Death and Life

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Ivar could not believe his father was giving into death. Handing himself to the king's pleas. Ivar knew English well, enough to know that the king was hoping to escape the inevitable Viking rage of Ragnar's death.

But even the king had to know that was pure wishful thinking.

Ivar thought back to all the times he had asked what the future held, why she said "I hope you don't hate me" He didn't hate her. He knew she had her reasons. He was mad still, she could have told him.

Ivar wanted to cry, he had only just met his father. Ivar wished Maeve was there, there to fix it, there to help him. She had to be waiting for his return. He imagined her running her morning laps. Their talks at sunset by the water. How even in the toughest times, she never resorted to hurtfulness.

~Maeve~

"I will LITTARLY fucking hit you if you say sorry one more time"

five months had passed, living with Margaret, who was now doing most of the household chores, and whenever Maeve did anything to help, she was told "No" by Margaret always fallowed by a "Sorry"
Maeve was allowed to feed the fire and make food but only when it meant not being on her feet for long. Her feet had been swollen for almost a month.
it's was late winter as-well she was about seven months along. However since it was times before any ultrasounds and tests, they didn't know were in seven months. Maeve was skeptical, she was big, very big. Bigger then she'd like to be. Then again everyone was "to big", Or rather that she was small and the baby was large. That should be a good thing.

"What if it's disabled" she thought
She pushed it to the corner of her mind. She thought it unlikely since the genes that Ivar had were recessive (only when two of the same genes are met, very rare chance) but what if somehow it was? She didn't think anything less, but how would she deal with her child's pain?

A howl came in the distance, no storm and it was still light out. Margaret was still out.
Maeve picked up a shotgun.

"Margaret!" She yelled

"Yes." A voice came from around the corner, unconcerned.

"Thank god" Maeve turned around and heard the howl again.

It wasn't far ,no woods were there. She would just look, she told herself. She made sure the gun was loaded for good measure.

"Where do you think you are going?"
"Adventure!" Maeve replied
"You are hardly ready for adventure."
"I'll be fine." She said annoyed.
"I'm coming."
"Kk."
As they adventured over the hill, winning and struggling grew louder.

A giant wolf and two pups.
The mother was caught in a bear trap.

"Hey got any dried deer?" Maeve asked
"You're not"
"Oh yes, I am! This is the coolest thing that's happened in months!!!"
Maeve took out her jerky after Margaret refused to budge and broke it in three.
"Here" she threw at the young ones
The mother eyed her, but decided to eat anyway. Quickly, Maeve undid the bear trap (no Ivar needed this time) and the mother sprang free and got into a protective stance.
Maeve kept her eyes on the mother.

"Hey."  Maeve swung her hand back at Margaret *snap snap* "meat...Now"
As soon as the meat reached her hand she threw it at the wolves and they bolted.
Or rather, waddled hurriedly in Maeve's case.

The next day a dead dear lied at there door, two legs chewed off.
"Uh, Margaret?"
Margaret screamed when she saw, but none the less got a knife and started to take out the good meat.
Yip.
What?
Yip growl.
Maeve turned the corner to find the missing legs and a mother who still had an injured leg, under the log shed roof.
The mother chewed on the bones while the pups fought over the meat.
Maeve went back and brought some dried meat and waved it at her. The mother looked up, and sniffed it, and took it in a snap.
'Damn' she thought.

Later that night, when the wolves went to hunt Maeve built a small fire where they liked to lay.
And to her surprise, they came back.

~Ivar~

Ivar curled himself into a ball, it was a cold and long journey back to Kattegat. But he made it.
Once informed, his brothers lifted him out and took him to get food and water.
Ivar didn't say anything.

"Where is our father?" Sigurd pushes
Nothing.
"Where is Ragnar?" Ubbe asked this time.
"King Ecbert handed him over to King Aelle,
knowing that Aelle would kill him."
"Why would he give him to Aelle?" Ubbe tried to make sense of it.

"That doesn't matter. Our father
is probably dead by now.
And we will have to avenge him.
That is what matters. Where is everyone?"
'Where is Maeve' is what he really wanted to ask

"We have something to tell you."
'No' Ivar thought 'she can't be dead'  was his first thought. "Ubbe?" He said sadly

"Mother is dead. It's true. Lagertha killed her.
Lagertha is now Queen of Kattegat...And Mother is dead."

Was this worse? He couldn't tell. Did Maeve know, just like she knew about his father?

"Where are Maeve and Lin?"
Sigurd was going to speak but Ubbe gave him a look. If they didn't handle this gently, chaos would ensue. How do you tell a man he has a child when it wasn't even thought possible.

"Lin is dead, she died protecting our mother. Maeve escaped."

"She ran away?" Ivar asked angrily. She had known, hadn't she? She had run away to protect herself, she hadn't fought, she was weak. And most importantly, she had betrayed him. She could have saved his mother and father and She ran away.

"Not exactly she is -"
"I don't want to know, she knew of fathers and mothers death."

Sigurd tried to object, actually on her side.
"Ivar she-"

"I'll kill her if I see her again. She betrayed us."

She betrayed him. Now he did hate her.

~Maeve~
Maeve petted the now teen pups from just a few months ago, scratching there heads as she rubbed her belly.
The snow had melted and the ground was dewy and smelled like spring rain.
It was cloudy and still chilly.
The wind outside started to blow. The mother wolf, who they named Asluag, began to growl.
Margaret opened the door and gasped.

"Mae," Margaret called for her.
She hoisted up and grabbed her gun.
Maeve turned the corner and dropped her gun.
A man with a missing eye stood. Ravens flying around him. His eye shifted to Maeve and she collapsed to her knees and felt a gush of warmness on her legs.
A clear, and yet pale yellow fluid.
She looked at the man. Pain now in her eyes.
She knew who he was, and what he meant.
Ragnar was dead.

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