#utstott

.-.-.

Ivar woke up from the cold. In a half awake state he realized he was all alone. The warm, smelling form of Piglet’s back against his was gone. The dappled moonlight created a scenery of dejection and impending misery. 

Both of his human travel companions disappeared and Ivar concluded it wasn’t into thin air. Nor by a stroke of lightning. 

No, both Piglet and Stum hared away, deserting the weakest link. The one who made the least contribution to the collective achievement of their little group. 

A peculiar sense of peace came over Ivar, “I told you so,” he muttered to himself and snickered. It came like a cold, empty sound. Numb, as the far tips of his toes and fingers. Callous, as his soul, hardened by the overwhelming rejection he’d suffered throughout his life. 

As a cripple he’d always end up alone, forsaken from love, friendship, and belonging. His useless legs made him invaluable to others, unimportant, and a burden. 

“I told you so,” he whispered as he glanced up at the starry night sky. Of course, Piglet was entitled to leave him in the dark of night. She’d gained a stronger, faster ally. One she could easily control, one that she didn’t need to drag along. One, that would not get her killed. 

“I told you so!” He snapped, now bitter and agitated- he couldn’t comprehend why he was struck by this consuming pang of grief, betrayal, and heartache. It was ridiculous, he’d always known that Piglet wasn’t a trustworthy companion. She used him the same way he used her; for survival.

So, why did her desertion hurt him so?

‘Because she didn’t say goodbye’, Ivar realized and brought his hand up to his face. Slowly it turned into a balled fist and, in the absence of a more proper alternative, he sank his front teeth into the skin of his knuckles.

He’d bled for her, more than once. And that bitch had the audacity to flee without one word spoken.  

Ivar willed his rage to spark and ignite. But icy numbness remained in the pit of his stomach and slowly froze up all the way to his ribcage. 

The pressure his teeth set on the skin of his knuckles became almost unbearable. But he’d gladly choose the pain he inflicted upon himself over the aching inside his chest. 

The fluttering of wings made him blink through the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Utstott had taken position high atop a tree as he glanced down upon the piece of human misery whimpering on the moss covered soil. 

The arrival of at least one ally should feel like a relief; yet Ivar glared at the bird sickened by envy. Utstott possessed wings, freedom, and a life without complicated human emotions. 

“Leave me alone!” He shouted at the bird, “you are better off with that bitch and her new favorite pet, GO!” he threw his balled fist into the air and let out a deep shaky breath as Utstott spread his wings and took off, like a small white dot into the starry midnight sky. 

“Go, all of you!” Ivar whispered his self fulfilling prophecy as he wrapped his good arm tightly against his chest. ‘Against the cold’ he told himself firmly, while deep down he was fully aware it was to compensate for the warmth of someone else’s tight embrace. 

For a moment, he wished Piglet would have ordered Stum to decapitate him. Chop him in two pieces, like that scurvy dog. It would be a more worthy ending than dying of thirst and hunger, that was for sure. 

Alone and cold Ivar sat through the night, with his one arm wrapped tightly around his empty chest.

.-.-.

Still half asleep, his ears picked up on the clumsy thud of a heavy gait, preceded by scurried tippy toes. Stiffly, Ivar tried to move himself into a sitting position. He managed to push himself upwards while leaning heavily on his left arm, craning his neck toward the sound of the footsteps. 

His heart skipped a beat when his eyes took in the knotted, wind-tousled curls of Piglet, who reappeared as she dashed through a thick hedge of bush. 

She clearly lost her balance there and nearly took a nosedive into a tangled mess of tree roots, but managed to break her fall by instinctively pushing out her arms. 

Stum followed her like a lost pup and mimicked her motion, pressing himself down on all fours. 

“By Allah…” Piglet mumbled, rubbing over her bruising knees and motioned Stum to get back up.

Ivar had watched the pair with his mouth wide open: “what are you doing here?!” 

Piglet must have forgotten about how she’d abandoned him in the midst of night, or she was a damn trickster. 

“What are you talking about?” She dared to ask him. 

“You abandoned me!” Ivar exclaimed, amazed by her courage to come back and face him, “again!” 

Piglet blinked her eyes, once, twice and a third time when she realized Ivar spoke from the heart. 

“You think I left you behind?” 

Oh, the guts to speak those words out loud and stand there with two innocent doe eyes. Ivar’s nostrils flared, agitated and ready to turn into a full blown rage, because apparently she needed him to say the words out loud.

“You left me! You replaced me for that creature and you didn’t even have the guts to kill me…” or say goodbye, but he swallowed those words hastily. 

Piglet glanced from him to Stum, and back to Ivar before slowly raising her hands.

“Ivar, I went to pee last night and I got lost,” she pointed skywards, “Utstott found me and led me back here.” 

“Oh, please Piglet!” Ivar waved angrily at her words, “then why tag Stum along?!”

“Believe me I did not want him to,” Piglet stated firmly, “but he keeps following me like my shadow,” she walked around a fallen tree and picked up a few of their humble belongings, “see, I didn’t take anything,” she held up the water bottle and with the ball of her foot she pressed the axe into view. 

Piglet then managed to get down to his face, so close it made him feel uncomfortable. Her dark eyes wandered over his face until she stared him straight in the eyes. 

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I couldn’t bare to be the reason for your death.”

His heart made a little leap and for a moment everything around him was too overwhelming and too much to process. Piglet’s return shook the foundation of his mindset; she simply came too close. 

So, as a reaction he did the only logical thing he could think of. To be honest, he allowed his instinct  to do all of the hard work and simply zoned out of the situation.

His good hand raked through her hazard of hair and with one harsh tug he pushed her. Letting go of her hair, he watched Piglet drop backwards with a loud yelp. She landed on her ass, legs swaying in the air momentarily before her feet pressed themselves into the ground and kicked forward. 

Dirt and a few small pebbles hit him in the face which made him frantically rub his eyes and give Piglet time to get back on her feet and out of reach. 

Leaning towards her, Ivar snarled: “do not ever think of betraying me!” 

“Or what, you will scold me to death?!” Piglet spat and dusted off the palm of her hands, “or beat me, choke me, harass me, insult me?” She was seething now, voice skipping a few beats as she raged on, “men, all the same! Even you, Ivar-half-a-man,” she scolded, pointing directly at his crotch. 

“-I am not a thing,” Piglet continued, “I am not yours, nor will I ever be! You may hate me, I do not care. But you will not treat me like you did in De Haar. You don’t have any leverage over me now, cripple. I am an equal, I am a future queen and right now I am the only reason you are still alive!” 

Ivar hadn’t tried to interfere during her rant, it had been impossible to fit a word in between her seething sentences. 

Ivar shrugged his good shoulder and muttered: “fair enough. I’ll teach you to navigate by stars,” he added after a pause, “so you can find your way back when you feel the urge to piss in the midst of night,” he explained when Piglet’s eyebrow rose so high it disappeared underneath the curls of her hair. 

She slowly realised that this was as much of an apology she’d be able to peel from Ivar and settled with a hum.

.-.-.

“Piglet?

“Hmmm?”

“You reek.” 

The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder against a tree while Stum threw berries at Utstott. Piglet’s eyes narrowed and she grunted something angrily in her mother’s tongue before Ivar rose up his good arm.

“We’ve recently established some sort of ground rules, I will try to treat you like an equal, so by the Gods, can you wash off the filth and stench coming from every inch of your body?”

Piglet shook her head bluntly, “no I will not, it keeps men at bay.”

Ivar rolled his eyes and gestured to his abdomen, “you know I can’t defile you and Stum’s more closely related to animals than men. You have nothing to fear.”

“I wasn’t referring to you nor Stum,” Piglet retorted, “I mean men in general. You are hurt and Stum… is-”

“-an absolute imbecile?” Ivar helpfully pointed out. 

“Simple,” Piglet chose her word firm, “Stum is simple. I can’t rely on either of you two. And you can’t expect me to fend off a man who’s twice my weight and size.” 

“Of course you can,” Ivar answered and extended his left hand towards her, “the human body is rather feeble and soft, if you know the right place,” his index finger pressed just underneath Piglet’s ribcage.

“Stab a man here, upwards. You will hit a lot of organs. Never stab a man here,” Ivar redrew his arm and touched his own chest, “it’s tempting, because this is where the heart lays,” he said while drawing a small circle, “but it’s protected by a cage of ribs. It’s hard to stab through bone, not impossible. But hard,” tracing down over his own chest he dapped his index and middle finger right underneath his lowest rib, “if you find yourself overpowered and on your back, 

stab a man here, it most likely will be fatal. And if you’d like to make an example out of your harasser, cut off his prick and shove it up his arse.” 

Piglet snorted, “you are a disgusting pig.” 

Ivar arched a sly brow: “that makes two of us, but only one has the ability to attract flies,” sagging against the tree he tilted his head towards Piglet, “I’ll make you a deal, if I gift you a dagger, will you do something about your deteriorating personal hygiene?” 

Piglet’s forehead puckered for a while before she thoughtfully answered: “if you can teach me how to protect myself I’ll rid myself of my current protection.” 

“T’s a deal,” Ivar spoke solemnly, “first I’ll teach you to navigate by stars and when I’m healed I will teach you how to kill a man.”

“As long as you don’t teach me how to shove his prick up his arse.”

.-.-.

A/N: A main reason why I write in general is to dig into human emotions and thoughts. And I really enjoy getting into Ivar’s POV’s. I am happy how far this version of Ivar has evolved away from the Ivar season 5 and 6. To be honest, I disliked season 6 a lot. Many main characters became very dull and one dimensional, they made choices that made absolutely no senses to their previous actions. And this pre-season-five Ivar is just a joy to push away from the path of tyrant. His period as a slave inside de Haar changed his character and vision, he gained some forms of friendship and -as much as he’ll deny it- grew some sort of feelings for a Christian. I think this chapter carries another important piece of his mental development, his fellow travelers did return. They had no reason -no personal gain as Ivar sees it- to do so. But they did -that’s more then Ragnar-worst-example-for-a-father can say-. 

That’s enough writer’s rambling. Many things for reading and I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Xoxoxo Nukyster 

The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182

@conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

@adhdnightmare

@khiraeth

@funmadnessandbadassvikings

@ dekusdante 

https://www.tumblr.com/nukyster-blog/811635611995914240/adrift-chapter-34-pushed-too-far?source=share

Adrift; so as to float without being either moored or steered.

Chapter 1) Tale of the land surrounded by a sea of sand  Chapter 2) Suicide Mission  Chapter 3) Sacrifice  Chapter 4) Adrift  Chapter 5) Black Sheep Chapter 6) Creature 

Chapter 7) Like a knife through butter Chapter 8) Idiots and dreamers 

Chapter 9) Valuable lessons  Chapter 10) From the ground he lingers  Chapter 11)Torn 

Chapter 12) Lost protection  Chapter 13) Field of Daisies 

Chapter 14) Fierce 

Chapter 15) Down with dignity 

Chapter 16) Opportune moment 

Chapter 17) Neither north, neither east  Chapter 18) Setting fire 

Chapter 19) Threshold

Chapter 20) Charge 

Chapter 21) Little pieces

Chapter 22) Never will, never have

Chapter 23) Eyes of the storm 

Chapter 24) Everything 

Chapter 25) Peace offer  Chapter 26) A dreadful long night  Chapter 27) New directions 

Chapter 28) Heartache by the fire 

Chapter 29) Not the worst of men 

Chapter 30) Setting traps 

Chapter 31) Fickle game 

.-.-.

“I am the youngest offspring of Ragnar Lothbrok, the most famous Viking who ever lived,” Ivar spoke, pressing the back of his head against the board that separated the boxes. After his disgraceful meltdown, he felt the need to overcompensate and in all honesty, his royal blood seemed like his last resort. 

Piglet paused her knitting, she’d been trying to patch the destroyed potato sacks together, giving him a long bug-eyed look that she eventually broke off to continue  her work. 

Ivar couldn’t tell if she believed him or not, but she wasn’t mocking him yet, so he continued: “he was a king, a legend. And I was destined to be at his side, to die, by his side-” he paused and let out a long deep sign, “-but I failed to do so. It displeased the Gods, so now I’m here. With you, enslaved and ruled out of dying with dignity. Which means I will either die an unworthy death, or of old age, which I highly doubt. Doesn’t matter though, both won’t grant me access to Valhalla. Which means I will never see my father, nor my brothers and mother, again.”

In the shimmer of twilight, it was hard to see, but Piglet’s eyes slowly welled up with tears and although she furiously rubbed her face, it was evident she’d been touched by his revelation. 

It again brought Ivar back to the great puzzle that was Piglet, the still nameless slave maiden who time after time surprised him with the tricks up her sleeves. 

But before Ivar could reminisce about Piglet’s past, the maiden jolted up and dropped the bags.

“UTSTOTT!” She exclaimed, and hastily started to move her hands through the blanket of hay. Ivar could feel the color drain from his face and cursed himself for not thinking about the tiny white raven sooner. 

Piglet hurried to pick up her broom and started sweeping the shed, while Ivar scanned every inch of his box with his eyes and hands. He checked everywhere, inside his trough, underneath the loose planks of the floorboard, and clenched his jaw when he noticed all the ripped pieces of potato bag. What if, during his fit of rage, he’d ripped off the hatchling’s wings as easily as he’d destroyed the tough fabric? 

“Seek upstairs!” Ivar ordered with a voice that skipped a few beats, when Piglet returned empty handed from her search. 

What if he stomped it? What if he killed it? 

Ivar swept away hay and scraped his palms over the sandy floor until his box was empty. 

“He vanished”, Piglet mumbled sorrowfully, as her search upstairs had been fruitless as well, “maybe you scared him off and he escaped?” 

Ivar threw her an annoyed glance and motioned to the door, “we’re locked up, he’s small, but not small enough to pass through the door’s lock!” 

Ivar shoved his trough aside, turned over a bucket that lay in reach and checked the floorboards again all while Piglet pushed and pulled herself through cattle.

A soft caw made both of them freeze, the sound was almost inaudible and sounded from far, far away. But it was there, dull and muffled, as if there was a thick wall in between them. 

Ivar covered his ears, trying to locate the side the sound was coming from. A caw echoed from the attic, but the moment Ivar wanted to scold Piglet for being such a lousy seeker, the sound stopped and traveled downstairs, over the boxes and ended underneath Ivar’s floorboard.

  Ivar’s mouth dropped; because that featherless chick could in no way possible travel so fast on his own. He’d seen it wobble through the shed, there was no way those naked feathers could carry his weight. 

Piglet must have realised that too, because the slave maiden glanced around the corner of Ivar’s box with huge eyes, shock written all over her face. 

Ivar didn’t know what held him back and eventually decided it could not be fright when he pulled up the plank of the floorboard. Expecting Utstott to be seated on top of his humble treasury; woodcarvings, nails, the knife and sling, Ivar’s face went completely blank when the baby bird wasn’t there. 

A caw came from up close and Piglet let out a petrified shriek, hastily moving down at Ivar’s side. Casting anxious skyward glances, she pinched Ivar’s shoulder and huddled close to him.

“Voodoo!” she whimpered and cried out when a high pitched caw blared right over their heads. Ivar froze and could feel the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He recalled his first weeks inside the shed; how he’d battled fever and the mare riding his chest. He also recalled vividly how he’d witnessed his father being devoured by a flock of ravens. 

When he regained strength, he simply brushed it off as feverish dreams intensified by the mare. Yet, during the feverish days, he’d been staring into the shadows, petrified to register tarred feathers and beaks inside the darkness of the shed. 

A gust of cold night’s air made the pair duck their heads down, instinctively Ivar shoved Piglet down to the floor and reached for the knife, although he highly doubted it would do any damage. 

The cawing continued and it started to frighten the animals inside, for they could sense the unnatural atmosphere. 

To make matters worse, Piglet’s body went completely limp, only to abruptly shoot into a series of spasms. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me”, Ivar hissed through his teeth and hastily dragged the young woman onto her side so she wouldn’t choke on her own tongue. Her eyes were all white while her limbs convulsed in quick and odd motions. 

Piglet’s unconsciousness made Ivar feel utterly alone and exposed. Raising the knife in his fist, he held his breath- all while holding onto Piglet’s chin to prevent her from banging her face into the floor. 

Another caw cackled through the shed; it didn’t come from one side, no- it seemed to twirl in circles. 

It was then and there that Ivar realised he could either whimper as a coward or face the unknown abomination hiding inside the shadows. 

“SHOW YOURSELF!” Ivar roared, rising up to his knees and puffing his chest out. 

‘What are the odds of survival?’ Ivar asked himself. He was in chains, crippled, and his only ally lay in a seizure down on the floor. 

As an answer, the cawing evaporated and all went quiet inside the shed, aside from the soft frightened noises of the animals. 

Ivar’s eyes darted through the room, scanning all shadows and dark corners. Surely, this couldn’t be the end of it? 

A small beak appeared from around the corner of his box, causing Ivar to withdraw and land on his arse. To keep a slice of his dignity, he struggled back onto his knees and watched the tiny hatchling hop over Piglet’s makeshift line. There was a bit of smugness in his strutt as he blinked a couple of times; one eye glazed and milky white, the other a vibrant blue. 

“What are you?” Ivar whispered, pulling Piglet close and keeping the knife raised above his head. 

Utstott tilted his head, puffing up his humble feathers as he hopped toward Ivar. Like a half naked, fluffy ball, Utstott inched closer and closer. For some reason, Ivar sensed that the bird knew he’d be able to kill it, yet that  didn’t stop him. Utstott didn’t fear Ivar. 

Inch for inch, Ivar lowered the knife until he placed it down onto the floor and reached his hand out to the hatchling. 

Contentment seemed to beam from the tiny creature as it seated itself into the palm of Ivar’s hand. 

“What are you?”, Ivar wondered, calmer this time as he watched the bird peck at its own feathers, “what are you?”.

.-.-.

Piglet and Ivar did not see eye to eye; the slave maiden was convinced Utstott was ‘black magic’, an evil creature summoned from Jahannam, a place of blazing fire and the final destination of sinners. 

Despite  Piglet’s conviction, Ivar still couldn't put his finger on what Utstott actually was, and decided to keep him. 

Utstott sided with Ivar, with a raspy caw the bird sat on his shoulder and refused to leave that spot. 

“Fine”, Piglet eventually settled, “but you lock it up!” 

So, Ivar forced a deeply insulted Utstott inside a crate and placed his trough on top of it. He highly doubted the bird would remain inside of the makeshift cage, but it calmed Piglet’s fear.

Another day of scrubbing started and with that, rain started to pour down. Usually the task was pointless, now it was simply a joke. Ivar spent the first few hours of dawn soaking wet; his hair became one with his face, wetly draping over his bone structure. Muddy water splashed up everytime someone hastily passed him, hurried to find shelter inside. 

Oh, but Ivar continued his pointless task, gritting his teeth as the Giant watched him from the doorway. The large man stood with  crossed arms, contently watching his slave from up high and dry. 

Another dreadful and overall wet day ended and Ivar’s knees soaked the hay as he was returned to his shackles. The moment the Giant left, Ivar plucked at the cuff of his tunic and hastily peeled it off; he wasn’t cold per se, spring had been kind to him today. But removing the soaked fabric from his skin felt like a blessing. 

Piglet silently picked up his clothes and hung them out. Throwing a few blankets to his side, she paced around the shed for a few moments before casually mentioning:

“I think Utstott died”, as she watched how Ivar’s face fell, she quickly added: “he didn’t make any sound all day”. 

Ivar’s eyes shot to the crate and he crawled toward it, picking it up, he shook the wooden box. He didn’t hear the sound of Utstott’s aggravated caws, nor did he hear a tiny limp body toss and turn. 

“He vanished again”, Ivar explained as he showed Piglet the empty crate, “see?”. 

“By Allah…”, Piglet’s voice faded as she stared in shock at the emptiness inside the crate. She faltered down onto her knees and started a prayer: “Bismillaahir-Rahmaanir-Raheem . Qul 'a'oothu birabbin-naas . Malikin-naas . 'Ilaahin-naas . Min sharril-waswaasil-khannaas. Allathee yuwaswisu fee sudoorin-naas. Minal-jinnati wannaas”. 

Ivar simply rolled his eyes and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders: “don’t be such a wimp Piglet, he did not do anything harmful to us”. 

“That’s easy for you to say!” Piglet snapped through her prayer, “you’re Viking, you’re religion is an interplay of wickedness and bloodshed. The place you call ‘hell’ is a simple wasteland for the weak. My version of hell is an endless circle of pain and suffering and I will not put my soul on the line for your demonic bird!”.

Perfectly on cue, Utstott came teettering from underneath Piglets skirts, causing the slave maiden to scream bloody murder. Jumping onto the tips of her toes, she tried to kick the little hatchling.

Utstott managed to avoid Piglet’s toes and quickly ran toward Ivar for safety. He made one final jump, flapped his little wings, and landed onto Ivar’s lap. 

“Hamar! Idiot! Thick-head!” Piglet cursed him, as Ivar clapped his hands and started laughing. “You’re damming yourself! I won’t be a part of this!” 

Ivar continued laughing and shook his head as Piglet barged up the stairs to the attic. Petting the tiny bird, he watched Utstott puff up his feathers and close his beady eyes in content. Later that night, Piglet eventually moved to Ivar’s side, instead of remaining upstairs. The fear of the danger that lingered outside of the walls of their shed victored over the fear she held for the little white raven. 

.-.-.

A/N: For those of you who’d like to be refreshed, I highly suggest you re-read chapter 5; ‘Eaten Alive’, that’s the chapter where Ivar’s fever gets the best of him and he sees his father being devoured by ravens. 

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I’m very curious how you feel about Utstott.

Xoxox Nukyster