Ivar the Boneless/Alex Høgh Andersen

Squash That! (Modern!Ivar)

Something about this time of year made Ivar extra annoyed, the gorgeous summer days grew shorter, the weather colder, and the people somehow needier. On the other hand, this was the time of year when the food became more flavourful and the dinners merrier.

There was something about crowding around in the dinning room, eating far too many carbs, while the smell of Hvitserk's pies baking taunted the diners from the kitchen.

Today his older brother was experimenting with a cran-cherry-apple pie. Ivar wasn't a fan of pies, but it did sound tempting. Sitting next to you at the table, Ivar watched as each dish began to make the rounds.

It would start with his father, move to the left, finally reaching you and Ivar midway.

"Can they hurry up." Ivar mutters, leaning a little so you could hear his complaints.

"Patience." You squeeze his hand and kiss his cheek.

"I'm starving." Ivar grumbles.

"I told you to eat breakfast." You reply in an attempt to shut this down. Picking up your glass of Sigurd's homemade cider, you practically choke at Ivar's next statement.

"Sorry, but I had better things to eat." He smirks. The little shit! There had been plenty of time after that, yet Ivar insisted on keeping room for dinner.

Across the table, Ubbe led the conversation, talking about the weather and everybody's plans for Halloween. Hvitserk was yet again planning a party, which prompted Bjorn is jump in with questions about their matching costumes.

They were going to be Pirates this year. A nice way to recycle some of last year's Viking costumes.

Next to you, Ivar rolls his beautiful blue eyes. Halloween and Pirates could wait.

"Mom," Ivar spoke up, gathering Aslaug's attention. "Can you tell Hvitserk not to hog all of that." He pointed to his brother, Hvitserk glared at Ivar and spitefully slapped another spoonful of squash onto his plate.

"Aren't you two a little old to involve me?" Aslaug ignored her sons.

"There's more squash, chill out." Hvitserk happily replied plopping another spoonful on his plate.

There were two more people at the table before the bowl would reach you and then Ivar. To keep him from sulking for the next week, you'd graciously pass on Lagertha's squash and allow the pouting Ivar to get his way.

"You're such a dick. Come on!" Ivar shifted antsy in his seat. "Hvitserk." He growled.

"Calm down." Your hand on his, you smile sweetly at him.

You'd had never met somebody so obsessed with squash. Chances were nobody had ever met somebody that obsessed with squash. Not any old squash Ivar would often remind. No this was squash grown and cooked by his father's ex-wife.

Whatever Lagertha did to the squash was something short of magic, the way Ivar raved. Ironic, in a way, seeing as he had very little nice things to say about the blonde woman across the table.

"Ivar," Lagertha called his attention. "Leave Hvitserk alone, there is no need to fight. I brought more than enough squash to feed you for the next six months."

"In that case," Ivar sighed settling in, happy to pass the peas, but not without his five year old side sticking his tongue out at Hvitserk first.