i am more than my sword

The shield protects and the sword will defend. But a brave Norseman's heart is true to the end. Brandr Vargramr 26 | Human | Warrior & Jarl's Son

[brandrvargramr]

Turn Off the Dark | Self Para

For days, the festival went on. Without the aid of many a drink, Brandr might have thought it dragged. Particularly after... No, he couldn’t think about that moment. What moment? He lost the train of thought as he took another drink. Everything was coated in a warm, fuzzy haze as he gazed out across the massive camp. A year ago, who would have imagined that The Pass would look so warm and inviting? Would their ancestors a hundred years ago have believe this kind of gathering possible?

He took another long drink, emptying his horn and flagging down a serving girl to refill it. The big moment was about to happen, and he didn’t want to remember much of it. He was just waiting idly by the largest of the bonfires for Balsi and Inkeri to arrive. The Jarls and the rest of their families were already present, with the exception of one of the Ernouf boys who no one could seem to find, so it was just down to the future bride and groom to show. People could tell what was coming, too. As many people as possible were gathered, gravitating to the fire like moths, a hum of excited whispers wafting through the air all around them. Bran hated it. It was petty and bitter of him, and he made sure not to show it, but he hated how thrilled everyone else was. It made him feel all the worse for not being overjoyed himself. And from his position of insight, he found it irritating and stupid. Inkeri wasn’t looking forward to this either, and even Balsi was nervous. But no one thought of their feelings. No one, not even their parents, was thinking about what their children wanted. Only Brandr did, or so it felt, at least.

Because that’s what he did. He did all the thinking no one else would do. Damn them all.

Finally, Balsi and Inkeri arrived, separately of one another. Balsi, of course, was last and a little out of breath, but no one seemed to notice except for Bran. Partially because at that moment, his father’s voice boomed out across the camp. “Excellent! Now that you’re both here, I believe there was some business that needed attending to.” Ulfarr clapped a hand on Balsi’s shoulder, and Bran saw him mutter something in his eldest son’s ear. Judging by the smile on Ulfarr’s face, it was encouraging, and Balsi replied with a nod and a laugh. Bran shot a look towards his younger brother. The way their father always showed off Balsi in public was wearisome nowadays, and he imagined that Nykr found it no more amusing than Bran did.

Watching Balsi take a knee in front of Inkeri felt like watching a dream unravel before him. Nothing felt real as he listened to the proposal, saw the crowd of faces watching eagerly, saw the look on Inkeri’s face as she hesitated a fraction of a second. He almost thought her eyes darted in his direction, but he chose to take another drink and couldn’t be sure. Better that than think of how he’d kissed her only a few days ago. All he knew was that when she smiled and said yes, there wasn’t an inch of her expression or a note of her voice that was sincerely happy. It was a good facade—the crowd erupted in applause, shouts of joy and “Skál!” echoing off the mountains. Bran muttered his own “Skál...” with as much of a smile as he could manage and downed his second horn of mead.

“A toast! To the bride and groom!” Ulfarr bellowed. “To their union at the end of summer! May they...” But Bran didn’t hear the rest of it. He’d already abandoned his horn and slipped away. He couldn’t stand to be there any more. He was an ungrateful, selfish ass who didn’t belong there. And he wouldn’t offer more congratulations than he’d already begrudgingly given. More bonfires passed around him as he walked aimlessly. He pondered stepping into one of the rings and challenging someone at random. He thought about trying out skinnleikr, or the tug-of-war, something physical to get his mind off things.

This was how Balsi felt, wasn’t it? When things got too overwhelming for him, his elder brother would drink and wander off into the wilds to do something foolish and exerting as a distraction. Up until this moment, Bran had never understood the impulse, but now he understood with uncomfortable clarity. And yet he wasn’t sober enough to care if he took after his brother for one night. After all, tonight was a night when the roles were reversed. Balsi was the one taking on new responsibility by entering into a political engagement. Bran had suppressed an impulsive streak all his life; why shouldn’t he indulge it tonight, when Balsi could not?

He didn’t bother returning to his tent for his own equipment. He simply stopped by one of the weapons stores and grabbed a sword, bow, and quiver. Drunk hunting should do the trick to calm him... turn off whatever dark feelings these were that plagued him. No one would miss him.

[brandrvargramr]

inkeriernouf:

“A- a child?!” Who was he to call her a child? When it was he — he in that cave in the cold and dark — who made her anything but? Who took away her innocence and damned them both? He was not solely to blame, no, she knew that better than most. Probably more than he did, but all the same, there he was. The picture of what a Jarl’s son should be. Strong, unyielding, yet utterly and engagingly calm. Brandr, looking so stone faced as he passed her each time. So at peace as he avoided her gaze and so fucking guilt free and—

And there it was. The glimmer. That light and fury mirrored in his own eyes exploded the moment she declared him a coward. It was that which she’d been trying to gouge out of him, strip it from his skin and bones. Guilt, that’s what she saw, after so many moons of utter nothingness. Of avoiding her; of rarely speaking. Of pretending that nothing had happened. Inkeri had no love for Brandr Vargramr — how could love make her this angry? — of that single thing she was certain. But after that night in the mountains, when they returned home to discover her engagement to his own brother, they had not spoken. Had not shared their laments and their regrets. And it was for that reason that she danced with him in this way, constantly watched him for that glimmer of fiery guilt she was seeing now. For she had seen it now, she was not going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers like she has at the river. So, she did the only thing she could do.

She followed him.

Followed him until the heat of the bonfires no longer licked at her back, until moving bodies and laughing faces no longer filled her ears and eyes. She followed behind him, waiting long enough so that it would raise no suspicions. What was there even to be suspicious of at this point? It didn’t matter, anyways. Let them be caught. Let them be damned. Because she would rather be exposed to their people than left to wallow in this regret that pressed into her chest and made her feel like she was drowning. Always drowning. When she finally tracked him down within the thicket of the woods, she knew he would not notice her until she spoke — even in the dark, she could see his hooded eyelids, and how his chest rose slowly. Like he didn’t even give a damn about his sins and hers.

“Answer my question.” Inkeri’s hands closed into fists, her slight body trembling with visible anger as the words came through gritted teeth and she closed the distance once again. Only steps away she stopped, no longer bothering to quiet her words or hold back the scream. “I asked you — how. Are. You. So. Calm?!” An angry breath before the beast was released. “How do you fucking live with this?!” Gods, please. Please tell me. Another, and her voice was cracking, hoarse and almost terrifying to behold. “How did you make it stop?” Distance gone, palms slamming into his chest. Thud.

Thud. Thud. “Answer me, damnit!”

As his heartbeat slowed, Brandr could feel a little more of his usual self coming back to him. Soon, he would return to the festivities as if nothing had happened. Maybe he’d even be able to find another sparring tournament to join.

Of course, it wouldn’t be that simple.

The sound of her voice caused his heart to pound again, a single loud beat of alarm and despair, before settling into a softer, rapid rhythm of nerves. Why? he wondered. Weariness was starting to settle in, taking over slowly at the edges, creeping up his legs and fingers, clouding the edges of the darkness behind his eyelids. He didn’t open his eyes yet. He let her ask her question again. Her stupid, stupid, stupid question that he didn’t want to answer. Her hands on his chest left a different feeling than they had before—an ice cold tingle on his skin rather than a burn. Still he didn’t open his eyes, but his hands reached intuitively up to grasp her wrists while his head ducked swiftly to kiss her. Then, and only then, did he open his eyes.

“It doesn’t stop.” He couldn’t control his voice anymore, but he didn’t have to. The frustration sapped his energy as it came, creating a wave of angry exhaustion to keep him talking. “I stay calm because I have to. There isn’t any other way. If I don’t stay calm, no one in my family will have a clear head. We can’t all be like you, Keri. We’re not bastards with no responsibilities to worry about.” It wasn’t a condemnation, it was a statement of fact. “You told me your oldest brother, Eirik, is the responsible one. He looks out for you all, for your people, and one day for all of your territory. In my family, I have to be that person because Balsi sure as Hel won’t be. And my father would probably love him less if he was, as he does with me.”

Now that he spoke, it was hard to turn it off. And away from prying eyes, it was suddenly hard to stop looking at her. Feeling her skin against his again for the first time in a year was such a bizarre and pleasurable sensation. “I live with this because I have to. You will marry Balsi, and that is the end of that. Whatever this is we’re feeling and whatever we’ve shared in the past can’t exist. We have to erase it. If we don’t, if we let our guard down and anyone finds out, this peace treaty will be ruined and it will all be for naught. But the feeling doesn’t go away.”

There were no tears in his eyes, no hitch in his voice, but his frustration had spent his energy and the weariness had overtaken him. Bran could only hold her wrists and her gaze and pray she would finally, finally understand. “I don’t know how you’ll deal with it, but you have to find a way, Keri. Otherwise, we’ll all be right back to where we started. Until you figure it out, I can’t… I can’t be around you.”

“We’re bad for each other. And I won’t let us destroy our people.”

[brandrvargramr]

inkeriernouf:

A cowards answer, that was what came from his lips. A cowardly and roundabout way of simply saying no. No, he would not battle her, and that alone was enough to send anger sparking through Inkeri’s blood. It was icy and hot, disappointing and infuriating all at the same time. Inkeri had always been ruled by her own emotions, and this occasion was no different. Though for a moment — a simple fraction of a second — her face resembled that of a kicked dog, and it was hard to hide the disappointment before the anger found its way onto her features. Impossible. But, as quickly as that disappointment had appeared, it had faded. Her shoulders tensed, and the grip on her weapon turned pale white across her knuckles — It was all she could do not to scream at him again like she had at the river. They’d been locked in a battle this past year, yet the only moves Brandr had made were defensive. Deflective. She lunged and swung and desperately tried to hit him, tried to get a reaction and a sign that he had felt something…felt anything at all. Yet he sidestepped each time, and this was no different. Sorry. Ever the gentleman, save for the night they’d ruined each other.

“Sorry?” She hissed, and before she knew what she was doing, Inkeri had knocked the bowl from his fingers with the butt of her axe. Her breathing quickened. “You’re sorry, Brandr? What are you sorry for this time? The brawl? The mountains? That night?” Each word was like bitting down on ice, spoken with anger that had been bottling up for nearly a year. It exploded again, just like it had the last time they’d spoken. It took only several steps until she was a breath away from him, only seconds before she’d shoved him as hard as she could. The brawl would distract the villagers, but it was a crass idea all the same.

Inkeri shoved him a second time, her words colder than their predecessors. “How are you so calm, Brandr? Why won’t you do something? Why won’t you do anything? What’re you so afraid of?!” What she spoke of, she didn’t know. It could have been his refusal to battle, could have been about the night they’d warmed each other’s bed.

“You’re not sorry,” She said, locking her eyes on his as her expression went deathly still, save for the thunder in her eyes. “you’re a coward who won’t even try his luck in a Beltane brawl, brother-in-law.”

He’d known she wouldn’t take it well, and on one hand that was part of the plan. Sooner or later, she would get tired of him. Of doing this little jig of theirs. And perhaps she would come to hate him enough to let whatever remained between them die. She would back off for good, and Bran would once again be able to rest easy knowing he had done his duty as a good brother. He would have secured a place for Balsi in her heart by cutting himself from it, and they might even be able to enjoy a happy marriage. Maybe over time, she would hate Bran less, see why he’d done what needed to be done, and forgive him. Maybe someday, they could look back on all this and laugh. He prayed it might be so, because until it happened he couldn’t be certain. And of course, it wouldn’t solve the puzzle of his own foolish heart.

As the bowl dropped from his hands and rolled on the grass, Bran looked up at her. The anger in Keri’s eyes, as much as it hurt to see, gave him hope that his plan was close to succeeding. He thought she could have spat fire in that moment, had she a mind to try it, and her words lashed against him like whips. Her invasion of his personal space, the force behind her hands as she pushed him back a step, it was all heartwrenching and promising. A few eyes around them moved in their direction, but he couldn’t feel them. His skin under his shirt felt as though it was burning from where her hands had touched him. Inkeri had somehow mastered getting under his skin, pulling at his heartstrings, igniting his impetuous desires, and it took every ounce of will he possessed not to shove back, shout in her face, do what his brother might have done to answer such a challenge.

And he was doing so well. Until she spat the word ‘coward’ at him. Coward. One thing, above all, Bran would never be, no matter how his father proclaimed that patience and prudence were cowards’ tools. Fire ignited in his own eyes, a passion and a rage that was befitting of his very name. Brandr the flame, Vargramr the wolf-warrior. In that moment, the sudden twist of his lips into a vengeful frown terrified even him. Every urge told him to strike at such an insult, and only decades of careful self-training restrained him. Leaning close to Inkeri’s face, jaw tense and eyes reflecting fire, he whispered so none but she could hear, “Call me coward, but I’ll not be the fool in this game of yours, child. Take your anger and your tricks to my brother, he’ll love you more for them. I, at least, will do what I must to protect our people, even if you won’t.” Even when it kills me.

He could not look at her anymore. He needed to get away from her, from people, from noise and light and happiness. He needed a moment’s peace and quiet to calm himself. He couldn’t lose control like this. Damn her! Jaw clenched tight against any more words of fury, he turned and walked. Past unseen faces and muffled shouts, he walked, until he passed the sentries and into a line of trees and out of sight. He didn’t stop until he was well in the copse, the light of the fires only a glow in the distance, and his legs and heavy lungs bade him lean against a tree. His eyes closed against the dark, and his heart pounded a rhythm he could almost chant to. Leave me be. Leave me be.

[brandrvargramr]

inkeriernouf:

“I think you’re going to want a drink after you hear what I’ve got to say.” Inkeri had already finished a horn of ale, and that warrior heart of her’s was itching. Itching so bad that she didn’t care who or what she went after, only that she needed to throw herself into a brawl. Brawls were precious, now. Each one was becoming closer to her last. Try as she might to love Balsi, it discouraged her that she one day wouldn’t be able to wield the lithe axe that Rohan had crafted her. Eir - a blade called mercy, named for the goddess of healing and medicine. Inkeri didn’t want to show mercy today.

“Balsi is off throwing bones…apparently he has a title to protect.” She paused, almost nervous as she addressed Brandr. She’d been so rude to him, but then again, she was always rude to him. “So you and I have the next battle, Vargramr.” She gave him a cat like look, her head tilting sides ways as she looked him up and down. The music roared in her ears, but that infernal itch was the only thing she could think about. It was crying out to move, to sweat, to strain muscles to the point of pain. Just to distract her from the massive weight of responsibility that was bearing down on her slight shoulders. “What do nyou say? Want that drink? Might not be able to win otherwise.” It was a casual question, and there was even a grin, but the look in her eyes was anything but. Please.

Of course. Balsi would absolutely be the one to start a round of hnútukast. In the distance, Bran could hear a swell of shouting, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it was the epicenter of the bone-hurling. “You’ll be busy then,” he said, staring off towards the source of the commotion. “When Balsi plays, there’s always at least one broken bone still in a person, and more than enough cuts and bruises.” He definitely was too sober to look her in the eye right now. Her, of all people. She had to seek him out. She had to challenge him. She had to take Balsi’s place. Her future husband’s place. Fuck.

Emotions bubbled hot and unwieldy in his chest. There was one way out of this, but he knew she wouldn’t like it. And of course, there was the part of Bran that wanted to say yes. The thrice-damned part that felt the tug of Inkeri’s challenge and thrilled at the feeling, that craved any little intimacy with her that he could get, even with a sword and an axe between them. But that part needed to die. It was his duty to kill it, because after this festival, it would have no place in his life. Keri would be Balsi’s and he would be hers, and Brandr would be merely a brother-in-law. What they’d shared in the mountains had been born of desperation and foolishness. And by every god who watched him, Brandr would always be the responsible brother, even if it hurt him. “Blast it all,” he said, putting on his best cheerful face and giving what was intended to pass as a mock sigh. “You know my father would skin me alive if I set foot in the ring with his soon-to-be daughter-in-law. Drunk would be worse; he’d probably give you my skin as an apology for my foolishness.”

“Sorry, Keri,” he said, glancing at her and then down at the empty bowl in his hands. “I’m afraid I must concede to you on principle. Congratulations on advancing to the next round.”

[brandrvargramr]

breathingmyth:

“I can’t get drunk either or I’ll pass out and make a fool of myself.” And likely stop breathing in the process. “But not even a little?” The ale was beyond anything Runa had ever tasted, and it was from the Jarl’s personal stores. It couldn’t have been much to Brandr, being the Jarl’s son, but it tasted like Runa was drinking starlight. But Runa wasn’t one to force a drink on another, and especially not when Brandr’s eyes seemed so hollow. Something was going on, she could tell. Perhaps his tongue would loosen as the night progressed. The music and the smoke from the bonfires filled the night with a joy that Runa had imagined only existed in Valhalla.

“We don’t have to toast, though if you want water, I’ll grab you some.” The ale combined with being in the presence of an attractive warrior set Runa’s heart fluttering. She glanced at the bottom of her mug of ale, the drums falling into rhythm with her heartbeat. “You seem to be worried about something. If you want some soothing herbs then I could find you some. Or some tea, even.” Brandr’s smile seemed forced and fake, as if he was hiding something beneath. “Try to relax if you can. At long last there is peace.”

The light in her eyes as she almost made his smile more genuine. “I imagine that would be quite something to see,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Would you magic and spells be even more powerful when you’re drunk? Or would they be weaker? I can never seem to tell with our own seidr.” Bran also wasn’t adept at telling whether Manni was drunk or not. He was a peculiar man by nature, so whether his quirks were a side effect of drink or not was very hard to say. For Bran’s part, he knew himself well enough to know that once he got drunk, he’d likely become much more fun for others to be around. But he’d hardly recall it afterwards, and that wasn’t his plan this evening. No matter how good the ale being served was.

Her concern was so genuine that Bran felt the smile slide off his face. Guilt crept over him again. He should be happy. He should be relaxing and celebrating. He shouldn’t be wallowing in illogical jealousy and despair over something he couldn’t change even if he wanted to. “Thank you, Runa, that’s very kind of you. I’m alright, though.” He was a bad liar, and he hung his head with a grimace. “I’m merely... preoccupied. It’s a silly thing, really, and I don’t even know why I’m so worked up over it. But that’s always how it works, isn’t it? The smallest things are what trouble us the most, and when real trouble comes to our door, it seems so much easier to handle.”

[brandrvargramr]

“No, no, I told you,” Bran said, shaking his head emphatically. “I’m not drinking tonight! I’ll drink tomorrow and any day after that, I swear. Just let me have one night to enjoy all this sober.” Particularly given the announcement he knew was coming. It shouldn’t bother him, really, given that it was going to serve a higher purpose. Neither his, nor Balsi’s, nor Inkeri’s personal feelings really mattered compared to the prospect of ending a centuries old quarrel that no one understood anymore. The end goal far outweighed the cost, and he was happy to admit as much. But his head and his heart still felt heavy at the notion, and he knew that he was likely to imbibe just a smidge more mead than he would normally to cope in the days to come.

For one night only, he wanted a clear head with which to take in the beauty of what was taking place around him. The bonfires seemed to illuminate the whole valley, their light and smoke drowning out the stars. Music wove in and out of the crowds, different tunes and lyrics clashing into a festive cacophony. It was magnificent; what a wonder peace did for lightening everyone’s hearts. Except his own. Still, Bran forced a smile. “If it means so much, that I toast with you, get me a glass of water and I’ll toast with that. I’d like a clear head for when I challenge Balsi in the ring next.”

[brandrvargramr]

A full morning of running around, lifting, building, hammering, organizing, and running around some more left Brandr feeling positively starved by early afternoon. The series of tents forming across the gap of The Pass was coming together quite nicely, and there was still a smile on most every face he saw. Towards the market that had sprung up almost of its own accord nearby, there were tables with some food laid out upon them. Cooks nearby were keeping it well stocked, and the aroma from the fire pits was tantalizing. Bran helped himself to a leg and a cup of water, then found a pleasant patch of grass under a tree to sit. He’d barely taken one bite before a shadow fell over him, and he looked up. “Oh, no. You want food, head over there and get your own.”

[brandrvargramr]

Another Life! - DC Comics!

Oooh! Well, modern!Bran is a law student, so I imagine in the DC Universe he’d be a law student or young lawyer as well. No superpowers, though since his father is loaded he was given fencing lessons growing up and he still does it for exercise. I imagine he’d come home one day to find out that his brothers are secretly vigilante superheroes (because of course they are), and after quite a long stint of pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily while they explain everything... he finally stops them with a raised hand and says that he won’t tell anyone, especially Dad, and they just need to make sure they’re taking care of themselves, and if they get into legal trouble as heroes or need help looking anything up, just ask. But, like, in a roundabout way so that Bran can claim ignorance if anyone asks him about it. Naturally, they end up coming to him so often than he starts regretting he promised to help, but he likes making sure they’re staying as legal as possible and helping them stay safe. They keep asking him to get a costume and join them, but he refuses, saying he wants to do good without having to hide his face.

[brandrvargramr]

(AU ask meme) Another life: Victorian England

Victorian Bran would be the model gentleman. Pursuing a military career as his father desired, he would be the dashing young man in a red coat coming through town of the kind that you see in Jane Austen novels. The good looking boy who the local girls whisper over excitedly. But rather than play the field, he would be the perfect visitor and an absolute delight. Mothers everywhere would be all of a tither hoping to pair him up with their daughters. It would be quite awkward for him, of course, but he’d take it in stride. After all, his father would be a well-known lord, so he wouldn’t be short of manners and charm.

[brandrvargramr]

TASK #1: BRANDR VARGRAMR

“I’m gonna take care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job isn’t it? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass brother.” — Dean Winchester

[brandrvargramr]

nykrvargramr:

“More often then not, I find myself in stranger places then up a tree whenever I am with Kori.” replied Nykr, with a smile that matched Bran’s. You’d think that living in Alrekstad their whole life would soon make the young blacksmith run out of ridiculous ideas to try and persuade Nykr to go along with. Unfortunately for almost everyone in the village, their imagination was as vast and untamable as their passion. It seemed that almost every day Kori had a brand new bad idea, each one growing even more terrible than the last.

Nykr knew that he wasn’t as skilled of a warrior as Bran was, and that at such a close range, it would not take long for him to fall. It was not entirely his own fault. If any other warrior around his age asked to spar, Nykr would at least have a chance. There was no such chance present when you fought with one of the best warriors in the whole village. Still, the offer had sounded like a challenge. A true warrior never backed down from a chance to prove their skill, and Nykr never backed down from a chance to tease either of his brothers. “Do you think you can best me when you look so tired?”

One eyebrow rose at the thought of what their beloved blacksmith could be getting Nykr into these days. “Indeed? Now you have my curiosity. I would have thought you two had the entire length and breadth of the north covered by now. No nook or cranny left unexplored.” How he wished sometimes that he had the freedom to join them both on such adventures. It wasn’t as though he lacked entertainment or excitement, but Bran did sometimes get the feeling he’d missed out on some crucial points of youth. Ah, nonsense... he was still only twenty-six winters. It wasn’t as though he was an old man yet.

Bran’s smile broadened at Nykr’s retort. Nothing made him more proud than to see his little brother stepping up to a challenge, even one he knew might be a wash. “Oh come now, that’s hardly true! I don’t look that bad.” In truth, his match with Thorsteinn had stretched his muscles a little more than he had expected. But he wasn’t about to admit it. And it would be good to help Nykr gain a little more confidence on the field. He was always in fit enough shape for that. “Anyway, even at my most tired, I still look better than Balsi,” he added. “And I could still take you easily. What do you say?”

[brandrvargramr]

linhilda-vapni:

Linhilda smirked and walked closer to him to whisper “Well, I supposed a fine young warrior like you woud know…using his sword in other places besides the battlefield”, she smiled and walked backwards, laughing and then rolling her eyes “I’m just playing with you, Brandr, you know I do the same with Balsi and most of the time I end up embarrising, it’s quite fun listening to him trying to form words when he had too much of my ale”

Finna. Her worker’s name made her chuckle and nodd “Yes, I was there and I was affraid they were going to start throwing punching to each other or even worse, pick up the sword. What is their issue? I’ve never asked Finna because it seems its something between her and Balsi, but she needs to control her temper or she will end up killing the future Jarl and there will be no treaty”

He wanted to come up with a clever reply, but he was blushing so hard he could only splutter an odd kind of chuckle. “Ahh... haha. Yes, I’ve seen you do that with him. And here I was, thinking he was just sensitive.” How many times had he helped his brother home after a night of fun and listened to Balsi come up with clever retorts he should have told his good friend the Mistress of Ales when he had the chance? Enough to be an amusing memory which distracted from his present embarrassment.

Bran raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Odin’s eye, I didn’t realize it was at the alehouse! I’m so sorry, Linhilda, I would have come right away to help break it up had I known.” He shook his head and heaved a sigh. “I’ve really no idea, and at this rate I think only the gods know. Even Balsi doesn’t understand. I’ve asked, and it seems she just loves to pick a fight.” He sobered up a bit at the mention of the treaty, but nodded. “Yes, that’s my worry, too. Balsi doesn’t seem to realize exactly how valuable is life is nowadays.” The frustration in his voice was hard to hide. Of all the things Bran wished for at the moment, Balsi’s safety and an end to his recklessness was top of the list.

[brandrvargramr]

nykrvargramr:

The sun was high in the sky, and there was a pleasant breeze coming off the lake nearby. One would be sorely missing out if they decided to stay indoors today. Not that Nykr was ever one to stay cooped up for very long, even if the weather was foul. The call of the forest always drew him outside one way or another. Today, his ears guided him towards the area where most of the warrior’s training took place, and where he saw none other than his older brother currently sparring with a partner. Nothing out of the ordinary. Still, the way their bodies moved together was almost like a dance, and Nykr caught himself staring, unconsciously looking for any mistakes on either end. Unfortunately for him, most of those mistakes were not made by Bran, which meant he could not tease him about it later.

In fact, the mistakes were so few that Nykr did not have to wait long for his brother to defeat his partner, and soon after catch him in the act of watching the fight. “And why wouldn’t you see me out here? Do you think I sit inside all day while you train?” He glanced back towards Thorsteinn as he continued, “Do you ever tire of beating old men?”

"Never that, little brother,” Bran said with a wide grin. He’d never known Nykr to stay holed up indoors if he could help it. Which was all to the good—they’d had enough of that sort of thing as children, Nykr in particular. He’d always been glad of his brother’s love for the open air. Unlike Balsi, when Nykr went into the wilds, Brandr never had to worry that he would end up missing for long. “I always assume you find your way up a tree somewhere. Or that you are with Kori.”

As he watched Nykr look back to the training field, Bran closed his eyes briefly and gave a little nod of his head. “Of course, but what else am I to do? Balsi’s always too busy to spar anymore, and none of the other warriors of our years present as much of an exercise. Perhaps I should be challenging some of our new neighbors.” A quick scan of the crowd did reveal one or two Nynso natives, no doubt visiting on official business. He looked back at Nykr and gave him a fond wink. “Unless you’re up for a round, once I’ve had a drink.”

[brandrvargramr]

inkeriernouf:

Appearances over substance? Inkeri scowled, slamming a glass vial down on the table so hard it nearly cracked. Appearances over substance…my ass. The glare she shot him was one she’d given him countless times during their little adventure— a look that was dangerous, if not lethal. He knew damn well that the warriors of Nysno cared little of how they looked. He was the one who was going to end up with a blade in his spine if he kept that…that breath thing he did up. Not only was it lazy, but it gave away his next move. She’d have told him that —tried to be a little kinder, perhaps— but the mention of Balsi left her sputtering, her ears turning red.

“Don’t make me out to be some common house wife, Bran.” Gods, her being an attentive wife was something of a nightmare. The bastard shot him another glare as he pivoted away from her. “Go on then, get your damn— Lady?”  That was enough to have Inkeri dropping her sack and tearing off after him, spitting a string of curses that a proper Lady would have fainted at the sound of.

The short girl bent down, scooping up some of the mud that the melting snow had left behind. It wasn’t the smartest move, but then again, she did nothing smart when it came to Alrekstad’s second-born son. With a grunt of anger, she sent it slinging into the back of his head, hissing and spitting like a feline as she made to chuck another volley of filth his way. She’d show him just what Lady Ernouf was capable of.

He didn’t flinch at the sound of glass hitting wood hard enough to almost shatter. That was to be expected; he’d known that wouldn’t go over well the moment it had come out of his mouth. As was the smoldering glare she shot up at him, one he knew quite well. He didn’t glare back, kept the sour feelings growing in his stomach out of his expression entirely and well hidden behind that slightly forced smile. He’d already put his foot in the mire of this conversation, and while he didn’t feel bad enough to apologize in the face of her unwarranted ire, he was going to keep on trekking until he’d waded out. If she didn’t want to be civil, then that was her choice and he wouldn’t try to understand. But he would still be as civil as was physically possible, at least going forward.

So he just shook his head as he turned away. “I’m not making you out to be anything. No one ever makes you out to be anything except yourself. I’ve learned that much.” And it was true. Keri fiercely guarded her identity—she alone dictated who she was. It was part of why he admired her. Had admired her. Whatever he felt before, he didn’t now, couldn’t afford to. It was irrelevant. The way they’d been in the mountains... they never could be again. And with the way she was behaving, Bran didn’t think it would be worth it. Clearly he’d meant nothing to her. All for the better. Perhaps she and Balsi would be suited for each—

The ball of mud hit him with a splat, jolting his head forward and causing him to lurch. He retained his footing and raised a hand, perplexed, to feel the mess dripping down his neck and onto his back. She hadn’t... Surely not. Not in public. The little fights they’d gotten into in the mountains were different. This was right in front of a whole crowd of people from both their towns. But he turned his head to look at her, eyes wide and brows furrowed, and her expression told him everything. She most certainly had, and was about to again. “Inkeri, what—” He narrowly dodged another fistful of muddy earth, and now it was his turn to glare, this time in bewilderment. “Keri, what in the Hel are you doing?!”

[brandrvargramr]

breathingmyth:

Runa leaned against the fence that separated the sparring ring from the rest of the village, digging her nails into the tough wood made soft by the recent rainfall. Such a delicate thing as water, how telling that it could erode even the firmest of materials. Wood, earth, stone…she snapped back into the present, suddenly aware of Brandr’s presence. “Oh…thank you. I was trained to see everything, not just what immediately meets the eye. Your father is a wise man.” Wise, yes, but overbearing enough to sentence Inkeri to the death of her dreams.

“We don’t fight in the way that you know of. We are travelers, weavers of destiny, and we are the eyes of both peasants and Jarls alike. So…no, we don’t fight much. I never could learn because…” Runa trailed off. It was so difficult to speak to a warrior without messing up her words, at least when she was speaking as a girl and not as a Seidr. Runa the Seidr was wise and well-spoken. Runa the village girl was awkward and sickly. She stood on the first rung of the fence and rested her head on her hands. “I’ve told you who I am. Who are you, sword-dancer?”

She seemed to be wrapped up in a thought of some importance, and he worried for a moment that he’d said something wrong. When she replied, Bran breathed out a little sigh of relief and smiled again. “I can see why that would be useful. I mean, just going from what little I know of your practice.” He swallowed a bitter grimace at the mention of his father’s “wisdom”. In many areas, certainly. Ulfarr was, at the very least, a tactical and cunning man, proud and noble and with years of experience to guide him. But wise? Bran had doubts which he dared not express anymore. “Well, he’s not our Jarl for nothing,” he finally admitted a little lamely.

Runa’s explanation of the way of the seidr was fascinating, and in some ways mirrored the tidbits he’d heard from Manni over the years. “Because what you do is much more important than fighting?” he supplied when she dropped her sentence. At least, that would be his reasoning. He’d never ask a seidr to pick up a sword unless the need was most dire. They might be misunderstood by most people, existing on a peculiar line between reality and an unseen realm of magic and wonder, but they still provided many important functions that average people couldn’t live without. “Me?” Bran blinked, surprised at the question. “Erm... well, usually I’d say something like ‘Jarl’s son’ or ‘warrior’, but you’ve raised the bar.” He tilted his head and gave her a keen look. “Who do you think I am?”

[brandrvargramr]

linhilda-vapni:

Linhilda rolled her eyes but didn’t lose her smile. “You’re right, fighting is not my thing. Swords and knives are Kori’s world, not mine. I’m not that interested in…fighting like that group of girls over there, who are about to faint at the sight of the handsome Brandr Vargramr”, she pointed to seven girl talking in whispers, pointing at him and giggling every once in a while. “I’m sure they’re thinking in another kind of fighting, one that happens in the bedroom and not in the field”. They were just a couple of teenagers bur still, it was fun to watch them.

“The best warriors you say? I can’t say that’s true. I’ve never seen your warriors in actual battle, but for what life has taught me, I know that there’s always something or someone better than us in any way. I’m sure there’s an army stronger that ours, you can be sure about that” Linhilda stroked the cat and smiled “Finna can take care of herself. I’m…kinder than she is. I can leave a broken nose, but she…she’s a Valkyrie”

Bran followed the line of her finger and felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks and his ears. He quickly averted his eyes from the girls, a very strange mixture of embarrassment and guilt making him swallow hard. “Oh, er.... I suppose. Maybe they are? I-I’m afraid I wouldn’t really know.” The number of onlookers who’d started frequenting his practices had increased of late, and more often than not it left him feeling awkward. Most of the people in Alrekstad had seen his fighting style by now, it wasn’t anything particularly special, just effective. But with the peace with Nynso and the increased traffic of their people through his home village, circulating stories of the battle at The Pass and his disappearance with Keri, many more people came to see his skills. How else would he have survived wounded for weeks unless he could swing a blade with ease? That was fine... it was the ones like those girls, giggling and eyeing him, who made things weird.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly, seeing her point. “True enough. I’m certain the warriors in Asketill are quite well-trained and fierce in battle. They’re the king’s warriors, after all, so they would have to be the best. But I still don’t think anyone on the north side of The Pass holds a candle to us.” A little smile of pride crossed his face, followed by a laugh. “That she is! I’m certain she’s descended from their line, in any case. Did you see the aftermath of her and Balsi’s last scuffle? Could’ve sword he’d been fighting a wildcat.”

[brandrvargramr]

Ask meme: #4

Best places to kiss on their body:

For years, Bran wouldn’t have thought of any other place than the lips. Mostly just through inexperience. After all, he’d only ever really kissed Arna before, and as that had ended up feeling very weird, he didn’t feel keen on doing it again. Much less having it be anywhere else on his person.

Then came his stint in the cave with Inkeri. After that, there are few places on his body he wouldn’t like having kissed. The way her lips felt on his neck and his collarbone was particularly sublime, though, and probably the first thing that pops into his mind when he thinks about that period of time.