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Author's Notes | It's a small drabble. But I think you guys will like it.
Universe | Vikings
Pairing | No pair
Info | Viking Age AU, fixing plot AU, a gift for @inforapound, @honestsycrets, @ghvsts, and @therealcalicali
Words |746
⁑ Warnings: Religious conflicts.
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Deep vengeance is the daughter of deep silence.
He couldn't remember where did he'd heard that sentence before. But it hammered his head through the whole bunch of long and tedious years he spent beside those meek sheep of their Lord, feeling the weight of their wool over his fur to hide the wolf who had sat among them, bleating for so long.
But the King of the fools was now dead, sadly with no heirs to succeed him - since his queen was awfully taken into the Lord's grace along with their only child in a terrible accident with her chariot not far from the day her King was called up to follow her.
Hvitserk had to admit he threw up twice thinking of how hideous was the idea of planning something so demonic. But it wasn't hard to loosen the reins of those horses when he stopped to think about his fatherless nephew or niece he would probably never know, growing in Rus' lands with nothing but stories of his brother's greatness. The child his little brother longed for so long and didn't live to have a chance to go back and see growing.
He had to admit it was hard to stand beside those meek sheep and keep himself awake for days and days into that stupid church hearing the unintelligible Latin of those priests that would never stop talking unless it was time for them to say "Amen" to whatever they had spoken before the pause. The memories of conquering York with his brother were an excellent relief for his mind who spent whole ceremonies building up scenes where he would just unsheath his sword and kill as many as he could inside that cursed place screaming Odin's name and chanting words of sacrifice to his true gods for his brother's delight.
It took long years of his life smiling at them, gathering their trust, conquering their hearts until the very moment came. After Alfred's disease took his life, the testament of the King was read: the statement of his name as Alfred's personal choice of heir.
With a smile on his face, Hvitserk walked towards the coronation covered with a red mantle that prevented anyone from seeing beyond the velvet tissue enclosed around his body. Not until the crown was placed over his head and the chant was echoing all over the place.
"Long live the king!"
His smile became bigger. The meek tone of the sheep disappeared entirely and once again, the wolf stood tall, looking down to the ones he had misled for so many years.
They would now become his feast... A well-deserved feast after so many years of waiting.
The doors of the church were open to the Danes he had invited personally for his coronation - of course, an invitation unknown for the Christian court that was present at the moment.
Under the surprised eyes of the Christian Earls and bishops, Hvitserk opened his red mantle, showing up his old Viking armor under the heavy tissue, sitting on Alfred's throne with the imposing presence he could only remember from his little brother...
His little crippled brother who could put that beautiful tone of fear over the Christians' faces he was now enjoying to see spreading as the Danes through the whole place.
"Don't stop," he said, crossing his legs in a careless way.
His smile reassembling his little brother's ironic smiles he would use so much when he was victorious over everyone else.
Was it what Ivar was used to feeling?
It was good... Oh, so good!
"What were you saying? Long live the King... Long live the King," he sung, moving his hands.
Almost forcing the crowd to keep the beautiful chant as the sheep was now understanding they were surrounded and lost.
Their God wouldn't protect them now.
Nobody would save them now.
The Christian lands were his now...
One day, brother, it will all be ours. As far as the eye can see, all ours.
What about King Harald?
King Harald is most likely to have his days numbered...
Hvitserk remembered his little brother's smile.
It was all his now.
As far as the eye could see.
And hail Ivar, the Boneless, who had taught him how to outsmart.
Hvitserk's smile became bigger.
That night, his brother would be toasting and laughing at his victory from his deserved Valhalla, for his vengeance was done and the golden doors would be finally open for him.
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