#vikings alfred imagine

[asongofmarvelanddc]

The cliffhanger you left us with in sworn enemies should me considered criminal activity

I know, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭 My most egregious crime fr!

But I HAVE been writing the next chapter so here's a sneak peek below:

Sworn Enemies PT 11 Sneak Peek

Alfred is still shaking when he enters the room. His eyes sting with unshed tears, small breaths escaping his lips in short gasps. Your body is lying on a table, motionless. He can’t even see the slight rise and fall of your chest to let him know you’re still breathing.

In a second, he turns away from the sight, his heart sinking into his stomach. She’s dead, he thinks, They’re both dead. The fear chokes him while shaking him to his core. He can’t bring himself to ask the physician anything. He’s crippled with fear.

“Your Grace,” the physician says and bows his head, but he speaks no further, waiting until he is addressed by his King.

Alfred curses the title he bears. Slowly, he glances at your seemingly lifeless body then back to the floor.

“How—” he pauses to clear his throat when the word comes out strangled, “How is she?”

The physician wipes his hand with a bloodied piece of cloth. “Her Grace was struck by two arrows — the more serious injuries amongst others. The arrow in her front was fairly simple to remove. The one in her back was the real task.”

The spindly man goes on a rather long-winded explanation of the surgery as he packs his tools away, occasionally stopping to brush back the dull, brown wisps of hair on his head. He seems impressed with his skills as he describes drawing the arrow up and out through your rib cage to avoid affecting the pregnancy.

All the while, Alfred doesn’t have the words to cut in.

“And my wife?” he swallows, “Will she recover?”

The physician tilts his head, “If she survives the next few days, then I can almost guarantee it.”

It isn’t the news Alfred hoped for, but it is better than he expected. He breathes a sigh of relief, and finally, he looks at you properly. Suddenly, you look to be in a peaceful sleep. Full of life, but resting. Then he looks at where your hands rest on your stomach and the sinking feeling returns.

“And the child?” his voice breaks, never taking his eyes off you, “Will my daughter live?”

This time, the physician sucks in a deep breath.

“Unfortunately, there is not much I can do but wait when it comes to your daughter. There has been no movement that I have observed so far,” he says, “I intend to watch for that over the next few days but as of right now…I’m afraid I cannot be certain that your child lives.”

Alfred swallows again, but this time, it’s to distract himself from the tears threatening to fall.

“Thank you, Wyllis. I’d like to be alone with my wife now.”

“Your Grace.” He bows and exits the room.

As soon as the door closes shut behind him, Alfred sinks to his knees on the floor, hands clasped together in front of him and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“My Lord. Father. There is nothing on this Earth that you cannot do,” he begins, a slight tremor in his voice as he speaks, “No heartache that you cannot mend. No illness that you cannot heal.”

He briefly glances at you – so still. A whimper escapes him as he closes his eyes again and squeezes his hands together even tighter, as if doing so would mean he's praying harder.

“Please, Father. I cannot do this without her,” before he knows it the tears are flowing uncontrollably, his quiet sobs confined to the room, “Whatever price I must pay I shall pay it if only to see my wife again. To hold our child in my arms. I beg you to cover them in your protection. With your love. Your mercy. I beg you…bring her back to me, Lord.”

***

And there you have it! This is my first apology for the ridiculously long hiatus, please forgive me if you can ❤️😩

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Vikings + modern food

A/N: first of all, I am SO honored to be ur first choice for your first request.

Second of all, disclaimer, I do not hate ppl with lactose intolerance, it’s just very funny to me when my brother knowingly consumes sth with excessive amounts of milk and then sprints to the toilet five minutes after finishing his food

Third of all, this was so fun to write and also i've been hoarding this imagine like some goblin creature bc i was so excited to post it. had to do it early after reading heart of winter (we need more bragi)

Tagged: @alicedopey, @bragisrunes (message/comment if you want to be added to any taglist)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Here are some foods I think you could achieve in 800 AD in Kattegat:

Pizza, if there are tomatoes from the Mediterranean

Italian noodles (I think you could defo manage Alfredo sauce and chicken, and noodles are just flour + water + egg maybe)

Some steak with sauteed onions and all that other good shii

Maybe, possibly, if the trade gods are feeling generous, soup dumplings and other Chinese foods (the biggest problem here would be the spices and the rice, since a lot of Chinese food has pretty simple ingredients)

Sashimi

Tuscan salmon (again the Mediterranean ppl have to pull up with them tomatoes)

Ice cream if it’s snowing for long enough and you have Tupperware to bury your fruits with you

Hummus if the middle eastern ppl pull up to Kattegat with Tahini and chickpeas

Things you could definitely not achieve (I am saying this having done 0 research):

Smoothies (blender)

Choco/vanilla ice cream

Anything vanilla/chocolate flavored

Sushi (nori + rice)

Several tier cakes

Anything involving huge (or any) amounts of refined sugar, food coloring or artificial flavours

Anything that has to be tempered or cooled down at an exact temperature

Anything that requires an airfryer, thermomix or other fancy cooking utensils I can’t afford  (rn)

Anything fried (how temperature? How so much oil? Maybe if u go to the blacksmith ig)

Mexican food (cries in guacamole and fajitas)

Ragnar

Very suspicious but tries it

You made Linguine Alfredo for the whole fam (Ragnar+Lagertha+Bjorn+Gyda+Athelstan)

Is lactose intolerant

Major L lol

Bjorn laughs when he comes back after one hour of shitting

Lagertha

Appreciates the Alfredo

Does not appreciate shitting husband

When Ragnar declares that it’s worth the risk

She declares the toilet (i think? maybe a hole in the ground?) is worth cleaning

Regardless, she asks you to teach her how to make pasta

Makes very good viking pasta afterwards

Bjorn (as a child bc I stanned him back then :’) )

Stans you for making his dad violently shit

Also stans pasta alfredo

Asks you to cook more, and promises to set the table for you

When your making spaghetti Bolognese, he hands you cream and asks you to sneak it in

You almost do

Gyda

She’s shyer about talking to you, but asks you to make more modern foods

Will help you get the ingredients and cook

If you use a fish she caught for cooking, she’ll cry with happiness

Is the most capable in making modern foods

Fascinated by ice cream

Makes Bjorn taste test everything she cooks before serving

He does it under one condition: trigger Ragnar’s lactose intolerance

Athelstan

Also very skeptical

Loves stuff that’s a fusion between modern and old

Suspicious of your cooking after the Alfredo-incident

He would love Tuscan salmon though

And soup dumplings

Why? It’s a form of bread + soup + warm. That’s why.

tagging @demon-of-the-ancient-world here for obvious reasons

Aslaug

Big fan of Chinese food

She tried modern food to prove to Ragnar that she would not loose control over her bowels bc of a large amount of cream

When she finds out about chopsticks it’s over for you

She eats everything with chopsticks

Thinks it’s more elegant than anything else

Defo a utensils gal

Ubbe

Grew up with the infamous story of the Alfredo incident (we’re going with that timeline in his case too, but not for the other characters)

Regardless, he’s ready to sacrifice his dignity to try something new

Very not lactose intolerant, and rubs it in Ragnar’s face

Loves a medium raw steak

Asks you to cook for him, but you’ll be able to teach him instead

Hvitserk

You give him pizza as a surprise

Looses his shit (not like Ragnar, in a more metaphorical sense here)

Making bread with toppings and baking it and eating it warm? Genius, why didn’t he think of that.

I just know he would gobble up that spicy salami pizza

Is okay with simpler toppings too

Loves everything you make for him, creates scary fusions

Sigurd

Skeptical. Extremely

He likes bean stew and boiled chicken

But not for long

Sucker for spicy foods

Also likes dumplings a lot

Will take them with him in the steamer for a picknick date

Ivar

Can absolutely NOT eat spicy food

Which Sigurd so laughs about

Eats slightly seasoned curry while tears are streaming down his face (manly tears)

Does not take milk to numb it down

You know those wontons with the spicy sauce that are hella good?

Yeah, he loves them without the sauce.

Clocks Sigurd in the jaw when he pours the sauce over Ivar’s not spicy ones

Heahmund

Idk if this is my hc or just personal distaste for this man and his weird ass voice showing through

Cannot handle spicy food (more homoerotic bonding ground for him and ivar yay!)

Does not like modern food (loser)

Secretly is lactose intolerant

Would probably die from a whiff of peanuts

Sticks to boiled chicken and beans (no salt!!!)

Alfred

Didn’t he go to the Vatican or something?

Got a taste for them Italian dishes

Idk if they already had pasta but that’s not the point

Alfred is a man of the world (at least at the dinner table)

Eats everything and anything you make

Yes, he sends hvitserk on a diplomatic mission to find new food

But only bc hvitserk begged him

Would shake his ass in front of his entire court for the mysterious loaded nachos you’ve described to him

Judith

Supports everything Alfred does

Tries his food with him

Oh man, if Sigurd and Judith ever met, they would have a spice eating contest

It delights her to mix two seeds of pepper into the food and watch some lord have a nervous breakdown

Could eat ghost pepper raw

As long as it burns her mouth, it’s good

Knows about the Alfredo incident in said timeline and uses it as a political weapon against the Vikings

[miss-madness67]

Chapter Sixteen: Nonnekloster (Ivar & Alfred)

The Mistress

Vikings

The morning after Alfred left my alcoves, I went to talk to the King. I was miserable and honestly could not phantom continue living as a mistress any longer, so I decided to sincere myself to king Ecbert about my resolution. When the knowledge about my affair was brought to the public, I was originally given two options to safeguard my dignity. The first one was the one that I precisely chose: living my life as a second woman. The other choice required me to go live in the nunnery. When I made my decision I considered my love for Alfred to be the most important priority and I was ok with that. Mainly given my confidence in being able to withstand the difficulties of seeing my lover in another's arms and stand tall against the rumors of court. I believed I could lead such why life, and I was clearly wrong. Moreover, another one of the reasons why I decided not to live in a nunnery was because I was convinced that the clergy would treat me poorly for my committed sins, but I thought it could not be so much different compared to the stares and whispers in the King's villa.

Continue reading on:

AO3 / PA / WAT

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

[sapphic-woes]

Might rant Abt this so bear with me but what Uthred and alfred had but lesbian

[squirrelacorngliterfarts]

i hope you all are ready for more

@gold-dragon-slayer @your-internet-granny

@darkwhisperswolf​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @blonddnamedhandz​ @thelastemzy​ @inforapound​ @supermassiveblackhope​ @captstefanbrandt​ @roonil-wxzlib​  @syreni-dea​ @cynthianokamaria​ @rosiebrosie @loliismutt@pinkisokay @heavenly1927​ @annekleyn​  @rose-02468​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @moonie-flower101​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @ir-abelas-telanadas​ @peachyboneless​ @feyrearcheron44​ @ir-abelas-telanadas​s @http://lgkoval.tumblr.com/  @captainofallfandoms  @captainofallfandoms​ @mistalli​ @severewobblerlightdragon

[ego-meliorem-esse]

yellow heart and trophy, im on my laptop and i don't know how to do emojis bc i'm 300yrs old but i think those are ones that haven't been asked already!

I too am confused by little pictures in text and i as well am around 324 years old :) wow bestie!

A friendship that doesn't exist in canon yet i yearn hmmmmm....

Alfred and Mathias. These two would get along like a hand and a glove. Just imagine this little baby boy, this diaper wearing spring chicken of a nation interacting with this old ass, historical enemy no.1, past-viking dude. Precious. Hilarious.

Arthur: "Ah, be careful with Mathias, Alfred. He can be ruthless. History is set in stone."

pans to Al crying because Mathias accidentally killed his dog in Minecraft

Sell you on a character?

i'm just

it's

has to be

i mean look at him

Gil

he's just so strict yet cool mom aesthetic it's unforgivable

have I convinced you? are we on the same team? on the same page?

[myrddin-wylt]

Just imagine Arthur on a longship. Mathias teaching him how to love the sea.

god I love this so much, and there's so many different ways we can take this.

for the record, something really interesting to me is that during the Viking Age, sea travel was so much easier and quicker than travel over land, to the point where it would take significantly less time to travel from Vigborg, Denmark to Canterbury than to, say, from Vigborg to Cologne, despite their actual geographical distance.

seriously, if the weather was good, a trip from Denmark to England could take just a few days; you could even go to England and come back within a fortnight if you were quick about it. so if the North Sea Empire (England, Norway, & Denmark) seems like a strange combination to you, maybe it makes a little more sense once you see the North Sea as a means of travel and the continent as a barrier to it.

this is true mostly for the Old Norse culture (in which I'm including Denmark) than the Anglo-Saxons, however, who really did not fuck with the water at all. in their defense, neither did the Romans or Britons; the vikings are the first ones to show up who're all gung-ho about seafaring. there's a brief period where Alfred the Great establishes a navy before dismantling it, but for the most part, the Anglo-Saxons want nothing to do with the ocean.

now that I'm thinking of it, there's a single Anglo-Saxon poem we know of that mentions the sea at all and it's just the narrator being absolutely miserable and whiny about it. this is the first (translated) stanza:

Let me speak, in truth, of my life, tell of toilsome days of travel, days suffering hardship, bitterness of heart: how I endured sorrowful times on ships, on dreadful rolling seas. Hard night's watch at the ship's prow was by frequent task, the ship often tossed along towering cliffs, afflicted with cold feet, numbed by frost, chill bonds. My sorrows burned in my heart, I sighed forth hunger that rent my mind, I, the sea-weary man.

a very far cry from the empire of wooden ships and iron men. absolutely hates it lol.

I'm envisioning Mathias having a blast as the longship prows forward through the waves of the North Sea, enjoying the speed of the ship and the open ocean, and meanwhile Arthur is huddled against the floor, cold and wet and very seasick. well, at least it's a good opportunity for Mathias to get to cuddle him for awhile, assuming he's willing to risk Arthur's seasickness.

I don't know if Mathias succeeds in getting Arthur to love the sea, but I think he might be able get Arthur to stop hating it so much, and that's a positive first step.

[fumblingmusings]

Imagining a young Arthur thinking the Normans are irredeemable doomed for hell monsters from the moment they killed King Harold, made the heir Edgar and his sisters flee, wrecked Arthur's language and broke his legal systems, made 10% of his country a wasteland, killed over 100,000 of his people by starving them to death and leaving them freeze... All that horror from William I and II...

But then Henry I becomes King. He was born in Selby, not Normandy. He was a fourth son (like Arthur), set to inherit nothing and isn't trusted by any of his older brothers. He just maybe happens to be there with one of the said brothers is killed in a hunting accident (oh no....) and becomes King. He marries Edith, the daughter of Arthur's last Anglo-Saxon princess, ensuring that Alfred the Great's bloodline lives on. He uses the Anglo-Saxon justice and taxation system because it's still better than anything Norman. He puts Englishmen back in positions of government and the Church. Henry and Edith called their daughter Matilda aethelic when in private and gave their son William an Anglo-Saxon title of aethling... Those imported Norman aristocrats mocked them for it calling them 'Godric and Godifu' - that foolish King and Queen pretending to be lesser than. Playing at being English and not Norman.

But it works. Arthur and England are at peace for the first time in... a long, long long time. Yes northern France is a nightmare but what does Arthur care for that. These guys are stamping out slavery and serfdom... That's pretty stupendous. Plus, his way of life is winning out long term, not the Norman. At least, that's what he tells himself.

And having the thought that maybe his people and culture won't be as wiped out by this King playing politics in order to carve out his own space distinct from his brothers... little Arthur sees a little bit too much of himself in this guy. Only for Henry's only son to drown on a crossing from France back to England (trying to save his sister oh my God) and then it just sets the stage for the Anarchy upon Henry's death because god forbid Matilda is Queen like...

Point is I can see Arthur just going full on fuck it once Henry II becomes King (like what was the point of it all if Matilda's son was going to be King anyway). I like to think of it as the turning point from where he's a somewhat put upon forgotten about rainy droopy island that Vikings keep plundering to a nightmare himself. That desperation to prove himself, to be worth something, to take all that grief and pain and make it someone else's problem. It takes him 100 years after the invasion, but that's the point when the Arthur who used to hide in the woods from Denmark and Scotland disappears, and instead you get the Arthur who's... a bit of a giant hypocrite. And looks the other way.

The forcing a language on a population, the replacing the ruling class with loyal people, the leaving just enough of the old systems of government in place for purely pragmatic purposes, the use of scorched earth tactics if need be. Sometimes it feels like nothing changes.

What happened to him was wrong and yet what does England do to others for so long? I like the idea of an Arthur who learnt the wrong lessons from that invasion and thinks he was weak when it happened. Because to think otherwise would be to realise he'd done nothing wrong, and to realise that he was a victim.

And that's something Arthur just cannot be.

[juliets-obsession-corner]

Chapter One; Should I Touch It?

Note; I'm shitting bricks right now cause I've never done anything like this before, and it's been ages since I've written anything AND let people see it, so 🧍🏻‍♀️ im fine, everything is fine, no one panic

Warnings; no warnings but no Uhtred and the pretty boys :( just an opportunity to meet the charity and set the scene!

Word Count; 1175

🦢 🦊 🦢 🦊

"Before the stronghold at Dunholm was recaptured by King Guthred of Northumbria's army, it was in the hands of Vikings for some years. The lord there was Kjartan the Cruel, and as you can imagine, he wasn’t a kind man." The tour guide smiled thinly, "He had a son, Sven, who likely died at the battle of Dunholm alongside his father. And, as far as we know, that is where Kjartan's bloodline ended."

The tour guide took a quick glance at his watch, “Before we move on to the main attraction, I’ll give everyone a few minutes to look at the trinkets and tools that were found beneath our very feet!”

The moment the tour guide stopped recounting the history around them, Erin linked arms with her childhood best friend, Ivy. She pulled the redhead along, pointing at every object with some explanation or theory as to what everything was. Ivy held no interest in this subject, but Erin’s excited and non-stop babbling had Ivy smiling so wide, her cheeks hurt.

“This is so cool!” Erin said, “Isn’t this so cool? Do you see how old everything is! People held these things! Vikings! Saxons!” Erin pointed at some sort of handle, “Maybe a Saxon dog played fetch with that!”

“What makes you think a Saxon dog was doing that?” She laughed.

“Could have been a Viking dog, I don’t know Ivy, I just know that,” She pointed at the handle, “would have been perfect for mediaeval fetch.”

After several minutes of squabbling, the tour guide interrupted them with a clap of his hands and a knowing smile that uplifted his mouth, “Now for the main attraction…a piece of the stronghold itself!”

Ivy untangled herself from Erin, took a few steps backwards towards the rest of the tourists. “Uh huh, okay, well while you’re contemplating about mediaeval dog toys, I’m gonna go see that super special rock you keep going on about.” She teased.

The gloomy inside of the small museum was a whole different world compared to the warm comfort of the sun. It beamed down on Ivy and for just a moment, it was lovely to be out of the darkness of the museum. Unfortunately, English weather wasn't nice weather. The air turned muggy and the heat amped up and up and up until small beads of sweat gathered at her hairline. Ivy grunted.

She felt someone's arm draped around her shoulders. Already knowing who it was, she tilted her head up several inches and was met with Erin's dark eyes.

"It's too hot for contact." Ivy mumbled.

Erin ignored her as she said, “You realise that ‘super special rock’ you keep teasing me about is an actual piece of the fortress that actually stood here a thousand odd years ago.” Erin bent down to whisper as to not disturb the tour guide, “It was one of the best defended fortresses!”

Ivy hummed.

Erin squinted.

“And you know what else?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me anyway.” Ivy said.

Erin grinned, “Well, Mr Tour Guide here says King Guthred defeated the Vikings but there was never any evidence he was even at the battle, he just ordered it.”

“So? Aren’t kings just supposed to sit back, relax, grow fat and commit sins?”

“Well, Alfred The Great used to go into battle, most kings did. So, why didn't Guthred?”

Ivy shrugged.

The brunette let out a long, defeated, overly dramatic sigh, “So…aren’t you curious as to the whys, the whens, the hows, the whos?”

“I’m more interested in cutting people up and making their insides better.”

“People actually believe you’re some kind of saint,” Erin muttered, “you check all the boxes: trainee doctor, freckles, big eyes, soft spoken but you know what?”

Ivy shrugged, faux innocence in her eyes.

“You’re fucking nuts.”

Ivy laughed, and immediately covered her mouth when several tourists turned to glare. She apologised softly and made an over enthusiastic attempt to listen to the guide. The girls decided to continue their walk in silence, to avoid any more deadly stares. They walked along a large expanse of greenery. Trees loomed large in the distance, and hills dipped and curved like waves.

The tour guide stopped and the group followed suit.

“This here is the remaining stone from what is believed to be the Dunholm Fort.”

Erin squealed and dragged Ivy to the front.

And just as Ivy expected…it was rather unexceptional. It was a big lump of degraded smooth, grey stone. It was nothing to call home about, and Ivy felt guilty when she didn’t share the same awe as her history obsessed friend.

“Well?” Erin grinned.

Ivy nodded. “It’s a, uh, nice rock.”

Erin rolled her eyes. She looked back at the (seemingly) unimportant rock. If you were anyone else, no one would blink an eye to it. But Erin knew. Erin became obsessed with Viking history the moment she was told her family had connections to Ragnar the Fearless. Little five years old Erin ran around her garden, pretending she was a Viking. She screamed fierce battle cries and swung a sturdy stick at trees as if they were the enemy. She would pretend, in that imaginary world of hers, that all the kids on the playground would have been afraid if she were a Viking.

Erin stared at the stronghold piece. She kept staring even as the tour guide made it known it was time to move on. Even when Ivy made a move to join them, Erin kept staring.

Ivy turned to see if her friend had followed. Her face softened at the awe on Erin’s face. She walked back over to her side.

“It’s like if you saw the first ever notes of the bloke who invented penicillin.”

Ivy couldn’t help but laugh, “Alexander Fleming but I get your point.”

Ivy took her friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

A shy smile lifted the corners of Erin’s mouth.

“Let’s sit here and appreciate this super cool rock.” Ivy said, and brought Erin to sit with her before Erin could protest that Ivy didn’t need to do this.

Silence passed between the friends comfortably. Neither needing or wanting to say anything, simply appreciating the quiet bond that passed between them. It had taken Erin a long time to realise there didn’t have to be awkwardness in silence, although she could never muster it for long.

“Should I touch it?”

“Excuse me?”

Erin pointed at the rock. “I think I should touch it.”

Ivy examined the rock, and cocked her head. “There isn’t a sign saying you can’t touch it.”

A slow, mischievous smile slid its way up Erin’s lips. “It feels scandalous.”

“Erin.” Ivy took a breath, “Touching a rock isn’t scandalous.”

“It’s a famous rock.”

“It’s not that famous.”

“I’m gonna touch it.”

Their hands still intertwined, Erin used her free one to reach out to the rock. There was no buzz or feeling or wrongness in the action. There was nothing at all. She’d barely grazed the rock’s smooth surface when everything turned upside down.

[emblematicemblazer]

World building and theories of Engage

Alfred and Alfred the Great

Alfred, The Crowned Prince of Firene, has a real life inspiration, the Anglo-Saxon king Alfred the Great (849-899). Alfred the Great is probably best known for successfully defending his kingdom, Wessex, from Viking attacks. The surrounding kingdoms of Northumbria, East Anglia and Mercia had fallen and the odds were stacked against him, Alfred the Great and his father King Aethelred, were driven back into the heart of their kingdom and had to employ guerrilla tactics.

Alfred has similar claims to fame, with the help of the Divine Dragon he successfully defends his kingdom from attacks by the corrupted and Elusian forces. 

There are other similarities between the two kings. When Alfred the Great was a young boy, he went on a pilgrimage with his father to Rome. This visit inspired a view of kingship based on religious morals and values. Alfred visited the Divine Dragon as a boy as well. These visits helped Alfred form a close friendship with the Divine Dragon. 

Alfred the Great was a champion of education and taught himself Latin so he could translate important texts into English. He also set up schools to educate all young men. He also made military reforms which included: a rota systems fields were not neglected, fortified towns which formed the basis of the English system of boroughs and shires and strengthened the navy with the aid of foreign skilled craftspeople. To restore faith in the economy he increased the silver content in coins and created a new design, he introduced a fairer tax system, and introduced written laws. Alfred the Great was a reformer who improved his people's quality of life.

Alfred the Great had a condition with symptoms similar to Crohn's disease. He often went through periods of great pain and sickness, especially after grand feasts. He died early, (early 50s), but still managed to marry and raise an heir. Alfred has a similar condition and dies early because of it. His dislike of spicy food and strong tasting food could be because they make him unwell. There is no mention of Celine becoming Queen so I imagine that Alfred also married and had an heir. 

[rachelbethhines]

60 Years of Doctor Who Anniversary Marathon - C. Baker 12th Review

The Man Who Wouldn't Give Up - Short Story

We got another short trip from the anthology Past Tense.

In this story the Sixth Doctor meets King Alfred the Great, who is in incognito while spying on the vikings invading his land. The Doctor has to inspire the ailing king not to give up on his quest… but not for the reasons that you would imagine.

I'll give the story this, I did learn more about King Alfred here then I ever did in school. Beyond that though, the author seems more concerned with being clever then with just telling a story.

See the real reason the doctor is there is to steal some cake.

That's it.

It's revealed at the end that the Doctor is going behind Mel's back and breaking his diet by enjoying delicacies from the past.

Never mind that 'cake' in 9th century England is not the cake we have today, and is probably the whole grain stuff that Mel would approve.

Never mind that half the food before the creation of the FDA and similar programs was poisoned and that the most common way to die in the past was from stomach cancer or dentistry.

Never mind that a Time Lords have a different biology to humans and so probably processes sugars, carbs, proteins, and minerals differently from us. Not to mention that not all diets work for all people the same way.

No, you're not suppose to overthink it, because it's just a comedy. Just a cute fluff piece. Except it's not very funny.

Oh the concept is hilarious!

I love the idea of the Doctor thinking up increasingly over the top ways to get around Mel's health fad restrictions, to Mel's increasing frustration at never quite being able to catch him in the act.

That's comedy gold right there!

But that's not what we get.

The author keeps us in the dark as to what is going on for too long that the set up becomes the punchline instead.. reducing it's impact.

Then there's also the unpleasant way the Doctor is described as 'portly' and 'fat' and this is somehow to implied to be his fault for not following his diet.

Even though Six was never 'fat' and being bigger then some other people isn't due to some moral failing at not being able to kept to a diet…. in fact most fad diets are actually harmful in the long run and rarely help with weight loss.

It's Mel's obsession with the latest health fads and well meaning bossy nature that is the character flaw that should be exploited for laughs here. Not the other way around.

So to summarize, this was a real missed opportunity.

[miss-madness67]

Chapter Eleven: Elskerinnen (Vikings)

The Mistress

Vikings

“I see,” he strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Well, I cannot tell you what to do. No one can, it is your decision only.” I glance down dejectedly, I was expecting King Ecberth’s opinion to shed some light on the matter. “However, I can tell you that you must think about your choice with your head and not with your heart. I understand how much you love my grandson, and this love might push you to make some drastic decisions.” He takes a deep breath. “If you go to the nunnery, you will become one of them, and you will never see Alfred again. Your family might visit you once every few years, but the nuns will become your new family. You will not be allowed to have children or to marry, and you will dedicate your life devotedly to our Lord Jesus Christ. You will not be a lady anymore. It is a pretty selfless life.” He pauses for a moment. “If you decide to become Alfred's mistress, people will look down on you if you allow them to. You need to be fearless in order to live as such. Otherwise, the court will eat you alive, and you will be judged for everything you do. Therefore, your actions will not only affect yourself, but also the royal family. You will not be royal, yet society will be criticizing you as if you were. If you manage to live as such and to get power in that position, I can assure you that you will be unstoppable. Even if wives are the official woman, they are not always the ones in power. You will need to gain allies and have a stronger will than princess Elsewith. But you must not let feelings get in the way of your actions, because you will see my grandson also having a relationship with the Princess. Even if he tells you it means nothing, it will always mean something. She will be the queen and mother of his heirs, not you.”

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AO3 / PA

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

[heavenlymorals]

Vikings ask what was ivars relationship with his brothers

Hello and thank you much for the ask, I appreciate it, considering that this blog almost always seem dead, lmao-

Anyways, as for Ivar's relationships with his brothers, here are my thoughts, based mostly on what we see in the show:

Bjorn: I don't think that Bjorn and Ivar had much of a relationship, if they had a relationship at all. There is never a moment in the show where we see Bjorn and Ivar in a cordial manner before or after England. They barely have an scenes together that aren't about the Civil war or Ragnar's death. Even still, before they went out to sea, we see that Bjorn just doesn't care, evidenced by the way he does nothing when Halfdan slyly mocks Ivar about him not being able to raid with them. He doesn't care when Sigurd dies, so why should he care about Ivar? Maybe when he was younger the two of them had a relationship where Bjorn would play with him for an hour or so and leave till next month, but as Ivar grew older, its just quite obvious that both of them are apathetic to each other at best and outright hostile to each other at worst.

Ubbe: I think that Ubbe's role as the eldest made him forced to be this sort of surrogate father figure to his brothers, so that is what I imagine him to be to Ivar before what goes down in York. We can see him encouraging Ivar, listening to him, defending him from the people who mock him, and just being proud of him in a way that resembles more a father's pride than a brother's. I do believe that Ivar still respected Ubbe at least somewhat as a brother after his mess-up in York, but when Ubbe sided with Lagertha, that was when all respect was gone. You can see in the negotiations between Ivar and Lagertha that Ubbe was still trying to use his position as an older brother and father figure to get Ivar to consider a truce, but again, Ubbe literally sided with his mother's murderer, so why would Ivar listen (Yes, I know that the Kattegat civil war eventually spiraled into a power grab for Ivar more than revenge, but that doesn't matter rn)? After that, I don't think there was much of a relationship left, mostly bitterness, animosity, and perhaps a sadness of what could've been.

Hvitserk: I feel like Hvitserk was that cool brother that Ivar had, who was less worried about keeping him safe, and thus wouldn't care about treating Ivar like glass, which in turn Ivar would love. i feel like that was their relationship before York. Hvitserk would fight with him, encourage him, refuse to acknowledge his disability in the way that Aslaug and perhaps Ubbe did. He made Ivar feel like an equal, which I am sure that Ivar appreciated. Post-York, I feel like Ivar got too drunk with power and began pushing Hvitserk around and straight up bullying him as well. He began to lose respect for Hvitserk at this point too and I am sure Hvitserk felt the same, with the only difference being that Ivar is a natural-born leader while Hvitserk is a natural-born follower. Burning Thora was obviously the turning point for Hvitserk and whatever little respect he had for Ivar was gone at that point. Then Ivar gets kicked out of Kattegat and Hvitserk starts getting high on shrooms and I believe that afterwards, they both get sober. Ivar gets sober from the power he deluded himself to have and then supports Hvitserk through his addiction as well. At that point, they only had each other so whatever grievances they had before was water under the bridge (whether this is good or bad writing, I will leave it to you, dear readers). This made them have a bond that unbreakable in the end, leading to the final battle against Alfred.

Sigurd: I feel Sigurd and Ivar didn't always dislike each other, but it was more so something that happened over time. Obviously Sigurd was jealous of Ivar for stealing his mother's attention away from him, and unlike Ubbe and Hvitserk, he never was given a moment to remember the love of his mother before she became queen and he probably didn't remember his father period. That would make anyone be bitter and Ivar's attitude definitely did not help. He is snarky, sarcastic, and a huge brat, and that probably got on Sigurd's nerves as well, giving him an excuse to exercise his resentment without being the sole aggressor. But still though, blood is thicker than water and all that, so they obviously still cared for each other, even if only somewhat. You can see the worry on Sigurd's face when Ivar comes back from England. I mean, shit. Ivar was the one who killed Sigurd and was the only one who was crying about it in the funeral. Whether from mourning or just guilt remains ambiguous. If Ivar is good at anything, its wearing his heart on his sleeve, so I don't think he was faking it. They hate each other, sure, but they were still brothers. I think that is the best way to explain their relationship.

I hope this satisfies your question!

[the-heaminator]

ihafs h i didn;t think about it too much but now i'm just imagining Alfred and Gil are trying not to use the AC too much in the summer bc it's expensive to run it for such a big house and Alfred's solution is the piss off the ghost vikings and it WORKS the house is cool and the AC bill is down 😌

but as a tradeoff in the winter their room has to have the heating on because they are. Cold.

Gilbert is eternally scared of pissing off the ghost Vikings because I mean whi wouldn't be they're 3 massive dudes. With axes.

[themaresnest-dumblr]

The Last Kingdom (Netflix)

It's hard to imagine who your favourite character is.

But it's even harder to decide which is the worst character of them - as there are three particularly outstanding candidates requiring having their heads shut in the nearest door at high speed.

In order of demerit:

Æthelwold, dispossed heir to the Wessex throne does everything to prove his detractors were right about him as he spends every waking hour scheming behind the scenes and busting up friendships in his latest harebrained 'cunning plan' to become king.

Good and bad people alike all come a cropper thanks to him, and never once does he consider the long term consequences of his petty shit stirring, partly from security in the knowledge the brittle Alfred's guilt complex over dispossessing his nephew means he'll never have him executed as anyone else with half a brain would.

Skade The Fuckrag - easily the most annoying character of the whole show who does at least get over the point as to the Vikings' fatal flaw which saw their attempts to conquer the British Isles all fail in the end - their tendency to think with their meat and two veg first and common sense second.

Skade's a nasty piece of work who uses her looks to invent herself into some sort of witch princess queen bee something or other, safe in the knowledge others will play along with it because they want to screw her.

She's so far up her own arse, she thinks nothing of openly flirting with any man out of a second's expediency or if she thinks may provide her with a better deal, and is happiest when she's got half a dozen of them killing each other over her, even if they're friends and allies.

She has zero long-term strategy to her trainwrecking through the land, just one short term thrill after another, and by the time it does come back to bite her skinny arse with interest, you wonder - like so many do out loud - why the hell it took so long.

But the VERY VERY WORST of them all, without any doubt, was ...

Ælswith of Wessex

Pigtailled priggish mega arseturnip with ten thousand chips on both shoulders, especially towards Ultred The Awesomesauce, no matter how many times he gets her arse, her husband Alfred The Great's arse - and that of all Wessex - out of the fire, time and time and time again.

Nope, because he's a pagan, everything Ultred does is somehow wrong.

You're meant to be sympathetic towards her as a prisoner of her Christian beliefs, but you only have to watch the utterly unchristian way she treats everyone else - especially servants, who she talks to like they're something she just trod in - to realise she's just a nasty piece of work, and like all nasty pieces of work became ten times worse once in possession of a little bit of power, who by the end shows zero qualms about trying to act as if she's the ruler of Wessex and not Alfred. All attitude, no gratitude, and one hopes the servants spat in her dinner and peed in her wine every chance they got.

She even treats her children Edward and the wonderful Æthelflæd (who is the exact opposite of everything her parents are, and is a total Ultred fangirl on top) like dirt. But worst of all, she never, ever learns from her mistakes.

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XLII

A/N: And we're finally back with another update! I posted on my last update to Can You Imagine? That I was going to try and get on a system of posting an update weekly, rotating which fic I'm updating, which means this will probably be updated about every three weeks going forward. So that said, I hope you all enjoy being back to this story, and I hope you'll stick around for the coming updates- I told you this wasn't abandoned XD Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

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Asta felt like she was going to explode. Talking to Olaf had brought up all the grief she’d felt over the years, everything she felt she had locked away when she left Kattegat, and now it was threatening to burst out of her if one more thing happened to bring it out of her. That’s why she needed to talk to Ivar- if anyone would know how to stay sane in the face of everything they were facing… Well, it wasn’t him, but he could help her sort through things at the least. 

She let Hvitserk lead her back through the town quickly, indulging herself in the protective arm he’d wrapped around her shoulders. How would she be able to stand it if something were to happen to him, or to Ivar? She’d already lost so much… Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle it- and not like this, when she wasn’t sure she’d handled what had happened so far just yet. If she went through it in her mind- the father she hadn’t known, Heahmund, the father she had, Aethelred, her mother, Freydis, Lagertha, Bjorn… And those were only the deaths. What about Alfred, and Torvi and Ubbe who she hadn’t heard from in… who knew how long at this point? 

Her mind turned back to something her beloved Freydis had once said to her, after the death of the Bishop Heahmund. When she had confessed her heart had broken with news of his death, Freydis had told her that her heart would repair. But that had been before everything else she had lost. She wasn’t so sure anymore that was true. Very suddenly, she held out her hand and held it to Hvitserk’s chest. “Wait,” she said, and he looked down at her confusedly.

“Princess?” he questioned. “What is it?” 

“I think I need to be alone,” she confessed. “I need… I need to think. Please.”

“Of course,” Hvitserk replied. “Where will you be should we need you?” 

Asta swallowed, looking out over the mountains. “I’d say wandering, but that wouldn’t be of any help, would it?” she said with a quiet chuckle. “There’s a clearing not far from here, take the path out of Vestfold and follow it to the east. I’ll be there.”

Hvitserk nodded a little. “Be careful,” he warned her. “Keep your sword about you at all times, just in case.” 

“I will, thank you, Hvitserk,” she replied. “Will you let Ivar know?” She didn’t worry about clarifying, sure enough of him to believe that he would know what she was asking him to tell his brother. And happily, she saw she was right, as Hvitserk asked no questions. Instead, he kissed her on the head and wished her well before heading toward the palace. 

Now all alone, Asta started down the path she’d indicated to Hvitserk, keeping an eye out as he’d requested. Besides, as little as she trusted Oleg and his men, she didn’t want to take any risks.

In the days since Asta left Wessex, she had noticed something about the way she’d picked up Viking customs. She didn’t pray the way she once did, not anymore. She had grown up praying in church, on her knees in the pews, hands clasped together and head bowed. Now, she just… prayed. The rituals had all stayed behind in England, and in their wake was left comfort and familiarity, a relationship as opposed to religion. Freedom she hadn’t once known.

Unlike Kattegat, Kiev had been stifling. She had to hide so many things there, for fear of what Oleg may do if he learned, even having to resort to hiding away to say a prayer. It wasn’t because Oleg had something against Christians- on the contrary, the man claimed to be one himself- but rather because everything he believed about her would begin to unravel if he learned this one truth about her. Asta knew Oleg would never understand how a wanderer who came to Kattegat, and became the wife of Ivar the Boneless, had become a Christian in her time there in Kiev- and to not partake in the rituals of the Kievan Rus would simply make him question things even more. She knew if he continued to pull on that thread, it would inevitably lead him to the truth- that she was English, and nearly everything he knew about her was a lie. No, she couldn’t allow that.

Thus, she waited until she was well enough alone to pray, and even sought out a hidden place to do so. Somehow, she found that just stepping into that space released the restraints she felt she now lived her life in, and she let out a long breath as she felt the peace of it wash over her. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed quietly, her voice nearly a whisper. “My life has changed… so much in the past years, Lord. My family are all but gone, my past buried so deeply inside me that I can hardly tell where the truth ends and this lie begins. Add to that how miserable I feel with each and every lie I tell, and I just… I’m so lost. Telling my story to King Olaf has brought it all back, every part of myself I’d silenced, and I know now that I cannot continue on this path I’ve set myself on. But what happens to Ivar and Hvitserk, if I reveal the truth? They’ve known me for years now, won’t Oleg know this? Know what they’ve done in helping me to conceal this? What will he do to them for covering the lie? I need You to show me what I am meant to do, to give me the strength to do it. I’m so afraid, Lord… of losing anything more than I already have.” She swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. “Help me overcome these fears. Bring me back to You. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” 

The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted Asta, and she turned back to see Hvitserk running down the path. “Asta, you need to come now,” he said, urgency lacing his voice. “They are going to kill King Olaf.”

Asta’s eyes widened as she processed the words, and she blinked a few times. “What are we doing?” she questioned. “What does Ivar want us to do?” 

Hvitserk shook his head. “Nothing,” he answered. “He wants us to attend the execution, but we will not interfere. He wants to keep Oleg’s trust still.” 

As little as Asta liked the idea of just letting this happen, she nodded. “Alright,” she replied. “Then we should go.”

They nearly ran back to town, to the docks where the execution was to take place, so they wouldn’t miss any of it, and by the time they wormed their way up to the front Asta could see that Olaf had already been tied down to a chair. Ivar, Oleg, and Igor were there as well, standing up at the front to watch the execution. Hvitserk moved to lean against a post nearby, while Asta came to stand beside Ivar, watching as two men stepped forward and began to pour oil all over… the wood piled around the chair? Oh. It was then that Olaf began to speak, and Asta’s eyes widened.

“There is someone beside me,” he said.

Oleg frowned. “There is no one beside you,” he said. “You are all alone.”

“No, there is someone beside me,” Olaf reiterated. “Although I cannot see Him, I know He is here.”

“How do you know, you old fool?” Oleg demanded.

“Because He speaks to me,” Olaf said. “I hear His voice.”

Asta swallowed as she realised what he meant, and a chill ran down her spine. Anticipation began to build in her. Listen.

Hvitserk glanced over at Asta, noticing the suddenly attentive gaze she had pinned on King Olaf. He hadn’t confessed to this earlier, but he’d heard the tale end of her prayer. He knew now what the woman was struggling with, so he asked, “And what does He say?”

Olaf answered, “He says, ‘He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. I am the resurrection and the life. I shall walk beside you. Always. Always.”

Asta was stunned. I shall walk beside you. She glanced over at Ivar, who she could tell understood the point of Olaf’s words, and had grown concerned. Why, she couldn’t say, but she knew what it meant to her. She had to do what was right, and the rest wasn’t up to her.

Still, she was distracted from trying to figure that out by Oleg’s interruption, as he instructed Igor, “Don’t listen to him, get on with it.” When he shoved the boy forward, a torch in hand, Asta felt anger boil up inside her. He was really going to make a child do this? He had the gall to order a man’s death, but not to go through with it on his own? To do it himself? She wasn’t sure her opinion of him could get any lower than this. Then, she noticed how anxious Igor clearly was, and her heart clenched.

“This isn’t right,” she murmured from beside Ivar. “He’s a child…”

“I know,” Ivar whispered in return. “But we cannot stop it. Not without raising suspicion.”

She swallowed again as she heard Olaf trying to comfort Igor, even as the young Prince was preparing to end his life. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, though in Asta’s experience that rarely actually helped.

“I can’t,” Igor replied.

“Think of me as already dead,” Olaf advised. “Nothing more can hurt me. Not the thunder, nor the deep swell of the waves, nor yet, the tongues of fire.” 

Igor turned back to Ivar, as if silently asking whether or not he should go through with this, and while Ivar nodded to encourage him, Asta glanced over at Oleg. He was clearly quite unnerved by this, seeing that Igor preferred Ivar’s encouragement to his own, and that, at least, brought a small smirk to Asta’s lips as she turned to watch the execution again. Let him stew on that. Children rarely sought strength from the person who pushed them too far, anyway.

The boy knelt down in front of Olaf, lowering the torch toward the pyre built at the King’s feet. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Olaf replied. “My lands are in order, and I am ripe for Heaven.”

He offered Igor a reassuring smile, and Igor finally lit the pyre, before standing and beginning to back up. Ivar reached out and wrapped his arm around him to pull him back, protecting him from the flames that grew quickly to ensnare Olaf within them. To the surprise of most there, however, the man lifted his hands as if in prayer, and gave nothing even close to a cry of pain as he was consumed. Oleg shook his head and stalked off.

For once, his behavior left Asta unbothered as she watched Olaf’s life fade before her eyes. She hadn’t known him for very long, but she had quickly realized how wise he was, the depth of his knowledge, and the fact he had asked the question that had been the catalyst to her awakening was something she couldn’t simply overlook. It hadn’t taken very long at all, but King Olaf had become quite an influential figure in her life. But the Lord worked in mysterious ways, she knew, and all paths crossed for a reason. She found herself thanking God for Olaf’s life, and for the chance she got to meet him, swallowing as she blinked to clear the wetness from her eyes. The crowd began to disburse, and Ivar asked her if she was coming along with him, Hvitserk, and Igor, but she answered that she wanted to be left alone for a while. 

She stayed until there was nothing left to stay for, a lone figure on the dock. 

Eventually, Asta returned to the Great Hall, and she quickly became aware of Ivar at her side. “My love,” he whispered, disguising it with a kiss to the side of her head. “Are you alright? Hmm?”

She nodded slightly and leaned her head over against his. “Just tired,” she answered. “I don’t think I’ll stay for the feast tonight. I need to get some rest, think about some things.” 

Ivar frowned, not convinced at all that Asta really was ‘just tired’ as she said. But, he wasn’t about to force the truth out of her in front of this crowd, so instead of trying he simply nodded and kissed her head again. “I’ll come and join you soon,” he promised. “And I’ll bring you food and drink. Go rest.”

Asta smiled up at him lovingly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “You don’t know how much of a comfort you are to me.” She leaned up to kiss him softly, and rested her forehead against his, taking a deep breath as if she could draw some sort of strength from him. Ivar returned her kiss before pressing one of his own to her forehead, and releasing her. 

She wandered off to head to their room, stopping to press a kiss to the top of Igor’s head and telling him she was proud of him, and when she got in there, the sounds of the feast now distant, she felt a weight come off her shoulders. Running a hand through her hair, she went and flopped down on the bed. It was then that her door opened, and she looked up to see who had come in.

If there was anyone she had expected to see, it wasn’t Igor. Still, she smiled a little when she saw him, sitting up to greet him. “Igor,” she said. “Can I help you with something?”

“You did not seem like you were well when you left the feast,” he told her. “I wanted to come and see what was wrong.” 

Asta let out a touched sort of sound and smiled at him, reaching out to invite him to come and sit with her. “Oh, sweet boy,” she said affectionately. He did as she offered and settled in beside her, so that she started to run her fingers through his hair. “I’m more worried about you than you need to be about me. How are you after today?”

Igor swallowed and shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to kill him,” he said. “I’m not even sure what he did wrong.”

This brought forth a sigh from Asta, who ended up laying back with Igor and holding him close still. “Nothing,” she said. “Your uncle wanted him dead because he feared the loyalty King Olaf could inspire in the remaining Vikings. This sort of thing isn’t exactly uncommon in war, but…” She paused and gave a soft sigh. “It wasn’t right, especially not the way it was done. Your uncle made the decision, and he should have seen it through himself- not passed it off to his young nephew. I can’t tell you how sorry I am he did that, and how much I wish he hadn’t.”

Igor shrugged a little as if he wasn’t all that bothered. “He said he wanted to teach me how to be strong,” he said. “So I had to be the one to do it.”

“Killing a man doesn’t make you strong, darling,” Asta told him. “Although you are strong for enduring what your uncle made you do today. But killing in itself isn’t what defines strength. In fact, your uncle showed a lack of it when he didn’t kill King Olaf himself.”

“He did?” Igor asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

She hummed as she nodded. “He did,” she confirmed. “Never forget this, Igor. If you ever decide to execute a man, you must always be willing to carry it out yourself. If you aren’t so convinced it’s the right thing to do that you have the strength to do it, then it isn’t right. Do you understand?”

He nodded at her. “I think I do,” he confirmed. 

It was just then that the door opened again, and Ivar was coming in with a plate full of food, a cup balanced carefully on it and leaned up against his arm. He blinked a few times when he saw his wife and Igor laying together. “Did I miss the invitation?” he deadpanned.

“Yes,” Asta teased him in response. “I was just telling Igor how he couldn’t trust you anymore, and he could only trust me.”

Ivar raised a brow and asked Igor, “Is that true?” 

“No,” he replied. “She was teaching me about strength.”

“Ah,” Ivar said. “This makes more sense. I did not think she would betray me that way.”

Asta chuckled softly. “Mm, but he could be lying, you’ll never know,” she joked. 

Ivar smirked and brought her food and drink to her. “Then I suppose I will just have to trust you,” he answered, and once the food was sat on the small table beside the bed, leaned down to kiss her softly.

That was when Igor gave a fake gag and got up. “I’m going to go now,” he announced, causing Asta to fall into a fit of giggles. “Enjoy… that.” He shuddered and then walked out of the room.

“Should we have stopped him?” Asta asked, looking up at Ivar and trying not to laugh, especially when he shrugged.

“I wanted to see if you were doing better anyway,” he said. Her laughter died down instantly. “Mm, you are not. Hvitserk told me you had left the village to pray. You only leave for that when something is bothering you. What is it?”

Asta swallowed and looked away from him, sitting up slowly as she took in a deep breath. This wasn’t a conversation she had expected to have this way, but… she had asked for a path, hadn’t she? The time had simply come to take it. She looked back up at him, and said, “I think we need to talk.”

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