Imagine meeting Ivar at a river. You would be wandering the paths of nature on a cold afternoon, when you heard a silky voice behind you.
“I used to think I was the only one to come here”
He would send you a confident grin, expecting you to be astonished by his presence. Which you actually were, but why give him the satisfaction of letting him know this?
“Well, this (thinking) might not be your gratest talent then”.
He looked at you as if he was considering whether you were suicidal or rather witty.
“What is your name?”
“Well then, Y/N. Why don’t you come here and let me tell you about my variety of talents”.
There was this grin again, though it was somehow a lot warmer this time. His blue eyes were gleaming as he nodded his head, again, silently telling you to sit down. Who were you to disobey?


Hvitserk’s Point of View
She stood near the bench, swaying gently as she pulled apart chicken for the dinner we would be having soon. She sang an old song. A song that mother used to sing when me and my brothers were young. A song her own mother had taught her. Her hair cascaded down her back in gentle curls, and slightly moved along with her. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but loud enough to hear in the quietness of our home. She began to hum when the song had finished, light and easy going. She had a smile on her lips as she turned around and jumped a little.
“Hvitserk!” She chocked back a cough and threw a cloth my way. “How long were you standing there?”
I smirk, leaning against the door and folding my arms. “Long enough.”
She frowns, slouching to one side and placing an apple back on the bench that had fallen. “It is called telling people you have come inside.”
I shrug, smiling at her. “You have a beautiful voice, Y/N.”

“Ubbe is a calm person  …  he loves Ivar as a brother, but he sees the danger for them all that Ivar represents. I mean, Ivar is a loose canon; so it’s difficult  to be a successful ruler and a loose canon.  Ubbe really senses that fairly early on, that Ivar is someone he will have to deal with at some point in his life”

      –– Michael Hirst about Ubbe and Ivar 
                 source [ x ]