Chapter Text
There would be war. A war between brothers. If the tales were true, the dawn of Ragnarök was upon them now and with every step they took towards their sides of the battlefield, they marched closer toward their doom. In the end, it wouldn't matter which side of them won or who died. In the end, their family would never be able to recover. Not just his relationship with Ivar or Hvitserk, but also Bjorn, who was willing to make this sacrifice instead of talking his mother out of it. Ubbe lingered, his sword almost drawn despite Lagertha’s hand on his chest holding him back. He was still looking at Ivar. For a few precious minutes, he had believed him when he said he didn't want this war. And now his words were like a chant in his ears. You are no longer my brother.
And what if Ivar was right? What if he was the traitor for siding with the woman who killed his mother? He could end it. Right then and there. He could stab her. She wouldn't expect it. He could do it and be done with it. And then what?
Then Bjorn would kill him. And then Hvitserk and Ivar would still fight this war to avenge Ubbe because this was their way. And there was no way back. The point of no return had long been crossed.
Ivar turned away to walk off. After a moment of hesitation, Ubbe too turned his back to walk away and just as he did, he felt something tug at his belt. His blood ran cold as he realized that Lagertha had grabbed the axe from his belt. He whirled around, jumping to stop her. Too late. The axe flew across the no man's land between the two opposing sides and hit the intended target with a precision he had seen only once before.
Another axe being thrown in a city across the sea. Another brother falling to the ground. He heard Bjorn scream, but it was too late. The axe struck Ivar in the back.
“NO!” Ubbe did not know whose scream it was. It was the same voice, leaving three mouths at once. It all happened so quickly that Ubbe's brain could hardly catch up with it while time seemed to slow down altogether. Ivar's body jolted as the axe struck him. He staggered on his crutch, trying to catch his balance. He saw it before he heard the sickening crunch as his left leg broke. His ankle twisted first, then his leg almost snapped in half, and Ivar fell forward before the pain had time to register.
Ubbe was running before he knew it, but Hvitserk was the first to reach their brother. Hvitserk fell to his knees at his side, and a moment later, Ubbe was on Ivar's other side. His fingers were in Ivar's hair as Hvitserk leaned in to see if Ivar was still breathing. At that moment, nothing mattered. Nothing at all, not even the commotion behind them, the yelling and screaming.
“He's alive,” Hvitserk whispered. “He's alive!”
Bjorn's thunderous footsteps shook the ground.
“He's alive!” Hvitserk yelled again. There was this irrational part of him that didn't want Bjorn to touch Ivar as he reached them, but regardless of what he might have wanted or not, Bjorn muscled his way past Ubbe and Hvitserk regardless.
“Quickly now!” Bjorn hissed. “He needs help!" Ubbe acted immediately as he jumped to his feet. Hvitserk and he both grabbed one of Ivar's arms, pulled them around their own shoulders and hurried to the other side of the battlefield, back to Lagertha's troops and camp. Right now, sides and bad blood didn't matter. No words were needed between the brothers. As Ubbe caught Hvitserk's gaze, he saw the same fear reflected back at him that he also felt and the same wish not to lose another brother. Not like this.