Harbard took away Ivar's pain, and charged Aslaug with the care of another child, "She is the only thing that will keep the pain away, be sure she is close to him, always."
The timeline of this story is going to be a little off, just so I can fit more character development in between the important events. I don't think the show ever directly reveals the ages of the characters, so I'm guessing a lot. Anyway, this chapter is probably going to be longer than the others. It pretty much covers Ivar and Revna's childhood together, and then there will be a time jump in the next chapter.
I have about the first 20,000 words written, so I'll be posting that much regularly over the next few weeks, maybe once a week or more often if I get impatient. I'm still writing, but I have a general idea of where the plot is going. This story is going to be pretty fluffy and character driven though, so if anyone has suggestions about cute scenes or characters they'd like to see interact more, I'm open to inspiration.
I don't own Vikings, obviously.
…
Revna didn't know anything before Kattegat. The story goes, that she was left at the entrance of the great hall as an infant. Aslaug found her, and though no one else was there to witness the girl's appearance, Aslaug declared the girl a gift from the gods in front of all who would listen. But Aslaug could not raise the child herself, because the baby was not the blood of Ragnar, or her own blood, for that matter. So she charged her servants with looking after the child, and they all pitched in to keep her alive. That is the origin story Revna knew. And she believed it, though she was not so vain as to proclaim any favoritism from the gods. Aslaug was kind in that way, Revna knew, often interpreting the will of the gods in the most positive of ways, when doing so brought no harm. Revna figured she was left by some poor peasant who could not afford to keep her.
She grew up a slave, but with the special attention of Aslaug. She spent time with the entire family, though she did not participate in the formal aspects of their family life. Revna would be at their dinners, but as a cup barer. She was at all their public events, but she worked preparing food or tending to animals instead of celebrating. She was kept close but separate in that way.
Often times when Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd went playing outside, Aslaug kept Revna inside with her and Ivar, under the pretense of teaching her weaving or some other skill that she could've learned from the servants. Because of this, she became particular friends with the youngest Ragnarson. He didn't always seem to enjoy her company, but the Queen forced them together so often that after a while, it became comfortable.
One afternoon, when Revna was five and Ivar was six, Ivar had a particularly bad day. Against Aslaug's wished, he'd begun crawling around the great hall when there weren't too many people around to make a spectacle of it. Revna was there with him, they were playing Viking and Saxon villager.
"No, Revna! You have to cry out in fear when I pretend to slaughter your pigs! Do it better!" He demanded.
"Okay Ivar, I'll try again." The girl said calmly, thinking the game he'd come up with was stupid, but indulging him none the less.
Ivar dragged his feeble body back several paces, indicating that he was starting the scene over. He brandished the dull knife that Hvitserk had gifted him when he graduated to a real one. Revna eyed it skeptically, though she doubted it could do any real damage. She'd used sharper knives in the kitchens before when she was assigned to help cook. He clutched it in one palm as he pulled himself forward with the other arm, beginning his monologue, "Stupid Christian! You will die an honorless death because you chose to worship a fake god who does not even know how to fight!" His lessons with Floki were clearly already making quite the impression. "My people will take all the riches in your village and you will be left with nothing! Not even a smelly pig to eat." He mimed grabbing an animal by the neck and held the dull knife where its throat might've been.
"No, please! My people will starve! Spare us, please!" Revna held a hand to her forehead dramatically as she pleaded with her best acting.
"You better prey that your stupid God will save you!" Ivar feigned cutting the pigs throat, making sound effects and flailing hand motions that were supposed to be the blood spirting out. Revna laughed. She always found it funny when Ivar took himself so seriously. But that made the young boy angry. "You messed it up again! Why are you laughing? It's not funny!" He complained, a fit brewing.
"Sorry Ivar." She was still giggling. "We can try it again if you want."
"No! I'm tired of this!" Tears were welling in his eyes as frustration and crankiness took over. He pulled himself over to the wall of the fire pit they were playing near and sat atop of it so that he could be closer to her height. "I am a dangerous Viking! You're not supposed to laugh!" He swung the dull knife around in the air as he ranted. Revna stood a safe distance away and just watched as he yelled at her. "You're so bad at this game!" He was yelling when a large spark popped out of the fire and landed on his arm. The pain of one stray spark is not so bad, but as he flinched away from it, he fell off the rim of the fire pit and landed hard on the floor of the great hall. Revna thought she heard the feint cracking of bone from where she stood. All his anger melted away to tears and the six year old began to sob. She quickly forgot that he'd just been yelling at her and rushed forward.
"Ivar, are you okay?" He just cried louder, as if to say are you kidding? She put a hand on his shoulder, "Where did you get hurt?"
"My leg." He said between sobs. "Go get my mother." He managed to blubber out between cries.
Revna found Aslaug outside and let her know what had happened. She sat in the back room while the healer bandaged Ivar's leg. It was only a sprain, luckily. Once Ivar settled down and fell asleep, Aslaug pulled her aside. She'd been drinking through the stressful procedure, and appeared a fair bit tipsy.
She knelt in front of the girl with a serious expression. Revna was worried that she was in trouble for the accident. "Do you know why I took you in, Revna?" Aslaug said and the girl shook her head, no. "It is because you were sent here by the gods." Aslaug said earnestly. Revna frowned, because that was not usually how scoldings began, so she guessed she was not in fact being blamed for Ivar's injury.
"Is that really true?" Young Revna knew well enough that the gods had their will, but she was not so sure they wasted any of it on her. Another child might swell at this concept of specialness that followed Revna in her origin story, but she was a slave amongst princes, and had no reason to feel special.
"I would not lie about the gods' will", Aslaug inclined her head and Revna nodded compliantly. "Do you know why they chose you?" Revna stayed silent again. "Your destiny is to be a great friend to my son, Ivar. The god's told me that he would need you in order to grow up strong and healthy." Aslaug was speaking slowly with intention, to convey a large amount of purpose.
The girl felt puzzled. Afterall, she was not a fighter or a healer. It seemed to her that those were the two types of people who stood any chance at helping Ivar. "But… he got hurt today while I was there." Her stomach sank, she was already not living up to her destiny.
"Ivar will always suffer injuries, I've been told." Aslaug seemed troubled by the thought, but went on, "I've also been told that he needs you." Aslaug ran her hand through a tendril of the girls' hair, frowning at it, like she did not think it looked particularly special. "I don't understand it either, child. But I appreciate your patience with him." She smiled at Revna, her eyes swimming a little with wine. The girl gulped and nodded.
"Of course, Queen Aslaug."
…
"Mother, I want to Ride in my wagon with Hvitserk and Ubbe." Eight-year-old Ivar wined. It was a nice day and the older boys had free range to run around the town. Aslaug bent down in front of her son to study him.
"The whites of your eyes are far too blue today Ivar; you are likely to hurt yourself." Ivar huffed and glared at the wooden floor of the great hall. "Would you like to come sit on your mother's lap?" Aslaug gestured to him warmly. In the corner of the back room where the three of them sat, Sigurd coughed from his sick bed. He had a cold, and Aslaug still seemed more concerned with Ivar, as she usually was. Ivar was shifting to drag himself over to where Aslaug sat, but caught sight of Revna running into the great hall from the corner of his eye. He turned toward her instead.
Revna grabbed hold of the black mesh curtains that separated the family room from the great hall and peered through the holes excitedly. "Ivar, do you want to come watch the ships with me? Some were just spotted coming in the bay!" It was an exciting thing to see what treasures showed up on the shores of Kattegat, sometimes riches or exotic slaves and new foods nobody has tasted before.
"It must be traders. We've been expecting shipments." Aslaug nodded, "Do you want to go, Ivar?" She asked her son. Revna was much gentler with him than his brothers. An outing with her would be harmless enough. Sigurd coughed again from the corner.
"Is Sigurd alright?" Revna asked, peering more intently through the mesh holes.
"He has a cold." Aslaug turned back to Sigurd, as if just remembering he was there. "I'll go get you some water Sigurd." Aslaug got up toward the kitchens. "Ivar you can go down to the docks with Revna in the sledge if you'd like", She said on her way out.
Revna looked at Ivar hopefully and he huffed but began crawling to his wagon. She turned to the older brother as Ivar got situated, "Sigurd, I will tell Gro to bring you bone broth. She says it heals everything." Gro was an elderly slave who played a big part in raising Revna. She was a stern and wise woman.
"Thank you." Sigurd smiled weakly at her.
Revna pulled Ivar's cart to a flat spot on the banks of the shore near the docks so that they could observe while staying out of the way. Ivar moved so she could sit next to him in the wagon with both their legs hanging out the side. She kicked her legs absentmindedly as they dangled and Ivar stared at the motion longingly but said nothing about it. "Do you recognize the sails, Ivar?"
They were dark green with white flowers painted on. "I don't think so." He responded, eyeing them. "Ship sails should be more intimidating, don't you think?"
She shrugged, "I think they're pretty."
"You would think that." He grumbled. "If I ever have ships, I'd have flags that are red like blood and I'd having something scary painted on, like a dragon." He said with narrowed eyes still fixed on the boats, adolescent mind pleased by the thought of blood and dragons. Revna giggled and Ivar frowned. "Why is that funny?"
"I'm not sure." She admitted lightly.
"Because you think I'll never be able to sail?"
Revna sobered then and turned toward him, there was obvious hurt in his eyes. "That's not why I laughed." She took his hand, "I think you will sail one day, Ivar." She meant it and he could tell.
"Really?" He looked so fragile.
"Yes." The young girl nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. He tensed a little at the affection but didn't push her away. She wondered briefly how Ivar would fair in a raid if he couldn't walk, but the thought of him never sailing seemed wrong. He was a Ragnarson. And he'd been talking about being a famous Viking for as long as both of them were able to speak. They sat in silence for a few moments. The ships were getting closer to the docks. "Have you ever been to the Seer?" She asked him.
"No. Mother has. She never brings us with though." He thought for a moment and then frowned. "Have you been there?"
"No. I know where the hut is though." Revna let that hang in the air, to see how it struck him. She wasn't positive herself she wanted to go there. She'd seen the Seer at ceremonies and he was horribly deformed. The older slaves said his hut was dark and filled with animal bones that rattled when ghosts of the dead spoke to him.
"None of my brothers have ever been to the Seer's hut." She knew then that they were going. Ivar jumped at any opportunity to do something better or unique from his older brothers. "My mother wouldn't like it if she found out." Ivar said and Revna only looked at him imploringly. Her position as a slave made her hesitate to suggest going against Aslaug's desires. But if Ivar, the prince suggested it… he seemed to understand this from her expression. "Let us go, and we will keep it a secret." He decided.
Revna pulled the sledge outside the city limits where the Seer lived. Both children were weary of dark shadows cast by tall trees and the rustling of bushes, but they made it there without running into anyone, which was fortunate. They left the wagon outside and Ivar crawled into the hut alongside her. There were as many animal bones as Revna had imagined, along with Runes pained on nearly every surface and various jars and vials of things Revna did not recognize.
"I've been waiting." The two children jumped at the sudden voice from the dark far corner of the hut. "The god's told me you two would come here." He walked toward them, towering in height, his eyes nearly vanished from his face behind mounds of scar tissue. His voice was deep and strained, like he spoke through a mass of cobwebs. Revna was stricken speechless in fear. "Sit." The Seer commanded, taking his own seat. The girl's legs felt paralyzed where she stood, but Ivar crawled forward and bravely mounted the stump in front of the cloaked figure. He turned and held his hand out to his companion.
"Come Revna. He cannon hurt you while I'm here." The Seer cackled at this, but she took Ivar's hand and let him pull her to the second stump.
"You must always protect her, Ivar Ragnarson, for she is the only thing that can protect your soul."
"What do you mean?" Ivar asked, taken aback.
"I mean you must always keep her close."
"Is something going to happen to me?" His voice cracked.
"Something has already happened. Something is always happening." Ivar seemed frustrated by the answer, so Revna took the chance to ask a question.
"Was I really sent here by the gods?" She asked.
"Yes." He responded shortly.
"To be friends with Ivar?" Ivar frowned and turned to Revna when she said this. He did not understand why she would she think that. "That's what Queen Aslaug told me." The girl said shakily.
"You will be everything to Ivar, or he will die lonely and betrayed." The Seer said gravely.
"Will I be a famous Viking?" Ivar was anxious.
"The name Ivar the Boneless will be spoken amongst men and gods for centuries. Yet, you were destined for misery before Odin sent this girl to your mother's hearth." Ivar sat wide eyed. "No more questions." The Seer boomed in a tone that no child, not even a prince, would be brave enough to question. He held a hand out to each of them, and they had enough sense to pay tribute. Revna skittered out of the cabin, barely waiting for Ivar to keep up from where he crawled on the ground. She felt like she'd just walked through a patch of spider webs, and all the spider webs held huge spiders that crawled through her hair and underneath her clothes.
The two children were silent until they got back within the town boarders. They headed back down to the docks, where the boats were nearly finished unloading already, resolved to sit on the bank once more until they were done. "Do you think all that was true?" Ivar asked.
"I don't know." Revna admitted. They looked at each other seriously, Ivar only eight and Revna seven.
"Don't leave me alone." Ivar pleaded weakly. "I don't want to die alone." A tear came to his eye and Revna, seeing this, hugged him fiercely.
"I won't, Ivar. The gods have weaved our fates together." She felt firm in those words. Ivar looked up at her and smiled earnestly. They resolved silently not to talk about their excursion to the Seer again.
That night at supper, after Revna had gone home to the Servant huts, the Ragnarson's sat around the table with Aslaug. Gro brought the bone broth for Sigurd, and he was eating it slowly and looking miserable, but it was sure to help. Aslaug affectionately stroked Sigurd's hair and the boy seemed surprised but leaned into it quickly. "Mother?" Ivar caught her attention. "Can Revna live here in the Earl's hall with us?" Aslaug seemed taken off guard.
"Why do you want that, Ivar?"
"I am afraid it isn't safe enough in the servant huts." The young boy said and Hvitserk chuckled at his little brother, which Ivar did a decent job ignoring.
"Why wouldn't it be safe?" Aslaug asked patiently.
Ivar faltered, "I'm… not sure exactly." He scrambled something together quickly, "They're not kept as warm, and with all those people living so close more sicknesses spread."
"Do you have a crush, Ivar?" Ubbe teased his little brother, making Hvitserk chuckle. Sigurd usually would've enjoyed it, but he was still too sick to enjoy much of anything.
"Shut up Ubbe, it's not because of a crush", He hissed. "Revna is our friend."
"If we had all our friends live here with us, Ivar, there'd be nowhere left for us to sleep." Aslaug told him logically.
"Won't you just think about it, mother?" Ivar begged, used to getting whatever he wanted from Aslaug.
"I'm sorry, Ivar. It wouldn't be appropriate to have a slave move in with us." He could tell his mother was resolute. "You see her nearly every day, isn't that enough?" Ivar huffed but stopped arguing. In a few week's time, the Seer visit was firmly in the back of his mind.
…
Ivar broke another bone. It was not the first time, but this one was worse than others. He'd been out in the forest with his brothers and got into an argument with Sigurd. The older boy only shoved him a little, but he lost balance easily and fell down onto a grouping of rocks. What might've been some nasty bruising on another boy turned into a badly broken leg. His screams shook the great hall as the healer set the breaks, Aslaug hunched over his face, trying to console him and weeping because she could feel her son's pain. He was only ten, and did not yet possess the tolerance to it that he would gain as he grew older.
Revna was already headed to the great hall when she heard the screams. She knew instantly that it was Ivar and ran to find him. Most of the procedure was over when she reached the family room. Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd were there looking guilty. She decided to sit with them as the healer bandaged Ivar's leg. "What happened?" She whispered to Hvitserk beside her.
Hvitserk shrugged, his eyes pained as the sound of setting bones replayed in his mind. "He just fell."
"I shouldn't have let him come." Ubbe shook his head, feeling responsible as the oldest.
"He's so fragile." Sigurd cringed, like he couldn't imagine getting hurt so easily.
"Don't blame yourselves. I'm sure he doesn't." Revna assured them. She knew how often Ivar begged to go out with his brothers and was either left behind or prohibited by Aslaug. Revna didn't even get upset anymore when she went looking for him and found out he was busy with them already; it just made her happy. She hoped today wouldn't make the Ragnarsons more hesitant to invite him along.
When the mending process was through, Ivar looked as though he might fall asleep, exhausted from the trauma and probably the strong ale he'd been given for the procedure. Sigurd left first, and Hvitserk followed after him. Revna grabbed Ubbe's arm before he could leave. Typically, a slave would not dare to do such a thing, but they'd known each other for years, and Ubbe was kind. She whispered close to his ear, "Ivar loves you all. He wants more than anything to be one of you."
Ubbe pulled away and she could see the emotion she'd brought to him by the way his eyes welled up. A boy of 15 and he was already emotionally bright. He nodded to her in understanding but just said, "He is", and left to join his brothers.
Revna walked over to the bed where Ivar lay. Aslaug was laying next to him now, stroking his forehead and whispering how brave he'd been. Revna agreed, he must've been brave. When Aslaug noticed her, she thanked the girl for coming. "You are brave as well, to always come to my son's bedside, though you do not have to."
"I felt I did have to." The young girl said evenly, and then climbed up on the other side of the bed to take Ivar's hand. He stirred briefly to take notice of Revna's presence beside him.
"Thank you for coming, Revna." Aslaug marveled at how he still spoke with the voice of a boy, light and innocent. The girl just smiled and let Ivar fall back asleep.
…
A week later, Ivar was still recovering, and Aslaug was holding court. As younger children, the Ragnarsons regularly sat on either of their parents' thrones. But since Ragnar left, Aslaug did not let any of the children sit on Ragnar's throne. So Ivar and Revna watched the proceedings from the side. Ivar sat in a pile of pillows and blankets with his leg propped up, and Revna leaned on the outside of his nest with a pitcher of water and a plate of meats and cheeses. The food was supposed to be for Ivar, but they shared it between them.
A man stood before Aslaug, accused of raping his wives' sister and impregnating her. The man claimed that the sister asked for it, and that she must cooperate with him further now that she carried his child. The pregnant sister wanted the man dead, and herself compensated with gold by the Earlhood so that she might raise her child with some support. The man's wife stood off to the side looking overwhelmed. She held the hand of a young boy, and clutched a baby at her breast, assumedly the children of her and the accused.
Ivar watched the scene closely, eyes darting back and forth between the audience and his mother. As the proceedings went on, he leaned over to Revna's ear and whispered, "What do you think this man's fate should be, Revna?"
Revna almost choked on the cured meat she'd been thoughtfully chewing. She looked on edge as she took a sip of water, and then said, "I could not possibly say."
"Why not?" Ivar asked a little harshly. "You have thoughts, no?" He picked up a piece of cheese and eyed it suspiciously before putting it in his mouth.
"Of course, I have thoughts." She felt that the following eye roll was safe and well earned. She'd been friends with Ivar for long enough that he knew she wasn't stupid.
"Why don't you tell me them, then?" He chewed the cheese deliberately as he eyed her. Revna tried to sit up a little straighter against the outside of his fur nest. She felt she was being tested, but was not sure which answer would guarantee her success. Finally, beneath under all the uncertainty and the ire in his gaze, she broke and let her posture shrink. She gazed up into his eyes timidly, feeling embarrassed and small.
"I am a slave, Ivar." She felt tears welling up into her eyes. For whatever reason, she desperately needed comfort in that moment. He didn't give it to her though. Instead he huffed and rebuked her.
"You are afraid of offending me with your opinion." He asserted.
"No." Revna shook her head, but Ivar interrupted before she could go on.
"-Yes. You are."
Revna thought about it. She was so accustomed to submission, that most of her opinions only existed under the surface of her subconscious. Life was simpler that way, when she gave into the way of things, instead of getting worked up over issues she had no control over. She thought back to her own thoughts as she listened to the proceedings. She'd felt loathing toward the man, resonance with the sister, and pity for the wife who stood quietly to the side. And then she looked at Ivar and saw the armband on his wrist, the tough breaches and weapon belt, all the indicators of a man. And she'd assumed that he must find resonance with the accused the same way that she did for the accuser. "What if my thoughts did offend you?" She asked.
Ivar shrugged, "Strong men do not let disagreements turn into arguments without good reason." Revna's eyebrow quirked up without her permission. She wondered, why then, did every argument between Ivar and Sigurd end in yelling and fighting? But she did not say this. She also wondered who taught him that. Maybe Floki, or more likely Helga, she thought. "So are you going to tell me your opinion?" He asked her again.
It took courage to force her face muscles to move, the sounds of free thought sounding foreign as they passed through her lips. Her head spun slightly, making her nauseous, but she spoke, in the tiniest whisper so that no one but Ivar could hear "I think the man should be punished, and the sisters should raise their children together in peace."
Ivar observed her as he chewed. She was pale and anxious, her eyes darted between him and the ground. The moments before Ivar spoke were unbearable. She almost blurted out a rebuke of her previous statement, thinking she must've offended him, but she thought she might throw up if she opened her mouth again. Finally, Ivar shrugged and said in the lightest manor, "I agree with you", and then turned his eyes back to the proceedings as if the tension between them wasn't unbearably thick.
…
Spring came, and there was going to be a big feast for Bjorn's raid on southern England. It would also be Ubbe's first raid, aside from the one to Francia where he hadn't been allowed to fight, which made it extra special. Aslaug gave Revna the job of gathering flowers to decorate the great hall. It was probably the lightest and most enjoyable job a slave could be given, but she was the youngest under Aslaug's service, so it still looked more like mercy than what it was, favoritism.
Ivar came along with her to the forest. She pulled his old wagon along behind her to put the flowers in. He'd outgrown it long ago and crawled along behind her instead. Four months had gone by since the bad break in his leg, and several more minor ones had happened since then, but he was feeling good enough to drag himself a moderate distance through the forest without any more pain than was typical.
He sat in the shade whittling something while Revna collected all the flowers she could find in that area. "Do you remember your father, Ivar?" She asked from a few yards away.
"Not super well. There are a few memories. Why?" He barely looked up from his work.
"Gro talks about him sometimes, when she tells bedtime stories."
That caught Ivar's interest. He knew Ragnar largely fell out of favor with the public after he left. "What does she say?"
Revna smiled, glad that her report was going to be positive. Gro was a longtime supporter of Ragnar. Sometimes, the way she talked about him, Revna thought the old woman must be in love with the absent king. "That he was incredibly charming. And smart. She said he had many ideas that other men hadn't thought of before." Ivar kept whittling, and for a moment she thought he wasn't going to speak.
"I remember how he used to argue with my mother. Mostly over me. He thought she babied me too much, that I should try and be normal. Aslaug always told him that I wasn't normal, I was Ivar." Revna felt sad at his story. It was one that he most likely wouldn't have privileged anyone else with, she knew
"And what do you think?" She asked, seeing the logic in both arguments.
"I think my father was right" he paused, "but I love my mother more than I love him." They were both silent for a moment in thought. Then he asked her, "do you think it is wrong to say that?"
"I don't know." She shrugged, "I can't remember having parents." Ivar nodded; he sometimes forgot the origin of her life. To him, she was just someone who was always there, his best friend. For the first time, he wondered if she felt the same kind of misery he did from the abandonment of his father. Only it would be two-fold, because he still had Aslaug.
"And how do you feel about that?" He asked, deciding not to assume her feelings. To his surprise, she shrugged again.
"It seems simpler than your situation." He could sense that she held something back.
"You do not wish you had a parent? Not even sometimes?" He pressed.
She sighed and stood up from where she'd been hunched over a crop of wildflowers. "Honestly?" She paused and he nodded at her to speak her mind. "Sometimes, when I see the way Aslaug looks at you, I do wish I had a mother." She huffed with the exertion of honesty and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Ivar nodded in understanding; his mother was an enormous sense of comfort in his life. She went on, "But I have Gro, and a few other people who take care of me. Even your mother has been very kind and generous to me."
Ivar watched as she went back to flower picking, swallowing the feelings back down as quick as they'd risen. "You should not hesitate to ask if you ever need something. Any member of my family would help you." He told her, emanating a gentleman. She thanked him warmly, despite the fact that she could not imagine herself taking him up on the offer.
The feast was a large one. King Herald Fine Hair and his brother Halfdan brought a few ships with them. After the attack on Francia, the brothers occasionally corresponded their raids with Kattegat as a means of staying in touch. Aslaug suspected that Fine Hair might be scoping out the town's vulnerabilities with Ragnar gone, but she smiled and welcomed him graciously every time he appeared.
Revna was working in the kitchen, as she was too young to be a server. She helped prepare the food all day long. It had been enjoyable because the main cook, Erica, was a kind and charismatic woman who did not fret too badly at minor setbacks. By the time all the food was served though, Revna was exhausted. She was exiting out the back of the kitchen to return to the servant's hut when she ran into Sigurd. "Oh!" She startled. "What're you doing back here Sigurd?"
"Looking for you." He seemed reluctant. "I came to invite you to join our feast." This confused Revna because out of all the Ragnarsons, she was least close to Sigurd. She imagined it was due to her closeness with Ivar and the never-ending feud the two brothers seemed to share.
"Why?" She asked, letting the surprise show through. He paused for a moment, the words getting tangled in his throat.
"Because I think it would make my brother happy. And I feel I owe him something." Sigurd said.
"What do you owe him?" From what she could tell, the insults and fights they regularly got into were two sided.
"Good will?", was the best answer he could come up with, and Revna wasn't remise in believing it. She knew that most of Ivar's hostility was a defense mechanism, so it was kind of Sigurd to offer an olive branch. When she agreed, despite her tiredness, he added, "Just don't tell him what I said."
Revna rolled her eyes but let him lead her around the building to the entrance of the great hall. Her sleepiness vanished when she saw the room all decorated and bursting with life. People chatted merrily as they drank and played betting games. She observed it all with a sense of childlike wonder. She might've gotten lost among the crowd if Sigurd hadn't pulled her over to the table with the rest of the Ragnarsons. Ivar's eyes lit up when he saw her. "Revna!" He yelled, motioning her over. To him, it was unfair that his friend never got to celebrate feasts with him. "Do you want something to eat?" He asked her, motioning to the spread on their table. He seemed excited to share the wealth of it with her. Revna glanced up tentatively at Aslaug, wondering what she was making of this, but the Queen just raised her goblet at the girl approvingly.
Revna realized that she was very hungry, having only eaten small scraps throughout the day while she worked. Seeing her gaze longingly at the food, Ivar leaned over the table and loaded up his plate, which he'd finished eating off of, and pushed it over to her. "Thank you." She smiled at him appreciatively, and also turned her glance to Sigurd and Aslaug before she began to eat. When Aslaug turned her back to speak to a guest, Ivar also poured her some mead. "I've never drank before." She admitted to him.
"Try some, it's good Revna!" Hvitserk inserted himself, already well on his way to being drunk. She took a sip and was surprised when she liked it. Mead was sweater than she'd imagined. Ivar laughed when he saw her taking large sips of it.
"Not too fast, or you will end up like my brother." He said, not even trying to keep his words from Hvitserk, who was getting ready to arm wrestle a Viking twice his size. Revna giggled. She was happy to sit next to him and watch the commotion of the celebration.
As things started to wind down, her exhaustion returned with a vengeance and she felt herself starting to nod off. But none of the Ragnarsons had gone to bed yet, and the experience was too novel for her to want to leave. Still, her eyelids were heavy and she couldn't help but let them close. When they opened again, the hall was much emptier, and she was leaning heavily against Ivar's shoulder. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." She said as she wiped around her mouth to make sure she hadn't drooled.
Ivar just laughed. "It is okay."
"I should go home." She realized most of the hall was empty. He offered to see her home, and Revna tried to turn him down. She didn't want him to have to crawl so far outside at night. He insisted though, saying she should have company since it was her first time drinking and she did not know how it might affect her.
Revna didn't feel overly drunk as they walked home, perhaps just a little tipsy, but she was happy to have Ivar with her. The streets were dark and shadowy, and unknown voices came from here and there as other folks got themselves home for the night. "Thank you, Ivar." She said when they got to the door. She crouched so she could hug him.
"Thank you for feasting with me." He said it as if joining the feast was not just her unique pleasure, a charitable gift to a favorite slave. She realized that he meant it, and Sigurd had been right, Ivar appreciated her presence there with him. She bid him goodnight, feeling happy.
…
The cool morning fog felt refreshing against Revna's face as she made her way to the river. Luckily, Revna did not experience any ill effects from the previous night's drinking. She felt a bit tired from the late night, but was overall, still excited by the memories of the feast. Several slaves were already at the River when she approached, washing up for the day ahead. There was Erica, the cook, and Maggie, who had been a teenager when Revna was given over to the servant's care as an infant. They were accustomed to looking after Revna to the degree that an aunt might look after her sister's child. They were not primary care providers, and did not wish to be so, but still cared whether the girl lived or died.
Maggie spoke from where she stood waste deep in the calm river. "I saw those princes pull you over to their table last night, young Revna. Did they give you any trouble?"
"No trouble." She confirmed. "They were just being friendly." Erica and Maggie glanced at each other in the way adults do, feeling they needed to take some sort of responsibility, but floundering to know what that should look like. Neither of them had children.
"That's good to hear." Erica smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. "You can hardly deny a prince's request."
"Can't deny it at all, really." There was a warning in Maggie's tone.
"I had a nice time." Revna said absentmindedly as she washed.
"Revna." Erica said seriously, "Queen Aslaug has been very kind to you, but she will likely tire of showing you favoritism as you get older. You will be expected to take on more responsibility." It was more likely that the other slaves expected Revna to take on more responsibility as she got older. It was not fair that she got to enjoy feasts while they worked. Maggie nodded with Erica, like she agreed and thought that this was fair.
"Oh." Revna frowned, but nodded along too, because all she had to go on was their word. "Do I need to take on more responsibility right now?"
Maggie and Erica smiled, the girl's good-natured innocence winning them over. "No need to wish away your childhood too soon. Just take heed." Erica told her warmly.
Revna went on to the great hall to find out what her orders were going to be that day. Erica's warning turned over in her head, and she worried that she might be assigned to do the gutting and cleaning of the food animals, or the scrubbing of the floors, which usually happened after feasts, and always looked very tedious. She found Aslaug and the Ragnarsons finishing up breakfast. She waited against the wall of the great hall for assignment with the rest of the slaves. When Ivar noticed her in the line, he leaned over and whispered something in his mother's ear.
When she finished eating, Aslaug stood and said, "There is lots of cleaning up to do, as you all can see." She motioned around at the great hall, which was still a mess. There were tipped over flagons and stools, and crumbs littered the place. "The floors will need a proper scrubbing of course-" Ivar tugged on his mother's skirt, interrupting her. "Ah, Revna," Revna noticed the slaves around her excite slightly, perhaps because they thought she was being assigned to floor scrubbing, "I'd like you to go with Ivar to Floki's house for his lessons." There was a disappointed huff from somewhere down the line. Revna did her best to ignore it as she left immediately with Ivar.
Revna tried to put the ill will she'd sensed from the other slaves that morning out of her mind. It was the first time she'd noticed anything of the such, but it would not be the last. She pulled Ivar most of the way in the wagon, even though he was too big for it, because the end part of the journey leading up to Floki's boathouse had such uneven terrain that Ivar would exhaust himself in just that portion. "I feel stupid." Ivar wined. He was hunched up in the wagon with his knees bent and his arms wrapped tightly around them so they would stay in place.
"How do you usually get to Floki's?" She wondered since he went to the boathouse at least once a week.
"Floki takes me, or Ubbe."
"So why am I taking you?" She had never been to Floki's house before. She'd rarely even spoken to the tall, frightening man.
"I asked mother if you could."
"Why?"
Ivar shrugged, "Don't you want to come?" Revna had to admit that anything was better than clean up after a feast.
The beach by Floki's house was a mess of wooden contraptions and stands, planks being bent and treated before they could become boats. There were a few finished ships docked close to shore, which Revna felt the urge to run to and play on, but she restrained herself. She followed Ivar as he crawled to the hut tucked neatly away in the trees.
It appeared Floki was just rolling out of bed when Helga answered the door. Still recovering from the festivities, Reva supposed. Helga did not even bat an eye at Revna before welcoming both children inside. Revna hesitated at the door, she had prepared herself to turn around and go home as soon as Ivar was dropped off.
"Come Revna, you will take part in the lesson too." Ivar motioned to her. Tentatively, she moved inside and stood slightly behind Ivar where he'd pulled himself up onto a stool.
"Sit down, I will get you both some honeyed water." Helga gestured for Revna to sit. Floki soon came back in from outside, having washed and dressed.
"Hello, Ivar", Floki greeted the boy in his curious tone and then lay his eyes on the girl, "I see you've brought a friend." The man giggled.
Ivar sat up straight to do a proper introduction. "Floki, this is Revna." Revna waited for him to mention that she was a slave, but he did not. Perhaps Floki already knew.
"Hello Floki, thank you for inviting me into your home." Revna bent her head respectfully at him, in the way she was accustomed.
"It is wise to always welcome strangers into your home, in case they are gods in disguise." He told the children wisely. "I saw you at the feast last night Revna, fast asleep on Ivar's shoulder." He giggled again.
She blushed, "Forgive me, I was exhausted from the day's work."
"Nothing to excuse." He reassured her and turned to gather some things from around the house, but still sized her up from the corner of his eye. She was as polite and delicate as a slave could stand to be, not just preforming the proper courtesies, he could tell, but meaning them honestly and somewhat anxiously. He decided she could use toughening.
Floki brought the children out to the boat yard, where Helga taught them how to weave sails. It was like regular weaving, except the cloth must be much sturdier, so it required thinner thread, and much more time. A proper sail, Helga told them, took nearly as long to make as a boat did. Floki stood close by and told them stories as he carved a mast head, a roaring bear with sharp fangs.
"You both know the story of Odin, I'm sure." Floki smiled mischievously as he carved, and they nodded in confirmation. Every child knew the story of Odin. "So today, I will tell another story. Odin's wife, Frigg, foremost among all the goddesses- do you know of Frigg, Ivar?" Floki asked the boy.
"Of course, I know of Frigg, mother of Balder." He retorted proudly.
"Yes, mother of Balder, wife to Odin, goddess of love and household… The thing that most people don't know about Frigg however, is that she could be very cunning." Floki snapped his head to Revna in a pointed and goofy way, making her laugh. Then he began the story.
"Frigg was believed to have been an honorable wife. And Odin is known for being incredibly strong-willed, but in this story, Frigg found a way past this to resolve a dispute between outsiders. A conflict had broken out between two tribes, known as the Vandals and the Winnilers. Odin favored the Vandals, while Frigg supported the Winnilers.
One evening, Frigg and Odin got into an argument of their own over the tribes. They each gave reasons supporting why their tribe of choice was right and why the other was wrong. Finally, Odin swore that whichever tribe he saw first thing in the morning, he would grant victory to. He did this knowing that the Vandals would be visible through the window on his side of the bed. This way, he believed, he would simply open his eyes in the morning, and win the argument with Frigg."
"Not a very fair trick to play on one's wife." Helga quipped, shooting both Floki and Ivar warning looks, all the while holding a teasing smile.
"Not very fair indeed, but luckily, Frigg was smart enough to see the trick for what it was." Floki went on, "While Odin was sleeping, Frigg turned their bed so that her husband was facing in the opposite direction. When he woke, he was taken aback by what he saw. It was the Winniler tribe, and not the Vandals!"
"What happened then?" Ivar butted in. "Was Odin mad at Frigg for fooling him?"
"He was not mad, for Frigg beat him at his own game." Floki inclined his head toward Ivar, letting the lesson sink in. "He had been outsmarted, but kept his promise and granted victory to the Winniler tribe and even eventually admitted that Frigg's choice was correct."
"But why was Odin being so stubborn before if Frigg's choice was the right one?" Ivar asked impatiently.
"Sometimes women see things that men cannot in the heat of the moment." As Floki spoke he gazed affectionately at Helga. She accepted the gaze proudly, without blushing or looking away. Revna marveled at that, and realized she could learn a lot from watching Helga.
They worked for a while longer and then moved inside because Ivar needed to be fitted for new braces. These were thin wooded dowels covered in fabric which helped Ivar's legs to grow straight. Floki said it was much like tying up a sapling so that it would grow straight and tall.
Revna had never seen Ivar's bare legs before, not the full length of them. They were hard to look at, thin and bruised, with painful looking indentations here and there. Revna merely sat in the corner while Helga and Floki measured him and checked on the progress. He seemed to be breathing intently through his nose, trying to overcome the pain that the prodding caused him. But he did not wine or cry out as he might have just a few years ago. After a while of staring at the ceiling, Ivar finally looked down to where Revna sat. He met her eyes, and tried hard to read her expression. He needed to know what her true reaction was, pity, disgust, fear… There were hints of all those things, but something else too.
"I admire you, Ivar." She said quietly from her corner when Floki had gone to cut the braces and Helga was fetching water.
The boy eyed her suspiciously. "What is there to admire?" He raised his left leg, the better one, as far as he could, which was a couple inches, before letting it flop uselessly back onto the bed where he lay, as if to make his point.
"You are strong." She said. It was the best word she could think of. He didn't deny the compliment because in fact, he tried very hard every day to be strong.
Let me know what you think in the comments, and be sure to follow because I'll be updating again soon! I got the Frigg story from this source: /norse/norse-gods/frigg/