[Ah, there the philandering dumb slut is. Ragnar will definitely notice that his son's eyes are harder and more angry than he's ever been before. Ivar doesn't tell him why he's there or gives him a chance to explain himself. All he does is pull one of his axes out and throw it right at Ragnar's head while roaring:]
[Ragnar leaned and stumbled out of the way just in time, the blade of the axe flying past his head only an inch or two away and embedding in the wall behind him with a deadly thunk.]
What? What did I do? [He picked up and threw the closest thing he could grab... a pillow. As everyone knew, Ivar the Boneless' only weakness, plush things.
Likely making matters far worse, he was puzzled but still smirking. He had no idea what had gotten into Ivar, but it was obviously ridiculous, and thus, amusing.]
[That smirk is what sets Ivar completely over the edge, reminding him of all those times people have underestimated him because he's "just a cripple." How dangerous could he really be. It sends him into that territory where he loses control of himself and doesn't stop until it's completely played out. Ragnar better grab a sturdy object because Ivar is pulling out the throwing knives. He throws one, but he's so blinded by rage, he misses. So he takes his time and pulls out another one.]
You know exactly what you did!
You-- [Throw.] --and Dodger-- [Another throw.] --fucking! [He can't currently find another easily accessible knife, though he did bring a few more, so he settles for taking the nearest object he can find, which is a glass someone left on the table, and throws that as a final punctuation mark.]
[He had no idea what he'd done. Not that he had much time to really try to dredge his memory as he grabbed yet another pillow and held it up after the first knife went whizzing wide of him.
The second knife struck the pillow in the center, which somehow managed to stop its momentum enough that it only poked out the other side, but the third hit one of the corners he'd been holding, knicking two of his fingers and then burying into the meaty part of his thumb.
He dropped the pillow in surprise, which pulled the blade out, blood already starting to dribble down his arm.
He glared at Ivar, not about to deny the accusation, especially when he didn't see what it had to do with Ivar.] Why do you care?! [The glass smashed as it hit the wall behind him.]
Ivar. Stop. [At some point, he'd made the conscious decision to switch to Norse as he raised his voice in return. Aside from arguing back and throwing things that wouldn't hurt a child if they got hit by one, he wasn't going to retaliate. He had moved behind the couch when he'd grabbed the pillow though, so he had a tiny bit of cover now.]
[Ivar was practically snarling as he reached around his vest for another knife. By the time he finds one, Ragnar has taken cover behind the couch.]
Oh, I don't know, other than I hate the man so much I've tried to kill him multiple times?! And here he's telling me and anyone else listening in on the network about how he's fucking you!
[He can't get a clear shot to hit him for the moment, so he settles for yelling, his voice filled with venom.]
You always do this! You don't think for a moment about how what you're doing affects other people! You just do whatever you want and fuck everyone else.
[Yeah, he's not just talking about Dodger now, though that is still the crux of the matter. There's a lot of poison that's been built up over the years inside Ivar. He's managed to keep it all inside, but now, it's coming out full force.]
Edited (Added a few more lines.) 2018-01-16 06:10 (UTC)
What does that matter? You are not the one who is having sex with him. It does not involve you at all!
[Ivar would have the pleasure of noticing the slight tick when he mentioned that Dodger was running his mouth about them though. Not that he'd ever told him he wanted to keep any of this a secret, but he certainly preferred things that were private to remain that way.]
No. I did not think to ask my son for permission before I had sex with someone.
And it makes no difference to me if you do or do not like the people I decide to take to bed. That is between me and them. It will not change because you hold some idiotic grudge, Ivar.
[Ivar knew him well enough to know that coming here wouldn't result in any kind of apology... but then, that's probably why he brought so many weapons.]
It involves me because I've been here a lot longer than you and-- [He cuts himself off. It's not like he can summarize up the complicated relationship he and Dodger have in a couple of sentences. A novel, perhaps.] --ask him the next time you're sucking his cock. He'll tell you.
[Ivar's fury hasn't really dimmed at all. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he came over here, but really, would it ever kill Ragnar to admit he's done a stupid thing?]
Sure, you can have sex with him. You and about half the fucking Quarantine!
[Then he throws the next knife at Ragnar's shoulder.]
[He raised his eyebrows as Ivar started trying to explain why Ragnar's sex life was somehow any of his business, guessing that this would be a rich explanation. He rolled his eyes at the accusation.]
So... never? [Since he never had and had some serious doubts he ever would.]
I am so glad you consent, Ivar. [He cursed under his breath as another knife came flying at him and he had to sidestep it last second. Although it didn't quite hit its target, it definitely grazed his shoulder. Enough that it had not only sliced a hole in his tunic, but a bit of blood started to stain the linen where it had been cut. Ragnar grimaced but ignored it.] And what do I care who or how many people he has had sex with? It is just sex.
Tell him that. [Dodger had all but actually said that's what Ragnar had done. Not that Ivar particularly cared, all it had really done was serve to make his anger into a raging inferno]
And it was just sex with my mother. You went straight back to Lagertha until she got pregnant. [Yeah, he's been waiting to pull that gem out. Ragnar, your future self is not winning you any points with your son right now.] You really don't give a shit about anyone but yourself.
[He would deal with Dodger, but that, as he'd stated, was none of Ivar's business. Whatever self-destructive bullshit Dodger was pulling, Ragnar was acutely aware that he'd ended up as some kind of collateral damage, which was enough to piss him off.]
So... all of this is about your mother? Or is it about Dodger? [He rolled his eyes.]
Maybe it was just sex. I married her though, did I not? [He raised his hands, shrugging.] You have told me yourself, she became my wife. So, I provided for her and made you and your brothers legitimate and provided for you and them.
Clearly, I care for no one but myself.
Are you out of knives yet, Ivar? If so, get out of my house. And if you have more, then hurry up. I have better things to do.
Oh yes, such a good father. So good he abandoned his children for ten fucking years!
[If he wanted to sit up there on his high horse and act like he could do no wrong, he could do so knowing he had been a shitty father. Ivar threw his last knife with an almost contemptuous air before whirling his chair around.]
I hate you!
[That right there is probably the sharpest knife he has in his arsenal.]
[He was far too angry to feel guilty about something he wouldn't do for another two decades. This time he barely dodged the knife, which was something of a mistake as it barely caught the lobe of his ear and, like any head wound, it immediately started bleeding profusely despite the cut being small and shallow.
He didn't say anything, but Ivar's words stung. A lot. He didn't hate Ivar. How could he? He was his son. He loved him.]
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You are a fucking idiot!
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What? What did I do? [He picked up and threw the closest thing he could grab... a pillow. As everyone knew, Ivar the Boneless' only weakness, plush things.
Likely making matters far worse, he was puzzled but still smirking. He had no idea what had gotten into Ivar, but it was obviously ridiculous, and thus, amusing.]
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You know exactly what you did!
You-- [Throw.] --and Dodger-- [Another throw.] --fucking! [He can't currently find another easily accessible knife, though he did bring a few more, so he settles for taking the nearest object he can find, which is a glass someone left on the table, and throws that as a final punctuation mark.]
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The second knife struck the pillow in the center, which somehow managed to stop its momentum enough that it only poked out the other side, but the third hit one of the corners he'd been holding, knicking two of his fingers and then burying into the meaty part of his thumb.
He dropped the pillow in surprise, which pulled the blade out, blood already starting to dribble down his arm.
He glared at Ivar, not about to deny the accusation, especially when he didn't see what it had to do with Ivar.] Why do you care?! [The glass smashed as it hit the wall behind him.]
Ivar. Stop. [At some point, he'd made the conscious decision to switch to Norse as he raised his voice in return. Aside from arguing back and throwing things that wouldn't hurt a child if they got hit by one, he wasn't going to retaliate. He had moved behind the couch when he'd grabbed the pillow though, so he had a tiny bit of cover now.]
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Oh, I don't know, other than I hate the man so much I've tried to kill him multiple times?! And here he's telling me and anyone else listening in on the network about how he's fucking you!
[He can't get a clear shot to hit him for the moment, so he settles for yelling, his voice filled with venom.]
You always do this! You don't think for a moment about how what you're doing affects other people! You just do whatever you want and fuck everyone else.
[Yeah, he's not just talking about Dodger now, though that is still the crux of the matter. There's a lot of poison that's been built up over the years inside Ivar. He's managed to keep it all inside, but now, it's coming out full force.]
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[Ivar would have the pleasure of noticing the slight tick when he mentioned that Dodger was running his mouth about them though. Not that he'd ever told him he wanted to keep any of this a secret, but he certainly preferred things that were private to remain that way.]
No. I did not think to ask my son for permission before I had sex with someone.
And it makes no difference to me if you do or do not like the people I decide to take to bed. That is between me and them. It will not change because you hold some idiotic grudge, Ivar.
[Ivar knew him well enough to know that coming here wouldn't result in any kind of apology... but then, that's probably why he brought so many weapons.]
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[Ivar's fury hasn't really dimmed at all. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he came over here, but really, would it ever kill Ragnar to admit he's done a stupid thing?]
Sure, you can have sex with him. You and about half the fucking Quarantine!
[Then he throws the next knife at Ragnar's shoulder.]
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So... never? [Since he never had and had some serious doubts he ever would.]
I am so glad you consent, Ivar. [He cursed under his breath as another knife came flying at him and he had to sidestep it last second. Although it didn't quite hit its target, it definitely grazed his shoulder. Enough that it had not only sliced a hole in his tunic, but a bit of blood started to stain the linen where it had been cut. Ragnar grimaced but ignored it.] And what do I care who or how many people he has had sex with? It is just sex.
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And it was just sex with my mother. You went straight back to Lagertha until she got pregnant. [Yeah, he's been waiting to pull that gem out. Ragnar, your future self is not winning you any points with your son right now.] You really don't give a shit about anyone but yourself.
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So... all of this is about your mother? Or is it about Dodger? [He rolled his eyes.]
Maybe it was just sex. I married her though, did I not? [He raised his hands, shrugging.] You have told me yourself, she became my wife. So, I provided for her and made you and your brothers legitimate and provided for you and them.
Clearly, I care for no one but myself.
Are you out of knives yet, Ivar? If so, get out of my house. And if you have more, then hurry up. I have better things to do.
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[If he wanted to sit up there on his high horse and act like he could do no wrong, he could do so knowing he had been a shitty father. Ivar threw his last knife with an almost contemptuous air before whirling his chair around.]
I hate you!
[That right there is probably the sharpest knife he has in his arsenal.]
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He didn't say anything, but Ivar's words stung. A lot. He didn't hate Ivar. How could he? He was his son. He loved him.]