seemed to lighten up and the three remaining brothers were able to joke again. They tried to get Inga to laugh along with them, but it seemed as though she was detached from the world and had no interest in rejoining. They debated trying to inquire about her experiences as a slave prior to her return, but it seemed like a subject that was sensitive for her; they'd have to ask about it in a subtle way.
Ubbe, who was known for being the peace-keeper amongst the brothers, decided to be the one to speak up. He cast Inga a faint smile before clearing his throat, "We understand that you aren't very comfortable with talking about your past, but isn't there something you can explain?"
Inga chewed her lip, pondering her response. What could she tell them that wouldn't leave them even more inquisitive? She released a long sigh before casting her eyes down to the ground and beginning to recount her memories.
"I was six summers old when I met you all. My father had died that year on a raid and we had little money, so my mother had taken up clothes making to provide for us. Your mother had taken a liking to my mother's clothes and was looking for someone who she could discuss her troubles with, and so they became close friends. My mother had me come along for every visit and encouraged that I befriend all of you, so I did. Our visits went on for a year or two, before my mother stopped bringing me along. My mother thought that I was getting too old to be running around and playing, and she had also grown concerned because at that time, Ivar had already begun to show some violent tendencies."
Inga paused for a moment and looked the three attentive brothers over before continuing, "Nothing interesting went on for many years, but then my mother contracted a fever of sorts when I was thirteen summers old. She did not survive."
The moment those words left Inga's mouth, the forest went dead silent. No one said anything, and no one complained as Inga took a minute to recompose herself, "After her death, I was unsure as what to do. We were very poor and so she left me with little inheritance. I considered going to see your mother but decided against that. I had not seen any of you for so long and the idea of me going to ask for assistance felt wrong. Instead, I decided to run off; to start anew. I left the next day and skipped my own mother's funeral. My plan was to head to a new village and find work, only I was stopped short by slave traders. They did not know who I was and did not believe me when I said that I was a free woman. I had no family to vouch for me and no money or anything of real value to prove that I was above slave status, so they took me. I didn't fight back; there was no point in fighting back against men who were twice my size. I figured that I should play along; after all, this is what the Gods had meant for me."
She took a deep breath before looking back to the brothers, their eyes wide and mouths slightly ajar. Another minute passed before she announced that she had no further information. It was clear that they wanted to hear more of her experiences, but no one pushed her; it was obvious that she was not proud of what had gone on during her four years of servitude.
The brothers exchanged looks with one another before turning back to Inga and thanking her for joining them to their training session. She nodded and tried her best to smile back at them before heading over to the table of food.
Diligently, she packed up the remaining scraps. When she was finished, she started to follow them on their trek home. The whole walk home, she still felt a bit on edge. After having revealed some of her life events, she felt a bit shaken; frightened of what they might think and nervous that they would continue to ask questions...but, she also felt somewhat free.
She had been holding her feelings in for so long and had thought that she was going to break down under the weight of them so many times. Knowing that they cared for her filled her with hope; hope that she would someday be able to move on and to tell them the truth; to free herself from the painful memories that still cluttered her mind. It was a risky dream; one that would most likely never come true, but it excited her all the same. Maybe someday she would trust one of them enough to speak the truth. Maybe she would someday be able to open her heart up to Sigurd or another man who showed interest. But for now, she wished to remain a dull slave and to enjoy the simplicity of her new life; to enjoy the comfort of her beloved home.
Again, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter (even though it was a bit slow and was mostly just backstory mixed with filler). If anyone has any suggestions, predictions, questions, or thoughts of any kind, feel free to leave them in the comment/review section.
My chapter-ly question(s) for anyone who is willing to answer is: what do you love most about Ivar/what about him brings you here to my fanfiction (and other Ivar fics)?
