It Turns Out Even Godlike Vikings Knew The Fine Art Of Douchebaggery

WTF, Harbard, seriously.

"Portage" is not a good episode for relationships, and let's face it, Vikings isn't happy bodice-ripper nonsense like Outlander anyway. I mean, on this show any time a man or woman doesn't get killed after sex, it's a win. Oh, and before I forget -- RIP, Yidu. Apparently drug dealers had short life spans even before the creation of meth.

But on the spectrum of crappy relationships that didn't end in murder (which was more than one this week, jeez), Harbard takes the damn cake for being a complete 21st century-style asshat: the only difference is he's wearing burlap, but who knows? Maybe some hipsters in Brooklyn are weaving their very own artisanal sackcloth as we speak. God knows the beard is still on point.

We knew Harbard was screwing around on poor Aslaug, although up until this week we could have had a little compassion for him. He shows up unannounced, having received her psychic email of yearning or whatever, and is all ready to offer her his unique brand of emotional healing. But Aslaug seems more interested in complaining about her ruined marriage, staring at Harbard longingly, but refusing to give in to desire because...Ragnar would be mad at her? Oh, wait, he's already mad at her. Seems to me the cat is out of the bag, so what's the big deal? It's not like Ragnar isn't already going to suspect that she cheated on him once he hears Harbard dropped in during his absence.

But this week, Aslaug has to get a look at the three-way porno that Harbard's been enjoying with the local womenfolk. She breaks what sounded like dishes (which seems like a very modern tantrum, because it's not like a Viking can run off to IKEA to restock) and stomps and screams like Carrie Bradshaw on a bender. Except for the slaves hanging around looking mortified, it feels like the stuff of a bad rom-com. But then, it gets worse.

Although the Vikings didn't have television, jazz records, cigarettes, white T-shirts or any of the stuff that makes a truly douchey modern man, guess what? Harbard has the rap down pat. But I only love you, babe! Don't try to possess me, because possession isn't love. Don't break my Dylan records when you toss them out the window!

Aslaug, to her credit, seems to think he's as full of shit as any woman hearing this kind of rationalization would, but there's one catch. Harbard is still kinda selling himself as a god, and Aslaug isn't so sure he isn't one. To his credit, he did seem to take away Ivar's pain, so she can't really say he's completely full of shit even if she believes it because then he might give it back, and no one wants to hear Ivar screaming all damn day and night. Hey, this was before Tylenol, and Yidu only shared her stash with Ragnar, so Aslaug doesn't want to take any chances.

I'm pretty sure a lot of scumbag guys are wondering if they can use the Norse god angle themselves, because it might be their get-out-of-jail-free card if they ever found a girl dumb enough to buy into it. Short answer: no, shut up, put on some pants.

Hagard, who cannot be possessed, and is free like the wind, and only puts his penis into multiple women out of the goodness of his own heart, may have taken off -- to clean himself up, if he's being sensible. But let's hope that Aslaug, having broken as many dishes as she can, has now moved past anger and acceptance to complete disdain. If Harbard comes back...well, I'd say I hope she'll slam the door in his face...but then, none of the Vikings actually have doors.

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