#(sorry harald they forced me to choose)

[thenameswinter99]

Remember, I love you.

For the ask...

Jefferson, Daeron and Harald

😘

This is me while reading your ask

Kick them out of bed:

I know I am a masochist for wanting this piece of beef out of my bed, but between him and Jefferson I would choose Harald for the same Cregan's reasons I listed here (excluding the "fuck the prince" part).

2. Let them stay to cuddle:

Don't get charmed by his smile. He's MAD.

Still, he has a tragic past behind him, and for the ones who at least watched a season of OUAT know what I mean. Jefferson only deserves a warm bed, a hot cup of tea, to be cuddled between his beloved and daughter. Just this.

3. Introduce them to friends & family:

Sadly, we don't have Daeron's actor yet, so I'll put my faceclaim for him.

The nickname says everything. Daeron the Daring. The most gentle, courteous and clever of all the Targtower boys. And as his uncle Gwayne said, "he's adept with his lute as he is with his sword, and a feature in the fancies of many a young lady".

So, Gwayne perfectly describes a young man (with a disfunctional family on his shoulders) who is chivalrous enough to be accepted by your friends and parents in a heartbeat.

Rank three fictional characters ask game

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today II

A/N: Hi! So, we’ve got a bit of exposition in this chapter, but I really wanted to explore Aethelind’s response to what has happened in Kattegat, and Ivar’s hand in it, as well as something of a refresher on the situation and a brief explanation to make this readable for anyone unfamiliar with Vikings! I hope this hasn’t made this chapter too boring, and that it will still be enjoyable even if it’s dealing with material we’re probably familiar with! We’ll be getting back to new territory with the next chapter, so until then- skål, and I’ll see you next week! (Taglist at the end!)

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

—

It hadn’t taken long for Aethelind to go and find the Vikings. She knew her brother would have questions, and if she wanted his support in supporting Lagertha, she was going to need answers for him. Answers that, truthfully, would only come from her Viking guests. Aethelind figured it would be smarter to get those answers before she saw her brother.

Lagertha, Björn, Ubbe, and Torvi were all congregated in Lagertha’s chambers, trying to make a plan concerning Kattegat, when there was a knock on the door. The four looked up, then to each other, sharing a suspicious glance amongst themselves as Lagertha called out, “Who is there?”

"It is Aethelind,” a gentle voice replied, and the Vikings shared a look of relief as Lagertha called for her to enter. It was true that they didn’t trust anyone there in Wessex very much, but watching the way Aethelind came into the room, the idea of trusting her- at least a little- became a bit more bearable. And really, did they have any other choice?

Aethelind offered each of them a warm smile. “I wanted to apologize for my brother,” she began. “He worries for our kingdom, but I believe there is no reason we cannot protect our people, and help our friends. So, I would like to formally welcome you back to the Kingdom of Wessex. It’s an honor to have you here.”

“You are very generous, Princess,” Lagertha replied politely, and stood to go and greet Aethelind properly. “And we are very grateful. You have already done more than we hoped you might.”

Aethelind shook her head, taking Lagertha’s hands in her own. “I cannot begin to imagine what you have been through,” she said. “I’m sure this is quite the least we can do to help, but I promise you, I will speak to my brother about doing more.”

Lagertha squeezed her hands slightly. “Thank you, Your Highness,” she said. “It is true, we have been through… very much, lately.”

“Would you be horribly affronted if I asked you to sort of… elaborate on this for me? Before today, the last I had heard of the sons of Ragnar was that they had killed my grandfather, King Aelle. But now…” She paused, and turned to Björn and Ubbe. “I have two of those sons as guests in my villa. I think it’s time I heard your story.”

Aethelind released Lagertha’s hands and gestured for her to sit once again, before seating herself between Björn and Ubbe. But neither man had the chance to explain before Torvi, Ubbe’s wife, was speaking up.

“You do not hate them for killing your grandfather?” the doe-eyed blonde asked Aethelind, looking across at the woman who had sat on Björn’s other side.

Aethelind’s eyes widened and she felt her cheeks darkening a bit as blood rushed into them at Torvi’s question. “He had a… predisposition to cruelty, and I knew he had killed Ragnar,” she managed. “I suppose I just… understood.”

“And… this had nothing to do with Ivar?” Ubbe asked. Aethelind’s cheeks reddened further, betraying the answer before she could even say anything. She found herself wishing he weren’t so perceptive. “He spoke of you when he returned, as I mentioned before. You must have been close to him.”

Aethelind sighed, and nodded a bit. “I… confess, I did hope my grandfather’s death might bring him some peace,” she admitted.

“Ivar has never had peace,” Björn said. “He is too violent a man for that.”

Aethelind’s brow creased thoughtfully for a few moments, before she shook her head. “He was not violent when I knew him,” she countered. “He was vastly intelligent, I could tell that much without even understanding so much as a word he said. We used to play chess, and we’d play together and beat my brother. But when my brother did win, he was never given to anger. He was always so gentle… How could such a sweet boy have become such a violent man?”

"He was always cruel,” Ubbe said. “Wickedly smart, but cruel all the same. It adds to his violence.”

The look on Aethelind’s face made Torvi’s chest ache, and she turned to whisper to Ubbe, “Let her breathe. This must be quite a shock to hear. We know he’s good at presenting himself however he chooses, and she didn’t exactly know him for very long. Give her a moment.”

Ubbe nodded, and soon all attention was on Aethelind, who took a deep breath and then looked up. “How did you come to be here, then?” she finally asked.

She had expected that Ubbe would be the one to explain, but he didn’t. Instead, it was Lagertha who spoke. “I killed the Queen, Aslaug,” she confessed. “Neither my son, nor any of hers, agreed with what I had done, but they all chose to respond to the change of power in very different ways. Björn, of course, stayed with me, but-”

“I joined Ivar in going to make an attempt on her life,” Ubbe suddenly broke in. “She had killed our mother, after luring myself and our brother, Sigurd, away to keep us from protecting her. Sigurd was unmoved by our mother’s death, but I only gave up on my pursuit of revenge because Björn asked that Ivar and I spare Lagertha.”

“I did not ‘ask’ you not to kill her,” Björn countered. “I told you, you would have to kill me if you wanted to kill my mother. You conceded then, Ivar did not.”

“And where was Ivar?” Aethelind asked. “I can’t imagine he would have just… let his mother be killed, not without at least trying to stop it.”

“He was still here in Wessex, or perhaps on his way home, when our mother was killed,” Ubbe answered her. “He returned with news of our father’s death, only to be given news of our mother’s.”

Aethelind swallowed hard, and asked, “So you, Ivar, and your brother Sigurd all lost both your parents in quick succession?”

"And Hvitserk,” Ubbe added. “Our other brother. He agreed with Sigurd, and took no action against Lagertha.”

Aethelind nodded, going over all the information she had in her head so far. So, Björn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar were the sons of Ragnar. Björn was Lagertha’s son, and Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar were Aslaug’s. When Lagertha killed Aslaug, Björn supported her (though he didn’t approve of the action), Hvitserk and Sigurd remained neutral, and Ubbe and Ivar attempted to avenge their mother. Ubbe, however, conceded, while Ivar wouldn’t. This was all very complicated, in her opinion.

With all this straightened out in her mind, Aethelind asked, “So where was Hvitserk, then, if not with Aslaug?”

“In the Mediterranean, with me,” Björn answered. “We all returned to find my mother was the Queen of Kattegat.”

“I see,” Aethelind replied. “And now? Where are he and Sigurd? And Torvi, where were you during all of this?”

An awkward silence fell over the Vikings, and they all looked to each other. Eventually, Torvi told Aethelind, “I was with Lagertha. I am her right hand.”

Aethelind nodded, but the awkwardness had not yet gone away. “And… Sigurd?” she prompted. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach.

“Sigurd is dead,” Ubbe finally answered.

And so, her suspicions were correct. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said gently. “Did… did he die in this war?”

Ubbe sighed and shook his head. “He provoked Ivar at a feast,” he said. “And Ivar threw an axe. It killed him almost immediately. A few steps, and then…” He gestured in a way as to show someone falling over. “He was dead.”

Aethelind swallowed hard, and let her eyes slip shut. “Good Lord,” she whispered, before her eyes opened again. “I’m so sorry to hear this. I can’t even begin to imagine…”

“We really fell apart then,” Ubbe said. “Hvitserk chose to stay with Ivar in York, and we didn’t see either of them again until they came for Kattegat.”

"We won that battle,” Lagertha interjected then, and Aethelind found her attention being pulled to the woman. “At great cost, but we won.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “And then Ivar joined forces with King Harald Finehair, and Rollo, his uncle, who brought him Frankish support.”

“And… they won,” Aethelind surmised, her voice soft. “Is that when you came here?”

Lagertha nodded, looking to the ground, and Björn put a hand on her back. “Rollo helped us escape Kattegat,” she told Aethelind. “And Heahmund brought us here.”

“I’m glad he did,” Aethelind said definitively. “You’re all safe, now, I can assure you of this. And I will be talking to Alfred. What happened to you… It was wrong. Alfred and I will come up with a plan to help you return home, I’m sure of it. You deserve no less.”

None of the Vikings had expected this response from the Princess. They’d figured out that once, she and Ivar had been close. Or, close enough, at least. Close enough she’d seen fit to quickly ask after him, once realizing the relation, and close enough that Ivar had spoken of her. So to hear her speak in opposition of him…

“What about Ivar?” Torvi asked. Somehow, she couldn’t quite wrap her head around what might could even be called a betrayal of the Boneless King.

Aethelind sighed sadly, and shrugged, shooting a weak smile to Torvi. “I don’t believe he is the same boy I once knew. Whatever happened once he left here… That boy is gone. Isn’t he?”

Ubbe shifted at her question, drawing the room’s attention to him as he leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and drew his brows together thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” he eventually confessed. “But if he is not… He is buried beneath years of anger, and pain, and hatred. I have not seen the boy he once was before our father died, and I doubt he will show that side again. I hope something will bring that boy back, I just…” He finally sat up a little, looking to Aethelind. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Aethelind nodded, swallowing. She turned back to Torvi and asked, “Then what about Ivar? He has changed beyond recognition. My heart aches for the loss of him, but my mind knows I must move forward. No, it isn’t the easiest thing to do. I will mourn the boy I knew. But this new Ivar sounds so different… I’m not even sure I can see him as the same person. And in the end…” She chuckles softly and shrugged. “I only knew him for a few days years ago, anyhow.”

The group chuckled a bit. “You say all this now,” Björn commented. “But you have not faced him yet. It is easy to have such little concern until you are confronted with the issue. We will see if you still feel so unworried about Ivar then.”

Aethelind felt a weight settle in her chest. Björn was right, and she knew it. All this talk was all well and good, but looking in Ivar’s eyes… Would she be ready to stand against him still?

She wasn’t sure she had the answer.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you! 

[drowning-in-dennor]

Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love

It is a terrible thing to be in love with someone who you will outlive. [Recommended listening: A reading of W.H. Auden’s Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love or, for those who like music more, a musical cover by Madeline Peyroux.]

  Henrik is so young.

  Perhaps not to some, as they may consider fifty to be plenty old enough. Fifty years, after all, is five whole decades, one half of a century. People tend to think that that is quite a long time.

  But Norway has lived for a thousand years, watched millions upon millions of humans be born and be snatched away from life, either by the hands of others or by the silent killers that are age and illness. Fifty years is a drop in the ocean to him.

  Despite his age, Henrik’s beauty is timeless. It is hard to believe that he, too, is not a nation. His wild mane of golden hair is like the Netherlands’, his piercing blue eyes those of Sweden, his seemingly boundless energy resembling America’s. He seems better suited to be the personification of the Kingdom of Denmark than the current one. The day Norway saw him in Copenhagen, resplendent and radiant in the Royal Theatre, he nearly thought that Denmark himself had a makeover.

  But not now. His untamed hair is splayed across the pillow, tickling Norway’s arm whenever he shifts. His sapphire eyes are glazed over with fever. He has never been so weak.

  He is beautiful anyways.

  Whatever illness is plaguing Henrik has no cure. It will snatch him away soon, stop his heart when he should’ve had twenty, thirty more years. Norway will lose him forever.

  The two of them are curled up in Norway’s bedroom, in a tiny cottage far, far away from the city. He has taken each and every one of his lovers here at least once. On this bed, love has been made before, but today it will be lost. Henrik is clinging on to his arm, trembling with cold despite the heavy quilt over him. From the floor-to-ceiling window on the other side of the room, all is black. The only light comes from a candle, its wick holding a flame as flickering as Henrik’s life.

  They have laid like this before, lazy and love-drunk in each other’s arms. This might be the last time they share a bed. 

  Henrik coughs. His chest spasms. Norway holds him closer and rubs his back soothingly, lips pressed tight to the crown of his head as he shakes. “Easy now,” he murmurs, “take deep breaths.”

  His breath is rattling. Henrik curls into the warmth of his chest. “Water,” he rasps. His loud, robust voice has been reduced to this.

  Norway hands him a glass and holds him steady as he sips from it. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No.” He smiles feebly. Even when weak, he is utterly charming. “Just need you.”

  He settles back in bed, his head resting on Norway’s arm. His eyes flutter closed. His breathing slows. Norway’s mind is left to wander again.

  He has never had a human die beside him - at least, not one of his lovers. They left him far before it was their time, always choosing another mortal partner over one that stayed eerily, eternally young. Henrik is the only one who was loyal - or would “foolish” be a better word? - enough to stay for thirty whole years.

  Some people may speak when they see this middle-aged man holding hands with one who looks not a day over twenty. But the words mortals say are nothing compared to the nations’ silent scrutiny. He isn’t like France, with the lovers he wears through half a decade at a time, but they stare all the same. I’m sorry, England’s eyes say. What a pity, Finland’s sigh. They all know how a relationship with a human will end.

  That is still nothing compared to the heavy, defeated acknowledgement that weighs down on Henrik when he is sad. No, no glare from the nations could hurt Norway as much as seeing Henrik reflect on the fact that yes, after he is gone from this world, not a century will pass before Norway will have forgotten him and found someone else. He is not special.

  And perhaps that will be the case one day, though he can never be sure; not even a nation like him can see the future. But now, all he can focus on is Henrik, trembling beside him. 

  Henrik’s eyes flutter open again. That beautiful blue gaze is dulling. Perhaps he will not last the night. But his grin is very much filled with life. Norway brushes his hair away from his clammy forehead, asking “how do you feel?”

  “Tired. But I’m always tired now.”

  “Does anything hurt?”

  He shakes his head slightly, exhaling with a puff. Even the tiniest movements exhaust him now. “Nothing. I want a kiss, though.”

  Norway obliges him, pressing his lips to Henrik’s and pretending they are just having another night together despite the air of illness and near-death that constantly lingers now. Outside the window, the sun is just beginning to rise. Day will come soon. Henrik nuzzles his neck. “Wish this could last forever,” he mumbles.

  “Hmm?”

  “Just you and me. In bed together. Forever and ever.” He has to stop to catch his breath. The fingers that have been clinging to Norway’s nightshirt since last evening grow weak. 

  For him, it may well be eternal. He kisses Henrik again, square on the lips. To Hell if he catches whatever disease his lover has; he can survive it. His mortality means nothing.

  Birds are calling. Henrik groans in his half-sleeping state. 

  While the night slips away, Norway takes hold of his hand, running his fingers over the thin skin of his hand that is just starting to wrinkle. If only he were not dying.

  The only way to save Henrik from the inevitable grasp of death is to rid him of his humanity entirely. A couple decades ago, during the Second World War, Norway heard tales of England refusing to let a boy he thought his son depart from him, and in a fit of desperation christened him the Principality of Sealand so that he would live.

  He could do that, make Henrik the personification of Narvik, maybe, or Ålesund, or another small place so he could live forever without the stress of the rest of the personified world. But would Henrik want that?

  Sealand, or Peter as he calls himself, hated England after being immortalised, after being doomed to be a child forever. He cursed England for making it so that he’d never grow up, never know how it’d feel to be an adult. What if Henrik hated him the same way?

  They have never once talked about that possibility. Now that Henrik is barely clinging on to life, it might be a good time to. Norway runs his fingers through his hair, waiting for the next time he is coherent.

  Once again, his eyes flutter open. The light in them is almost extinguished. 

  “Does anything hurt?” Norway asks again.

  “No.”

  He sighs. “I wish I could magically cure you.”

  “It’s all right.” Henrik’s hand grows limper, fingers barely brushing his nightshirt. “Even if I - if I die, I’ll be happy.”

  “I could change you.” He can hear the desperation in his own voice. “I could let you personify a village, a small town, something like that. You could stay alive.”

  “No,” Henrik whispers.

  “Why not?”

  “Y-You deserve better.” He coughs, curling up in a ball. “Better... than me.”

  Tears, hot and shameful, blur Norway’s vision for a brief moment. “I’ll never find anyone better than you.”

  The smile that Henrik gives him is feeble, fleeting. It is so unlike his smiles from when he was healthy, grins radiant enough to light up the night sky. “You will.”

  He lets the tears fall. “But - “

  “You make me happy.” His other hand, clutched in Norway’s, twitches. He gently traces his hand with his thumb. “I won’t be happy if - “ he coughs again - “if I change.”

  He finally lets himself cry, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Henrik’s weak hand stretches out to catch some of his teardrops. “Don’t cry,” he pleads. “Not... not over me.”

  The slowly-brightening sky is almost blinding to him. He wipes his eyes, feeling a cold, hollow emptiness take over him. How idiotic he must look, crying when he is the powerful, undying one.

  Henrik closes his eyes again. Norway forces himself to calm down. If only he were Belarus - harsh, hostile Belarus who despises humankind and refuses to befriend any, let alone love one. If he were like her, he would never have subjected himself to this sorrow over and over again.

  He rests a hand on Henrik’s chest. His heart is beating sluggishly, so weak that Norway can hardly hear it. In a few hours, it will stop altogether.

  How could he have taken those thirty years for granted? How could he have called his greatest love a fool, teased him for his many whims, when every second they spent should’ve been treasured? Are human lovers like this, too, in which they never care for the times they spend with their partners until it is all over? Or are they the logical ones here? Maybe they live every loving moment to the fullest.

  As Henrik lies quivering beside him, Norway thinks of lovers from the times before - Hans and Harald, Oscar and Alfred, Gilbert and Gordon. How easy their love was, in comparison to his! How easy it is to be a man who can only love other men, compared to an immortal cursed to love a human. Better die together than to outlive one’s many loves. Yes, humans with their mayfly years have it easy.

  “Nor?” Henrik is awake again, despite having closed his eyes no more than fifteen minutes ago.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “You should sleep.”

  “No, no.” Norway bends down to press a kiss to his cheek, breathing in his scent beneath the stench of illness. “I have to take care of you.”

  He shifts slightly, laying his head in the crook of his elbow. His fingers entwine with Norway’s. “You have work.” Henrik gasps, choking on his own breath. Once he can breathe again, he continues, “so you need rest. And I want to cuddle you.” He tries to wink.

  He has never been able to deny Henrik anything for long. He slides so that he’s lying down next to his lover and bundles him to his chest. It has always been the other way around, with Henrik squeezing him tight with steady arms. But he will have to be the strong one tonight.

  What did Henrik ever see in him? He does not have Italy’s charisma nor China’s beauty, nor Switzerland’s riches. He is a wisp of a man, awkward at best. He never thought he would attract humans.

  But he did. And the latest one, about to be stolen away like all the others, is in his arms. Norway kisses his forehead, hums a song they both know and love. Henrik laughs, a pained wheezing sound that sounds like he’s choking. He might be. 

  The sun is about to breach the horizon. Henrik’s heart, pumping laboriously against his arm, will not last much longer. His breaths have grown shallower, too. He will die before the day comes. 

  Fighting back tears, he kisses him again. The blanket settles warm and heavy over them. The mattress is soft. Aflame with fever, Henrik is almost too warm in his embrace. His head is buried in Norway’s shoulder; their fingers are still laced together. “Good morning and goodnight, Nor,” he mumbles.

  For Henrik’s sake, he forces himself to smile. “Good morning and goodnight, Henrik.”

  “I love you.”

  I adore you, Norway wants to say. I worship you, I would die for you, I would do anything to see you in good health once more. I live for you and you only. I love you even if I will forget you one day.

  But pretty words are worthless now. He kisses Henrik a third time, right on his chapped lips, and whispers, “I love you too.”

  He closes his eyes, afraid to open them again, for he knows what he will see.

  When Norway awakens, it is noon. The sun is high in the sky, blessing all the world with its golden light. 

  Henrik is still snuggled into his shoulder. The fingers lacing his are cold.

  Norway sits up, slowly easing Henrik down onto the pillows. He brushes his blond locks aside to take a look at him. 

  Henrik’s eyes are closed. He is smiling softly. He looks so young.

[akamaiden]

Give Me Love

A/N: I must confess that I love receiving this request and I loved even more writing it! Halfdan deserves some love too! 🖤 Do you know those years that Ragnar simply disappeared and we still don't know what he did meanwhile? Well, I thought about something.

Gif belongs to: @sikanapanele

Requested by anonymous: Could i request an imagine from Vikings? Ragnar's ex wife and queen of Sweden(the reader) meets and falls in love with Halfdan but she makes him work for her trust, since she has kids

Pairing: Halfdan the Black x Queen!Reader.

Warnings: Harald is a vicious snake and impresses no one. Angst (shout out to the mothers, this may be triggering) and fluff.

Words: 2,005.

You were getting tired to hear Harald's endless speech. It was leaving you nauseous. You just want him to go away of your kingdom. But there was him, talking non stop, defending the idea of the other viking realms to join him in this stupid idea of getting vengeance upon Ivar.

You waited patiently for him to stop talking and when he did you took a deep breath before talking.

“Let me see if I understand you, Harald,” you said and watched with amusement a clearly irritation wave passing on his bright blue eyes. You didn't call him by his title. And considering that he worked really hard to get that horrible crown on his head, he wanted everyone talking to him using the word King, like if it was part of his name.

“You came into my kingdom, I offer you the best stay as possible, for you to dare to propose me such a thing?” you continued drinking mead from your golden cup.

“Yes, I know that must be hard for you considering that you were his father's…” a wicked grin appeared on his lips as he watched you intensely.

“Wife. Yes, I was Ragnar’s third and last wife. Do you have problems with this?” you asked holding your cup tighter, just like you wanted to do with Harald's throat.

“No but-”

“That’s what I thought. So Harald, I already made up my mind,” you said.

“Then tell me, Queen Y/N,” he said emphasizing the word queen.

“I’d gladly lead my man to support such a noble man like you, Harald Finehair,” you said trying hard not to laugh at your own words. “However, I wouldn't be able to harm any Ragnarsson. I owe this to their father, I won't betray my husband after his death. I know he's watching me from Valhalla and I'm sure that my decision brings a smile to his face. And this is my final decision and I won't reconsider it,” you said firmly.

How dared him? Come to your kingdom, abuse your hospitality, to ask such a shameless and filthy thing.

You knew that this may implied that he would seek vengeance upon you as well, but honestly, you couldn't care less. If that ever happened, you'd gladly leader your men to defend Sweden.

“I knew it, I fuck-” he interrupted his own words.

You stood up from your throne and slowly made your way towards him. Once you were face to face to him, you said, “Choose your words wisely, Harald.” The threat, clear as water, in your tone.

“I’m sorry, Queen Y/N. Even so I'd like to thank you for your hospitality. I'll leave your kingdom tomorrow morning,” he said. Harald knew better than to wake up your fury.

“No need to hurry, take all the time you need for your departure. Now if you excuse me,” you said and he left you alone.

“Finally,” you said to yourself and took your crown off.

You headed to your room and left your crown there. Beautiful or not, you just wore it when it was needed.

You went to your children's room but they, or even the women that take care of them, weren't there.

“Dora, where are my children? By the time they were supposed to be sleeping,” you said trying to stay calm.

Your mind pictured your boys under Harald's evil hands. But you relaxed a little knowing that he couldn't make this that fast.

“I don't know my Queen, I came to say to Hildr and Guðr that I'd put them to sleep but I found their room just like this, empty. I was waiting for you to finish the audience with King Harald to talk to you,” she said already trembling fearing your reaction.

“You should've interrupt us! My children are most important than everything, I hope you have this in mind from now on!” you said in a low and deadly tone.

“Yes, my Queen. I-i am sorry,” she said with tears forming in her eyes.

You didn't mean to hurt her, really. Dora was at your side from the very first moment you putted that stupid crown in your head, showing you a blind loyalty. She would do anything for you and your children. You'd apologize with her, but not now. Now you need to find your children.

“Kára, Sigrún I want all my shieldmaidens looking for my children at every place of Sweden, now!” you roared the last part desperate to find your sons.

You mounted a horse and went looking for them as well. You and your shieldmaidens looked at every place of your kingdom and yet no signs of your children.

You were so desperate, so scared, at this moment. You could already feel the tears threatening to fall off of your eyes. Your heart hammering in your chest in pure fear. Your sons. Beowulf and Reginleif. Your boy and girl.

Before you could notice you were yelling in pure fear, sadness and frustration. You would do anything to have them both in your arms again. Anything.

You begged to the Gods, for they guide them back to you safe and sound. It was all you wanted.

You were on the Great Hall, walking around the room non stop, you were so nervous that you stopped looking for them, because you were with your eyes swollen and clearly incapable of thinking coherently. But obviously you made sure to send all of your shieldmaidens to look up for them. Some men even offered themselves to help looking for them as well and you couldn't thank them enough.

It was late when the door of the Great Hall was opened and no one else than Halfdan came inside. He was carrying Reginleif in his arms and Beowulf was walking at his side excitedly while talking to him.

“Where did you took my children?” you roared at him.

“Mommy!” Beowulf said and hugged your legs.

You hugged him tightly and covered him with kisses.

“Give me my daughter, now!” you said between clenched teeth.

“Y/N, I can-”

“No you can't! Where did you took them? Where? I'll fucking kill you if one of them is bruised, are you listen to me?” you said interrupting Halfdan.

You took Reginleif in your arms and cried while inhaling her scent. She was just a baby, she was two years old.

You gave her to Dora and she guided her to the room she shared with her brother.

“Y/N, you need to listen to me!” Halfdan said.

“No! You have to listen to me! How dare you took my children away from me?” you said while you slammed him against the nearest wall.

Halfdan could be stronger and taller, but you were sure faster. You caught him off guard and he didn't even notice your moves before he was against the wall with a dagger pressed against his throat.

“Slow down, Y/N,” he said.

“Mommy, don't do this! Mommy!” Beowulf screamed to get your attention.

Once you were looking at him with the dagger pressed harder against Halfdan's throat, guaranteeing him to not make a move, you said, “What it's now, Beowulf?”

“It’s my fault, mommy. I'm sorry,” he said looking at the floor and playing with his clothes just like he did when he was ashamed.

“What it's your fault, babe? Tell mommy,” you encouraged him.

“I was missing father… I went running from Hildr and I ended up in the woods. I was lost mommy, I'm sorry,” he said.

You let your dagger fall from your hand and you ran towards him and knelt in front of him and took his body in a tight embrace.

“It’s okay, my heart. I'm here now,” you said caressing his blonde hair and kissing his cheeks.

“I miss him, mommy. I miss him so much,” he said between sobs.

“Shhh, don't cry. Your father is watching you from Valhalla, it's okay, it's everything okay,” you said.

Once he was calmer, he continued talking. “Reginleif followed me and we were lost and alone until Halfdan came. He defended us, mommy. There was a wolf and he wanted to eat us, but Halfdan didn't let him,”

You looked at Halfdan and he just nodded and you got lost on his dark brown eyes.

“Will you punish me, mommy?” Beowulf asked.

“I should, but I won't. I was so worried with you and your sister, I thought…” you said closing your eyes. You didn't even want to think about what could have happened to your children if Halfdan wasn't there.

“Now go to sleep, my heart. I have to talk to Halfdan now,” you said kissing Beowulf's forehead once again.

“Thank you, Halfdan,” Beowulf said and went hug Halfdan.

“It was nothing, little king. Now go and obey your mom,” he said.

Beowulf smiled and ran towards his room, leaving you alone with Halfdan.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“It’s okay, you were worried. I understand that,” he said and caressed your cheeks lightly.

Since Harald and Halfdan came to Sweden, you found yourself really close to Halfdan. What started as you welcoming them, quickly turned into him falling for you. And you trying to deny and suppress your feelings for him. You felt like that could offend Ragnar somehow. And obviously there was the fear. What if you loved him and ended up losing him? Just like what happened to Ragnar? No, you couldn't take another strike from that force ever again.

But now, you were standing in the front of Halfdan the Black, feared warrior and savior of your children. And you owed him your own life.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, I-i war so scared, so worried,” you said hugging him.

Halfdan hugged you and kissed your hair. “I have already said, and I'll repeat. I'd give my life for you, if this means that you'll be safe. I'm just including your children in this vow,” he said.

You looked at him and found nothing but true in his eyes. He meant it. And you didn't doubt him.

You smiled to him and he simply felt his heart pounding in his chest, he guided his hands to the back of your neck and touched your lips with his own for the very first time.

And you felt your heart overflowing with passion and admiration. How were you trying to fool? He conquered your heart just being himself, respecting you, making you laugh, bringing flowers to you, and now, saving your children from a bloody death.

You kissed him like you meant it, you reached for his bottom lip and licked it slowly, asking for permission that he gladly gave it to you. Your tongues met and and danced around each other, tasting, exploring, lusting.

You broke the kiss when you felt your lungs screaming in protest, but even so his hands didn't leave your hips. You giggled against his lips.

“I was afraid,” you said looking at him.

He cupped your face with both hands and caressed your cheeks while saying, “I’m not like my brother. I don't seek for power, treasures or enemies. I was seeking for a lifemate, someone who I can trust with my eyes closed, someone that I'd give my own life to protect if it's needed. And I'm so happy to say that I found everything and more that I was looking for within you. I'm so happy that the Gods gifted me with you. I love you, Y/N,”

If it was literally any other person saying you such a thing, you'd laugh at his face, you'd know that he was lying. But Halfdan? All you saw in his eyes was true. He loved you. He truly did.

If he loved you, if he loved your children, how could that possibly offend Ragnar? He was probably feasting right now the fact that you were finally moving on, finally living your life.

“I love you, Halfdan,” you said.

You never said something being so sure.

Tags: @amour-quinn @haliannej @ivarsshieldmadien @ivarswickedqueen @ivarslittlebadgirl @ivaraddict @ivarlothbroks @dangerousvikings @feistybaby @sconniebelle @naaladareia @alicedopey @float-autumn-leave @laketaj24 @tephi101 @jade770 @rekdreams247 @captstefanbrandt @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @mblaqgi @nothingeverdies @lisinfleur @filthy-lil-thing @grungyblonde @funmadnessandbadassvikings @mal-functioning-writer

[purplecloaks]

Custom Made, Part Fifty-Seven

Bjorn x OC, Ubbe x OC, Hvitserk x OC, Ivar x OC

Everything tag: @squirrelacorngliterfarts @kawennote09

Custom made tag: @kingbouji3 @maybe-a-winchester @sdcyumyum

THERE IS NON-CON IN THIS FIC! PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THAT BOTHERS YOU!

           Ivar and Heahmund are playing chess. I watch them.

           “We will be fighting against your brothers? Yes?” Heahmund asks.

           “Yes. Perhaps even my brother Bjorn, if he returns from his travels.” Ivar says.

           “Do they frighten you, your brothers?” Heahmund asks.

           Ivar laughs. “No. Maybe Bjorn, just a little. I don’t find him very smart, but he is a great warrior. They call him Bjorn Ironside.”

           “And the woman, the one who killed your mother?” Heahmund says.

           “Lagertha.” Ivar says.

           “Hmm.” Heahmund says.

           “I’ve sworn to kill her. And she knows that I’ll do it. She just doesn’t know how bad it’s going to be.” Ivar says. I cringe.

           “Where will you fight?” Heahmund asks.

           “I don’t know. Perhaps they’ll blockade themselves in Kattegat. The main town.” Ivar says.

           “That would be foolish.” Heahmund says.

           “Maybe you can help me think of a strategy.” Ivar says.

           Heahmund laughs.

           “Hmm?” Ivar says.

           “You would trust me to do that? Even though I don’t care which side wins?” Heahmund asks.

           “Ah, but you want to win. I see that. And I want to be around people who want to win. What they do afterwards, who cares?” Ivar says.

           “The fact is, I will only fight for you because I am certain, as certain as I can be, that God wishes me to do so. That I am part of some plan which I cannot comprehend.” Heahmund says.

           Ivar chuckles.

           “Then you believe, like us, that you are fated, huh?” Hvitserk asks.

           “No. I still believe I have free will. I choose to fight for you.” Heahmund says.

           “If you are fated, it doesn’t matter if you choose or not. You simply have the illusion of being free to choose.” Ivar says.

           “I don’t know.” Hvitserk says.

           “Excuse me?” Ivar says.

           “I just don’t know if, when I joined your side, whether it was fate or free will.” Hvitserk says.

           “What does I matter? Hmm?” Ivar says.

           Harald comes in later on. He’s laughing.

           “What’s the matter with you?” Ivar asks.

           “I’m going to be a father. Skol. Skol.” Harald says and walks off.

           “Huh. Am I going to be a father, Ingrid?” Ivar turns to me.

           “Not yet.” I say shyly.

           “Huh. Why is it that Harald and Astrid are having a child so quickly into their marriage, but we…we have not been blessed yet?” Ivar asks.

           “I don’t know Ivar.” I whisper.

           “Is it because, perhaps, of these?” He holds up a bag and I recognize it immediately. It’s my herbs.

           “Ivar…where did you…” I trail off.

           “Why have you been taking these? We are trying to have a child!” He yells.

           “We are in the middle of a war, Ivar!” I say.

           He opens his mouth to say something then he closes it. I can feel the anger simmering off of him.

           “Hvitserk, escort Ingrid to our room.” He finally says.

           “I am not a child!” I say standing up.

           “Hvitserk!” Ivar yells.

           Hvitserk stands and takes my arm, pulling me towards Ivar and I’s room.

           “Just go with it. I’ve never seen him so angry.” Hvitserk says.

           “Lock her in!” Ivar yells after us.

           Hvitserk opens the door for me when we get there. He gestures for me to go inside. I step inside the room. He closes the door and I hear the latch.

           I sit on the bed with my head in my hands. It’s not too long later that I hear Ivar coming towards the room. Can’t mistake the crutch. He lets himself in and closes the door behind him. It’s quiet for a tense minute.

           “I have burned your herbs. You will take no more.” Ivar says. He makes his way over to the bed. I scoot back away from him. He sits down and starts taking off his braces.

           “What are you going to do?” I whisper.

           “I am going to put a child in you now.” He says.

           “I don’t want that.” I say.

           “I don’t care what you want.” He throws his braces to the ground and turns to me. The bed isn’t long enough that he can’t reach me. He grabs my ankle and pulls me towards him.

           “No!” I shout. I try to hit him but he grabs my wrist.

           He gets on top of me and holds me down. He lets go of my wrists to untie his trousers. I beat at his shoulders. “Woman!” He yells. I don’t stop. He tries to pull my dress up but I hold it down and squeeze my legs together.

           “Let go of me! Get off! I don’t want this!” I scream. Then I hear a rip and my dress comes off. “Ivar Lothbrok!” Now the only thing between him and his goal is my tensed legs. But they are no match for his strong arms.

           He pulls my legs apart and thrusts into me. It hurts because I’m not slick. I scream for him to stop but it’s like he doesn’t hear me.

           He moves one of his hands down and starts rubbing my clit. My body starts to betray me. I start to get wet. His thrusts get easier.

           “See. You like this.” He grits out.

           After a few moments, he cums inside of me. He doesn’t pull out until his fingers make me cum as well.

           “Was that so hard, love?” He says.

           He leaves me there on the bed and I just sob.

           I don’t know how long I’m left there, but eventually Hvitserk comes in.

           “Ingrid? Are you okay?” He quickly closes the door behind him.

           “What do you think?” I spit.

           “What happened? What did he do?” Hvitserk asks as he comes closer to me. I don’t try to cover myself with the ripped dress, he’s seen me naked before.

           “He took me. I didn’t want it. He raped me.” I let out a sob after I get the word out.

           He walks over to the water basin and gets a cloth wet. He comes back over and starts to wipe Ivar’s seed away from me.

           “That won’t help…it’s already happening.” I whisper.

           “Maybe it will make you feel a little better though.” He says. He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t try and stop him. I didn’t think he’d do that.”

           “This isn’t the first time he’s done it.” I say.

           “What?” He’s shocked.

           “When we were in York…in the beginning…” I trail off.

           “I’m sorry, Ingrid.” Hvitserk whispers. After he finishes wiping me down, he goes over to where my dresses are and pulls out my night gown. He walks back over to the bed and pulls me into a sitting position. He pulls the ripped dress off me all the way and helps me dress in the night gown.

           After I’m dressed, I lean against his chest and just sob again. He holds and rocks me. I don’t know how long we sit like that.

           The door rattles as it’s opened again. Ivar comes in.

           “What are you doing to my wife, Hvitserk?” He asks gruffly.

           “Comforting her after what you have done to her.” Hvitserk says.

           Ivar sighs. “I need to talk to my wife. Alone.”

           “Are you going to force her again?” Hvitserk asks.

           “No. No, I won’t.” Ivar says. He comes closer.

           “Are you going to be okay? Hvitserk asks me.

           I hesitate. “Yes.” I finally say.

           Hvitserk gets up and brushes past Ivar. He closes the door behind him.

           “My love.” Ivar says.

           “No, you don’t get to call me that.” I refuse to look at him.

           “Ingrid. Please understand. I was so angry.” He tries to explain.

           “You did it again. You said you wouldn’t do it again.” I say. I start to fold up the remains of my ripped dress.

           “I know…I just couldn’t stop myself.” He comes closer to me.

           “That isn’t an excuse.” I say.

           “Please forgive me. I don’t know what I will do without you.” He sobs out.

           I finally look at him. He’s crying.

           “Ingrid, love, please.” He stumbles towards me, holding his hand out.

           “I don’t know.” I say finally. “It will take time.”

           “I’m sorry.” He says.

           I stand. “I’m sleeping in Hvitserk’s room.”

           He only nods.

           When I get to Hvitserk’s room, he’s sitting on his bed.

           “Can I sleep here?” I ask.

           “Of course.” He pats the bed next to him. I sit and he wraps his arm around me.

           I can hear Ivar sobbing.

[laketaj24]

Admiration Pt 2

Request: “ Modern AU, For Ivar and an OC of your choosing: 15. I think we can both fit. - @captstefanbrandt

A/N:This was requested from my 300 Followers Prompt List! I have about three more from there and Valentines Day Prompts left!  @captstefanbrandt I hope you’re okay with it not being  Modern AU! I’m sorry I had started writing and then looked up and saw that you wanted Modern! 

Admiration Part 1

Alana and Ivar never spoke in Kattegat. They only exchanged looks and sneaky smiles that went unnoticed by anyone else. She didn’t know what to say to him after it all. Alana wanted to say everything to him, how that wasn’t how she wanted her first time to be or how she didn’t want to lose their oddly different friendship, but he never came close enough to her to say it.

He sat next to his mother in the great hall, teasing his mother and brothers as usual. She sat one table away talking with Floki and Helga about the upcoming raids planned with Bjorn. He almost had all of his boats ready.

“I hear the streets are made of gold.” Helga smiled pouring you some ale.

“Nonsense.” Floki giggled. “Will you come with us Alana? I think this will fair well as your first raid. It will be something new for your young eyes to see.”

“I will think about it.” Alana wouldn’t though. The farm would need protecting, while her father traveled with the warriors.

Ivar waves Alana over to her the table once his mother leaves. She sifts through the crowd sitting next to him. “Why have you been ignoring me, Alana?”

“Because I don’t know what to say to you.” She sips her mead giving Hvitserk a small nod and Ubbe as well. “Did you want something Prince Ivar?”

“To go about Kattegat with you tonight.” He said leaning in to her. “I would like to show you something.”

“There is not a place in Kattegat I have not seen.”

“It is a simple yes or no answer Alana.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate to whisper back to him.

“Then we should go.” He climbs down from his chair crawling through people. And no one seems to notice or care about him slithering about. She follows him through the streets of the city into a small shack. “There is about to be a be a meeting between some important people here. I would like to listen.”

“If we are caught?”

“Who cares, I am a prince.”

“And I…”

“Are the princes friend. Shut up.” Ivar opens a small door to the adjacent closet. “I think we can both fit.” He says sneakily waving her into the small room. She sits beside him, and he removes a small wooden tile from a small peep whole. “We have to be quiet.”

“I wasn’t planning on talking.”

“I wasn’t either.” He says as he pulls her on top of him. His hands pull at the corset and he leans into her kissing her softly. His kisses weren’t rushed or forced. They gently showered her lips and neck and she didn’t protest. Alana ran her hands through his short hair. She was happy that they didn’t need words because even though it had been only once she missed him. Those slick conversations and snide remarks. He untied his pants and lifted her dress. “My brothers are feigning over this slave and I cannot see what they desire in her.” He pauses. “Not when there is someone ass beautiful as you available.” He doesn’t prepare her for his assault as he pushes her down on him and it’s not needed for she is smooth to push into, thanks to her anticipation.

The main room door opens, and Harald enters with his brother. “What are plans during this raid?” Halfdan says.

Her eyes widen as Ivar continues to push into her. His angle is perfect with each stroke. He smiles at her nodding his head for her not to make a sound. Alana tries to lift off of him and he pulls her closer to him. “Bite me if you have to, but I don’t intend on stopping.” He warns.

She buries her face in his shoulder controlling her pants while he pushes into her over and over again causing her whole body to melt above him.

“I think that Ubbe is suspicious of us.” Harald adds.

“And that younger one is well aware of everything.” Halfdan slides a chair out and sits down. “He can’t do much though, given his state.”

Ivar stops shooting his eyes at Halfdan, His chest shutters in anger. Alana snaps his head back to her and smiles. She rocks on top of him loving the way his thick dick filled her. She shook her head peppering kisses all over him.

“Never under estimate ones who look weak.” Harald adds.

“He’s a cripple. He can’t even walk.” Halfdan half chuckles.

“I am telling you that one is the one we should fear most. He has more Ragnar in him than any.”

“We shall see, huh brother?” They leave the room lowing out the one candle.

Alana hadn’t cared to hear what either man had said. She continued to ride him with his hands holding her for support. Her body shakes on top of his in small orgasms and she rest her head in the nape of his neck. “Ivar.” She whispers. “Come back to me.”

“I will.” He mouths lifting her up. He ties her corset back up and gives her one more kiss. “They will miss us at the Hall.”

“What is wrong?” She says. “Was I not what you wanted?”

“You’re everything that I wanted.”

“Then why are you sitting here…” She nods her head. “They called you a cripple.” She said sitting next to him.

“I don’t care.” He spat. But his eyes told a different story as they watered to the brim.

Alana shook her head disappointingly. “You shouldn’t be worried with what they say. You are so strong Ivar. So what, yes you are crippled. And that makes you a better man than any of your other brothers, even those who have went to battle. You’ve been in a battle your whole life. It’s why I admire you. I want your resilience and strength and your heart.”

Ivar nods his head wiping the trail of tears from his face. “Tell no one of this okay?”

“Have I ever?”

“No.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Come on. My brother is already teasing me about you.”

[thydungeon]

“Break”

In the fall of 2018, Stoic Studio held a short story fan fiction contest because they were publishing a compilation for The Banner Saga.

I really loved this game, but for whatever reason I didn’t play the second and third games until a week-long stretch in 2018 when Emily was out of the country. I stayed up until 5 am to finish the third game!

But then I saw the contest and I thought, “oh my god, this is perfect!” 

They didn’t pick my story, and I have never been sadder about any personal creation of mine. I spent a lot of time on the story and had a lot of help editing from Russell and Emily, overcoming elements of some fairly old-timey fears. Obviously, the hard truth is that I’m not that good of a writer, but I struggled for a long time with whether or not to really regret a series of design decisions. That is, I wrote the story that I wanted to, the way I wanted to, but I wonder if the following needed to be true:

Why did I write a story that features only varl and literally no humans (read: no women)? Why did I write a story that covers the scope of only violence, something I’ve never been comfortable writing? Why did I write a story with only original characters, so out of the way of the games? Why did I make the first 270 words in the style of an emotionless recounting of strategic and tactical failures? Why did I develop only one character, with essentially no emotional arc?

Regardless, I do like the piece. I think I wrote it reasonably well given the above handicaps (that, again, I chose because I wanted them). And now, reading it two years later, it’s pretty clear it’s “about” switching roles at my old job in the US; the feeling of losing your position and drifting away from people is/was a common theme in a lot of things I’ve written, so go figure lol

#

Since Russell is the only person who ever read this with the full context (having played the games), here are some background details:

1. The game takes place in a Norse/Nordic setting. The antagonist is a Jormungandr figure, all the main characters have Germanic-sounding names, it’s Viking age tech, and the world is snowy. 

2. Varl are like giant human-oxen hybrids; there are only so many of them because each one was literally created by a real, physical god who has since disappeared. Hence, the number of varl will never increase, only decrease (this doesn’t appear to have any kind of Krogan Effect, in case you’re wondering). The process of creation is apparently quite unpleasant and is one of the reasons they fear (and I mean really fear) fire. They share the world with humans, but generally do not intermingle.

3. Dredge are rock-like humanoids who communicate with vibrations and live underground. They fought a tremendous war (the “Second Great War”) against a combined human-varl alliance. Certain dredge who are very powerful are called Sundr and have English names that reference an attribute (canon Sundr include “Bellower” and “Raze”). I don’t remember if they are physiologically different from other dredge or just the classic video game “hero” unit.

4. Per the Wiki, “varl who are close knit enough to be family refer to each other as kendr.”

5. This is stretching my memory, but I believe the title is a play on the basic combat mechanic in the game series - your units can choose to attack an opponent’s armor or health. If you attack their health, your attack damage subtracts the opponent’s armor amount before dealing any health damage, but health damage reduces the opponent’s ability to do damage back. Get it? Breaking their armor? The story is about a breakout as well. Also, it wouldn’t be an early period (2015-2018) piece if it wasn’t about burnout, i.e. breaking down.

As for why I never posted this on Tumblr, it’s because, honestly, I thought Tumblr had a character limit on text posts? 

#

Grofheim burns.

The largest city in the north, the varl capital, lies in ruins after an avalanche of dredge like none had seen before. A few weeks earlier, a handful of reports from northern patrols suggested a massing of dredge in the abandoned, half-sunken city of Skrymirstead; further warbands detailed a sturdy garrison increasing in size with each sighting. A dozen leaders forged north with a host of five thousand to meet them but limped home a mess of several hundred. Survivors spoke of organized dredge armies moving like appendages of the Sundr. Concentrated force separated our army amid a blizzard and obliterated them.

Eager to see the army for ourselves, we awaited their arrival at the city's gate facing the Valkajokull. To our surprise, the dredge struck first from the south, having passed between the Varlsmarch and King’s Barrow hills, and only then advanced from Skrymirstead, placing a hammer against an anvil with Grofheim in between. In the days of old, we expected battles like these to slow to the crawl of a months-long siege, but this generation of dredge attacked with unique urgency. We saw Sundr everywhere: Driver, Rampage, Dread, others we remembered from ages past. The walls collapsed on the eighth day of battle, and dredge poured into the city. After only two weeks of fighting within the walls, their advance was nigh-unstoppable, and we had lost entire sectors of the city, guard towers and homes alike reduced to rubble. By the end of the third week, our encirclement was almost complete and only slivers of light in an ocean of dredge gave us hope for survival.

#

Shortly after the dredge breached the city walls, Jorundr and many of the remaining varl had rallied to a fortress in the center of the city. Harald, captain of the city patrols, and I, his right-hand man, joined them with a fraction of the varl we had led previously for years; all others had fallen either at the wall or in the ensuing crush. At the top of one of the fortress towers, we pored over a map resting on a rickety table. Wooden figurines shaped like varl and dredge littered the map’s surface. We used to play chess with the little pieces.

Light filtered into the spacious room from all sides, but it illuminated nothing of renown. A couple of spears leaned against the wall, and a handful of varl were resting, drinking water and munching on dwindling provisions. We looked a sorry lot, even more bruised and unwashed than the typical varl cohort. Harald could no longer grip his shield due to a mangled left arm, so we fastened them together, hoping the banded wood would hold. Fiery debris had caught me at the wall, covering my face in cuts. Outside, we could see the dredge burning heaps of fallen varl, challenging us to come out and avenge our dead.

I ran my finger across the map from our location to one of the gates. A few hours’ march stood between us and the world beyond the city walls. “We have less than five days holding out here. By that point, we’ll be surrounded, and they’ll start breaking us apart group by group. The fortress will hold for maybe two more days after that. What’s the plan, Harald?” I lifted my finger from the map and found myself biting the nail of my thumb unconsciously. The sharp taste of iron-flavored blood crusted underneath snapped me back into the moment.

Harald moved a pair of dredge pieces between us and the gate. “From what we gather, the dredge that breached the southern gate destroyed everything from Skyhorn west through the Varlsmarch, but they are now less than full strength.” He moved several other pieces above us on the map. “Jorundr did not move any troops from the northern wall to fend off the surprise attack in the south, so the dredge advance from Skrymirstead was not a total disaster. Still, that group is reportedly much larger, so a breakout that way is not possible.”

“Eamonn and his whole clan stayed at the western tower,” I said, pointing to an ornately decorated tower on the map. “Heard a rumor that Roland and his folks battled back to the wall, actually. Either group is probably a heap of bones by now, though.” Looking over the map, I realized that every painstaking detail on it had been rendered worthless by the dredge.

“I do not blame them,” said Harald. “From all of our experience, dredge grant no quarter, and some varl may be looking for revenge after hearing what happened in the blizzard.”

“I heard it might have been an accident,” said Ismail, one of the younger guards and a fixture of Harald’s patrols. “The leaders out in the wastes forgot to put out a watch as they slept, and the dredge caught them unawares, daylight and all.”

“With dredge, there is no such thing as an accident,” said Harald. “Whatever happened out there does not bode well for us here.” His eyes dimmed and I could see the truth beginning to settle.

“I know Jorundr’s been quiet about where the dredge are coming from, but what have you heard?” I asked. “Did some idiot kick over a hornet’s nest?”

“We only saw the dredge near Skrymirstead and nobody saw them coming from the east,” replied Harald. ���It is no coincidence; something is driving them, and it must be more than memories of the second war.”

“We have a dozen ideas what it might be, but nothing with real evidence,” added Ismail. “Jorundr has been tight-lipped about it, but I think it’s because he doesn’t actually know. I’ve heard everything from new leadership among the dredge, a misunderstanding at the border, to some faening scheme by the Valka.”

“No need to gossip on my account, just curious,” I said, turning back to the map. “What’s left for us here?”

“It all depends on how many dredge are out there and if you want to be hopeful,” said Ismail. “Me, personally...I would rather not.”

“The southern walls have been entirely leveled, but that may work to our advantage,” said Harald. “If we can cut a path through the dredge between here and there, we can escape with no bottleneck to hinder our advance. But numbers are not on our side.”

“It’s always possible there is relief on the way, maybe runners found their way to pockets of varl beyond the city,” suggested Ismail. “Can’t change how many dredge are here, but it helps if there are more of us.”

“Now look who’s being optimistic,” I grumbled. “If they got past the forts without any trouble, then that means we’re the only varl for days in any direction. From here, we’ll have to write our own stories.”

“So then getting away is our only real choice,” said Ismail.

“If we all make a break that way to the south, they will pursue,” I said, moving varl pieces down the map and dredge pieces in pursuit. “And we won’t make three days out of Grofheim before they catch us. Some of us must split off to hold or divert them. If not, we’re faened as soon we’re free of the city. The only question is how many and where we put them.”

Harald knew this but remained quiet. He had a way of settling his gaze into an intensity that bordered almost on horror. I never thought to say anything about it after years and years, but over time I understood it as his way of focusing. We all knew that the number of varl who escaped Grofheim would be however many would fight the rest of the war. Vognir’s entourage, the varl in Strand, and any others scattered across the mountains would not be guaranteed to join in time, if ever.

“We estimate there are four thousand of us remaining in the city that can be readied to evacuate at once,” began Harald. “A tenth of that number should be the maximum committed to a diversion.”

“Do you think that’ll be enough?” Ismail asked. My instinct was that we needed a thousand, but I always used more force than necessary to get the job done. Either way, I was happy to let Harald make the assessment. He was always better with strategy.

“We need to make sure we have a force worth carrying into human lands,” said Harald. “We do not know what Jorundr has planned long-term, but we have to give him the best chance to... win.” He almost said ‘survive.’

“Fair enough, then. We hardly ever know what’s on his mind, but that’s never stopped us before. Who’s going?” I asked. Around the room, everybody stopped and looked at me and Harald like awaiting a death sentence. Varl lead long lives, but we are seldom fearless as we pretend before the moment of truth. It is the best trick we play on humans.

Harald looked at me and lowered the shield still wrapped around his arm. For the first time, I noticed the streaks of grey among black in his hair and beard, the weariness in his posture, the chips in his horns, and his tired, deep eyes. His teal tunic rested on top of bandage after bandage; it was caked with blood and pockmarked with cuts and tears.

“As good a time to go as any, right?” I joked to the room. No one said anything.

“Could you give us a minute?” Harald said to the others in the room. They quietly filed out. “I’m sorry to have announced it in front of the others, but at this point, I may be a liability with this,” continued Harald, gesturing to his arm and shield. “I trust you to handle this task. It may be the most important of our lives.”

“Harald, I understand,” I replied, smiling through. “I’ll take the remaining guards we have and hunt for volunteers. Do you need to speak to the other clans to set the plan in stone? Wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers before we get rolling.”

“I did before I came up here,” said Harald, smiling back. I started to leave but turned back at the door.

“Harald...are we really leaving Grofheim?”

It was a ridiculous question, but it nagged me, and I needed to hear him to make it real: to leave our home, to abandon it to destruction. I was loath to leave everything behind forever: my home, our monuments, the legacy of centuries of varl.

“There is no other way,” replied Harald. “If we were going to stop them, it would have been before they reached the city.”

“We were so sure we would beat them in Skrymirstead and, failing that, here at the walls. What went wrong? The second war took years and years, we were there.”

Harald shrugged. I knew it was futile to ask, but I had become so used to him having an answer. “We will find out once we... regroup.”

I slung a hammer high on my shoulder. “Nothing to do, then. I’ll get your four hundred in the next two hours. In the meantime, I look forward to your plan for our friend down there.” I gestured to the window, where far below at the head of the black sea was a tall dredge dressed in red robes, holding a glaive in each hand. The varl in his vicinity either stood dazed in his presence or routed in cowardice. Harald peered below at the Sundr and I could feel the stress rising in him.

“This is it, this is how it happens,” he muttered, still facing down below. I never knew if he meant for me to hear it.

#

    I went to my makeshift quarters to pick up any remaining equipment. Sitting down on the bed, I dusted off my clothes and shook off stiff boots. The beautiful release of sleep had only found me once in seven days and I longed to just rest for a moment.

After floating down the river of a dream, I opened my eyes and sat up. As I slowly remembered the broken state of my body, I felt my left horn, jagged from days of shrapnel and glancing blows. I traced a line from the tip down to a matrix of scabs dotting everything from my left eye down to my right jaw.

It was time to take stock of everything before our final rush to the city walls. My boots were finally dry after a week trudging through snow; my armor had hardly any straps left to tighten, but I kept reinforcing it with bits and pieces of metal I scavenged; daggers and knives picked up along the way found homes in my belt. I still held onto a hammer I had picked up on the fourth day of fighting. The head had delicate twists and turns carved throughout, and the rune-covered haft was smooth from centuries of use. It sang every time it stung rock and crushed everything it touched.

Down in the courtyard, my remaining guards stood at attention, tired and injured but still eager to make their mark. Another couple hundred from across the city stood nearby, joining. I felt good knowing I would run with so many familiar faces, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of leading them all to a shallow grave.

Nevertheless, we moved over to one of the few gates in the area free of dredge; this exit was where we would perform our illusion. The dredge knew we were cornered and they would be expecting a breakout and a sacrificial diversion. The switch was simple: the initial attack would in fact be the vanguard making the escape. The diversionary force would be disguised as trying to escape, conspicuously filtering out from the side. Some of the worst mistakes we made during the second war had come from believing our enemies were incapable of strategy. Our lives now hinged on whether we had learned the lesson.

Harald emerged from inside the fort, shield still locked to his arm, spear resting on his shoulder. He had patched up the remaining cuts and bruises on his body and looked ready for battle (or as ready as he would ever be). Beyond the gate, we could see figures in the distance, working their way through houses.

“Where are we meeting you when this is all over?” I asked, forcing optimism to my voice.

“The old capital, across Burra Pass,” replied Harald. “A week away if we make haste. Once we break out, Jorundr will send scouts in all directions for help.”

“Look forward to seeing you there,” I said. “Are you ready? Four hundred of yours first, then four hundred of mine.”

“If all goes well, we should have a couple thousand outside the city by the time the dredge realize the game.” Harald gritted his teeth. “Not enough down the line without the menders or humans, but this gives us hope.”

“And the Sundr?”

“You’ll have to take your chances with them,” said Harald, shaking his head. “We cannot use the same tactics as when we had true armies during the wars. We had our hands full even then.”

“Captain, we’re made of flesh and bone.” I slumped while standing for the first time all week. Harald always had an answer, but was this the best he could offer me?

“I know... reports from across the city tell us that every Sundr we can name is here. My gut tells me if you see them, you should just run.”

I forced my face into agreement, but I couldn’t let it go. “How did this happen?”

Harald blinked and his mouth settled into a frown. “We will have more time to ask questions in Einartoft. For now, we just have to escape.”

His tone was final. He seemed prepared for, even unbothered by, our impending departure. Was this all he had to say after spending a hundred years together? Did it not trouble him that those years were spent defending a city now burning to the ground? But I looked into his unmoving eyes and realized my irritation was only immaturity. He knew every bit as much as I did that the world we had built was being undone. We had been colored and shaped by a duty to our home, a duty that we had chosen, a duty that was now sunsetting. Perhaps that spoke enough for both of us.

I felt the questions inside me slowly trickle to a halt. I stared at him, trying to force myself to remember the look of his calm, unshaken face. I could see the determination, the readiness to face our final hours. Varl are seldom fearless as we pretend before the moment of truth. It is the best trick we play on humans, but, finally, this was no trick. I realized I had been staring at him for perhaps a whole minute.

Thus ended my last interaction with Harald in Grofheim. I have a painting of him in my memory of that last scene before I turned to leave. It was in that moment that I knew Grofheim was gone.

#

The first gate opened and Harald’s four hundred varl rushed out. They pushed away from the gate, plowing through an initial wall of dredge. Once they cleared the first group, I could see a few grunts begin to give chase before the Sundr called them back to the fortress. We then clattered our way out through the side entrance. As expected, the wave of dredge charged in our direction, a contingent ten times our size, howling and humming as they slammed into us.

I swung wildly and tossed aside a dredge grunt. Another swing, another grunt. A third swing buried my hammer into the shield of a stoneguard, but a timely blow from a guardsman freed it again. With simultaneous strikes, we felled the stoneguard and pushed onward. As we nearly broke free of the circle, I could see the lone dredge from before, taller than any of us and shrouded in crimson robes: Dread. It planted both of its glaives into the ground and began shaking violently. We had heard stories of its powers, and I was hesitant to witness them firsthand. But then, I thought, if I could do it, perhaps end the battle immediately and save the lives of those around me--and slay a dredge legend... Stonesingers can be interrupted, one heavy strike would work.

As I neared, I swung back my hammer, twisted my hips, and stretched to meet him, hammer to Sundr. But before I could make contact, a vibration knocked me onto my back and everything around me disappeared.

I found myself floating in calm darkness for a moment before a great wall of flame surrounded me and began to close in. Memories of creation flooded my mind as the flames licked my clothes, but this was different, a perversion. The wall came closer and closer until every part of me was engulfed in flames. Links of chainmail resting on my skin branded themselves into flesh, while the skin itself peeled away and the nerve endings frayed into nothingness. An eternity passed. I saw my skeleton blackening in the deepest fires of the universe, and when the last bone disappeared into ashes, I felt suspended in nothingness. My voice was gone and the only thing I could feel was my mind trying to claw its way back to something tangible.

The hollowness subsided, and I found myself in the physical world, staring up at a sky of clouds and sun blurred together. The world was eerily quiet for that moment. The loud clanging and screams of battle gave way to dull thuds like the sound at a butcher’s. I looked back at Dread and saw it walking away with one glaive resting on a shoulder, the other at its side. It seemed so calm and pleased with its work, not even giving me a second glance.

As my senses sharpened, I saw peril everywhere. My companions were in the state of illusion that had captured me, now lying on the ground with vacant eyes while dredge bludgeoned them to death. I turned and saw one varl after another dying, eyes locked in a gaze into nothingness, not reacting to hammers crushing bone and rupturing viscera and muscle. We existed only like wheat waiting for the scythe. We weren’t even fighting. We weren’t anything.

The feeling of a weapon bearing down on me finally snapped me into action. I could almost see surprise in the grunt’s eyes as I batted away its strike. One swing from my hammer shattered its stone armor and a follow-up caved in its chest. As the light faded from its eyes, I took satisfaction in ensuring its final emotion was shock.

I turned and crushed another dredge, hammerhead vibrating from the point of contact down to my trembling hands. Rage boiled within me and I was ready to charge at Dread, ready to even the score. But my tunnel vision subsided and I realized the true danger to our mission. The Sundr was already leaving and there were plenty of other dredge to handle. The glory of battling a Sundr beckoned, but I knew I owed it to those around me to struggle a different way. I had to escape.

The situation was collapsing. The longer we lingered, the more enemies swarmed to fence us in. Before Dread arrived, we had been close to breaking free and dispersing, but now, we found ourselves surrounded. Neither vigor nor ferocity would save us. I spotted a solitary varl, covered in cuts and missing an arm, waving a red banner, trying to rally us to an alleyway. This was enough of a plan to survive: no glorious final stand, no victory of arms. Along with a few others snapped out of Dread’s illusion, I followed the banner and we began hacking through the crowd of dredge. The already injured varl was cut down as I arrived, but the rest of us barreled down the alleyway as the buildings on both sides began to collapse, supports chewed away by fire. I hated the thought of deserting those I led into the fray, but I decided I would see Harald again; I owed it to my kendr.

By the time we cleared the alley, only a couple dozen of us remained. I could still hear fighting from the other side of the rubble and the awful warping noise of Dread’s glaives. Thoughts of fire continued to race around in my head, but I was able to quell the fear. With the Sundr and its dredge on the other side of the fallen buildings, I assessed our state. So much for our plan: the diversion scattered and smeared into the streets. I could only hope Harald and the others had made their escape. I rallied those with me, a few brothers in arms for years, other newly made friends, mostly strangers in a dire situation, and we started moving toward the city gate to escape. At least there were no other Sundr in the vicinity, and the dredge we did see were not very interested in fighting us, some even running away on our approach. After we felt a safe distance from the violence, we rested in an empty temple dedicated to Hadrborg. It had already been in disrepair by the time the dredge attacked, but I felt the sadness of leaving behind yet another place that harkened to a golden age: lost glory, faded away.

“Where now?” asked Ismail. In the chaos of the breakout, I hadn’t realized he was with us. In fact, I was so sure he escaped with Harald. Selfishly, I was glad to have his shield and spear, but I also wished he were far away and safe.

“It’s another hour to the gate,” I replied. “We’ll need to run. There’s nothing left here for us.”

“Do you think Jorundr and the others escaped? Harald?”

“We can ask questions in Einartoft.” I don’t know how much I believed it now that I was peddling Harald’s words.

As we advanced toward the gate, we got an eerie feeling. The only sounds we could hear were the far-off city buildings crumbling in flames. There was no fighting. Was every other varl in the city already dead? Had the dredge caught Harald and ended all hope? In the long stretch between the final row of houses and the city gate, we saw a crowd of dredge gathered. It was small enough for us to directly engage but large enough that I knew most of us would not survive. And yet, beyond the dredge was a field of corpses, mostly dredge, and only a handful of varl--Harald and the others had broken through!

I exchanged glances with my surviving varl. This was no time for subtlety, and we were in no mood for anything of the sort so close to freedom. We charged.

In the ensuing chaos, I swung my hammer with the feeling that I was gliding into the end of days, with no caution left to spare. With swing after swing, I felt the vibration and resistance resonate throughout my body.

Chance blows may have broken a rib or two, but I felt immersed in my own world. By the time I stopped feeling the weight of the hammerhead against stone, I looked around and realized that I was entirely alone for the first time. Everybody was dead. I never saw Ismail go, or Stefan, or Jorgen, or Thorvald. We had so long to live and I had missed the opportunity to say good-bye all the same. We can ask questions in Einartoft. My final, anti-climactic words to them. The final event of my life in Grofheim. Over in minutes.

Looking up, I saw that the way out was laid bare. Slowly, I realized the only thing left was for me to leave. The gate loomed over me, silent. It struck me as a cruel joke that everything around it had been obliterated, but the gate itself was left unscathed. I had defended it after all.

Not a moment after I took my first step into the snow a mace swung down at me. My forearm flung up by reflex and I felt muscles bruise and bones crack. I stumbled backward and fell into the snow onto my knees. I looked up and saw a lone grunt before me and another figure in the distance. My hands reached furiously in the cold white, reaching and reaching before I saw I had dropped the hammer behind the grunt.

I inched away from the grunt, feeling the desperation and panic of one nearing his end. I could neither find the hammer nor even see it, but I remembered the knives and daggers on my belt and I hurled one at the grunt. A miss. I scrambled for a second knife and didn’t even aim. A thud. A scream, the kind I had heard a hundred times before. The figure in the distance began running toward us, and I rose and charged the grunt. Exhaustion permeated every fiber in my body. Muscle memory drove me to dodge the grunt’s clumsy swings. It was holding onto its side, clutching the embedded knife, as desperate to end the fight as I was. Finally, it committed too far on a downward swing and missed. I held down its mace with my boot and drove my remaining dagger into its face. It crumbled to the ground in a heap without even a whimper. One long exhale later, I gave the grunt’s head a forceful kick, yanking free the blade.

I hastily placed the dagger back into my belt and found my hammer a few steps away. Just as I turned to leave, a whizzing rock smacked one of my horns. I was stunned for a moment. When I recovered, the figure was close enough to see: a smaller dredge with a sling, something I had never seen before. With no shield for defense, I braced for another attack, but it never came. Instead, the dredge dropped the sling and ran to the dead grunt, cradling the body and touching it forehead to forehead, letting out a painful drone.

I knew what I had done. We always knew. Something in me wanted to stay at the gate forever, to die defending something like the grunt had. But I couldn’t bear to look at him and I couldn’t bear to look at her.

#

At last, I was clear of the city. I was alone. As I walked, the hills leading away from the city gave way to a snowy and steep incline. My legs forced me forward, following the trail Harald and the others had made as they fled, but each step up the hill resounded in my head. The ringing in my ears became unbearable. I turned around to look one final time and my heart cracked at the sight of the rising pillars of flame. Years and years walking the streets, patrolling the walls, drinking myself to sleep, growing camaraderie, watching the world go by. How could I forget what I had seen? How could I let it go? What future was waiting for us? But to live--to Einartoft!

[ijustwant2write]

The Quiet One-Halfdan The Black x Reader Part 1

(GIF credit to owner)

Masterlist

Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

Summary: When Harald and his brother arrive in Kattegat, they are there to meet Halfdan’s wife to be. She isn’t the fierce shieldmaiden he wanted and she can see that. She wants to prove him wrong but finds that she is too scared to do so.

Characters: Halfdan the Black x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name (Y/L/N)= Your last name (Y/F/N)= Your friend’s name

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As I stood beside Ragnar and his family on the docks, the sad, anxious feeling began to increase within me. Aslaug and Ragnar had taken me in when I was a child after my father, a close friend of theirs, died in battle. They raised me well, his sons becoming close friends of mine, almost like younger brothers. I remembered most of my childhood here rather than with my actual father. However, that didn’t mean I had escaped from arranged marriages. My father had left me his riches, seeing as I was his only heir, making me more ‘desirable’ to men wanting power. And one man had finally taken the chance to have my hand in marriage.

“Deep breaths (Y/N), I promise that you will be happy and safe with this man.” Alsaug laid a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m trying. It’s just….it’s just so scary.” I admitted, looking up at her.

Her face twisted in sadness.“I’m sorry you could not choose your fate.”

“(Y/N), Halfdan is a good man. Mother tells the truth.” Ubbe comforted me.

Sighing, I looked back out to the see, shocked that they were already docking. Was time moving faster than normal? My heart started to beat faster and faster until I was sure that it would burst out of my chest. As soon as I had heard that Ragnar agreed to this marriage proposal, every night I had prayed to the gods that this man would be kind to me. There had been so many stories of young women such as myself being trapped in awful marriage, abused daily. It frightened me, I’d rather go into battle. Two men stepped off the boat first, before others followed them. These just have been them. King Harald and his brother. I could tell because of how fine their clothes were. The man with long, dark hair in a plait approached Ragnar.

“Ragnar Lothbrok, it has been far too long.” he chuckled as they embraced before nodding to his wife.“Alsaug, looking beautiful as ever. And my, how your sons have grown.”

I tried to stay respectful but I couldn’t help my eyes wandering over to my soon to be husband. Just by looking at him I could see why people thought he was scary. His eyes were cold, there was no expression on his face; he was also very tall and well built, it was easy to see how intimidating he was.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Harald stood in front of me, bowing slightly.

“The pleasure is all mine.” I curtsied, trying to give my best smile.

“This is my brother Halfdan. I’m sure you two will get on well.”

We said nothing to each other, only bowing out of respect. After that I didn’t look at him. My hands started shaking, my breath becoming uneven. Who was I marrying? How was I going to get through this?

Later that evening, a feast was held in honour of the New arrivals. The only time I had seen the brothers was at the beginning of the feast, when the speech was made about our engagement. I felt a relief as he walked away, ignored me. Escaping from Aslaug, I found (Y/F/N), hugging her tightly. Suddenly I broke down, desperately trying not to cry.

“How are you feeling?” She asked as we sat down, pouring me a big cup of ale.

“Awful.” I simply answered.

“I can’t believe they are making you marry him. I’ve heard some terrible things about him.”

“Like what?”

“Like how he is a ruthless killer, he has no emotions, how violent he is…” her words trailed off as he saw my horrified face.

“I’m marrying a monster.” My head dropped into my hands.

“Perhaps he is not so bad. They may just be rumours from people that fear him.”

“Everyone fears him! Why would they marry me with him?”

“They care for you, they wouldn’t leave you with a man who would hurt you, Aslaug would never allow that.”

“Power overthrown emotions.”

The night dragged on and I did everything to avoid Halfdan. It wasn’t as if he was coming after me, but I didn’t want to be near him. For a moment, I was sat by myself, my mind clouded by what the future would hold. Glancing to the door, I thought about escaping, maybe I could hide in the hunting cabin.

“(Y/N), may I sit with you?” Harald suddenly appeared.

I nodded, the nerves creeping back up.

“You have not spoken to my brother since we arrived.”

“I just haven’t found the time.” I lied.

“No, you are scared.”

“I do not mean to offend either of you. I have heard….things.”

“About how fierce my brother is during battle?”

“Something like that.”

“My brother is not a bad man. When he has killed, it is for a good reason.”

He was trying to make me see differently.“Even if he wasn’t like that, I would still be upset.”

“Why?”

I didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the king but I couldn’t help scoff.“Because I’m being married off to a stranger.”

He leaned in closer, intimidating me.“It is not just you that is being forced into this. My brother was reluctant too. So not act like the victim. But believe me when I say that you will be safe with my brother.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The wedding day came quickly. Aslaug had helped me prepare, her motherly side coming out as she tried to keep me calm. Whenever she looked to me, the fake smile came out, a part of me knew that she didn’t believe me. As we made our way to where the ceremony was taking place, I felt like I was going to be sick. I just hoped that I wouldn’t do it in front of everyone.

The ceremony was a blur. This would be the second time Halfdan and I spoke to each other and they were our vows. A chaste kiss was shared between us, the eruption of cheers making me jump. At least someone was happy today. A feast was held again that night. Everyone else but Halfdan and I seemed to be having a good time. We sat next to each other amongst his brother and my second family, still no conversation being passed between us. Nibbling on bits of food, I drank more than I ate, knowing that I would have to be very, very drunk to survive the night. I saw one of my friends waving me over, wanting to dance.

As I went to stand up, Halfdan grabbed skirts and pulled me roughly down into my seat. He looked over to me.“No. You stay here.”

His hand was still gripping my skirts.“Why? I want to be with my friends.”

“Because I am your husband and I said so.”

I glared at him, the alcohol giving me a slight confidence boost.“I want to dance with my friends.”

“Too many men have been watching you, I don’t want you out of my sight.” I huffed, sitting back in my chair. Grabbing a jug of ale, I poured another huge cup to myself, chugging most of it back. I could feel my husband watching me but I couldn’t care less. Carrying on drinking, angled myself away from him, forgetting everything Aslaug had taught me about being a lady.

Ragnar suddenly stood, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.“I think it is time for the husband and wife to share their first night together.”

The noise escalated again, making me wince. Halfdan stood, holding a hand out to me. I looked to Aslaug, seeing that she looked guilty. Trying not to burst into tears, I took my new husband’s hand, trailing behind him slightly as we walked through the crowds. Halfdan received pats on the backm, the men roaring as encouragement. The harsh breeze of the night was a horrible contrast to the warmth of the hall. He kept a hold of my hand, though not in a tenderly way; as if I would run off, which I probably would.

I walked into the house first as he opened the door for me. There was no escaping now. Sighing, I took off my cloak, expecting him to grab me and drag me to the bed. Instead, nothing happened and out of my peripheral vision, I saw him starting up the fire.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What does it look like I am doing?” he stood up again, dragging a chair over to the fire.

“Don’t you want to get this over with?” I stumbled towards him.

“I prefer to not force myself on free women.”

“Only slaves then?”

His eyes narrowed at me.“Besides, you are in no fit state to bed.”

“I did this for both of us. I made it easier.”

“Is that right?”

“Well, if we aren’t doing anything, I’m going back to the hall.”

As I went to turn around, Halfdan slowly got out of the chair, not needing to rush due to my drunk state. He leaned back against the door, watching as I struggled to walk straight.

“Let me past please.”

“The only place you’re going is to bed.”

“I thought you didn’t want to bed me.”

“I don’t. But there’s no way you’re going out there and embarrassing me.”

I said nothing to him, knowing I wouldn’t win this. Instead, I sulked away, disappearing into the bedroom. Before closing the door, I heard a smash and a grunt, almost making me scream. He had spared me tonight, but how many other nights would I be left alone? As I slid into bed, all of my emotions took over. This wasn’t the life I wanted, this wasn’t the life I deserved.

But now I was stuck in it.