When the other brothers have left, Ubbe takes a seat by Rowan's feet. She keeps her gaze on Ragný, holding her tightly as if the baby might shield her from her uncle's displeasure.
"May I?" Ubbe's voice is gentle.
Rowan gives a small nod and loosens her grip, allowing him to take Ragný in his huge hands. When he stays silent she gathers the courage to look at him, and is shocked to see that his face is filled with something like grief.
"Is it true?" he asks.
"Yes."
He clenches his eyes shut as if the word causes him physical pain. "I'm sorry."
The apology shocks her, but before she can say anything he goes on.
"It is my fault. It was my duty to teach Ivar… I knew he was spoiled and reckless, but I never imagined… I let myself be blind, and now he's…"
If he actually starts crying Rowan is fairly certain she'll lose her mind, so she rushes to reassure him. "No, it wasn't like that. We were both… vulnerable. It just happened."
"But he is a man!" Ubbe rounds on her suddenly, "It is his responsibility to behave with honor," he turns sharply back to the child in his arms, "But Sigurd, and now this…"
Rowan sits up straight, despite the sharp twinges of pain that shoot through her body. Maybe it's because of the past night, seeing how gentle and careful Ivar was with both her and their child, but she finds herself suddenly filled with indignation.
"Ivar may be many things, but whatever things he's done to harm his honor, this isn't one of them. He was in a foreign land and had just learned his father was going to die. He just wanted some kind of comfort. He may be older than me, by one year, in body; but the same can't be said for our minds or spirits. Christ, he didn't even know she was his until last night because I wouldn't talk to him, so don't you dare act like he's the only one at fault!"
Ubbe looks at her sadly all throughout her tirade. It's a look that says, "There there, I'm sure you believe that." and the only thing that keeps her from launching herself at him in a flurry of fists and postpartum hormones is the fact that he's still holding Ragný.
"Now give me my daughter back and go, I don't know, wallow in your personal failures somewhere else. I just had my arse stitched back together and am not in the mood for it here."
He slowly, and wisely, hands the baby back to her, his expression obnoxiously sympathetic. It's clear that he has strong opinions on the topic and isn't about to budge from them on her word alone.
~...~
The next visitor is hardly unexpected. Sigurd knocks and enters hesitantly, but when he sees Rowan's face light up he eagerly responds when she beckons him to come closer.
"How do you feel?"
Rowan smiles as she gently pats Ragný's back. For the first time she's grateful to her parents for making her babysit all those years instead of just giving her money. It's made the transition much less stressful since she already knows how to do things like burping.
"I'm well." she replies, "She's demanding, but I suppose I should have expected that."
Sigurd watches pensively before speaking slowly, as if he's choosing his words with far greater care than normal. "Ubbe is angry."
Rowan opens and closes her mouth before finally just giving in and asking what she really wants to know.
"And you?"
"Yes." he admits after a moment, "How could you… with him?!"
"Ah, there's the brotherly judgement I've been missing" Rowan says, giving a little amused smile at the nauseated look on Sigurd's face.
"All this time I've been warning you about him, and you were already with child by him. You might have said something. Ivar might have said something. "
"It's complicated," she says, looking away from the wounded expression on his face, "I never meant for any of this to happen, or to deceive you. I just… I was ashamed. I told myself that if someone were to ask me straight out I would tell them the truth, but no one ever asked. It became so easy to just say nothing."
Again silence, and again more carefully chosen words. "We never asked because we believed that you had been… hurt. Ubbe says that Hvitserk should claim the child since everyone knows he couldn't be the father."
"What?!" Rowan regards him incredulously.
Sigurd doesn't need to explain Ubbe's reasoning. Any of them would lose honor if others thought they'd impregnated her as a "child". Hvitserk, on the other hand, was far away during those first weeks after she arrived in Kattegat. It would maintain the story that the father was some unknown Saxon while still at least giving the child a name and rights under the Northmen's laws.
"He says it would be best for you to allow people to believe the father is someone else. He thinks that Ivar may have… manipulated you. That you need to be protected from his influence."
Rowan scoffs. "Of course, Ubbe knows what's best for all women, whether they realize it or not."
Sigurd ducks his head to hide a smile. He takes a moment to regain control before looking up again. "I- I wanted to tell you, if you wish it, I will marry you."
She tries to speak but he holds up his hand for her to let him finish.
"Just claiming her will still leave her a bastard. It will make things difficult for her. Without a mund paid, she is not inheritance-born. If we marry now I can claim her as my legitimate daughter. I would protect you both, if you needed it. If you want, I could even become a Christian, like you."
Rowan softens at his earnestness, even as she bristles at the suggestion that she or Ragný need protection from Ivar.
"You're a far better friend than I deserve," she whispers as she presses her hand over his, the one that now perpetually lies limp in a sling, "but I couldn't make you do that. I couldn't do that to Ivar either. I thought I was protecting him, but he's lost so much already, I just couldn't."
Sigurd frowns. "How were you protecting him?"
"Because I'm so much older than him."
Over the past months, they've spoken a great deal about her experiences and her memories of a past life. He knows what she means, but he still gives her a doubtful glance.
"You don't act much like it."
"What?" Rowan laughs. She's used to his brutal candor by now. Instead of being offended, she's started to be grateful for his honesty.
He shrugs. "It's true. Sometimes I can see it; the way you understand people. But other times you are as childish as Ivar."
She hates to admit that he has a point. People in this world bear responsibility from an early age, working even as children to help their families survive. Their brains would mature faster as a response. She knows that twenty-two years of being spoiled and overprotected has had an indelible effect on her mental and emotional development; not to mention the various traumas that had contributed to her depression. Even though her physical body is different now, it hasn't seemed to have changed much.
"Since when were you the wise one?"
Sigurd gestures to his bad arm. "I've had a lot of time to think. And I meant what I said about marrying you. I'm of no use to anyone anymore, I have no place here. But if I could do this for you and the baby..."
"Oh, Sigurd."
Rowan's heart —already strained from having grown four sizes in one night— breaks for him. She tugs him by the sleeve until he relents, leaning over so she can wrap an arm around him. Ragný squints up at him from the other, still skeptical of all these people who insist on hanging about and doing nothing to feed her.
"Is this how Ivar's felt all his life?"
His voice is muffled in her shoulder. She strokes his hair gently and tries to think how to answer such a question.
"I couldn't say," she finally admits, "But I think something very like it, at the least."
"Please marry me." Sigurd asks again.
Rowan sighs. "It wouldn't work. You don't see me that way, and to be honest, I wouldn't want to marry a man who's in love with another woman."
Sigurd stiffens under her hand. She almost regrets reminding him of Margrethe. Now her refusal must seem like yet another rejection from a woman in his life. But she has no time to backpedal because just then, Ivar's voice interrupts.
"What a cozy scene." he says, voice dripping with dry sarcasm as he crawls over to once again take his place on the bed beside her.
He remains surprisingly calm as he reaches out to take Ragný in his arms, carefully restraining the annoyance he must feel. Rowan has to hand it to him, his temper has shown remarkable improvement over a very short space of time.
Sigurd glares at him, preparing to make some kind of a snippy response, but Rowan quickly silences him with a sharp elbow to the ribs.
"And what do you think of my daughter, brother?" Ivar continues in a haughty tone that leaves no question as to his own opinion.
"I'm happy that she is healthy, and that Rowan hasn't suffered too greatly." Sigurd's voice is tense, and Ivar's gaze flicks up on hearing it. Blue meets blue, and lightning crackles between them as a silent battle is waged.
To Rowan's surprise Ivar is the first to look away, back to the child in his arms. He speaks very softly as he admits, "As am I."
Sigurd looks like he could be knocked over with a feather. He stares at his brother and the baby in his arms like perhaps she's some sort of tiny witch and maybe he should treat her with greater respect in the future, or risk falling under her spell. He takes his leave not long after that, and Rowan and Ivar are once again alone with their baby.
~...~
"What is that?"
"It's shit." Rowan rolls her eyes as she tries to clean up the sticky, tar-like substance and calm the screaming child; all while the father sits far away and watches with an expression of pure disgust.
"I have seen shit before, and that is not it."
"No, it's different." she tries to reply as calmly as possible under the circumstances, "It's what was inside her before she was born."
Ivar continues to watch in horrified fascination as she struggles to finish wiping Ragný clean with a soft rag. Her frustration grows until she finally snaps and thrusts the baby into his arms. Even though he's startled, it's already instinctive for him to close his hands around her and hold her little body against his chest protectively.
"She needs to dry. Can you at least help with that?"
Ivar pats the squalling baby, looking both alarmed and offended at once as he replies, "It is not a father's duty to handle such things."
"What, pray tell, are a father's duties? And stop wrinkling your nose like that, it doesn't even smell!"
He appears lost in thought for a moment as he tries to think what Viking men actually did when their children are infants. "Fathers teach their children about the Gods and our laws, and how to be strong."
Rowan can't resist rolling her eyes again. "How astonishingly useful."
"It is also a father's duty to protect and provide for his children!" Ivar snaps defensively.
She takes a calming breath as she reminds herself that he's even newer to this than she is. Ragný is still making cranky sounds, and Rowan smiles as Ivar tries to tuck a blanket around them both. "Take off your shirt."
"Excuse me?"
She laughs at his incredulous expression. "Your skin will keep her warm, and it's good for her to feel you." She comes over to help him rearrange himself so Ragný can lie on his bare chest, with a blanket draped around his shoulders.
She scrapes the soiled cloth off into the chamber pot before setting it into an old basket. Once she has several she will rinse them more thoroughly before boiling them. Ragný is likely dry by now so she grabs a fresh cloth, but as she turns she finds herself pausing at the sight before her. The baby is fast asleep, and Ivar looks down at her tenderly as she snores peacefully.
Rowan quietly stretches out beside them, propping her chin on her hand and marvelling at the sight of the angry, vengeful man turned gentle and adoring.
"Must we disturb her?" he asks, nodding at the cloth in Rowan's hands.
"Not if you don't mind if she pisses on you."
Ivar seriously considers this for a moment before sighing and reaching out to take the cloth. He doesn't know how to properly put it on Ragný, but he's at least able to wrap it around her bottom enough for her to be covered. She frowns and grunts in her sleep, but doesn't wake as he tries not to jostle her too much.
"Have you seen Ubbe?" Rowan asks as they watch the baby sleeping.
He shakes his head. "Neither he nor Bjorn are speaking to me."
"I'm sorry." she says, "I wish there was something I could say. I tried to talk to Ubbe, but..."
"I know. It's difficult to explain something to someone that you can't even explain to yourself."
Rowan winces. Whether he intends it or not, there's a note of accusation that she can't ignore. She can't tell herself it's unwarranted either.
"I've made a mess of everything, haven't I?"
Ivar doesn't respond, but he gives her a look that suggests he doesn't intend to argue with that sentiment.
"This is exactly the sort of situation I was trying to avoid. I thought if I stayed silent, the only one who would suffer would be me. I could take all the blame for - for whatever reason that anyone chose to give it."
"I would never have let that happen." Ivar says softly, "Even if she weren't my child, you are mine. You have been since you dumped that basin of water on my head."
She gives a snort. "Are you saying I owe you?"
The way Ivar looks at her is like nothing she's ever seen from him. His eyes are gentle, and yet there is a tension there. The little smile at the corners of his mouth is firm. "I am saying what I always have. You are my person, and I will always care for you."
Rowan clears her throat, adjusting herself uncomfortably and averting her gaze from the intensity of his. "I suppose we should make some sort of plan. Deal with any issues now before they get out of hand."
Ivar nods in agreement. "It will be nine more days until the water-sprinkling, but I agree. We should call a meeting beforehand to clear up any problems."
"Could there be a lot of trouble for you?"
"Possibly, but if there are those who feel I have broken our laws, I will accept that."
He says this calmly, but Rowan can already see his clever mind working, and she isn't sure if she's relieved or apprehensive for him to be taking over the issue. He had brilliant plans, true, but he was also catastrophically bad at feigning humility when it was expected of him. It was possible would find a way to come out on top and smelling like roses. Then there was the possibility that Rowan had completely fucked up history and he was about to destroy the last remaining shred of his reputation and end any chance of the Great Heathen Army ever following him.
~...~
It takes Rowan longer than she expected to walk to the throne room where Ivar has asked his brothers and the other leaders among them to gather. Tanaruz walks beside her, lending her strong shoulder to lean on. Even though the other women had made her get up and move almost as soon as possible after the birth, saying that Norse women do not lay about in bed and grow weak, it's still slow going. By the time she arrives everyone else is already there, and they turn to watch as she goes to take the seat that's been left empty for her, far on the other side of the room from Ivar.
There are many men gathered there, and several women as well. The Great Army is far too large for all freemen to be present, but it appears that all major groups have sent a representative. All bear somber expressions as they talk amongst themselves. Rowan tries to catch Ivar's gaze to get some kind of a reassurance that he's thought of a plan, but he appears deep in conversation with Sigurd. Their heads are nearly touching as they lean together, whispering earnestly amongst themselves. Even their other brothers who stand nearby appear to be excluded from their discussion.
All talk dies down as a man with face tattoos and a long braid steps out and raises his hands. Rowan vaguely recognizes him as someone important. He and his creepy shadow are always at the head of the army, although she can never remember what it is that makes him so special.
"We all know why we are here today." the man says in a low, throaty voice, "Word has spread that Ivar Ragnarsson has claimed this child as his own."
As if she knows she's been mentioned, Ragný starts to fuss in Rowan's arms. She rocks her softly, gaze darting from face to face as she tries to ascertain the general disposition of the crowd.
"We have also heard that the mother of this child, the freeborn woman called Rowan Hildigunnsdóttir, had not yet reached womanhood at the time the child was conceived."
A ripple passes through the gathering. She catches muttered questions as to whether such a thing is possible. Those who had previously appeared merely curious who are now looking at Ivar with open hostility. He sits in his chair, hands fidgeting, the picture of concern and remorse.
"To his credit," the man continues, "he has come forward to confess, and has expressed the desire to make compensation."
More muttering, more indignation, and Rowan takes the chance to speak up. "I want to be clear. I place no blame on Ivar. He did not force me."
Someone speaks from the crowd. "If he is the father, why was he not in the room at the birth? My thrall was one of the women attending, and she told me that there was no man present at all as witness."
"I kept the truth from him. I allowed him, and others, to harbor doubts as to the father because I wanted to protect him." Rowan says. She gives herself a mental pat on the back that her voice isn't shaking.
"Is there no male relative to speak for this girl?"
Rowan draws herself up straight in her seat, bristling with indignation. The man who spoke looks irritated, and several others are nodding in agreement.
"Where is Wulfgar?" Ubbe is the first of the brothers to speak, glancing about with a frown.
"Yes," says another man, "but he is English and a Christian."
Bjorn interrupts with a faintly bored tone. "He has lived among our people for some months now, and has shown nothing but respect for our ways. As her only living relative, he should be here to speak for her family."
"He went with the last hunting party. They are expected to return at any moment."
The important man throws his hands up with a sound of exasperation, as if fed up with the shoddy way this whole matter has been handled. Rowan spots the shadow turn to hide a snicker. At least someone was finding amusement in the whole clusterfuck.
There is some discussion of what should be done. Should the assembly be postponed until Wulfgar arrived? She herself had been so indisposed the past day that she hadn't even stopped to think what she might tell Bothild's uncle when he learned that Ivar had fathered her child.
Luckily for someone who isn't Ivar, they don't have to talk about it long. The next thing there is a loud bang as the doors to the throne room are thrown open so loudly that Rowan jumps hard enough to wake Ragný, who immediately starts to wail at finding herself awake and not instantly presented with a breast.
"WHERE IS THAT LITTLE BASTARD?!"
Wulfgar comes through the doorway, sword drawn, like an avenging angel in dirty leather and maille. Several men hang from him in a futile attempt to keep the huge warrior from his goal, which now sits across the room from him looking as truly shocked and afraid as he ever has in his life.
"Uncle!" Rowan leaps forward despite the surge of pain and the cries of the child in her arms.
"I thought he was just a besotted fool! Now he'll be a dead one!" Wulfgar snarls, sword poised, his whole body ready to charge forward and strike.
"Uncle, please!"
Ragný's cries seem to be what finally breaks through his rage. He glances down at her, then at the baby and back again.
"He dishonored you." he chokes out, "He tried to hide from his responsibility and I… I—."
"You did nothing wrong, and I swear he has done nothing worse than I have." she says in an undertone.
"But—"
"Please, all of this commotion is upsetting the baby."
Wulfgar looks down again at Ragný, who has worked herself into a fit, face purple and ear-piercing wails ringing throughout the hall. Rowan bounces her, pleading silently with him to calm down so she can sit back down and tend to the enraged infant.
Finally, Wulfgar gives a short nod and visibly pulls himself back together. When Rowan returns to her seat, he stands by her shoulder, hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword. Everyone else waits patiently for her to calm Ragný with the offer of a breast, and she almost instantly quiets at the offer. Rowan wipes the little tears from her cheeks and croons softly until at last the baby settles into nursing.
"It seems to me that there are several matters which must be addressed." Ubbe says, "The first of which is who will pay for the upkeep of the child? Rowan is an orphan with no inheritance, someone must see to it that both she and the child are provided for."
"Ubbe." Rowan growls.
"I am only trying to help."
"You've helped quite enough, thank you. Please stop." she retorts, and Wulfgar lays a hand on her shoulder.
"Women are not permitted to speak at assemblies!" says the man who'd first protested her speaking.
Wulfgar's grip on her tightens subtly, urging her not to do anything rash. "My niece is of Wessex, and our women are allowed to speak for themselves during legal proceedings."
Rowan looks up at him in shock. It may be the first time in years, or at least in recent memory, that a man has spoken up to defend her rights. Truthfully, she's never paid much attention to Saxon or Norse legal matters. She's acutely aware that she's at a disadvantage in this situation, and she squeezes her uncle's hand in gratitude.
"And she is not without inheritance." he goes on, "She is my brother's daughter, and she is entitled to what he left behind. She is my heir as well. It is not much, but she is not destitute."
Even Ivar seems genuinely surprised by this pronouncement, and Rowan has to struggle to not break down as the proud man makes it clear that he still sees her as family, and supports her.
"She is not only of Wessex." Sigurd's soft voice stands out amidst all the loud, posturing men around him. When he's certain he has everyone's attention, he goes on, "Her mother was of our people, and she would have gained an inheritance from her family if they had not been slaughtered."
Where is this going? Rowan wonders. Sigurd's expression is mysterious. Beside him, Ivar appears just as curious as everyone else. Still, she can't shake the feeling that something is going on. Ivar never looks that innocent unless he's actively working at it.
"It is something that has weighed heavy on my mind for some time now. We have gained justice for my father, but what of the people he himself wronged? He hid the deaths of the settlers. Their families never had the opportunity to take revenge."
"What is your point?" asks the important man. Harald! That was his name. Harald Something-or-other.
"I propose that as the only survivor, Rowan should be paid the wergild for them. Every single member of her family killed by the English."
The room almost vibrates with the reaction. Rowan is only vaguely aware of the history of the Norse settlement and the overall feelings of resentment over its fate, but it quickly becomes clear to her that there is no one present who doesn't have a strong opinion about it. It's as if Sigurd's reminder has broken open, and all the emotions connected to it are pouring out. Anger, bitterness, and grief are at the forefront.
"Olaf went to the settlement with his entire family. He and his wife had five living children. His brother's family was with him as well. The wergild for all of them would be a princely sum." says an older warrior.
Sigurd gives a small smile. "And I suggest a prince should pay it. We have all taken our share of English gold, much of it from the very men who killed Rowan's family. Let the weregild be taken from Ivar's share."
Ivar appears appropriately aghast at this suggestion, but Rowan isn't buying it for a second. Her mind flashes back to seeing them talking before, and she has to restrain a bark of laughter as it all comes together.
When Ivar had maimed Sigurd, it was an attack of one family member on another, and it was left up to the family to deal with it. But it was still seen as a black mark on Ivar's honor. This latest scandal, however, couldn't be brushed under the rug so easily. He had to be seen to suffer, and paying an ungodly sum to the mother of his illegitimate child would definitely be seen as a fitting punishment. And who better to suggest it than the man he'd previously wronged? It would settle everything in the eyes of the people with a nice, neatly tied bow on top for good measure.
Harald frowns, considering carefully before saying, "The punishment for lying with a girl who is not of age is outlawry."
Several people nod vigorously in agreement, and Rowan suddenly understands why everyone has been so serious about the whole thing. A man who was outlawed was banished from the community, and anyone could kill him without retribution. It was essentially a death sentence.
"However, this is an unusual situation. As she bore a child, she is clearly a woman by our law now. Still, Ivar Ragnarsson is guilty, by his own admission, of fathering a child on a freeborn woman. No mund was paid, and he attempted to conceal his guilt. Her uncle may yet wish to kill him for such an insult to his family."
Then there's that. Ivar sits up very straight, honestly alarmed as the armored warrior takes one, long moment to consider this. It seems to Rowan that he hadn't fully accounted for Wulfgar in his grand plan, and her uncle is now taking a wee bit too much satisfaction in drawing out his apprehension.
"My niece seems to prefer the welp alive." he finally grumbles, "As long as he takes responsibility from now on, I will let the matter rest."
Rowan breathes a sigh of relief. Ragný lets out a loud burp of satisfaction from her shoulder, and several people, including one or two of her uncles, have to stifle chuckles of amusement.
Harald nods. "Then, it seems to me that a fine, equal to the weregild for all of Rowan Hildigunnsdóttir's family who died by English hands, is a fitting punishment. Do we all agree?"
The majority of the men assembled nod in agreement. There may be those who don't, but they choose to remain silent.
Ivar appears contrite and remorseful as he crawls over to Rowan, but he can't hide a faint smile when he tickles Ragný's cheek and she yawns. Hvitserk also approaches to give his brother a pat on the shoulder. Sigurd remains back to maintain the show of hostility, but he watches them and smiles when his niece flails one small fist and manages to catch Hvitserk on the nose.
And Ubbe and Bjorn speak together in a corner, the former clearly irked, and the latter just as clearly done with all of it.
*.*.*
Giving birth wasn't nearly the traumatic experience I expected it to be. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but still not as bad as I'd worried. Tanaruz was like a general, and totally in her element. Apparently, as a midwife-in-training, she's already seen at least a hundred births, so I figured I was in pretty good hands.
She and the other women who came to help kept me up and walking a lot. I honestly expected to be screaming and shouting at some point, but even near the end when the contractions were at their worst I was so focused on just breathing and staying calm. Somehow I ended up going through the whole thing with just a lot of groaning and panting.
It felt like it was going on forever. Then my water broke and suddenly everything was moving so fast. I guess she decided she was ready to come right then and there, because the next thing I knew I was squatting with one of the women supporting me from behind and Tanaruz in front to catch her.
I now fully understand what's meant by "the ring of fire". I think just because she came so fast, I tore like a motherfucker. Tanaruz was, as usual, totally calm. Can't say I was too happy having my taint stitched back together without anesthetic, but by that time I was holding my baby in my arms, so I was at least distracted.
Ragný's a pretty good baby for the most part. She lets whoever wants to hold and coo at her, and just gives them odd looks like, "Who the F are you? Why aren't you feeding me?"
I'm afraid she's taken after her Uncle Hvitserk in that way. If there's more than two seconds between her feeling a bit peckish and being presented with a boob, she absolutely loses her little mind. I realize her stomach is the size of a teaspoon, but seriously, Boob Vampire, chill.
She had her first meconium poop. Ivar was less than stellar at helping with that. I realize expectations are different here than in my time, but still. I may have to think of my own Great Plan to convince him that diaper duty is all manly and shit.
Heh, shit.
~...~
Lots and lots and lots of nursing. Still producing colostrum, so I feel like I should get as much into her as possible before my milk comes in. It's the best thing I can do at this point to give her immune system a boost. At least there hasn't been too much sickness going through.
~...~
I don't have nightmares about being thrown anymore, but I still have a lot of nightmares. I dream of people coming for Ragný because of Ivar, because of Ragnar, or even because of me. I wake up and I think for a moment that I can still see that woman's blood on my hands, and I dream of her sister or someone else coming for Ragný because of me. Sometimes it feels like I don't have the right to touch my own child after taking someone else's life. But then, can I in some way make up for it by being the best mother I possibly can? By protecting her with every fiber of my being?
I like Ivar, I really do. He's smart and funny and sometimes I think he could be good, but I worry sometimes that that's not why I want to stick close to him. I know what he'll one day become. Out of everyone here, I know that he's the one who can keep us safe. He is Ivar the Boneless, and one day he will have the power to make sure that she's never in danger again. Does it make me a terrible person that I always have that in the back of my mind now?
Wow! This took a little while to finish! I have a huge certification exam coming up (tomorrow as of this posting actually), so I've been a weeeee bit preoccupied.
Viking law is very complex, and I've tried to interpret it in a hopefully believable way.
Question 1: What kinds of uncles do you think the Ragnarssons will be?
Question 2: How do you think being a Responsible Father will change the way Ivar handles the events of season 5A?