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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years

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Contending the Flame IV

Author’s Note: Hope everyone had a safe and fun Halloween! Not much else to say here as we start to delve deeper into Ivar and the Nuns new relationship and the two different worlds they come from. Thanks as always for being so awesome!

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 2217

Warnings: Language, Master/Servant dynamic

His brothers had kept a close eye on Ivar since acquiring his new thrall. He still played at the leader of their army, but he had refrained from shutting them out of power entirely. Any chance they had at lending a commanding voice they took. Hvitserk's strategy of giving their little brother a distraction was paying off.

The changes in Ivar's behavior were minuscule. Only Ubbe and Hvitserk took notice. It was the same when they were children when someone would give a new gift to Ivar. It would be a stretch to say he was happy, but his vengeance had quelled. For the moment it was enough, and they could focus on securing lands for their people while Ivar was preoccupied.

It was strange for a thrall not to be seen waiting over their master's every whim, but it seemed Ivar wouldn't permit you to leave his quarters. The other slaves they had acquired tended to him during meals, and when he walked the streets with his guards, you were always absent. Ubbe walked alongside Hvitserk contemplating this.

"What do you think he has her do for him?" Ubbe wondered aloud.

Hvitserk's brows puckered in thought. "Don't know. I can't imagine they have much to talk about, and I know the one thing they aren't doing."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, think about it," Hvitserk jested with a smirk. "I suppose that must make him a good fit for her. She'll remain a virgin after all."

Ubbe latched onto Hvitserk's arm, pulling him to a stop as he gave him a harsh look. "Those are dangerous words, brother. Remember Sigurd. I don't want to see another brother dead because of Ivar's fragile grasp of his anger. He has poor sensibilities when it comes to that matter. It's unfair, but it's not his fault."

Hvitserk shook off Ubbe's grasp and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. "Right, that was stupid. I do pity him, though I don't think he'd want it. Who knows how he'll be when we start having families of our own."

Ubbe grunted. "He'll probably resent us, more than he does already. I think I understand why he keeps her away from everyone. Besides our mother, no one has ever taken to Ivar's company outside of obligation or familial bond. He's lonely."

"And it's not as if she can refuse," said Hvitserk. "But she's a Christian. That's got to account for some strife between them."

They continued on their way towards the center of the city. Food was beginning to run scarce, and it seemed the Saxons were holding steadfast on starving them out. While Ivar was willing to take their army to its limits to play Aethelwulf's game, Ubbe and Hvitserk were devising their own plan to negotiate land. They just needed a little more time. Many things rested in the hands of the nun, as unaware as you were.

"I just hope he hasn't harmed her," Ubbe said while they passed through the market.

Hvitserk looked grim, a heaviness settling on him that had replaced his usual cheer. "Ivar did always break toys. We have to hope that Christian isn't as weak as she looks."

ooOOoo

You were growing accustomed to your new station. As a woman, it was your lot in life to suffer, and you took your new situation as a test from God. The heathen, Ivar, he had made no bid to harm you. That wasn't to say he was good company to keep. He had taken to trying to instruct you in a handful of words and phrases of his language. Some of the words were difficult to form with your accent, and when you mispronounced things, he would grow irritated and throw things at you. Uttering dark curses in his tongue, you were certain he had insulted you as well, but it was better than a flogging.

At night you continued to pray, your back to your master, and the words spoken only in your head. You were sure they reached God, even without a rosary in your grasp or the piety to kneel. In your heart, you struggled to keep hope alive. If this test was to be your final judgment from God, its purpose remained clouded to you.

It was late when Ivar returned, and you had remained awake for his arrival. You now slept when he did, short and inconsistent hours of the night, only to be woken before the dawn. He did not rest well. Be it from his duties or pain you could not say, but he never faltered from exhaustion. This pattern must have been his usual routine, life at war.

Ivar's eyes sought you out the moment he came through the door, and you returned the stare. He had only just started walking in his new contraptions, a set of iron braces that he had created from pride. His determination to walk was admirable. You had never witnessed such a fighting spirit before, and you were certain it was a blessing from God.

"Something you wish to say?" Ivar interrupted your thought, a scowl on his face from your lingering gaze on his legs.

"It is a good thing," You said while rising from your corner of the floor. "I believe God has blessed you."

Ivar snorted, blue eyes rolling at your absurdity to insinuate such a thing. He took a slow seat on his pallet of furs and started to remove the braces. "Really, and why would that be?"

"You are not the first cripple I have met, but you are the most assiduous."

You could see him test out the word for himself, a lack of understanding passing over his face. "I'm not sure what that means, but I like how it sounds."

"You have an unrelenting heart. Strong-willed and resolute in your goals. I find you impressive."

He halted what he was doing, and took a long, considering look at you. "I've been this way for as long as I can remember. It is the way if I am to be seen as a true Viking to my people."

"So there are others like you?" You asked as you approached him with careful steps.

"There are not many cripples among my people, no. A child born with a deformity such as mine is left to die. I would have been if not for my mother. She was softhearted, and couldn't bear my loss."

You didn't want to have any strong sort of feelings towards your captor, but to learn that he had been left to die as a helpless babe engulfed you in sorrow. "It isn't wrong for a mother to feel pity for her child," You murmured, showing how distraught you were by such a story. "You don't sound grateful for her mercy."

Ivar's face hardened at your sentiment. "Mercy is for Christians. I would have done the same as my father. I loved my mother, but there are days I resent her for her choice. Her gifts failed to foretell the agony I would endure at the hands of compassion."

"What gifts?"

"She was a Vülva, a woman seeress of our people who has visions of the future."

You frowned at such a concept. "That sounds like sorcery to me."

"I forgot your people fear magic and witchcraft," Ivar said in a teasing tone. "My mother would have hated you. She was too steeped in the beliefs of our own people to have care about your sensitive notions of God. My father would have liked you though."

You blushed at the idea of such a great man holding you in favor. Though you didn't hail from Wessex you had heard the stories of the Viking King who fought for Mercia and befriended King Ecbert. "King Ragnar? Why do you think that?"

"He was often amused and curious about your God. Maybe you would have reminded him of Æthelstan, his Christian monk." Ivar resumed the task of taking off his braces, wincing in pain whenever a particular part pinched or pulled at his legs. "Here, come help me with this."

Startled by such a request, you moved with haste and uncertainty. Ivar showed you which parts to unclasp, and you would mimic his actions with a gentler touch, stopping entirely when he would let out any sound of discomfort. You were certainly slower at the task than if he completed it himself, but he seemed to enjoy watching you work over him, and you were grateful for the distraction.

"What about your family? Where are your mother and father?" Ivar asked while leaning back on the strength of his arms.

"They're both dead," You said, pausing only a moment to collect yourself before continuing on his braces. "I was born in Rendlesham, in East Angles. My mother was a whore, and I never knew who my father was as a result of that. When she died, I was orphaned to the streets until the church took me in. Being of such low birth standing, I turned to the church as my ray of hope."

You could feel Ivar frowning at you, but you did not waver. "Did you not want to be something more than a nun?"

You breathed a laugh. "Such as what? Saxon women are not allowed to be warriors."

"Yes, but isn't there a way you could have improved your situation?"

"No," You said bluntly. "Blood is everything. Those who are of Royal standing will always be in power, and through marriage, their line continues. The best I could have hoped for was a marriage to a farmer, and he would have to have been a poor one. I would have raised his children, and likely died young from childbirth."

"I see now why you're a nun," said Ivar. When you chanced a look up at him, he appeared troubled by your story. "Those Saxons in power are greedy. They keep all for themselves and give nothing back. What chance is there of an honorable death for those forced to live a life of poverty?"

"If you die without sin, you go to Heaven. We have no need for honor."

"A life without sin," Ivar hummed. "As if any man is capable of such purity."

"A Priest is," You argued back. "It takes a nobleman to obtain such a pious position in the church."

"Is it noble for these men to keep silver and gold in their churches while children run through the streets, no better than dogs?" Ivar had sat forward, his eyes emboldened with the wrath of a demon. "I have seen your noblemen of the cloth, and they died screaming the same as any sinning heathen of mine."

You lost your balance, falling flat on your bottom as you gazed up at Ivar in terror. "What did you do to them?"

"The things I've done to your priests," Ivar paused, a calm washing over him. "It would make Loki grin."

The suffering of your people seemed to fall down on you like a star collapsing from the night sky. When he spoke, you could almost forget that Ivar was your enemy, but he had now made it clearer than ever where the line in the sand was drawn. You were just a slave, a Christian slave, and how soon would it be before he tired of you? You did not wish the same fate to befall you as it had for the priests, whatever it had been.

"I have not dismissed you," Ivar tutted when you began to walk away to your corner, unaware yourself that you had begun to do so. You craved distance from him, even if it was only a few feet away.

At first, he tried to manage his composure, calling you back with his voice deliberately even. When it became clear that no amount of coaxing on his part would work, he started yelling in his language. That word came up again, 'Ólaug'. It had been peppered into a number of your one-sided conversations. If he had tried to brand you with a new name, you would refuse. He would not take who you were.

Your fight ended with him throwing one of his crutches at you. It landed just before you, and you were able to contain your flinch. Ivar scoffed at your non-reaction and threw himself back onto the furs. He had finished disrobing and gave you the courtesy of his back, which appeared to be covered in a new etched design each time you saw him. Matched against your own untainted skin, it was a reminder of how different the worlds you came from were.

When you were sure Ivar had fallen asleep, you moved to get under your own thin pile of wool blankets. They were scratchy and held none of the warmth of the furs, but it was not the worst sleeping conditions you had ever weathered. That night you prayed for the lost Priests, and for God to take away your suffering. You didn't see a way out of your situation, but if God acted through you, you were certain to find your answer. Content to keep faith in your heart, Sister Mary Catharine slept, ignorant to the matter that Ivar was awake and watching you.

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luciferianbuddhism · 7 years

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The Danger

So I have been reading one of @dakinidarce favorite books, The Tantric Path of Indestructible Wakefulness. It has been really interesting so far and I am nowhere near done. Some of it has been confusing and other I can see mythology and it makes me understand my Buddha Tarot more. The other part is that some of what it talks about match my struggles and feelings and thoughts. I figure I would chronicle it out here. I won’t backtrack through what I have already read but I’ll start with what I read today.

“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” - Bilbo

Ignore for the moment that this is talking about vajrayana. If you throw another word in it, you could probably match and spiritual path but I am referring to my own path as a Luciferian Buddhist and a witch.

“When you learn about the elements of the vajrayana path, it seems to be very easy. You think that you can tune in very fast, right away, right off the street. It is possible that if you started right off the sidewalk, you could be zapped in your ordinary mind, in some way. But it is also possible that if you do not know how to relate with the ocean, you could be pulled under the water. We do not want to take that kind of chance with anybody. The path and the work that has been done by our ancestors is very important, and we have to respect that. The ocean is very dangerous.

If you watch parachutists jumping so nicely, pulling their cords, opening their chutes, and landing gracefully, it looks very easy, very nice and pleasurable. But if you try to do it yourself and you don’t pull the cord, you go straight down. Likewise, if you watch a master calligrapher doing brushstrokes, it looks very simple. The brush and the ink go along with the paper so nicely. But if you try to do it yourself, you find that you come out with a black hand, and the ink will not come off even if you use soap.”

I have never thought of my path as dangerous. I mean what is so wrong about being spiritual? Religious? It seemed easy at first but it was also incredibly confusing. I fumbled and stumbled and drew blanks. I approached it with fear, love, and devotion. Respect was important as well. I am still stumbling. I often feel like an artist who keeps drawing and re-drawing. You know like when an artist shows a piece of work from a year or even a couple of years ago and then re-draws it to show what they are capable of now. (This is going to be a recurring theme in writing)

I also think it’s this element that has drawn me looking into initiation into this Alexandrian Coven but also why I deeply appreciate the Sangha. Our Elders and our Ancestors are important because they are a lineage of teachers. We share in that destiny whether we are a ‘coven’ or ‘nexus’ or a Sangha or even solitary. It is the same with our own family and land history. I am joined to an online Sangha and to a physical Sangha that falls under Plum Village (Thich Nhat Hanh). I am currently considering checking out the Zen Meditation Center but also the Shambala Meditation Center as well.

The teachings are important of each tradition and obviously following them. They are meant to work on you like an alchemy process. However, when you are on a unique path it is much harder. You are searching and searching and then you re-draw. Sometimes you throw out a brush for a new one. Your lineage is many brooks joining to the pond, to the main river, that flows out to the sea. Yet it is so very easy to be swept away when we do not tread carefully. I do not think it is impossible to return.

I wasn’t always Buddhist. My path has been wonky from Christianity to flouting with Druidism. I discovered Buddhism just as I plunged into the O9A. I eventually turned to Buddhism and then flowed right into Luciferianism. All the while I kept practicing witchcraft. So I have many many streams that are flowing into the river. Each stream affected how I practicing my witchcraft but also how I lived my life and the values I had.

I have one real fear when it comes to Buddhism, to practicing Luciferian Buddhism. I want to do it right. I want to apply the teachings properly. I don’t want to forget the lineage that has created me either, the ancestors and the Sangha. When I practice witchcraft, when I participate in activism and protests I ask myself, is this right action? Does this generate bodhicitta? It is alright to make mistakes we are only human after all.

“The vajrayana is that same kind of situation. It could be dangerous for you because you might end up doing everything the wrong way. If someone said that you should develop egolessness, and you developed your ego instead, you could become an egomaniac. If you were told to express your emotions and develop compassion, and you misunderstood that instruction, you might think that expressing your hatred was the same as expressing your love; so you might decide to massacre a few people. If you heard that at the advanced level of vajrayana there is no need to meditate, you might take that literally and just hang around with no awareness and mindfulness.”

The author of the book states it so wonderfully. This is indeed what I struggle with. I often pull myself apart in trying to shove away negative emotions but also when I get wrapped up in the ego and not act in a way that develops bodhicitta. I want to justify anger even while it makes me uncomfortable. I want to justify violence even when I know better. Throwing Molotov cocktails will not solve the problem of the bourgeoisie though it may ruin police cars and set literal fire to the world.

It’s like eating vegan or vegetarian versus eating meat. Buddhists generally try to eat that way but many end up eating only a little meat. They reduce their meat intake because it is about reducing suffering in the world. There is so much suffering the world and it is very hard to disentangle from it. It’s kind of sad when people who are vegan will eat quinoa ignoring this harsh issue involving human suffering. Sometimes there are not easy choices about it all.

Yet talking about the issue of not eating meat I have also heard that “Well they are going to die anyways. Even if they do not suffer, they are going to die.” I am not sure how I feel about that. It’s why I worry at times what is proper because when you start to understand emptiness and ego it gets very confusing and painful. I don’t want to go back with misunderstanding the teachings. I want to be soft. I want to be compassionate. I want to be in a sense, a spiritual warrior who lives her values and presences them in such a way that all can see. There is a Chaplain at the hospital that I work at and she radiates this deep peace and acceptance. I asked her if she was Buddhist or influenced by Buddhism and she was. I want to be like her. I want to be like the Dalai Lama and all the great teachers. I want to attain Buddhahood, not just for my sake but for the sake of all living beings.

This is also why I am who I am. I adore the popular myth of Lucifer as an angel who stood against God and Genesis tale of Eve who ate the fruit. She did choose to eat it after all. It is also why I still admire Jesus Christ. It is why I am an anarchist and involved into activism and why I continue to teach myself as much as I can about the issues. It is a desire to be Lucifer, rebel angel, who struggles against the Titan God, the Great Machine called government. But take out that devastating pride that is witnessed.

“Those kinds of misunderstandings could be very dangerous, so it is important to relate what you learn about the vajrayana path to the hinayana and mahayana. In order not to abuse the teachings or to view the vajrayana as a kind of Disneyland, it is necessary to continue the disciplines of the hinayana and mahayana. A Tibetan proverb says that if a fox tries to swim, his tail will get wet and he will lose his arrogance. He will end up with a big spongy bundle hanging behind him that he cannot even curl.”

It’s why I always return to the basic teachings, practices, and to the stories and myths. One must practice and practice and then turn to the teachers of the lineage for all your questions. It’s why the community is important. They are there to guide you not rule you.

All of this is now why I deeply understand when one is told to take refuge in the Three Jewels which is Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. Buddha is the teacher, the root, the universe, and Buddha is in all of us. We all have Buddha nature. Then there is the Dharma and it is the teachings. Then we have the Sangha, the community of monks, nuns, and lay people. The lay people support the monks and nuns who spend their time without all the distractions of the modern who practice and then, in turn, teach us the Dharma and give guidance.

When you begin to see it, it flows through you. It becomes like instinct. You do not even give it a second thought as you live it. Awareness rises and understanding deepens and you become sharp and soft. You become well-forged steel.

At least this has been my experience with practicing meditation and mindfulness. It continues to teach me. Then I practice compassion and vow every day to strive to be a Bodhisattva. It is through this that I also experience what it means for me to be a Luciferian, to struggle for this world and not for me and to fight a good fight. It is about keeping my head up and being a light. It is also about forever learning and deepening my understanding.

So when I do practice my witchcraft it is through this vehicle that I practice. My witchcraft expresses my worldview. My witchcraft becomes the skillful means that I use to maneuver this world. It is through it that I commune with my ancestors that are and will yet be. For as I plunge through the mysteries, I learn, I know, I dare to become free and to attain Buddhahood. All I can pray through all of this is that my flickering candle helps to light other candles before I return to the cosmic soup.

#luciferian buddhism #buddhism #witchcraft #sorta #luciferian

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