Honor and Blood - Part I.

For every mother, every child, every brother

Ivar sat on his father's throne, glaring at the ground, lost in thoughts. Ever since the night his son was born, he hadn't slept. He looked dead outside as he felt inside. His eyes were hollow, surrounded by dark circles, his hair was matted to his head from sweat and sticking out in some places from always running his fingers through it. His eyes are extremely blue, and his legs hurt like Hel.

But he couldn't sleep, wash or do anything else but curse his stupidity. He should have stayed in the hut, like he wanted to, the Ragnarsson shouldn't have listened to the healer and stayed by his wife's and son's side. But he was stupid and went to the Hall to celebrate with his brothers and the people.

Ivar returned to their hut in the morning only to find it empty. His wife and son gone, together with the healer. He threw a tantrum, screamed, cursed both himself and the gods. That's how Ubbe found him, trashing his home with the carved figure of Fenrir in his hand covered by the specks of blood that Vanya left behind during labor.

His brothers had to drag him out of the hut, scoring a few hits to their faces in the process. Hvitserk's left eye is not swollen shut, and Sigurd flinches every time he moves his torso too fast. Yet it did nothing to Ivar's state of mind. Aslaug and Ubbe stayed by his side, trying to get him to eat, drink, and sleep. But the youngest Ragnarsson was deaf to their words.

All he could hear was the last words Vanya told him. "Fuck you." It was said in the mids of their child's painful birth. She was in pain, and he took it with humor, and now it would be the last words that left her lips. If he had known that her tired, happy smile would be the last time he would see her, he would have stayed. He should have laid by her side, holding their perfect son, and watched her sleep.

Now all he ha left of her were clothes, the fading smell, and the necklace he gave her. She hadn't even worn it, and now it was one of the last things to remember her by. After Aslaug and Ubbe force-fed him, he busied himself, cleaning the wooden Fenrir from her blood. It looked like new, but he still saw the bloodstains on it.

Bjorn and the rest of his brothers created a search party, trying to find them, or their bodies. Ubbe only stayed behind in case he got violent again, but he felt numb, hollow. Floki wanted to reassure him that Vanya maybe just needed fresh air and got lost, but they both knew it was wishful thinking. Vanya was probably dead and their newborn with her.

Ivar hated himself so much; he wanted to rip his hair out and murder everyone in the kingdom. Starting with the healer who sent him away, when they found her, of course, then he would burn the man who asked him to stay at the feast longer to celebrate with them. The slaughter will then follow with anyone who could have seen or heard her, no matter if they did. And anyone who would stop him would follow. Expect his brothers and mother; they would search harder to sate his anger.

"Ivar." The blue eyes Viking looked up to see Bjorn walking to him with a grim look on his face. "Two farmers found the healer in the stalls."

"Well, then bring her here!" He spat back, but Aslaug watched Bjorn with a frown. He didn't look happy with the information he gave them.

Bjor sighed and shook his head. "She is dead, Ivar. Someone slit her throat and hid her in the straw."

"Brynja and Margrethe found bloodstains on the ground when they cleaned the hut as well," Sigurd announced, walking into the Hall. "They were by the door; someone tried to clean them."

Aslaug watched the sons of Ragnar crowded in the room, the silence in the room growing thicker. It was clear now; someone killed the healer and his her body. Which meant they wanted to kill Vanya and the child as well.

"Were all of the knights here during the feast?" The Queen asked, looking them over, but Hvitserk nodded.

He mentioned for the thralls by the door, that covered before Ivar in fear. He hit one of them when they poured his cup, so now they kept clear of him. "The thralls counted them—six men dressed in armor during the whole night. Silas was here as well; he didn't leave his seat at all."