Relapse
Mary comes to Ivar's tent with a clean change of clothes and the hope for a bath.
He is more than happy to offer her the tub and even though he has seen her much more intimately by now, she still blushes when he watches her get undressed. With her back turned to him, she drops her dress and steps into the water. It's not quite hot, but much warmer than any river, and she sighs happily when she sinks down.
The tub is rather small, a precaution to stop Ivar slipping under water and not being able to get back up, but she is small and bendy.
She lets her head fall under the surface and she can almost feel all the grime and dirt being washed off of her.
When she comes back up and leans her head against the wood, closing her eyes, he is still staring.
"Is there something you want to say, Ivar dear?" she asks. The expression is stolen from Floki, who she has heard call him that whenever they engage is some good-natured bickering.
"You are a lucky woman." He commentss "Not many here can take a warm bath."
Mary opens her eyes and smirks, tongue between her teeth, and then wiggles her eyebrows.
"That's not the only reason why I am a lucky woman."
He smirks down at his plate and shakes his head, but his cheeks are red. Who would have thought that Ivar the Boneless would blush like a virgin. On second thought, it is not surprising, considering that he is just that.
"You have to shave." She says then and he lets his fingers run over the truly horrible (she loves him but this look is horrible) facial hair
"You don't like it?" he asks thoughtfully.
"You look like a boy trying to be a man." She answers, looking in disdain at the sparse hairs that are more fuzz than beard.
"I am a man." He defends himself and Mary rolls her eyes at him.
"Exactly. You look like Sigurd."
His first reaction is almost comical offense at the comment. His mouth falls open and his eyes grow wide at the insult, and then he laughs.
He isn't wearing his leg brace, but he still manages to come to her with only his crutch and once again Mary notices how much better he seems to move around. His legs seem to actually hold his weight for a few seconds every time he takes another step. It is unlikely to work for longer distances or on the uneven forest ground, but inside the tent he is beginning to move around quite freely.
He pushes her clean dress of the little stool and sits down beside the tub.
"You don't like my brother's appearance?" he asks amused.
"Honestly, I don't like much about that brother in particular." She says "But yes, I find his hair quite off-putting."
Ivar smiles at that and Mary flicks some water at him.
"Stop being so vindictive."
"I'm not vindictive." He says and Mary snorts, making the water come up in bubbles.
"You are the most vindictive person I know. Your brothers might be mean and petty, but whenever they speak, you shout, and when they shove, you punch."
He doesn't answer to that, just rolls up his sleeves and starts tracing the paintings on her skin. They wash off after a few days, but Tanaruz is always there to trace the lines or start a new pattern. Right now, there is a vine on her collarbone, a bird of paradise on her shoulder, and a fish on her right lower arm.
"Where did you get these?" Ivar asks and follows the long feathers of the bird under the surface.
"Tanaruz draws them. I think they are quite beautiful." Mary tells him, and lifts her arm to let him see the left-overs of the fish.
"Helga's new girl?"
She nods.
"I have seen you spend time with her. Floki tells me she is much happier now than she was before."
"Good. She is a lovely girl." Mary smiles "She has been teaching me songs in her language."
Ivar peers up at her, his fingers making little circles in the water.
"You like to sing?" he asks and Mary shrugs. "Occasionally. But only when I'm alone, or with friends."
At the curious look in his eyes she shakes her head.
"I'm not gonna sing for you." She says laughing.
"Why not?"
"I don't think you will like my music." She answers honestly. The songs she has heard here are very different then the ones from her time. Higher, longer, and with a sound that comes from somewhere deep in the throat. The one time she had tried to imitate it, on an early morning with Inga and Tanaruz, she had started coughing uncontrollably and Inga had laughed.
"Come on." Ivar edges her on "Sing for me."
"I'm not a very good singer." She tries to argue, but his eyes look up at her pleadingly and she groans.
"Fine." She agrees and Ivar's false innocence is immediately replaced by a victorious smile.
"You are a very manipulative boy." She informs him, but he doesn't seem to care. Mary is tempted to go full pop, maybe some Britney Spears or Madonna, but decides against it. While it would surely mortify Ivar, she has no desire to embarrass herself just to make fun of him.
She clears her throat.
"Murder lives forever
And so does war
It's survival of the fittest,
Rich against the poor
At the end of the day
It's a human trait
Hidden deep down inside of our DNA"
She sings slower than necessary, her voice carrying the words a little longer. He looks intrigued and so she continues. She skips a few lines, because she knows he won't understand them.
"We live, we die,
We steal, we kill, we lie
Just like animals
But with far less grace
We laugh, we cry
Like babies in the night
Forever running wild
In the human race
Another day,
Another tale of rape
Another ticking bomb
To bury deep and detonate
I'm not the only one
Who finds it hard to understand
I'm not afraid of God, I am afraid of man"
She has picked the song on purpose, looking at him curiously while she sings. Their conversation on the cart is still in her mind and while she had hoped that his taste for violence would decrease over time, it seems to only have gotten strong. Still, that doesn't mean she has to like it.
"You say you dislike violence, yet you write songs about it." he comments when she stops, his eyes thoughtful and focused on the ripples of the water.
"It's not supposed to be a happy song. It's a warning. It reminds us that no matter how much better we think we are, humans are much less evolved that we want to accept." She tells him.
"Not a war of glory." He repeats her words from of months ago.
"Exactly." She agrees softly.
"Do you hate what we are doing here?" he asks her then and Mary nods.
"Yes."
"Even though they deserve it?"
Mary slides down further, letting the water swap against her lower lip. She knows this conversation will not change his opinion, and he knows that there is nothing he can say that will change hers. But they want to at least try to understand the other.
"Do they though?"
A muscle twitches in his cheek and Mary can see the anger swelling in his eyes, but his voice stays calm.
"They killed my father." He reminds her and Mary inclines her head.
"Really? All of them? Every man in battle, all the people you killed? They all killed your father?"
He rolls his eyes at that "Of course not. But they support the people who did. None of them tried to help him."
"You know, throughout history, men will use that same excuse over and over, and all it will bring is death and destruction."
"Is that what you see in the future?" he asks curiously.
"That and much worse. But there are also good things. People doing their best to protect others. People refusing to fight."
"Brother, we have to- Oh."
They both turn to see Ubbe, holding open the flap of the tent with the others standing behind him, preening inside to see what had made their brother stop so suddenly.
"Hi." Mary says and waves and even though she is sure than no one can see anything more than her head and the top of her knees, Ivar growls.
He pulls her old dress over her, letting the fabric soak up with water and sinking against her skin.
"Oh, come on." She whines and lifts the sopping wet dress out of the water.
"You had to wash it anyways." Ivar answers and turns to his brothers.
"What do you want?"
They enter and settle around the small table, trying very hard not to look at Mary even when Ivar refuses to move from her side. With no where else to go, Mary starts working the clumps of mud from the hem of her now soaked dress. Might as well make use of the water.
"We are planning on moving on tomorrow. The Saxons will be coming and we want to take the land before they can lay claim on it." Bjorn informs him.
She tunes out when they start discussing strategies and she is happy to have something else to focus on. She had hoped that they might just go back home once King Aella was dead, but part of her always knew it wouldn't come to that.
The Great Heathen Army. It would ravage the lands for years.
She is trying very hard not to disrupt the brothers, especially now that they seem…amicable? No, not quite. The animosity is still there even when they laugh and joke and talk. It's still better than constant insults and taunts.
After a while the water turns cold and Mary can't help the goosebumps that break out over her skin.
"Are you done?" Ivar asks when he notices her small shiver and Mary nods shyly, her gaze flickering from Ivar to the others.
Bjorn is already moving, turning his back to her but the others only follow when Ubbe tells them to. "Turn around, Idiots."
Mary stands up and tries to dry herself off quickly, but Ivar has his hand behind her knee and is letting it climb along her leg. She would have though he had grown out of being a horny teenager by now.
"Stop touching me." She says and smacks his hand away.
Sigurd snorts and Ubbe jabs him with his elbow.
But the sound is out and, in a move as predictable as the sun setting in the evening, Ivar has to answer to the unspoken taunt.
"You didn't seem to mind last night."
Ubbe lifts a hand as if to hide a smile when Sigurd scowls at the wall. Bjorn is mostly bored, but Hvitserk – who knows very little about the girl, is quite intrigued.
"I'm gonna drown you in the tub." Mary threatens him quietly while she pulls on her dress, but he just smirks.
The new dress is a dark yellow, shining bright against the slight tan over her skin and the dark of her hair, and it actually has sleeves and a thick layer of wool under the skirt.
She will have to apologize to the tailor who had made the dress. Back in Kattegat, Mary has been so enamoured with the airy silks that she had dismissed any thick woollen dresses with a scowl. If it wasn't for the stubborn woman, she would have frozen to death by now.
It's still low on the shoulders, revealing some of the paintings but much better than most of her other clothes.
"I'm all good." She informs them and the brother turn back around. Ivar finally joins them at the table when Mary sits down on the bed and tries to brush the worst of the knots out with her fingers.
Once everything is said and done, the tent empties out and Mary falls back on the bed.
"Why can't you always get along like this?" she asks wistfully and even without looking up she knows Ivar is scowling.
"Mary." He says warningly "Don't try to forge friendship where there can be none."
"Drama queen." She mumbles to herself, but doesn't bring up the topic again. She has seen that they can get along. Tonight, was the perfect example. It's only once they start talking about things like legacies, leaders, or honour that they fight. She knows that Ubbe doesn't want to. She knows that Bjorn will do whatever he needs to do, but even he would rather have allies than foes, even if only for the sheer practicality.
No, it's the other three that are the problem.
The younger brothers that haven't quite reached the maturity to see the path they are going down yet. Sigurd and Ivar constantly bicker, and Hvitserk seems somehow lost in the middle of the family which leads to the occasional insult mixed in with some more quiet spells.
"Did it bother you what I said about you?" Ivar asks, still leaning back in his chair and having a drink.
"Not really. I expected you to brag. I just didn't think you would do it when I'm there." She says.
"They wouldn't believe me otherwise." Ivar shrugs and Mary leans up on her elbows looking at him.
"Why not?"
He just raises an eyebrow "They have no reason to. I have lied to them before."
"That's a hole you dug yourself." She reminds him and falls back again.
She hears hum shuffle around in the dim light.
"I want to show you something." Ivar says and with a small groan Mary pulls herself upright once again.
He comes over, one hand on the crutch, and the other carrying a long bundle of something.
He drops it on the bed between them and when he pulls back the cloth Mary can see that it's another copy of his crutch. At least that's what she thinks at first. When she looks closer, her eyes widen.
Rather than a crescent piece of metal to support his elbow, this one has actual clasps to secure his arm against the metal, and at the bottom, just a bit lower than his knees, is an axt-like blade protruding from the front and the back.
"With this one I don't have to worry about losing it all the time." He explains excitedly "I just strap my arm in here."
He pulls at the leather and Mary finds even more details.
The bottom is split in three, probably to make it more stable, but there is also a small spike at the end of each foot and on the outside of where his elbow would strap in, there is a flat piece of metal protruding upwards like a small shield.
"It looks like a weapon." She says quietly and he nods.
"It is."
Mary looks up at him, her heart heavy.
"You want to fight." She says matter of fact. "I thought you liked the chariot?"
"It's a fine invention." He agrees "But on the battle field it's hard to get around. I can barely tell the English from my own people before they are trampled down. It does not look good for a leader to kill his own men."
Mary closes her eyes in disappointment. "Is this because of Sigurd stupid remark today?"
He shakes his head and wraps the crutch back into the rough cloth.
"No, I have been working on it for a few weeks now." He promises and then "You don't like it."
"It's not that. It's- well it's quite brilliant to be honest." She confesses "But I hate thinking about you on the battle field like that."
"I'm a good fighter." He insists and Mary rolls her eyes but laughs.
"That's not why I worry. I worry about your brothers just as much."
He doesn't like that.
"You shouldn't." he says darkly "They can die for all I care.".
"Ivar." She says in disbelieve. "Don't talk like that."
"Why? I am sure they have said the same about me."
"You are unbelievable. All if you." She seethes, "saying you want your own brothers dead. Your father would be ashamed of you."
The reaction to her words in instantaneous and brutal, when Ivar wraps his fingers around her throat.
"Don't talk about my father." He says, his voice quiet but furious. The hand around her throat is hard, but he isn't choking her. Not yet at least.
"Let go of me, Ivar." She says warningly. "Let go of me, right now."
His fingers relax slightly, but the hand stays where it is and his face is still angry.
"I may have never spoken to your father, but I know that he loved you." Mary says, trying to keep her voice steady. She cannot deny the fear and anger she is feeling right now, but lashing it out will do no one any good. "He loved all of you. And if he knew that his death is the reason for you all to fall apart, it would break his heart."
Ivar's grip loosens to the point where he is caressing her more than holding her and the anger seems to clear form his eyes.
"You are brothers." Mary reminds him and finally he lowers his hand.
"I'm sorry." He says quietly, but she shakes her head. "No."
"No?" he asks confused "What do you mean 'no'?"
"You can't just apologize and expect everything to be alright." She says but he shakes his head.
"It's not my fault. I was overcome with anger." He tries to defend himself when Mary stands up.
"No, you let yourself be overcome with anger. There is a difference, Ivar. You want to fight? Fine, but I won't be here for it. Now if you excuse me, I will see you tomorrow."
She doesn't let him say another word, slipping out of the tent in silence.
When she reaches her own tent, Tanaruz is fast asleep on the cot, so Mary lays down on the furs on the floor and curls up.