[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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no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.]