"I thought as much. You Saxons are all very reserved." He slides one arm around Alfred's shoulders. It seems like such a casual move, but on the inside, his heart is pounding fast. He's often thought of getting this close to Alfred, but he's never actually done it.
"But then you're missing out," he says with a smirk.
“We are,” Alfred agreed, especially in comparison to the Vikings. He’d seen enough of them to know how much they leaned toward touch. There were few times he could remember that his family had ever been physically affectionate and even so it had been brief. His pulse raced when Ivar’s atm slid around his shoulders, feeling enveloped by the other teen. He swallows, flustered all the more by the way Ivar’s touch made him feel. He’d certainly never had any other experience like it.
“Am I?” Alfred laughs quietly. “It hardly gets so cold in england as it does in the North.”
Norsemen, for all their fierce ways, did seem to be much more candid with their emotions. Physical touch was just one of the ways that they expressed them. Ragnar's brood in particular had their own peculiar ways of doing so, mainly in the quirk they had of touching foreheads to show affection.
This feels nice beyond the practical application of getting warm, especially with Alfred all flustered like he is. "It gets terribly cold in Kattegat. The snows get higher than a man's head, which you can imagine was not fun for me." Crawling around in the wintertime was a near impossibility for Ivar once it got cold enough. "That's the real reason I'm going to invade. To get away from the cold."
Alfred tries to focus on the conversation and not how nice it feels to be cuddling with Ivar. It's a conflicting feeling as he's not particularly had the chance to experience normal teenage things with anyone, crushes were something he didn't have time for even if he had been around anyone worth having a crush on (admittedly he'd definitely had a crush on Ivar for years). So, this...
But the last sentence draws a sharp laugh from Alfred and he turns his head to peer at Ivar, just making the outline of his face before he turns away again. He bites the inside of his cheek before replying. "You don't have to invade, you know," he says but he knows it's a moot point. He won't be able to convince Ivar to take any other course of action. Things are strange between them, both friend and foe at the same time.
"This feels nice," he murmurs and the words were almost not audible.
Ivar had just about as much experience with normal teenage things as Alfred. Maybe even less, since he'd been doing things like commanding an army now for over two years. He'd never really forgotten Alfred, the way he never did with anyone who was truly kind to him. Those were far and few between as it is.
He hopes that amused Alfred, though it was hard to tell with his face turned away from him. "Really? You'd just willingly hand over your lands and possessions if I asked nicely?" He chuckles softly at the absurdity of the idea.
Ivar barely hears Alfred's words, but they send his heart beating so fast he wonders if Alfred can physically hear it. He reaches out a tentative hand, briefly brushing Alfred's hair back away from his face.
"Your father wanted to share the land and to live in harmony," Alfred points out. "You could learn to share," Alfred said confidently. The truth of the matter is that such a feat would be difficult especially with the current state of affairs in Wessex but Alfred is an optimist to say the least.
Alfred inhales sharply when the other's hand brushes his hair, grazing his skin and he doesn't know why such a simple gesture makes his heart skip a beat or causes a flutter in his stomach. Again he's thankful for the dark, his face warm and he feels lost at what to do with simple affection in this sense.
"Ivar," he's almost tempted to tell him, but he clears his throat instead and redirects his intended words. "Are you feeling warmer?" It's a ridiculous thing to ask he realizes after.
"I've never been good at sharing," Ivar states. That's what comes from being the youngest child spoiled by his mother his entire life. Besides, he's a vicious sort, and the thought of battles that would leave dead bodies all over the place made him feel genuinely happy.
He waits to see if Alfred will react, but one thing he knows about the English king is that he has a tendency to turn shy at moments. He was never much of a talker, not even when he was young.
He waits to see what Alfred will say, afraid it might be something that will make things awkward between them. But it doesn't and he breathes a bit easier. "A bit," he confesses. "But there's a ways to go." He doesn't want to leave anytime soon.
Alfred sighs at that response and shakes his head slightly. He still thinks that maybe there's a way he can keep peace between them if not for all the other kingdoms as well. He hopes in any case. Ivar is a formidable opponent and he'd make a much better ally if Alfred could manage it.
"You're in my bed and yet talk of attacking my lands and people," Alfred said softly, a hint of amusement and bafflement both in his voice. There's a moment, though, even as he says it that he's pressing a little firmer to Ivar, he could excuse it because of the cold but really he just wanted to be closer.
Idly, his hand traces over the arm that had wrapped around him. He didn't think about it, but when he did he'd surely stop, embarrassed for reasons he can't pinpoint.
Ivar's never even considered an alliance. That's what his brothers did and they were weak. "It's nothing personal," Ivar says lightly. "It's just what Norsemen do. There's nothing else like it in the world." Where would Ivar be without his anger fueling him to go on as long as he could burning the whole world down around him?
Alfred snuggles in closer and Ivar can feel the shape of him against him now acutely. If he wasn't sure that no one could ever care for him, being a cripple that would never be whole, he might think Alfred cares for him on a deeper level than friendship. But...no, it can't be that. Then Alfred's hand is on his arm, and once again, Ivar doesn't know what to think. Is it a sign of idle affection? Or something more?
Alfred's quiet because he doesn't know how to respond to that exactly. It's a stark contrast to how comfortable it was to be pressed close to Ivar. He swallows heavily because it only adds to the deep conflict inside of him. "Ivar..." he starts, but it also feels hopeless. "I don't want to fight you."
It should be obvious. "Isn't this better?" he asks, and he's not sure what this is really. "Wessex is not the only place you could go. Haven't you already wrought enough destruction there?" York, his grandfather... there'd been plenty of blood spilled on his lands already and York had never been reclaimed by them.
Even after he had drawn his hand away from the other's arm his fingers itched to touch him again. He decides to ignore the embarrassment and his hand returns to Ivar's arm, eventually tracing even the top of his hand with his fingertips, grazing over the knuckles. There's no particular goal with the touch, just a desire. Ivar's hands were rougher than his own. While Alfred had spent time fighting there was still a softness to his hands that Ivar's life had not afforded the Viking.
Ivar, without thinking, runs a hand through Alfred's hair in a comforting manner. Then he immediately pulls it back, pretending he'd done nothing of the sort. Part of him "I'll be satisfied when enough is enough and not a moment before." But that was the problem, wasn't it? Ivar would never be satisfied, the anger and fury inside of him forever pushing him onward to keep destroying, pillaging, and killing.
He shakes his head as if trying to get rid of a fly, his whole body shuddering right afterwards. "What does it matter when we're here right now?" He muses."There is only us two and nothing to fight over."
Alfred's head had inclined toward Ivar's hand in his hair but then it's gone and he misses it. There's something that sticks with him about Ivar's intentions back home, though it does matter very little here. It probably wouldn't matter if he were able to get through to Ivar here, things would change if they were home once more. He hates the thought of things here meaning nothing if they were ever to return home.
He feels the shudder that went through Ivar and he doesn't understand it, doesn't understand a lot about Ivar actually. "Just because I am here doesn't mean I am not still King of Wessex," he said quietly. It's as much a part of him as anything else. He rests his hand over Ivar's for a moment before shifting it to drop it to the bed instead.
"If there is only us and nothing to fight over maybe you shouldn't remind me of your intentions," Alfred says and his voice is almost chiding. "It is easy to forget when you're..." he doesn't know how to finish the sentence. "When we're like this," he says lamely, flustered all the more. "Not that I know what this is." he adds.
Ivar sits up a little bit straighter, but it's only so he can get a better look at Alfred. There's a quirk to his mouth which suggests a puzzled smile. "You're a strange sort of king. If your father was king and here, he would have already tried to murder me, or the other way around." He'd always thought of going back to England and boiling Aethelwulf in a pot of hot oil for the part he'd partaken in his father's death. But instead he'd had to content himself with the revenge he'd already had.
Alfred is a contradiction to Ivar, filled with so many different pieces he can't put them together to see the whole like he can with so many other people. His hand twitches like he's thinking about picking Alfred's, but he stops himself.
He doesn't even know what 'this' is anymore than Alfred does. There's something between them, something more than just the friendship they've formed. He doesn't meet Alfred's eyes, instead fixing on a point further down on the bed. "We're friends. That's what we are." But even as he says the words, Ivar's not sure he believes them himself.
Alfred felt a pang of grief at the mention of Aethelwulf but Ivar is probably right. "I was raised to be a different sort of king than my father," he said simply. "And I cannot forget that it was us who broke parlay at York," he added, still angry with both his father and Bishop Heahmund for that dishonorable act.
He shifts to look at Ivar, wanting him to press close again the way he'd sat up put more distance between them that he didn't want.
Alfred reaches to pull Ivar back to his former position so he can press close to him, biting his lip and he almost wasn't going to say anything at all to that. "This doesn't feel like any friendship I've had before," he confesses. There had always been something different with Ivar even in the beginning, their connection was something that had so many different facets, friends, foes, something else.
"My brothers and your father were both a bunch of idiots. They should have had us negotiate instead." The thought makes him laugh a little. Indeed, for all his bad temper, Ivar likely would have at least gotten somewhere with Alfred instead of having a dick-measuring contest like Aethelwulf and Heahmund had gotten into with Ubbe and Hvitserk.
Ivar allows himself to be pulled back down to Alfred's level. He's definitely warm enough now that he could leave and go back to his own room. Instead, he stays, though his body language has definitely grown more tense. He swallows down whatever it is that is drying out his throat. "I wouldn't know. I've never had friends before." Alfred had most definitely been the first.
"Maybe," Alfred said and a small smile touched his lips. His father would have never allowed that, honestly. "I tried to reason with him. Your brothers offered a fair deal." If Alfred had been king he would have made it without hesitation. what his father and grandfather had done to Ragnar had been wrong and there had been a chance to remedy it while avoiding more bloodshed.
Alfred frowns a little, though Ivar let him pull him down. He swallows a little. "I never had many friends either," he admitted. "I was a sickly child and a prince. There was a boy my grandfather thought was Ragnar's son and my brother but..." he shakes his head. He shifts a little, turning toward Ivar. It kept their bodies close, maybe too close in some ways but he found himself laying his head against Ivar's shoulder. "But...there's Kelson," he murmurs.
"I would not have him in my bed like this," he feels awkward saying it, vulnerable though he doesn't really understand it fully.
"I tried to tell them one battle wouldn't make you all agree to our terms. Maybe after a few, your father's spirits would have been broken enough to consider what they wanted. But no, Ubbe was naive and optimistic." There is scorn in Ivar's voice. There was a reason he and his brother had split instead of continuing along the same path. The things they wanted were just too different.
Ivar nods. "I understand. Being a cripple and a prince, there was no one besides my brothers who paid any attention to me." He suddenly realizes that Alfred now has his head on his shoulder. He's unsure of how to react.
He wants to stay right next to Alfred, but at the same time, part of him wants to pull away from him. He needs time to think about what's going on right now and what it means for the two of them.
“Ubbe wasn’t naive,” Alfred countered but then again Alfred had agreed with Ubbe and fought for his cause so maybe he had also been naive. What does it say about him that he would still want to make the same choice today?
Alfred is quiet as he thought about that. “What was it like to have so many brothers?”
Ivar pauses a moment as he thinks. "Loud," he finally says. "And chaotic. There was never a dull moment. None of the other children in Kattegat would play with me, but they always found time for me." There's genuine fondness in his voice. Ivar could have otherwise been very lonely in his childhood without his brothers around.
He's getting very warm now, which is making him sleepy as well. Ivar should leave before this goes any farther. Well, whatever 'this' is, which he's not entirely sure of. "Don't you have one as well?"
Alfred smiles at the description, the bit of insight into to Ivar in that moment. It made him feel warmer somehow. It's a strange thing. He was also tired but had stopped thinking how strange it was that Ivar was there even though there were all the thoughts about what this was, what it was exactly that he was feeling but he tabled the thoughts as best as he could to relax instead.
"Yes, but it was different," Alfred said quietly. "Even when Magnus was there too. We were never very loud," he smiles and stifles a yawn. "Aethelred and Magnus could be quite loud before Magnus was sent away. I was very lucky Aethelred never treated me differently," but that is a longer conversation for another day if Ivar couldn't piece it together on his own.
Ivar figured something loaded was meant behind the words, but he wasn't sure what it was. Court gossip from England had never had its way all the way to Kattegat, or if it had, Ivar had never paid attention to it. Besides, he's too drowsy now to try and piece it together. "You must tell me more about growing up in England. I'd like to know."
He means to close his eyes for a moment only, but it just feels so nice and comfortable right now. Lying next to Alfred makes him feel safe, like the feeling he used to get around his family before they'd all either died or been driven away by him. He starts to drift off.
Alfred makes a soft sound of agreement. He notices that Ivar seems to be falling asleep and for a bit that wakes him up further, though he doesn't know why his heart races as they stay pressed close together, Ivar's body heat soaking into him. Eventually, he too will fall asleep.
---time skip---
Alfred had woken up before Ivar as well and it'd felt weird to realize what the warm lump was behind him, feel the light breath just there. He'd done his best not to think too deeply about all of it, about what any of it meant, much less the feelings that he tried to tamp down. He'd carefully moved out of the bed to get dressed and move to the kitchen and gone about his day.
The following days he'd been a little avoidant, maybe distant even when Ivar would try to talk to him. He felt awkward and even if all he wanted to do was talk with Ivar, spend time with him, play games or even fall asleep with him again he'd avoided even squarely looking at the Viking instead.
Ivar was agitated when Alfred seemed to be avoiding him. So, it seemed like they were playing the game of pretending that nothing had happened between them. He knew the young king could oftentimes be passive-aggressive when he was upset. But Ivar couldn't figure what he'd done wrong and that was what was killing him.
Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. When Alfred tried to pass by him when he was sitting on the couch, he reached out, and grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Enough is enough. Sit down," he said in the same tone he would use when giving an order to one of his subjects.
Alfred was surprised to say the least when Ivar suddenly grabbed him. It certainly isn't something he's used to. People don't just grab a prince -- or a king. He frowned as he looked toward Ivar. He tries to pull his arm away as he raises his brow at Ivar.
There seems to be a moment he is tempted to point out that Ivar has no place to order him about but instead he exhales heavily. Whether he'd been really thinking about it or not when he was doing it he knew he was avoiding Ivar. He knew that it was likely irritating the Viking.
"What, Ivar?" he asks as he moves to sit.
In truth, he's not upset with Ivar, not exactly. He's just caught in a rather confusing spiral.
"You've been avoiding me for days like you're mad at me or something." He chews on the inside of one cheek destructively as he thinks for a moment of how to word the next thing he wants to say. "So just tell me what it is because I can't figure it out and I'm tired of trying to guess."
Maybe then they can move on from it and get back to being friends again. The problem with making friends with people is that it was an addictive process. Once you started, there was no going back to the loneliness that one had endured before. Friends made life like that unbearable when you knew there was more out there.
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winterfish
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Date: 2019-01-01 06:55 am (UTC)"But then you're missing out," he says with a smirk.
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Date: 2019-01-01 07:01 am (UTC)“Am I?” Alfred laughs quietly. “It hardly gets so cold in england as it does in the North.”
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Date: 2019-01-01 09:13 am (UTC)This feels nice beyond the practical application of getting warm, especially with Alfred all flustered like he is. "It gets terribly cold in Kattegat. The snows get higher than a man's head, which you can imagine was not fun for me." Crawling around in the wintertime was a near impossibility for Ivar once it got cold enough. "That's the real reason I'm going to invade. To get away from the cold."
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Date: 2019-01-01 09:24 am (UTC)But the last sentence draws a sharp laugh from Alfred and he turns his head to peer at Ivar, just making the outline of his face before he turns away again. He bites the inside of his cheek before replying. "You don't have to invade, you know," he says but he knows it's a moot point. He won't be able to convince Ivar to take any other course of action. Things are strange between them, both friend and foe at the same time.
"This feels nice," he murmurs and the words were almost not audible.
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Date: 2019-01-01 09:37 am (UTC)He hopes that amused Alfred, though it was hard to tell with his face turned away from him. "Really? You'd just willingly hand over your lands and possessions if I asked nicely?" He chuckles softly at the absurdity of the idea.
Ivar barely hears Alfred's words, but they send his heart beating so fast he wonders if Alfred can physically hear it. He reaches out a tentative hand, briefly brushing Alfred's hair back away from his face.
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Date: 2019-01-01 09:45 am (UTC)Alfred inhales sharply when the other's hand brushes his hair, grazing his skin and he doesn't know why such a simple gesture makes his heart skip a beat or causes a flutter in his stomach. Again he's thankful for the dark, his face warm and he feels lost at what to do with simple affection in this sense.
"Ivar," he's almost tempted to tell him, but he clears his throat instead and redirects his intended words. "Are you feeling warmer?" It's a ridiculous thing to ask he realizes after.
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Date: 2019-01-01 10:03 am (UTC)He waits to see if Alfred will react, but one thing he knows about the English king is that he has a tendency to turn shy at moments. He was never much of a talker, not even when he was young.
He waits to see what Alfred will say, afraid it might be something that will make things awkward between them. But it doesn't and he breathes a bit easier. "A bit," he confesses. "But there's a ways to go." He doesn't want to leave anytime soon.
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Date: 2019-01-01 10:12 am (UTC)"You're in my bed and yet talk of attacking my lands and people," Alfred said softly, a hint of amusement and bafflement both in his voice. There's a moment, though, even as he says it that he's pressing a little firmer to Ivar, he could excuse it because of the cold but really he just wanted to be closer.
Idly, his hand traces over the arm that had wrapped around him. He didn't think about it, but when he did he'd surely stop, embarrassed for reasons he can't pinpoint.
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Date: 2019-01-01 10:33 am (UTC)Alfred snuggles in closer and Ivar can feel the shape of him against him now acutely. If he wasn't sure that no one could ever care for him, being a cripple that would never be whole, he might think Alfred cares for him on a deeper level than friendship. But...no, it can't be that. Then Alfred's hand is on his arm, and once again, Ivar doesn't know what to think. Is it a sign of idle affection? Or something more?
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Date: 2019-01-01 10:43 am (UTC)It should be obvious. "Isn't this better?" he asks, and he's not sure what this is really. "Wessex is not the only place you could go. Haven't you already wrought enough destruction there?" York, his grandfather... there'd been plenty of blood spilled on his lands already and York had never been reclaimed by them.
Even after he had drawn his hand away from the other's arm his fingers itched to touch him again. He decides to ignore the embarrassment and his hand returns to Ivar's arm, eventually tracing even the top of his hand with his fingertips, grazing over the knuckles. There's no particular goal with the touch, just a desire. Ivar's hands were rougher than his own. While Alfred had spent time fighting there was still a softness to his hands that Ivar's life had not afforded the Viking.
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Date: 2019-01-01 11:07 am (UTC)He shakes his head as if trying to get rid of a fly, his whole body shuddering right afterwards. "What does it matter when we're here right now?" He muses."There is only us two and nothing to fight over."
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Date: 2019-01-01 11:14 am (UTC)He feels the shudder that went through Ivar and he doesn't understand it, doesn't understand a lot about Ivar actually. "Just because I am here doesn't mean I am not still King of Wessex," he said quietly. It's as much a part of him as anything else. He rests his hand over Ivar's for a moment before shifting it to drop it to the bed instead.
"If there is only us and nothing to fight over maybe you shouldn't remind me of your intentions," Alfred says and his voice is almost chiding. "It is easy to forget when you're..." he doesn't know how to finish the sentence. "When we're like this," he says lamely, flustered all the more. "Not that I know what this is." he adds.
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Date: 2019-01-01 11:34 am (UTC)Alfred is a contradiction to Ivar, filled with so many different pieces he can't put them together to see the whole like he can with so many other people. His hand twitches like he's thinking about picking Alfred's, but he stops himself.
He doesn't even know what 'this' is anymore than Alfred does. There's something between them, something more than just the friendship they've formed. He doesn't meet Alfred's eyes, instead fixing on a point further down on the bed. "We're friends. That's what we are." But even as he says the words, Ivar's not sure he believes them himself.
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Date: 2019-01-01 11:44 am (UTC)He shifts to look at Ivar, wanting him to press close again the way he'd sat up put more distance between them that he didn't want.
Alfred reaches to pull Ivar back to his former position so he can press close to him, biting his lip and he almost wasn't going to say anything at all to that. "This doesn't feel like any friendship I've had before," he confesses. There had always been something different with Ivar even in the beginning, their connection was something that had so many different facets, friends, foes, something else.
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Date: 2019-01-01 12:04 pm (UTC)Ivar allows himself to be pulled back down to Alfred's level. He's definitely warm enough now that he could leave and go back to his own room. Instead, he stays, though his body language has definitely grown more tense. He swallows down whatever it is that is drying out his throat. "I wouldn't know. I've never had friends before." Alfred had most definitely been the first.
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Date: 2019-01-01 12:10 pm (UTC)Alfred frowns a little, though Ivar let him pull him down. He swallows a little. "I never had many friends either," he admitted. "I was a sickly child and a prince. There was a boy my grandfather thought was Ragnar's son and my brother but..." he shakes his head. He shifts a little, turning toward Ivar. It kept their bodies close, maybe too close in some ways but he found himself laying his head against Ivar's shoulder. "But...there's Kelson," he murmurs.
"I would not have him in my bed like this," he feels awkward saying it, vulnerable though he doesn't really understand it fully.
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Date: 2019-01-02 10:05 am (UTC)Ivar nods. "I understand. Being a cripple and a prince, there was no one besides my brothers who paid any attention to me." He suddenly realizes that Alfred now has his head on his shoulder. He's unsure of how to react.
He wants to stay right next to Alfred, but at the same time, part of him wants to pull away from him. He needs time to think about what's going on right now and what it means for the two of them.
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Date: 2019-01-03 05:01 am (UTC)Alfred is quiet as he thought about that. “What was it like to have so many brothers?”
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Date: 2019-01-17 08:32 am (UTC)He's getting very warm now, which is making him sleepy as well. Ivar should leave before this goes any farther. Well, whatever 'this' is, which he's not entirely sure of. "Don't you have one as well?"
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Date: 2019-01-17 04:01 pm (UTC)"Yes, but it was different," Alfred said quietly. "Even when Magnus was there too. We were never very loud," he smiles and stifles a yawn. "Aethelred and Magnus could be quite loud before Magnus was sent away. I was very lucky Aethelred never treated me differently," but that is a longer conversation for another day if Ivar couldn't piece it together on his own.
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Date: 2019-01-18 07:11 am (UTC)He means to close his eyes for a moment only, but it just feels so nice and comfortable right now. Lying next to Alfred makes him feel safe, like the feeling he used to get around his family before they'd all either died or been driven away by him. He starts to drift off.
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Date: 2019-01-19 06:31 am (UTC)---time skip---
Alfred had woken up before Ivar as well and it'd felt weird to realize what the warm lump was behind him, feel the light breath just there. He'd done his best not to think too deeply about all of it, about what any of it meant, much less the feelings that he tried to tamp down. He'd carefully moved out of the bed to get dressed and move to the kitchen and gone about his day.
The following days he'd been a little avoidant, maybe distant even when Ivar would try to talk to him. He felt awkward and even if all he wanted to do was talk with Ivar, spend time with him, play games or even fall asleep with him again he'd avoided even squarely looking at the Viking instead.
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Date: 2019-01-22 06:39 am (UTC)Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. When Alfred tried to pass by him when he was sitting on the couch, he reached out, and grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Enough is enough. Sit down," he said in the same tone he would use when giving an order to one of his subjects.
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Date: 2019-01-22 06:52 am (UTC)There seems to be a moment he is tempted to point out that Ivar has no place to order him about but instead he exhales heavily. Whether he'd been really thinking about it or not when he was doing it he knew he was avoiding Ivar. He knew that it was likely irritating the Viking.
"What, Ivar?" he asks as he moves to sit.
In truth, he's not upset with Ivar, not exactly. He's just caught in a rather confusing spiral.
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Date: 2019-01-23 10:42 am (UTC)Maybe then they can move on from it and get back to being friends again. The problem with making friends with people is that it was an addictive process. Once you started, there was no going back to the loneliness that one had endured before. Friends made life like that unbearable when you knew there was more out there.
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