Chapter Text
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2000 – The physiotherapist and his patient - Part 3
They drug him again. The blond man, Heahmund hears Ellen refer to him as Bjørn, crouches down and slips the needle into Heahmund's arm. Though Heahmund's instinct is to try to fight, he's chained to the chair and he knows it would be pointless, so he keeps still, let's them drug him and succumbs to the darkness that follows.
He is later brought back to his senses with a harsh slap to his face.
Disoriented, Heahmund shakes off the sting and he tries to will his brain into working. He quickly realizes that he's still in handcuffs, but he's on a different chair, in a different room – it looks more like a warehouse – and once he manages to blink the fog from his eyes; he sees Ivar.
Ivar is standing a small distance away, behind him stands Ove and Henry, and behind them are some other unknown men. Ivar's eyes are flaring with raging fury.
Heahmund absently notes that while Ivar looks ready to tear people apart with nothing but his hands and teeth, he's surprised to see real anger also simmering in Ove and Henry's eyes.
Heahmund meets the anger with a calm gaze of his own, tries to convey that he's fine, and vaguely notes the sound of several presences next to and behind himself.
“Let us not waste time,” Ellen says, somewhere to the left of Heahmund, “just sign the papers, Ivar, and let's be done with this. I get my company, you get your precious toy back.”
Frowning, Heahmund finally realizes the point of this stupid plot. (He blames the drugs they keep giving him for slowing his brain down.) They have kidnapped Heahmund, using him as a hostage, threatening to kill him, to make Ivar sign over his company to his step-mother.
Oh hell no.
Heahmund holds Ivar's stare, forces him to pay all of his attention to him, then he slowly shakes his head.
-Don't you dare, he thinks. -Don't you dare give up everything and let her win because of me. You can't let her win after everything she's done.
The corner of Ivar's mouth tug at a faint, almost resigned, smile, and Heahmund realizes he doesn't intend to fight Ellen. He's going to sign.
Angry, Heahmund squirms a little on the chair, only going still when Bjørn's massive hand comes down on his shoulder in a warning gesture that threatens to leave bruises. “Ivar...” Heahmund growls, ignoring how Bjørn's fingers tighten even more. “Ivar, don't you...”
He doesn't get any further as Bjørn brings his other hand into the fray and it places a knife to his throat.
Ivar snaps. “Enough.” He then pulls out some papers from a pocket inside his jacket. “I have them here. Signed.” Ivar hands them over to one of his thugs and the man walks over to hand them to Ellen for inspection.
A moment passes, with Ellen looking at the papers and Heahmund glaring at Ivar, then she steps up next to Heahmund and gives her step-son a radiant smile.
“See? That wasn't so hard, was it, Ivar? I knew you would see reason, eventually.” She glances briefly at Heahmund before focusing on Ivar again. “And you'll see I keep my word too.”
The knife disappears and Bjørn unlocks Heahmund's handcuffs as well, before the fading sound of footsteps reveals his captors leaving.
The drugs still makes Heahmund's body feel like it is made out of lead, so he remains seated and glaring as Ivar and his brothers approach.
Ivar stands, looking down at him with eyes even Heahmund can't read, while Henry crouches down next to Heahmund and prods lightly at the cut along his collarbone. “It's stopped bleeding, at least.”
“Not if you keep doing that.” Heahmund points out drily.
“Let's just get you home.” Ivar says, gently pulling Heahmund's shirt closed again, before Ove and Henry take a hold of Heahmund's arms and they pull him up on his feet. Feet, who simply refuse to carry him.
Having to hang on Ove's shoulder is somewhat embarrassing, but Heahmund allows the drugs to lull him into not caring. He doesn't even react to the small group of huge, black SUVs waiting outside what is indeed a warehouse, merely allows Ivar and the others to bundle him into one of the cars and then he drowses away the time it takes to drive home.
They have to help him up into the apartment, but once Heahmund is safely placed on a chair in the kitchen, Ivar instantly orders both of his brothers out, talking quietly and angrily, before returning to the kitchen with a small first aid kit.
His limp is worse, Heahmund notes. Strangely enough that upsets him more than his own wound.
Ivar gently removes Heahmund's shirt and starts to tend to the cut along his collarbone.
“Will it need stitches?” Heahmund asks, only now realizing just how much he's bled.
Ivar shakes his head, eyes on his work. “It's just superficial,” he says, confirming Heahmund's original diagnosis, “so strips will do the job.”
Another muffled part of Heahmund's brain points out that Ivar seems awfully familiar with injuries.
“You shouldn't have done it, you know.” Heahmund has to say it.
Ivar frowns, done cleaning the wound and now adding strips to close it. “They would have killed you.”
Heahmund scoffs. “You can't let people like that win, Ivar.”
Adding a final strip and gently patting his fingers along the wound, Ivar sighs. He moves up and checks the cut by Heahmund's ear, but all it needs is a little cleaning, no strips.
Heahmund reaches up and takes a hold of one of Ivar's hands, making him look at him. “Ivar...”
“Other than the obvious, they didn't hurt you?” Ivar asks, cutting him off.
Heahmund releases him and shakes his head. “I'm fine. Just... tired.” He hates how he can't shake the groggy feeling. “I think I need a nap.”
Ivar takes a hold of his arm. “Come. I'll help you.”
Getting up on his feet is exhausting and Heahmund leans heavily on Ivar, knowing it must be painful to Ivar and his back, but unable not to. Neither of them would be served with Heahmund falling flat on his face either.
They enter the bedroom and Heahmund crawls into bed. He is pleasantly surprised by Ivar joining him and Heahmund doesn't hesitate to curl up to him, using his impressive chest as a pillow and finding comfort in the muscular arm snaking around him in its usual possessive hold. Maybe a little more possessive today. Protective. Good. In his reduced state, Heahmund feels safer like this.
“I'm going to sleep now,” Heahmund mumbles, eyes already closing, “but when I wake up, we're going to have a serious conversation about this.”
“You sound like an old man.” Ivar replies.
“Dealing with your bullshit ages me.” Heahmund counters, slurring his words slightly as he drifts off.
“Fuck you.” Ivar says, clearly smiling around the words.
Heahmund merely grunts and then he's asleep.
When Heahmund wakes up again, it's to Ivar speaking on the phone in a low voice and his fingers absently brushing up and down Heahmund's back. He waits for Ivar to finish the call before he makes a grumbling sound and announces his awakened state by rubbing his face against Ivar's chest.
“Sorry,” Ivar says, moving his hand up to slide his fingers through Heahmund's hair, “I didn't mean to wake you.”
“How long...?” Heahmund mumbles into Ivar's chest.
“Almost three hours.”
Forcing himself awake, Heahmund frees himself from Ivar with great reluctance and sits up. He still feels a little tired, but his mind is clear and his body is functioning normally again. The cut barely stings. “Who was on the phone?”
Ivar shakes his head. “Don't worry about it.”
Heahmund is instantly annoyed. His voice turns sharp. “Who was on the phone, Ivar?”
Realizing he is not going to be able to avoid having to give an answer, Ivar sighs. “Ove. He's still a little... upset.”
Heahmund rubs his eyes. He doesn't blame Ove for being pissed off, the one next to Ivar who has had most to do with this company of theirs, but Heahmund doesn't like how okay Ivar is with losing everything. “I'm going to take a shower.” He doesn't need to look to know that Ivar perks up and he feels a little bad for adding; “Could you fix us something to eat while I get cleaned up?”
Ivar deflates and nods. “Sure.”
Getting up on his feet, a little wobbly but not dangerously so, Heahmund heads for the bathroom and doesn't look back at Ivar. If he does, he'll invite him along, and he wants him focused for the talk they are going to have after his shower.
Clean, dressed and feeling a lot more like himself, Heahmund smells food as he enters the kitchen.
Ivar is getting two plates from the cabinet when he glances over his shoulder to greet Heahmund. “Everything ok?”
Not really, but physically yes, so Heahmund replies; “I'm fine.” He hesitates by the table. “Need a hand?”
Ivar shakes his head. “I got this.”
It's rare, extremely rare, for Ivar to wait on Heahmund, usually he sits on his ass and has to be ordered to help, so Heahmund sits down by the table and lets Ivar do the work.
They eat in silence for a while, but neither has much of an appetite. Eventually Heahmund leans back and knows they can't avoid the topic anymore. “You shouldn't have signed those papers.”
“Don't worry about it,” Ivar says, again, gathering up the plates and carrying them over to the sink.
Heahmund feels annoyance flaring back up. “Sit your ass down, Ivar, and talk to me.”
Sighing, Ivar makes his way back to the table and sits down, looking into Heahmund's eyes. “Listen, I'm sorry they dragged you into this. I didn't... I thought they would go after Ove. Ever since my, heh, accident, he's been pretty much running things, and he hates Ellen as much as I do. We had him under surveillance, waiting for her to make her move, but...” Here Ivar hesitates for a moment, struggling with an unfamiliar feeling; guilt. “I didn't think she'd go after you.”
“I'm not angry at you for what she did,” Heahmund underlines, “I'm angry that she got what she wanted. You shouldn't have signed those papers.”
Ivar watches him for a few seconds, scanning his face and the anger he sees there, then appears to make a decision. “Like I told you; don't worry about it. She might have control right now, and for a while I'm going to let her think she's gotten away with it, roll around in her victory like a pig in mud, but when the time is right; I'm taking it all back, Heahmund. And she'll pay for daring to touch you. I'm going to make her regret ever being born.” And that was a deadly promise.
Heahmund holds his gaze. “I want in.”
“What?” Ivar blinks, slightly confused, yet intrigued against his will.
“I want in.” Heahmund repeats, his voice cold. “This is my fight too now.”
“It's going to be brutal.” Ivar warns. He sounds wary, like he thinks Heahmund doesn't understand.
“Good.” Heahmund feels no flicker of pity. “I owe that Bjørn several kisses with a knife.”
Ivar's pupils dilate and he smiles a little as he leans forward, watching Heahmund intently and he is fascinated beyond words at the darkness he sees in him. “I want to fuck you.”
Heahmund feels a heat spark in his groin. “Not yet.” He gestures him closer though.
Ivar goes willingly, straddling his lap and getting comfortable, an intimidating wall of muscle and intent, which Heahmund merely pulls closer.
“When the time is right,” Heahmund murmurs by Ivar's ear, using his hands on his hips to make him grind down on him, “we should cut that thug of hers first. Send him to her, piece by piece.” He hears and feels Ivar shudder, most definitely feels him hardening against himself, and it fuels him further. His voice is a rough whisper. “And then I want to watch you deal with her.”
Ivar shivers like an agitated racehorse and then he claims Heahmund's lips in a ravenous kiss. “I have to fuck you. Now.” He growls against his mouth.
“Are you going to let me help you get your company back?” Heahmund breathes back. He bites at Ivar's lower lip.
“Hell, okay, yes, fine,” Ivar relents with a snarl, pulling impatiently at Heahmund's shirt.
Triumphant, Heahmund allows himself one more moment where he pulls Ivar against his own straining cock, then he pushes him away. “Bedroom. Now.”
Ivar doesn't have to be told twice.
-
Heahmund can't help the triumphant grin on his face as he lies on his back on the bed, pushed and maneuvered around, stupidly aroused by the way Ivar manhandles him like he, a big and muscular man himself, weighs nothing. He barely lifts his hips to help Ivar when he tugs his pants and underwear off as if they had personally insulted him. They are naked in record time.
Ivar is even rougher and more impatient than usual, but Heahmund does nothing to calm him down.
It's anything but delicate when Ivar prepares him for his cock. Heahmund grunts as Ivar's slick fingers push roughly into him, spreading him wide and it burns, but all Heahmund does in return is to push his hips hard against Ivar's hand and exhale a shaky smile at the sensation.
Before Ivar, he was never into rough stuff, but for some twisted reason; he loves the way it feels now. The pleasure feels so much sweeter on the edge of pain. He can take anything and everything Ivar dishes out, so he provokes Ivar to see if he is man enough to deliver.
At one point Ivar rears up, shoving Heahmund down against the mattress, covers his body with his own, and seconds later he is inside him. They both shudder and groan at that feeling, especially when Ivar pulls back a little to ram himself even deeper, as deep as possible, and for a moment; he stills there. He leans down, places his forehead against Heahmund's, and they merely pant at each other's open mouths while their brains scramble to catch up with their bodies.
Several heartbeats later, Heahmund feels Ivar's hands sliding down to take a hold of his hips and he then starts fucking him with hard intent. While they are capable of being gentle, there is nothing sweet or careful about this. Heahmund digs his fingers into Ivar's skin and eggs him on, challenges him. And he delivers.
Every thrust Ivar makes inside him now pushes a moan out from Heahmund's lips, so he pulls and bites at Ivar to keep it up, to give him more, to send him over the edge.
He loses track of time, but soon Heahmund can feel it starting to build; one glorious release.
He's almost there, almost, so close he can almost taste it, feel it, almost, when Ivar pulls out and breaks free from Heahmund's arms, disrupting everything and making it all fall apart.
Heahmund doesn't get to voice his displeasure, not beyond a furious growl, because he is quickly yanked over on his belly, his legs spread, his hips pulled up and Ivar is inside him again within seconds.
The even deeper angle has Heahmund groaning mindlessly, semi-muffled by the sheets, and he's not even aware of how his body shifts to accommodate the new position. His hands clutch desperately at the sheets, his knees dig into the mattress, his back arches, his lungs struggle for enough air and sweat is trickling down his skin.
Ivar is breathing hard as well, hunched over him, fingers leaving bruises on Heahmund's hips, and he appears to have lost all ability to speak as he works him hard.
Heahmund manages to choke out a “Fuck!” when Ivar hits that spot inside him that always threaten to break his brain before he turns to suffocate the increasingly loud moans into the mattress. His body goes from already tense to locking down like iron against the merciless pleasure approaching a climax. It's going to be massive, almost too much to handle, and Heahmund shivers.
Ivar's hand suddenly wrapping around his cock, giving him a couple of rough tugs, that's all it takes.
Heahmund comes so hard he almost blacks out for a moment. It feels like he's going supernova.
Ivar growls, shudders and struggles to keep moving through Heahmund's body clenching down fiercely on him, making it unbearably good, before it softens a little and continues to clutch and release in the best kind of torture as the orgasm tapers off.
Heahmund collapses, boneless, unable to command his limbs, and he focuses on trying to regain his breath and braincells while residual pleasure and pain jolt through him as Ivar continues to chase his own release. Hell, even the displeasure at his overly sensitive body being hammered away at like this feels insanely good to Heahmund, and a random thought flickers briefly into his mind that maybe their relationship isn't entirely healthy. But the thought is quickly dismissed because Heahmund is not giving up this, ever. He is now consciously aware of the fact that he will kill to protect this, and he continues to enjoy the hardness of Ivar slamming into sensitive and sore areas.
He absently reaches back, searches, and finds where he can dig his fingers into Ivar's hair, gets a grip on the sensitive strands by the neck, and Heahmund pulls at them. “Come on...” He pants, orders: “Show me what you got. Give it to me. I want it.”
Ivar growls again, barely sounding human, and his hips snap even harder.
Heahmund closes his eyes, delighting in how he's definitely going to feel this tomorrow, and continues to encourage Ivar ,until there is a painful bite when Ivar's teeth dig into the area between Heahmund's neck and shoulder and he can feel Ivar's cock twitching inside him as he comes every bit as hard as Heahmund had.
Like always, Ivar continues to move for a little while longer, chasing the final slivers of his orgasm, trying to prolong the feeling for a long as possible, unwilling to let it stop. Ivar is greedy in every aspect of his life, but Heahmund doesn't mind.
Finally Ivar collapses as well, a heavy weight on Heahmund's back, and they lie in silence as the minutes pass by. It's a good silence.
Heahmund feels like he's been run over by a train, his entire body is starting to voice its complaints; hurt throbs in countless places, his wound has torn several strips and is bleeding again, and yet he can feel the drowsy smile on his lips. Ivar hasn't moved, still latched on to his back like an extremely heavy and very sweaty blanket.
“I guess I shouldn't have bothered with that shower,” Heahmund finally muses out loud.
Ivar grunts. “Or you should've let me come with you and we could have done this there.”
Heahmund has to smile at that. “Your back, remember? I don't think we're ready for up-against-the-wall fucking just yet.”
Ivar grunts again. “I doubt it would be any more hard work than his.” He sounds exhausted.
Now Heahmund actually laughs a little. He also decides that they are coherent enough to return to the real world, so he twists and tips Ivar unceremoniously off his back to the mattress. There is an unsatisfied grumble at that so Heahmund turns and gives Ivar a soft kiss as a bribe to avoid any sulking.
Predictably enough, Ivar draws him closer and turns the kiss deep and long lasting.
It actually takes more than a little willpower for Heahmund to pull away.
“Did you mean it?” Ivar suddenly asks, holding on to Heahmund's wrist to prevent him from getting out of bed. His eyes are very solemn. “About wanting in? Are you sure?”
Heahmund has to lean in and give him another kiss, mumbling against his lips; “I'm deadly serious.”
Ivar shivers, then pulls him into a fierce kiss. One that almost escalates into more.
Heahmund forces himself to pull away again. “I'm not an idiot, Ivar. I know what I'm asking.”
“What you think you know is one thing, but seeing it, being a part of it, is often another.”
Nodding, acknowledging the truth in those words, Heahmund absently reaches out and fixes Ivar's hair. “I'm still sure.”
Ivar watches him for a little while, then he relaxes and nods. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Heahmund echoes, sealing the deal and signing it with a final kiss.
-
It takes close to two months, but when the time does come, Heahmund is the one to take a knife to the captured Bjørn, leaving Ivar both impressed and mute with lust. (There is that voice in Heahmund's head again, saying things aren't quite right with him and Ivar, but it keeps getting weaker and weaker.)
If anything, seeing how easily Heahmund handles the blood and violence and not losing any sleep over it, they become even closer as Ivar stops protecting him from his sometimes shady business.
Heahmund still sticks to his own job, he loves it too much to give it up, but he has no trouble with what Ivar does as long as no innocents are involved and he will occasionally help out if needed.
Ove is somewhat unsettled and Henry nearly has a seizure when they get a text from Heahmund containing a picture of a rosy-cheeked and winter clothed Ivar, grinning widely, next to an also winter clothed, grinning Heahmund, wearing his insanely expensive and oh so classy sunglasses, on the skiing trip which he had promised Ivar if he was a good boy and did his exercises to improve his back.
Then there also comes the time when Heahmund's (very rich and upper class) parents INSISTS on them visiting and Heahmund feels nauseous at the idea.
Bad enough he has a shaky relationship with his parents, but for them to meet Ivar and start giving him a horrible time about his choice of partner in addition to his job... He tries to avoid it, but to no avail. His mother is relentless.
Ivar is positively gleeful when he is told. That is not comforting. Heahmund considers fleeing the country and starting up a new life as a religious zealot in some desolate monastery.
During said dinner, Heahmund finds himself wound up tighter than a piano wire, waiting for the explosion, especially when his father starts complaining about his son's silly job, but to his shock; Ivar smoothly responds with how Heahmund helped him when he was hurt, how he has helped others, how he eases their pain, and keeps a pleasant smile on his face throughout the entire meal.
Once he has the chance, Heahmund leans over to hiss in Ivar's ear; "Who are you and what have you done with the real Ivar?"
Razor sharp amusement flickers in Ivar's eyes, yet his smile never wavers.
Heahmund squints suspiciously at him.
But it does end with Heahmund's parents unable to complain about Ivar's looks, his financial status (Luckily they have no idea what is behind Ivar's company.) or his manners, probably giving them ulcers for the foreseeable future. This leaves Heahmund himself in such a good mood that when they get home; Ivar gets a full body massage and a little extra; a reward he happily accepts.
It takes them over six months to get a hold of Ellen. She keeps slipping through their hands.
But when they do, only due to Ivar's extreme scheming capability, she is met with the combined fury of the two and she knows she did a terrible mistake by challenging them.
Ivar makes sure she disappears for good and Heahmund watches. This time it is Heahmund who can't keep his hands off his partner and a nearby closet will have to do.
With the threat of Ellen gone, everything calms down and Ivar decides he can't be bothered to work as much as he used to. He delegates a lot to Ove and Henry and starts a group of small projects of his own.
Heahmund pretends to believe Ivar is merely doing it to carry favor with him when he donates a large sum to his wing in the hospital, but he knows that Ivar does it so others like him may walk again too. (There are still days when his limp is pretty bad.) Ivar doesn't like it when people discover he can be kind and generous, so he hides behind ulterior motives and Heahmund lets him.
On the one year anniversary of Ivar's accident that landed him in the hospital, they end up at an art exhibit after Ivar got an invite and said he couldn't refuse. The event was to show off the works belonging to a man called Floki, someone Heahmund has never heard of, and he's quite surprised to learn this man has been more or less an adoptive father to Ivar. (Ragnar's absence in Ivar's childhood is not something Ivar likes to talk about and Heahmund knows better than to pry.)
When Heahmund finally gets to meet Floki, it is certainly an experience. The tall, gangly man wraps Ivar up in a bear-hug, lifting him off the ground, and instead of being murdered on the spot, there is a heartfelt laugh instead. It's so rare to see Ivar genuinely care about and be happy around someone not-Heahmund that Heahmund almost feels jealous.
Ivar then introduces Heahmund and Floki sends him a dry look, clearly wondering if this man could be worthy of his adopted son. He doesn't look all that convinced. Great.
Heahmund is relieved to hear that Floki is leaving once the weekend is over, as he and Ivar starts speculating about how long it would take to sail around the world. Heahmund hates boats!
Sauntering away from the two lunatics, Heahmund uses the time to look at the art instead. The exhibit's theme is “Vikings”, one of which Floki claims to be named after.
Heahmund discovers that despite his insanity; Floki's paintings are actually quite good.
The paintings are both beautiful and brutal in equal measure, but Heahmund ends up lingering by one called 'The Great Heathen Army' and reads the description next to the painting with a faint smile.
“What's so funny?” Ivar's voice asks as he steps up next to him.
Heahmund nods towards the picture. “Did you know there was also a viking called Ivar? Ivar, The Boneless.”
Ivar frowns. “There were probably a bunch of Ivars back then. It's not an uncommon name.”
Heahmund keeps reading, even more amused. “It says here they called him The Boneless because he couldn't walk. I should've known this when I first met you back at the hospital. Are all Ivars prone to losing their legs?”
Ivar's frown deepens. He's clearly not finding this funny at all. He looks like someone remembering something unpleasant.“What about you? Heahmund is an old name too. There's probably some talkative asshole who tormented the vikings with his babble, like you are annoying me now.”
Shrugging one shoulder, Heahmund keeps his eyes on the painting. “If there was a Heahmund back then, I'm pretty sure he'd be a skilled warrior, kicking viking asses.” He finally glances over at Ivar with an obnoxious smirk on his face.
Ivar's eyes narrow. “He was probably skilled, but not skilled enough to defeat Ivar the Boneless. He probably ended up getting captured and brought back as a slave.” There is spite in his words.
Bizarrely enough, Heahmund can feel himself tensing up and almost getting angry, much like Ivar already is. “If he did, I'd think he'd be smart enough, or lucky enough, to escape in some way.”
Ivar's remarkable eyes flare. “Maybe. If he had no honor, if he wasn't above lying and breaking his promise.”
Now Heahmund is angry. “Whatever promises were given, it was probably done so under the threat of death and given little choice. You can't hold a person to a promise given under such circumstances.”
“Choice,” Ivar growls, “is exactly what you, he, had. A choice to live, a choice to die, and he chose to lie.” There is something dangerously close to contempt in his eyes. “Whatever faults Ivar had, at least he never lied to him.”
Heahmund opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. He wonders if Floki spiked the champagne they'd been given earlier, because right now he can imagine Ivar covered with blood, wearing some kind of armor, staring at him with fury as Heahmund gives him a mocking bow on the battlefield, with Heahmund telling himself he's doing the right thing, that Ivar was merely sent to test him, that he can't be lusting after a heathen man, an insane man, that his urge to return to his side will fade with time. Heahmund can almost picture himself dying regretting that very decision.
In that moment, they both totter on the verge of their first lives, old resentments and hurt is bubbling just under the surface, unknown to them;
~
“How could you?” Ivar's soul sneers.
“I did what I had to.” Heahmund's soul counters angrily. “I didn't owe you anything. I was your captive!”
“You said I could trust you!”
“I said what I had to, in order to survive.”
“You lied. You lied and you betrayed me with that whore!”
“What about you? You turned to dark magic and made us suffer for a thousand years!”
“You deserved to suffer for a thousand years for what you did.”
“I wasn't the only one suffering, you idiot! You made us fall in love, over and over again, only to be torn apart every damn time. For a thousand years!”
“The curse only ensured we'd meet, every century for one millennium. There is no spell to force someone to fall in love.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, and still you betrayed me. I tried to believe you were different from the others, that you were as noble as you claimed to be, hoped that I could trust you. But in the end, you were just like them.”
“You were dangerous, Ivar. You were going to kill so many people, on both sides.”
“So were you, so did you. We were the same, two sides of one coin, that's why I wanted you.”
“I wasn't ready to see that.”
“Are you now?”
~
Heahmund takes a deep breath and finds himself saying; “If he did break his word, believing he was doing the right thing, do you think he could ever be forgiven?”
Ivar stares at him for several heartbeats and Heahmund swears he can remember looking up at the moon and feel a knife on his skin. But, it can't be a real memory, can it? Whatever it is, it's banished when Ivar reaches out and takes a light hold of Heahmund's wrist. His touch is warm. Real.
“My father told me something once.” Ivar says, the anger gone and replaced with a tired calm. “He said; don't look back, you're not going that way.”
The past was the past, what was done was done, did they really want to linger on that now? Did they want to reopen old wounds, so close to the surface, and risk discovering things that would drive them apart? Or could they be content with a hard-won second chance and look to the future?
Heahmund smiles a little, feels a dizzying sensation of unspeakable relief that he can't explain. He turns his hand to take a hold of Ivar's wrist in return. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Ivar nods. “Let's go home.”
And as they leave, close enough to touch, leaning into each other, drawn to the other, their other half, Floki watches them.
“About time,” he says and giggles softly to himself.
---
