#Do you think think the christian god took pleasure in watching them writhe in the dirt after he took their means of mobility away from them

[conceptofjoy]

[vikingsagine]

A Trip Down Memory Lane (Ivar x Reader)

Hey guys, this is a second part to, My Loyalty is Yours, I hope you like it. By the way, I love Ivar. I love how complicated he is. Although, I do miss season 5 Ivar where he’s a bit psycho and confident. And I miss his braids. Love them braids so much. Sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Summary: Small things remind you of Ivar. Reminding you to when times were happier and easier and how your relationship with Ivar really was. 

Warnings : Very looonnnggggg. (sorry guys) Swearing, violence, slight smut. Rough. But not all the way. FLUFFY, I think. Margrethe (I hate her so much)

You sat with a lazy smile, optics observing the training men in front of you with Ubbe in front, yelling orders and stepping in to spar men with consistent mistakes. A week ago, you stood on a private trial with Bjorn Ironside to decide what to do with you. In the end, he came to terms with the rest of his ‘council’ to keep you alive and in the town of Kattegat. He said letting you go would be dangerous assuming you’d head to find Ivar, even though you said you wouldn’t, but also your battle abilities and strategies were much useful. You agreed because to be quite frank, you didn’t want to leave Kattegat, not yet. 

“Y/N, are you just going to watch or are you going to get off your lazy ass and do something.” Ubbe called, snapping you out of your thoughts with that familiar smug smirk and taunting stare. It felt different, not having Ivar around, it made you confused and almost empty. He was your best friend and first love after all. Wherever he went, you went too. Like a dog to a Mother’s tit. 

“Are you challenging me, horsetail?” You jumped off your feet and pulled your axe from the ground, returning the cocky grin and confident attitude. Ubbe took a step forward, pulling the sword up and pointing it towards you. 

“It wouldn’t be much of a challenge defeating you, little girl.” The next, your axe and sword met in a friendly and welcoming manner. This reminded you of the old days, when you trained and sparred with the sons of Ragnar.

~~~

“Surely you can do better than that.”  Ubbe remarked as you groaned on the ground, broken nose in your hand and bled. The older male by six years had finished head butting you and cracked your nose, now, standing over you like the champion. Hvitserk and Sigurd cheered, hollering as they both watched you and Ubbe spar. 

“Keep flapping your gums pretty boy and I’ll make you cry to your Mother.” You cooed and spat blood onto the floor, then shoved your nose back into place with a crack. A groan left your lips while Ubbe snorted, crossing his arms with a clear expression of enjoying you writhe in pain. Asshole, you thought. 

“Aww, you think I’m pretty.” 

“That’s not much of a comment coming from her.” You glared towards Ivar who snarled a bold insult. He sat on a stool a few feet away from his two other brothers, also eyeing the fist fight on display. “What? It’s true.” The bright blue eyed boy flicked his fingers towards your face, more specifically, the scar engraved into the side of your left cheek. Long and twisted, reaching from the corner of your mouth and arched into a smile just under your left eye. Huffing out of annoyance, your leg swung under Ubbe’s and knocked him onto his ass, using this moment of distraction to your advantage. Ubbe groaned, while Hvitserk laughed, mocking his older brother by a few years. You pulled the axe from his side and threw it towards Ivar, successfully landing it an inch above his head with a thump.

“Mock me again cripple and I swear by the Gods-”

“That you’ll kill me?” Ivar snorted and crossed his arms. “You can’t, remember. Or have you forgotten. I’m your master.” Of course, you thought, he always took any opportunity to remind you of the unique relationship you two shared. Insisting that he was your ‘master’ and you, his ‘slave’. It angered you every time.

“Yes, you’re right.” Wiping the blood with the back of your sleeve, you laid back next to Ubbe with an exhausted sigh. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you.” Ivar rolled his eyes again at your comment, glaring holes into the side of your face. 

~~~

The night started to set, the stars illuminating in the sky like spots of light in the abyss of darkness. Bleak wind pushing against your raw cheeks, turning them red and making you shiver. You sat silently by yourself once again, outside of the hall where the echoes of another feast and drunken vikings sang. It wasn’t really your scene. You hated large gatherings of people, the bodies of strangers pushing up against you like mud was suffocating. Instead, you liked to listen, to hear their joy and songs and the lack of sorrow or pain. 

“What are you thinking about?” Lagertha called from behind you. She had seen you flee the feast after a meal and decided to follow you. Not out of suspicion of you doing something terrible but out of curiosity. Lagertha had heard many tales of the small girl, your bold and skilled fighting. The many people you have slaughtered, children, old people, warriors, Christians alike. It was impressive but haunting.

“Nothing really, just enjoying the view and the music.” You turned your head to Lagertha, surprised by her sudden appearance but shifted enough for her to take a seat. You knew Lagertha, she was an inspiration to all shield-maidens out there. She still is. Even at this age.

“Will you betray my son?” Lagertha inquired, a stern and serious expression crossing her facials. It made you smile. You have heard many stories of Lagertha of her skill in the battlefield, even how people whisper about her being the shield-maiden protected by the Gods. But, in all honesty, all that was nothing compared to her love for her son, her family. 

“I will be true to you, Lagertha.” You cocked your head to the side. “One day, I will seek Ivar and return to his side. I will fight for him and I will die for him. But, until that day comes, for now, my body and knowledge will remain here.” 

“Hmm.” Lagertha replied in content. “Why do you not kill me?”

“Because I do not hate you. You have inspired me. Ivar is the one who sought to kill you, not me. It was his ambition and mine, my ambition is to serve him well and perhaps, bring him happiness.” A small smile made its way to your lips, the image of Ivar’s genuine grin and soft eyes. The memory melted your heart.

~~~

“Tell me, have you ever laid with anyone before?” Hvitserk inquired by your side, leaning over and knocking you a little. You laughed at his question, the jolt of a sudden euphoria slipping into your veins. You were drinking with the prince’s of Kattegat, all curled over the fire seeking out warmth and comfort. 

“Please tell me you aren’t trying to flirt with me, dear Hvitserk.”You cooed, his flirtatious smirk all too familiar because you’ve seen him use it before, on many other women in Kattegat. Whenever he was drunk, Hvitserk had the tendency to try and fuck anything with a pair of boobs and a pussy. 

“And what if I am?” He leaned closer, eyelids heavy and slurring over his words. It was clear to see, he was far too drunk and horny. “Is it working?” He attempted to press his lips against yours but you only pressed your palm against his face and knocked him off his seat. Ubbe laughed at the sight of his intoxicated brother, desperately flirting with Y/N but failed. 

“Get off me you drunken bastard.” You gave Hvitserk a soft kick to the ass and sat back down, laughing with Sigurd who pulled his brother up to sit next to him.

“One day, I swear, you will be mine.” Hvitserk slurred, his eyes closed but his finger on you. Then he curled over and hurled into the bucket that Sigurd, thankfully, had. Everyone knew how Hvitserk drank. He drank until he dropped. 

“Please, no one would want to fuck with that.” Ivar suddenly piped up, deciding to speak. The fire illuminating over his face, giving Ivar a dark glow. Ubbe scoffed out of annoyance, knowing  Ivar’s sour words like he found pleasure from humiliating people. And Ivar did. He enjoyed it. “Not even a blind man.” You were used to his insults and rolled your eyes, sculling the last bit of your drink. Before Ubbe could tell his baby brother off for his rude behavior, you stood up and took shaky steps over to him. 

“Oh please, Ivar.” Without hesitation, you slumped on the crippled boy’s lap with a smile. Ivar hissed at the rough impact on his legs, immediately glaring at your tipsy state. “Maybe a blind man wouldn’t, but perhaps a cripple would.” You threw your head back in laughter, enjoying how Ivar’s face turned into a scowl and looked at you like he was going to kill you. The next you were knocked onto the floor with a crash, the world becoming dizzy. 

“I will kill you.” Ivar muttered under his breath as you clumsily took a seat next to the crippled, still amused by his reaction. Most people feared Ivar, even his brother’s, but you were the only one that wasn’t intimidated and treated him like a normal person. 

“Uh huh and you’ll get functional legs.” Ubbe tensed, analyzing his brother for a dangerous response to your bold comment that most people would earn Ivar’s wrath. He glanced over to Sigurd who was also well-aware of the situation, becoming nervous and ready to pull you away from Ivar. You on the other hand, knew the consequence of your comment but still held your teasing gleam. Ivar cracked a large and toothy smile, his eyes softened with the fire illuminating his relaxed state. The sound of his laugh filled the tense hall and your heart fluttered at the sight and sound. 

~~~

The door swung open, revealing the sight of a blonde woman with a pregnant stomach. In her arms was a small little girl, you remember as Elsa. Daughter to Torvi and Bjorn Ironside. Both of you stared at each other, unknowing of what to say. 

“Is Ubbe here?” You finally broke the awkward silence, avoiding eye contact and straightened your stance. She moved aside to let you in, closing the door behind you. 

“Yes, he is changing his clothes. He will be ready soon, I hope.” You sat down on a stool, near the table. You felt like a complete stranger that no one trusted, not that it surprised you. Everyone had their guard up around you as if you’d suddenly attack and bring Ivar back. Sometimes, the people of Kattegat would snarl awful comments about you such as being Ivar’s bitch or child murderer and so forth. “I do not trust you nor do I believe you deserve to be in Kattegat.” Torvi spoke truthfully but it did not shock you. “But, my husband seems to. He speaks fondly of you.” You drew your lips in a thin line, watching her as she stirred soup in a pot for the hungry children. 

“I see.” Was the only thing you could come up with. You knew Ubbe loved you, loved you like a little sister and a close friend. You remember when you sat by Ivar’s side along with Hvitserk, you remembered the stare of a broken man. His heart was crushed. More so by Hvitserk’s decision, but disappointed when he saw you. It hurt to say the least, but it did not waver your loyalty or judgment. He knew from the start that you would always choose Ivar, always. You let out a sigh, furrowing your eyebrows together. Ubbe still had hopes that you’d stay and fight. It was your responsibility to break it, to destroy that idea for the sake of you and him. “I will talk to him.” 

“Momma, can you braid my hair? I want to look just like Lagertha.” Else tugged at her Mother’s dress with hopeful big brown orbs.

“Not right now.” You were unaccustomed to such sights or the feeling. Children weren’t really your speciality. Your behaviour far too rough and blunt, not to mention your appearance wasn’t at all friendly. Nor was the constant cold and emotionless mask. 

“Here, let me.” Torvi eyes you skeptically but continues with the soup. The small girl giddily approached you, no fear but a sweet beam. She patiently sat between your legs as you run your fingers through her soft blonde curls. The feeling felt nostalgic and your fingers felt an itch. An itch of memory.

~~~

“What is it that you want? You do realize I need sleep too.” You stepped into the room of your prince, rubbing your eyes from tiredness and exhaustion. That day, everyone was preparing themselves to return to Wessex England to get revenge for the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. Ivar laid in his bed, hips down covered by fur and blankets looking warm and cosy. Revealing his upper body, muscular and strong which didn’t come to any surprise since most of his life he’s been crawling. 

“Braid my hair.” He simply demanded and patted the spot next to you. You shivered from the bite of cold lingering at night, even inside the halls of his home. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare all night?” Ivar growled and you instantly scurried over to the man. You weren’t unfamiliar with the bed, having slept in it before. You lost your virginity in the bed, having given it to the man laying next to you. 

“You know, you’re an asshole?” 

“Did I ask for your opinion?” He scoffed back and huffed. You felt him watch you climb into his bed, dragging the warm fur over your bare legs. Ivar stared at you, unaccustomed to your lack of clothing since you seemed to always wear hoards of clothes or battle armour. Yet now, he was left with curiosity as he saw the outline of your body from the light of his candles. You wore a thin white dress because your body grew hot easily and it was Summer. 

“Keep talking to me like that and I’ll leave.” You glared over at Ivar who seemed a world away. “Come over here.” You motioned towards your legs, where he could sit and you could comfortably braid his longer thick black hair. 

“I’m not fucking you.” Ivar stated blatantly, taking your motions the wrong way. But still, he crawled over and settled between your legs and pulled the blankets over his bottom half and your legs as well. His body was hard as laid down against your stomach and chest. You felt your heartbeat jolt at the feeling of his body so close, butterflies swarming inside your stomach and stretched towards your shaky fingers.

“I don’t want you to fuck me.” You lied between your teeth, the words hot with deceit. “Why didn’t you ask me this earlier?” Your fingers combed gently against the tuffs of his hair, the silk of soft and thick rubbing against your rough fingers. It soothed your heart. 

“I thought it would make your life more difficult.” He teased. You could see his cocky smirk through the thickness of his locks and you tugged it back harshly causing Ivar to hiss. 

“Sorry.” Now you were the one smiling with smugness. Your smaller fingers combed through, nails scraping against his scalp like a massage which you were doing but used the excuse of it ridding all of the non-existent knots. Ivar let out a long breath and relaxed more into your body, his weight pushing you against the surface of the wall. It was times like these that made you fall deeply in love with the insecure man. 

“You didn’t say that the last time.” After a few minutes of silence, that you enjoyed, Ivar decided to break it. You raised your eyebrows and his comment, confused on what he meant. 

“Excuse me?”

“You said, you didn’t want to fuck me but the last time you were in my room, I recall you begging.” This caught you off guard and made you freeze your actions. Something dropped inside your stomach. Eye trapped on the first to braid on the left side of his scalp, you were tempted to dig your elbow into his skull and make the blue eyed man take back his words. Ivar, of course noticed the way your body reacted. He felt you tense and felt the tips of your fingers leave his scalp - much to his dismay. “Don’t you remember?” Ivar didn’t need to turn to look at you to see the reaction he’d cause, the only reaction he knew he could cause. Instead, his hand found its way to your bare thighs and tenderly massaged your legs. 

“Yes.” You coughed, breaking out of your embarrassed trance and returned to braiding his hair. You completely ignored the feather touch of his calloused fingers against the bare of your bruised skin. 

“Is that a yes to me fucking you or a yes to me fucking you the first time?” Your heart beat sped up at the words, suddenly very sensitive to his body slumped against yours. You silently cursed the Gods and your heart, especially to the way your mind was reacting. Self-aware to the bare skin rubbing against your body, your chest and your stomach, only separated by an inch of fabric. 

“As I recall it, cripple, you were the one that wanted to have sex not me. Why? Because you couldn’t get a fucking hard on.” Ivar chuckled lightly at your remark, entertained by your sour mouth around him. You were the first woman he had ever encountered to be so complicated. You were loud and boisterous yet silent and observant around other people. You were brutally honest about your opinion but still secretive about your feelings. You fought like a man but emotional like a woman - the side of you that he alone, witnessed. You were by all means unsaintly yet as pure as a flower. "So please be quiet. I rather prefer you better than to when you open that beastly thing of yours called a mouth.”

“I know you pine for me at night, scarface. Perhaps even touch yourself to the thought of me.” You could feel the tingles travel towards the pit of your stomach, the cunt between your legs betraying your words and forced intentions. It was too damn difficult to resist the man sitting between your legs, body firm and smooth pressed against you like suffocation. If he were strangling the truth of your lust out and into the open. 

“Hmm.” You hummed quietly, deciding to play his game as well. “Maybe.” Your fingers now tugging at the last of his hair that had yet to be braided, you let a finger trace the side of his neck and down the inch of skin that connected his neck and shoulder - the area of where you sunk your teeth into as you came undone. Ivar’s body reacted with a shiver and the hand that was under the blanket was not applying more pressure to your thigh. Ivar enjoyed toying with you, this much you knew. He always found every opportunity to get you a mess. Whether it be an angry mess, an annoyed mess or a flustered mess. “Yet, maybe not.” You continued braiding the last of his hair, silk soft and tender. Not so long ago it was short and still as thick. 

“Will you be by my side when we attack King Aelle and his armies?” Ivar’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper but held such vulnerability. This side of Ivar that only you could see, breathe and feel. It was intoxicating and dangerous. Made you want him even more. Finishing the last of his intertwined fragments of ink black locks, you let out a sigh and rested the top of your chin on his head.

“Of course. I will always be by your side.” Although the words were simple, they spoke how serious you were. They spoke truths you couldn’t admit to him or even yourself. They spoke truths that you knew would break your heart. Ivar found your small hand and held it in his, not saying a word but the action spoke thousands. 

The sensation inside your body, warmed. The weight of his large and meatier hand is rough against your palms. Thumb rubbing small circles that did wonders to your body. It made your headlight and the familiar feeling of euphoria came back. A different type of euphoria. Not the one you gained from victory or tearing through the bodies of enemies or the many cups of ale. It was the type that was pure and real and honest. It made your heart weak but soar at the same time. 

“Stay with me.” 

~~~

His mouth latched onto the crook of your neck, lips chapped and dry but tongue wet and smooth. You let out a content sigh, your hands pulling at his long mane of hair. He sucked harshly on the soft skin, fingers already pulling your belt  off and then ripped your pants down. Revealing your bare thighs, skin bruised and scarred from old scars and new minor wounds. His actions were rushed, pushing you onto a nearby table of his home and placed himself between your legs. 

It wasn’t normal for you to fuck random men in a stranger’s home. Hell, he could be married with children. But it wasn’t like you were doing this for pleasure, no, it was to ease the pining at night. The unsatisfied tension from your cunt because of the lack of sex and physical contact with any man - Ivar, to be more specific. You didn’t realize how much your body had needed his touch, until last night when your body was hot and needy. So, first thing in the morning, you saw the closest man to you, you coaxed him into fucking you senseless. Which by the way, didn’t take much. Just a few words and a light press of your fingers.

“Oh, you’re so tight.” He growled into your ear, breath hot and heavy. You felt his prick slide into your pussy, which immediately clenched and tensed, a small moan leaving your lips. It wasn’t like he wasn’t a decent size, but it felt...bland. It was missing something. Something meaningful. You pushed those thoughts aside and tied to focus on the pleasure and pushed him onto the ground, only to ride him faster. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you’re a good bitch.” In normal circumstances, you would have punched the man over for calling you that but you were so desperate to feel something that it didn’t faze you. You closed your eyes and thought of Ivar. His touch. His lips. His kiss. His voice…

~~~

“I’m not having sex with you.” You stated bluntly once again. Over the past week, Ivar has been pressuring you to have sex with him because he never had sex before and neither had you. Over the two years he’s known you, you have earned his trust and his comfort and the feelings are mutual. Both of you can speak openly about anything, it was a privilege but also a nuisance.

“Didn’t you say that you were here to serve me? Not completely fucking ignore my demands.” You rolled your eyes at Ivar’s spoiled behaviour, annoyed because he could be an asshole but also a pestering asshole in the middle of your chores. You weren’t a slave nor were you rich or a lady that Queen Aslaug treated well. She didn’t hate you nor did she favor you. However, you were incredibly grateful for her hospitality of lending you a bed, food and the acquaintance of knowing her sons. 

“Look, as you can tell I’m really busy right now.” You huffed and scrubbed the clothes to your clothes in the bucket of water harshly, ridding of the blood stains. “So do yourself a favor, and let your royal ass out.” You ignored the rest of his blabbering and then felt his presence leave. You let out a heavy sigh, body finally coming to an ease. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to have sex with Ivar but it was because you were actually, nervous. Really nervous. There were two major problems to that. One, you were nervous because you didn’t know how to fuck nor did you know if you actually could. And two, you have never been nervous before. The sensation was new and pestering. 

You talked to Ubbe about it since he was the mature and responsible one. You asked him about sex and he was surprised, since you rarely asked anything. Literally. You kept to yourself and handled things on your own. But this issue didn’t seem to go away. So, you turned to Ubbe who out of all the brother’s wouldn’t judge or make any insults towards you, he was a good person. But even then, the knowledge didn’t still your nerves or excitement on that matter. You wanted to have sex with Ivar but still didn’t know how.

A few days later, you were sitting by yourself, observing the crowd of drunken people and reckless laughter. Your eyes find Ubbe who was flirting with one of the slave girls, Margrethe, a girl that got on your nerves and did not trust. Then towards Hvitserk, drinking beside Sigurd but his orbs were also glued to the slave girl and so was Sigurd, though he hid it better with his singing and playing the ute. Oh boy, you thought. But still, Ivar was nowhere to be seen, you found it odd since he enjoyed drinking and humiliating you or his brother, Sigurd. You stood up and approached Ubbe to inquire where he was.

“Ubbe, where is Ivar?” The blonde man pulled himself off of the slave girl who was giggling and clearly enjoying the attention of the famous prince. You had to admit she was beautiful but the instinct in your stomach proved otherwise. 

“You always worry about my little brother my dear Y/N. Drink and let loose.” Ubbe replied, obviously drunk and too happy. It was useless to think that you could get a reply from him, so instead you approached Sigurd.

“I heard that Ivar isn’t completely a man.” Sigurd muttered with a slur to Hvitserk, who gave him a confused look. “I mean, his prick can’t stand or pleasure a woman. You remember when we took him to the lake house to fuck Margrethe, she told me that his cock didn’t work and that he threatened Margrethe.” That bitch, you initially thought. You knew how insecure and sensitive Ivar was. Especially with his brothers. Always needing to prove himself to them, making up for his legs or lack thereof. You knew Sigurd was drunk and wouldn’t carelessly let loose on his words but boy did you wanna start a fight right now. Your blood boiled, becoming protective over the cripple man and also having a good enough reason to punch the blonde girl. 

Without hesitation, you marched over to the loving couple who were making out so carelessly and tore Ubbe off of her. Margrethe looked at you with horror as you lifted her to her feet and rammed your forehead into her nose, earning a crack and a shriek. Ubbe immediately grabbed you and stared you away from the slave girl who was crying but you could care less and spat at her one last time before you were thrown against the wall by the older man.

“What is wrong with you?” Ubbe yelled, glaring down at you with fire. You only wiped her blood from your face and huffed, pushing his arms away and stomped out of the hall. Ignoring the hollers of other Vikings and the hate-stares of Hvitserk and Sigurd. You would pay for this later since all three men were smitten and infatuated with that bitch of a woman. All thinking with their cocks and not their sensibility.

Soon enough, you found yourself slipping into Ivar’s room with silent and small steps. The noiseless night filled the hall of the Ragnarson’s large home, located in the great hall. You were dressed in an over-sized long sleeve shirt, falling passed your knees and freshly clean. You didn’t know why, but you were worried about Ivar. Because you rejected him countless times, even though he came to you and wanted you again and again. All because you were afraid. For the first time in your life, you were afraid. Scared that he’d reject you when you did just that towards him. Though these feelings were newborn, they were strong and passionate. 

“What are you doing?” A sleepy and cautious Ivar suddenly inquired, halting you in your tracks of trying to crawl into his bed. Yet you continued, letting the warmth of the blankets engulf you until your body was awkwardly close to Ivar’s.

“I want to have sex with you.” Not knowing how else to put it, you stated only the truth. You felt his head shift to glance over to you.

“Why?” 

“What else reason would there for me to fuck you Ivar? Because I’m horny and I want you.” You met his eyes, barely visible but you could see his crystal blue irises staring at you questionably. But soon his expression softened and he looked away.

“I can’t.” There was a tone of disappointment and pain behind his words and you knew exactly why. Because of that blonde bitch with a big fucking mouth. You growled inside your head, promising yourself that you’d deal with the girl later on if Ubbe or Hvitser or Sigurd didn’t interfere. How was a man like himself supposed to reach greatness if he had the confidence of a child? You knew, ever since you were a child, that the man called Ivar the Boneless would someday be a famous and feared viking. And you believed it with all your heart. 

“You’re a stupid cripple.” You mumbled and then pressed your lips against his. They were soft and warm. Ivar seemed shocked at first, not knowing how to reply or to react. So, you prompted for a response by crawling over his body so you were straddling the man. You could feel the blood in your body rush to your cheeks, feeling heat and warmth spread at the feeling for him. A spark lit in the pit of your stomach. “A stupid cripple.” You spoke once again, admiring the way his eyes, crystal blue like the rare flashes of lightning that only occurred for a split second. If you were to blink, you’d miss its beauty and it's terror. This time, Ivar reciprocated the kiss with slow movements and timid hands that bunched at your hips, unknowing to do what. 

“You do not understand.” He muttered between your desperate kisses and caught your roaming fingers that itch to feel his manhood. The only part of him that was left unknown besides his legs. The part of him that made you eager with a different excitement. “I can’t. My-” Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his cheek raw and hard. The sound bouncing off of the walls and down the still hall. 

“You’re gonna let a slave bitch really tell you how your body works?” You knew Ivar, knew him well enough to cause a reaction. This man was driven by anger and revenge. He was truly passionate when he was filled with rage and turmoil, where the beast lurks and the mind disappears. The reaction didn’t work though, not yet. He only seethed through the grit of his teeth and gave a shaky sigh, controlling his anger. It was sweet really, but you didn’t want sweet, you wanted him to fuck you. Fuck you until that confidence came back. “You’re a bitch Ivar.” You mumbled through light kisses, dragging down his neck and sinking your teeth into his skin hard enough to earn a loud hiss. “What happened to Ivar the Boneless, the one who proved everyone wrong?” You hummed teasingly, tongue dragging down his chest and giving one of his nipples a flick and down, down, down, to the bottom of his belly button. “I guess he lost his balls just as well as he lost his-” You yelped out in pain as Ivar grabbed a fist full of your hair and yanked you up. 

“You want me to fuck you, hmm? Want me to fuck that fucking cunt? Is that what you really want?” You could see the fury behind his eyes, felt it in the tenseness of his body and could sense it through the bulge of his pants that you felt proud of. 

“Can you?” You teased, one hand holding his wrist and the other clenching onto the bed sheet. You suppressed the need to escape but didn’t bite your tongue back, not now. Not when he was clearly turned on. 

“Careful woman, your mouth is too big for your own good.” 

Ivar slumped over your body, both of you completely exhausted from prior activities. It was painful but enjoyable. Neither you or Ivar made a move, too surprised at what had happened but instead laid in silence and let what had happened sink in. You absorbed it. His rough fingers touching places where no man has ever ventured or rather tried, but still maintained his limbs and life. His lips ghosting over yours then meeting in a passionate dance like a bonfire or crashing waves or swords on a battlefield. Biting, sucking, clashing, needing, tasting each other like a man deprived. He was gentle and soft, maintaining his control as he felt your discomfort. The way Ivar coaxed tender things in your ear as you held onto him like he’d suddenly leave. The way you felt all of his body. His chest, his arms, his nose, his lips, his hips, even his legs. The way he relentlessly fucked you the second time, pounding into your cunt with so much force you couldn’t help the cries that shrieked in the household where others could hear. The way you both came undone with timid and slow thrusts, staring into each other’s eyes with soft whimpers and hands held. It was too much. 

“Can I stay?” You inquired with slight nervousness. Apprehensive at the idea he might decide he doesn’t want you anymore, just wanting a fuck buddy or just a one time thing. He didn’t say anything at all, but his hand reaching out for yours was enough confirmation.

[superprincesspea]

Chapter 2: Fate

The God’s had led Rollo to find Edithe. Now he would lay claim to her. 

Masterlist

Rollo’s smile never faded no matter how much his little Saxon kicked and screamed with every step. She had pleased him although he could not explain it to her. The man she killed was called Ake and not long ago he had cheated Rollo out of a lot of money and it was not something he could easily forget or forgive.

So seeing Ake’s end met by a woman who was barely big enough to reach his chin had amused him and it was a fitting death in Rollo’s opinion. This Valkyrie might not have been a warrior like the shieldmaidens he fought with, but he could see her fighting spirit, even if it was hidden underneath the frail exterior the Saxon men expected of their wives and daughters.

As he carried her to where the slaves were being held she continued to struggle, clawing his back like a wild animal but Rollo simply chuckled. He enjoyed the weight of her writhing around on his shoulder and it only gave steam to his imagination. Soon enough he would have her in his bed and what a night it would be.

When he finally dropped her to the ground she landed in a pile of skirts and flailing arms before quickly standing up to remind him of the beauty which had first captured his attention. Even in the almost dark he could see her pale unblemished skin which stood in contrast with her raven black hair. Her features were striking, making her seem like a creature of legend yet she was not. She was standing before him. Flesh and blood, waving her fists and cursing him in vain.

Rollo knew the odd native phrase but not enough to understand the exact details of what she was proclaiming. It didn’t matter to him anyway. Even with her face screwed up she remained just as captivating and he couldn’t resist the smile that held onto his lips. Women with wild tempers certainly made for the better bed companions and women with beauty such as this made for even better mates. He would be the envy of all around him and she would produce beautiful, wild, raven haired children.

“Ragnar is looking for you,” Rolf said and Rollo grunted. Taming his Valkyrie would have to wait at least a little longer and perhaps the wait would quell some of the fire that raged in her temper. Although Rollo wasn’t entirely sure he wanted that.

He instructed Rolf to bind her hands and keep watch for when she tried to escape. In Rollo’s mind there was no question of if, only when. With the unruly look in her eyes, escape would only be a matter of time and he wasn’t going to lose her before they had been properly introduced.

“Brother,” Ragnar smiled when Rollo found him. “We have done well this night.”

“You were right about this place,” Rollo conceded, watching as the flames engulfed what was left of the village. Their bounty was good and the men of these lands had been no match for the sheer number of vikings. Certainly no match for Rollo who was unstoppable when the blood lust took him.

“I want you to take some men to scout the woods and kill any stragglers,” Ragnar directed.

Rollo grimaced, his hands balling into tight fists. The main fight was over, Rollo should have been relaxing and enjoying his spoils yet his brother was sending him on a lesser man's errand and, from the smirk on Ragnar's face, he knew exactly what he was doing. Sometimes there was no end to Ragnar’s provocation.

Still, Rollo did as he was asked, finding warriors hiding in the woods and dealing them a swift death at the edge of his blade. Twice he came across sobbing children and perhaps it was more cruel to leave them alone but his bloodlust was ended and he had no interest in slaying pitiful creatures.

When daylight was finally breaking over the scorched earth the air hung with death and Rollo ached for rest. Instead, he again found Ragnar. His beady eyes were surveying all the prisoners while Athelstan stood at his side, speaking in the tongue of the Briton’s, coaxing them to speak with him.

They all remained mute. All except the priest. The priest begged, his face puffy from a night of sobbing and his hands clasped together in desperate prayer. Athelstan soothed him, patting his head and offering the blessings of a fallen angel. A holy man turned heathen Viking and at that Rollo couldn’t help but laugh. These priests were all the same, terrified of meeting their God, which only made killing them taste even sweeter.

But Rollo’s smile was short-lived. Before long the priest began to point towards the Valkyrie and his brother's gaze was as hungry as Rollo had ever seen it.

“The daughter of the Lord,” Athelstan relayed, “betrothed to King Aelle’s son.”

This news only made Rollo happier with his conquest and before his brother could even think to claim her he took a stand. “She’s mine,” he asserted, laughing as he relayed the way she had killed Ake and quietly hoping there would be no contest to his ownership.

“Perhaps we could ransom her. Hm? Ask for her weight in silver,” Ragnar said and Rollo could not tell if his brother was toying with him.

“That could take weeks. We already have more than we can take home.”

“That is true but she is worth more than simply being a slave, no? She is the daughter of a Lord. I could send you to bargain for us and if you’re quick I’m sure we could set sail before the seas change.”

Rollo towered over Ragnar and this time he would not accept his brother's orders so easily. “I will not bargain for her. I am claiming her now and I don’t want her to be my slave. I will make her my bride and she will bear me sons.”

Ragnar laughed at this, his eyes dancing with pleasure, “you will marry this Christian woman?”

For a while he had looked for a woman who would be worthy to carry his sons. The way she killed Ake had caught his eye but it was her beauty which had sealed her fate to his. It was meant to be that he had found her. He was sure of it. “I will,” he said with determination.

“Well then I wish you luck, brother. Keep the Saxon and we will bring her back to Kattegat.”

Ragnar’s words should have pleased Rollo but he found himself filled with suspicion like he always did when it came to his brother. Competition was deep rooted in their bond and there never seemed to be a single thing which Rollo did, or had that Ragnar did not take, or better. But this time Rollo would not share. He would keep his little Valkyrie close. The closer the better.

[raulesparzaruinsm3]

Prompt: you and Rafael are like bored on the couch watching a movie (it’s gon be American Psycho cause why not) and Raf starts asking what you like in bed and it’s like soft for a sec and then when you guys are further into the conversation he’s like.. Let’s go try it (;

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You and your boyfriend, Rafael, were just lounging around tonight. You had the day off of work today, and Rafael came home a little early just to spend some time with you. His workload was always hefty, being ADA would never be easy and he knew that, but Rafael always made sure to make time for just the two of you. 

 You and Rafael were both very picky when put together, to fix this problem he’d picked the movie in advance and started it just before you sat down. He picked American Psycho, because Rafael knew how intrigued you were with Christian Bale’s character. Rafael couldn’t resist him either, but he’d never admit that. He’s too stubborn.

Rafael laid behind you, both arms wrapped around just under where your ribcage ended. His head was resting on a pillow propped up to the armrest of the couch, so he could see over you. Your eyes glued to the glow of the TV. You held onto Rafael’s thumb and gave it a squeeze every once in a while to let him know you enjoyed his company, and a few times during the creepier parts of the movie.

Towards the end of the movie Rafael’s mind started to wander, he just wanted to talk to you. He wanted to be vulnerable to you and he wanted to know every little thing that went through your mind. 

“Y/n?” He spoke, eager to prod at your brain after a particularly weird, sexual movie.

“Yes Raf?” You were skeptical of the incline in his voice, you knew he was up to something.

Rafael paused for a moment, wondering how to phrase his questions as inquisitive and not just aroused.

“What do you like in the bedroom?”

You craned your neck to look back at him, eyebrows furrowed, your crooked smile from one side of your mouth to complete the look, “What exactly do you mean?” 

You’d been with Rafael long enough, sex was nothing new to your relationship. He’s always been very forward in asking for consent and you were far from disappointed in the bedroom.

“Well.. is there something you like that we haven’t tried yet?”

The ‘yet’ made you pretty excited

You were quiet for a minute, thinking hard as if Rafael was quizzing you and you needed the right answer.

Rafael still tried to get a response from you, “Hmm, you have something to hide carino? You can tell me, I don’t bite.” He moved one of his hands ever so slightly up your stomach, trying to pull you closer than you already were.

“Well.. maybe I have a few ideas..” You trailed off, getting quieter as you finished, almost not wanting Raf to hear you out of embarrassment.

“Tell me.” Now that he knew there was something there he wasn’t going to give this up, Rafael had a way of getting things out of you. You weren’t sure if it was because his job involved interrogating witnesses on the stand, or just the thought of him talking to you like this made you weak. “Please, I’ll do anything for you.”

“Okay,” You gave in. “I’ve always thought about you.. Holding me down while we have sex.”

The cogs turning in Rafael’s head didn’t know what to do. His mind went wild with thoughts of you underneath him, writhing in pleasure.

“Do you want me to tie you up?” He says playfully. You could tell he was joking, but if that’s really what you wanted you know Rafael would do it. No questions asked.

“Shut up!” You tried to roll over to face him but he tightened his arms around you to keep you in place. Squeezing you a little as a way to ask you to keep going. 

“Just tell me,” Rafael moved his face to space where your neck and shoulder met. Tilting his head up so that his lips barely met your ear, “I don’t bite.” 

“Could we just go try it? So I can show you what I mean?”

He almost threw you off the couch at the velocity he used to get up. Taking one of your hands in his and pulling you with him, he led you down the short hallway to your bedroom. Now you took the lead, crawling onto your side of the bed and sitting criss-cross applesauce as if Raf was about to read you a story. Rafael opted to sit in front of you on his knees. Your initiative was short lived though, both of you just sat there in silence. Rafael searched your eyes for any sign that you were unsure. He knew you loved him, that you wanted him, he could almost read your mind. He knew when something was too much for you, or when you were just a little nervous. 

“Cat got your tongue, counselor?” You broke the hush playfully, waiting for him to make a move. You always liked when Rafael took control. It really turned you on to completely put your trust into him, and he knew it. He reached out and placed his hands on your thighs. Lightly at first, like you were a lit fireplace and he was trying to warm himself without getting burnt.

“I just like looking at you,” Raf pondered how to start, not wanting to disappoint. “Shall we continue?” You nodded trance-like staring back into his emerald eyes, too excited to speak.

It was almost painful how Rafael took his time with you. Time came to a halt as he climbed over you, grabbing hold of your hips and pulling the both of you down and into the middle of the mattress, making sure your head landed on the pillows beneath you. He took one wrist in his strong, soft hands and pulled it above you. You leaned up to catch him in a kiss, his lips like velvet on yours. Pulling away before you could distract him any further Rafael gets back to his task and takes your other wrist as well. This time kissing your palm and looking at you sweetly before laying hold of it with your other, leaving one of his hands free in order to further seduce you. Rafael began peppering you with kisses. Your lips, to your cheeks, down your neck, and back up. You were lost in the moment, thankful your boyfriend could put this much effort into such a small request.

 Rafael then started on your clothes, which weren’t much. You never wore pants around the apartment unless it was absolutely necessary, something Raf thanked god for every morning when he woke up to you in your most vulnerable state. Tonight you only had on a pair of underwear and a worn out, oversized D.A.R.E. shirt. Letting go of your small wrists his hands wandered underneath the thin material of your t-shirt pulling it up, rubbing up your sides in the process giving you chills. He discarded the piece of fabric next to the bed before starting to kiss at your neck again. Trailing down to one of your collar bones and gnawing on it gently, earning a small moan from you. You tried hard to keep it in and not let him know just how much you were enjoying this but it had left your mouth before you could fight it. Rafael giggled lightly, continuing down from your sternum to the hem of your panties.

Rafael stopped at your heat, snaking both of his arms under your thighs now and tapping his fingers on your hip, “Mi reina, you look so beautiful.” 

You could barely take this. His eyes burning into you inches from where you needed him most you sighed, defeated, “Please just take me, I need you.”

Rafael left a few more kisses on your hips before letting you pull him up, pulling off your remaining panties and his clothes in a matter of seconds. Neither of you able to wipe the grins off of your faces as Rafael climbs on top of you grabbing both of your wrists again in one swift motion. He became more confident, kissing up your arms and anywhere else he could reach. He stops again, and reaches over to his side of the bed to the drawer of his nightstand. He grabs the small, familiar foil wrapper and tears it open. Looking very focused Rafael rolled the condom on.

“Rafi,” you say against his lips as he thrusts in. A string of moans and ‘mm’s and ‘oh’s left you while Rafael continued an increasing rhythm. He kept his head near your neck kissing up and down, one hand gripping your wrists tighter and tighter and the other on your hip to help him pound into you. When he could tell you were getting close to your climax he began whispering things in your ear, knowing he would push you over the edge.

“Does that feel good?”

“So pretty carino,”

“You can do it mi amor,”

A few more thrusts and you were finally there, Rafael right behind you. He lost his grip on you once he’d came, so you took the opportunity to take his face in your hands and kiss him softly. Your arms felt wobbly and you’d gotten pins and needles from them being in one place for so long, but that didn’t stop you from holding Rafael until he rolled off of you.

You two spread out on the bed, giving each other a bit of space after your workout, though you kept hold of his hand across from you to let him know you were still there. After a while you pulled his arm to you. Holding his hand to your face you said quietly, “Thank you Rafi.”

[beautifulramblingbrains]

The Dog - Chapter 11

Fandom: Vikings Characters: Ivar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, OC (However brief they appear.) UbbexOC Rating: This is Mature content with multiple trigger warnings on a range of subjects.

A/N: Thank you, @murmelinchen, as per! :). And thank you all so much. I had a little iddy biddy break away but I have seen and read all the reblogs and likes. Thanks again. 

First Chapter // 2nd Chapter // 3rd Chapter // 4th Chapter // 5th Chapter // 6th Chapter // 7th Chapter // 8th Chapter // 9th Chapter // 10th Chapter

Tags:   @pathybo@sparklemichele@singingpeople@captstefanbrandt@equalstrashflavoredtrash@whenimaunicorn@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995@emmysrandomthoughts@ariwolf14@bcat1291@tomarisela@romanchronicles @colours-of-my-heart @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lol-haha-joke@thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @tiyetiye @titty-teetee @microsmacrosandneedles @btslee15

For a long while, Avery had peered out across the land, waiting silently, beginning to see the curl of her breath as the temperature dropped rapidly and darkness began to shroud them. She pulled the furs further across her shoulders, not giving in to the thought of defeatism.

Ubbe had told her that he was riding out to Wark to speak with the Earl. He was going to tell him that his battle plans were changing, feeding him lies of their small army marching past both Keeps, not coming into contact with either. They would merely just rest a few more days. Whether it was the truth or not, Avery didn't know or care. But she would wait until Ubbe got back.

"My lady, please, it's cold," she heard Indra say from behind her as she came out to sit with her. She'd said the same thing over an hour ago.

"It's fine. You may go if you want. But I will stay here."

Neither of the women moved. Not until something grabbed Avery's attention, small dots far in the distance growing larger. It would be Ubbe, his brother, Hendrick and a few others. Indra snapped up before Avery, for she had two lovers on the field - whether she wanted to admit that or not.

Tiredly, Avery stood too, still clutching the furs. "Is it them? It's them, isn't it?" Her voice bled desperation and worry, and it was time for Indra to ignore her. The camp had swelled to life, obviously whoever on guard had spotted them and now came thundering back and alerting those left in charge.

As they raced up, Hendrick immediately dropped down into the field, handing over the reigns of his horse, his eyes searching. In another life, he would have raced to Indra. And to Avery's surprise, a sadness seemed to radiate from Indra when she spotted him.

But her own body felt urgent, despairing almost. The crowd fluctuated, trying to get the news, cutting her off from getting to Ubbe so easily. She had a hand up in the air, calling his name with her silly translation, "Ooh bear!" But Avery's voice was nothing compared to the congregating Vikings around her. So with reluctance, she waited, letting him debrief those smothering him.

"From the looks of it, the plan has worked," Indra noted distantly, leaning up on her tiptoes, still watching. Avery's worry had been the threat of anyone approaching the Christian Keep, that they may have found reason to attack rather than talk. "Ubbe was right about those cowards." She took a sharp intake of breath. "Forgive me."

"I'm not offended." She couldn't be, not when Ubbe scoured the crowd and landed on her, his white teeth visible from a distance. He waved the others off, pushing through and leaving Hvitserk with them. And when he got to her, he paused, a bashful sway to her posture before he reached out and pulled her closer. Indra slipped away.

Avery had only just fallen back upon the furs when Ubbe graciously tumbled after her. Due to the impending battle, there was a sense of urgency to his meanderings. Her mouth, her neck, her chest being lavished at any given opportunity. While she was bare, he remained clothed, but jutting his hips into hers, pushing hard into her crotch, so she could feel his need without a doubt. It gave her an idea of what he would be like as a lover. And it was overwhelming.

"Ooh bear," she panted, using both hands on either side of his face to get his attention. And it was all he needed to slow himself, propping himself up to look down at her. He appraised her slowly, drinking her body in before slipping down and taking her nipple into his mouth. She cradled him there, until he went further to her ribs and then to her lower belly.

"Like your silly stories, I'm going to eat you now," he growled.

Avery struggled to get up to her elbows, seeing him squatting between her legs. "What?" She smiled nervously, breath still stolen.

"Watch," he replied, licking his lips.

Ubbe rubbed his thumb once over her clit, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. She snapped her eyes open to watch him kiss his way down her inner thigh. And when he finally reached her core, enveloping her with his mouth, tongue flat against her, she pathetically withered back against the furs, unable to control the sounds that filtered through her lips.

Heat rose in her cheeks, his unrelenting care alternating between fast and then slow, making her hips twitch. But the distance between them was too much. Her hand flailed for him, and he choked back a laugh, reaching up to calm her, interlocking his fingers against hers.

Her legs began to shake uncontrollably, and he moved up until they could rest on his shoulders, which only eased it slightly.

"You taste as beautiful as you look," he mumbled, watching her body writhe and heave with each shaking breath.

"Mm-hmm… Don't stop." He chuckled at her desperation as she begged for him to not to stop over and over. With her eyes shut tightly she tried to reach him with her other hand. And when her fingers curled into his short hair, he greedily complied, not minding her nails digging into his hand as she felt herself being perfectly pushed to a physical limit, then bursting into a million melting pieces.

Ubbe crawled back to her side, very pleased with himself. "I think you just woke the whole camp." But she was still lost, beautifully lost. "Are you okay?"

"I think I saw Heaven," she sighed dreamily.

Ubbe tried very hard not to laugh but couldn't help himself. "If that is Heaven then why don't we go sooner rather than later?"

"Maybe that is pleasure then. Maybe comfort, love… I don't know. I find I don't care either way. Not right now." Rolling onto her side, she felt the need to sleep wash over her.

Sitting up, Ubbe discarded his tunic, unbuckling his pants and slipped them off without falter, then covered them both in the furs.

"This is only the beginning," he sighed, curling up behind her. "Soon I will make full love to you, and every passing moment until you are with child, and every moment thereafter." Ubbe looked at her over her shoulder but she was peacefully asleep already.

"Why won't you speak with me?" demanded Hvitserk. Indra turned away from the entrance to the tent and went further inside. "Have I done wrong? Have I hurt you somehow?"

"Hvitserk, please. I told you before, it was too serious. I didn't want anything serious and then you spoke of marriage," she said incredulously, pacing as much she could in the small space. "You know that you and the word marriage don't go hand in hand."

"What does that mean!"

"Please stop this. Please just leave." Her voice shook and she still couldn't face him. "Leave me alone."

"Is there another?" He put his hands to his hips and looked to the ground, stepping forward when she didn't reply. "Is. There. Another? Because I swear to the Gods, if there is, blood will be shed!"

"There is nobody. I want nobody else!" He stepped toward her and she swung at him, missing and falling into his arms. Memories surrounded them, the short, sweet days they had spent together, loving so much in such a short amount of time.

Between her tears, she turned and kissed him, stumbling across the room.

"Will you be gone long?" Avery's voice was intentionally quiet, so no one else could hear. Ubbe wore his helm, fully armoured, looking much taller than usual as he stood ferociously in front of her. The army waited to divide beyond the trees, splitting to hit both Keeps. Homecamp was moving itself too as soon as they would set off, for safety.

"Will you miss me?" His touch was gentle against her cheek regardless of how he looked. "What did I do to deserve to come across you in this life? How were you chosen to live - for me to see you?"

"I stabbed Hendrick." She smiled. "Life is strange." He stood in silence, studying her face still and her cheeks began to warm. "What...? What are you looking at?"

"I'm drawing you into my mind so that I have it with me. I believe Freya watches me on this day. I see her through your eyes."

Avery became bashful and blinked away. "Stop it."

"Is it not normal to express what I'm thinking? You don't like to hear compliments or how I appreciate you?"

"I'm still getting used to it." She crossed her arms, tightly smiling. She wasn't used to the attention, nor revealing herself to anyone. And he knew her better than anyone now. "Ooh bear, be patient with me. And… and come back."

"Are you ordering me?" His smile beamed.

"That is an order." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, nicked her chin, then turned towards his waiting raiders.

She watched them leave, like a parallel of the previous night. "My lady," Indra whispered behind her. "We will be moving shortly, you must prepare."

"I'm ready."

As the light died, Ubbe marched upon Wark, while Hendrick took the Keep in the North-West. They met with their scouts at the wall, hoisting scaling ladders against the downpour of arrows almost knocking Hvitserk from his climb. When Ubbe turned to check on him, he was laughing wildly, climbing quicker.

Ubbe pulled himself over the lip of the outer wall, upon the stand where the churchmen stood guard, noticing only a small number of soldiers. He pushed the thought from mind, using his axe to maim a man almost upon him.

Quickly he moved to open the gates, a zig-zag stair descent. Hvitserk was with him, having his back until more of the northmen joined them as most waited to be let in. They pulled the lumbering wood from the door, and Ubbe heaved them open, calling for this battle to be fast and favoured by the Gods.

The tents they had strung up were not as big as usual because they were not going to be staying very long. They would move to the Keeps after they were conquered and reside there until the next. Indra stayed with Avery, huddled together for warmth, fearing what was happening to their men.

Their conversation had changed several times, and there was no chance of sleep. It got so bad they fell silent and Avery hugged her knees, listening to Indra hum. After a while, she turned her head, still resting on her arms, just enough to see Indra on her back and looking up to the top of the tent. "I don't think we will sleep at all tonight."

"The battles make me afraid. Whatever outcome comes from them, changes our plans each time…" She furrowed her brows, lost in thought. "And we lose people sometimes."

For some reason, Avery thought of Benedict, the closest person she had had left from her old life. The last time she had seen him, he was half eaten by crows and still strung up. She pressed her hands together and silently prayed.

Indra glanced to her. "I do not doubt them. But the Gods are unpredictable, and so are people."

"I wish I was smarter," Avery blurted, causing Indra to sit up on her elbows. "All these Earls I could have learnt of, all the layouts of the land. Instead I know nothing. Instead I kept away from them as much as possible because I feared for my life... After what happened at Benedict's Keep, I suddenly snapped and was no longer fearful. I had a purpose and it was those children. They were my only vision." She paused with a sigh. "I told them they were in there but they ignored me. Though, now I know ooh bear understood exactly what I was saying."

"The Christians don't care for us. We don't care for them. He didn't know anything about you and for all he knew it was a ploy - a distraction."

"They kill innocent children. I'm still learning how I can live with the knowledge."

Indra bit her cheek. "They don't want to. They have to. There is a difference. And I wish you would stop talking about us like that. You may forget but I am a Viking too."

"Would you kill children?"

"Not by my hand but I would leave them to their fate," Indra said sternly. "Don't judge me, Avery."

"I'm not."

"You know nothing of the land, aside from what happened to your village and Benedict. You walked alone for a while but fell into luck, then luck again with us."

"I shall say no more." Avery scoffed in disbelief, turning onto her side to lay down, away from her.

"Forgive me. Everything is perspective," Indra said as Avery stared at the skin of the tent. "I'm not feeling all too well, I'm sorry." A shadow moved from outside, forcing Avery to quirk up. "It was not my intention to be offensive…" While Indra spouted her long list of apologies, Avery scrambled across to their single candle and blew it out, moving to Indra who'd already clocked on. With both their eyes wide, watching the entrance, Indra pulled a small blade from her ankle.

"Give me that, quick," Avery held her hand out, went to the side and slit the skin enough to see out. She watched as shadowy figures crept across the land - a lot of them. They didn't speak a word, only signals. Avery almost gasped in shock as a man walked directly in front of her hand-made eye hole, his hands covered in blood. She guessed it was from the guards watching over the camp Ubbe had left behind.

She turned to Indra, considerably paled and grimaced. "Churchmen."

It only made Indra fiercer, her features scrunching up viciously as she got in front of Avery and took the knife. "They won't take us." Avery didn't want to know exactly what she meant, and didn't ask. "I will do us both if I need to," she whispered.

Someone must have woke and spotted the invaders. A roar went up and the rush of noise erupted around them. Avery put a hand on Indra's shoulder.

"Where is he!?" Ubbe shouted across the courtyard. Many had stopped, wiping their dirtied faces while Hvitserk stood close, spitting onto the land. Ubbe took off his helm, peered quickly around. "Where is the Earl and where is his men?!" Nobody answered. He strode past Hvitserk, landed a heavy hand on the shoulder of one of his men and whispered, "Go to Hendrick and get word." The man nodded once and raced off for a horse.

"What shall we do?" Hvitserk said.

Ubbe was frowning. "Something's wrong… We've missed something. They have averted us." A surge of anxiety swirled in his gut. "We need to head back. We need to go. We need to go now!"

Thick gloved fingers slipped over the edge of the entrance, peeling it back slowly. Indra made a feral sound in her throat, pushing Avery back, guarding in front of her.

The churchman must have suspected they were asleep or the tent empty, only to be caught with the sight of them huddled together, a glint in his eye.

"Get back!" Indra warned him, waving her small blade.

He merely whistled, another face emerging after a few short seconds, and they grunted a laugh between them. He almost knocked the stakes from the ground with his shoulders as he busted his way inside. That's when Indra launched herself at him in such a way, which Avery could only describe as cat like; her feet planted firmly on the ground in a wary crouch, and then jumping towards him effortlessly.

Outside rang the calls of death, and suddenly, the fear of the past cast over Avery, the fire she saw in her mind's eye, the cries, freezing her on the spot. Wherever she went there was death, continuously affecting the ones she loved. When she thought she couldn't breathe from fright no more, Indra was caught in one hand around her throat like it was child's play, and Avery went after her with a new cause.

She grabbed Indra, trying to pull her back. The other soldier barged forward and lifted her completely off the ground, flinged her to the other side of the tent. Indra swung her knife in a flimsy hand, nicking his cheek and finally freed herself. However, between the man's arms she could only watch as the churchmen pinned Indra by her hair in sheer spite and rained down blow after savage blow onto the small woman.

Unable to bear Indra's screams anymore, she thought quickly and yelled, "I'm from Benedict's Keep! Stop! What are you doing!" She felt the heat and pain, tasted the blood before realising she'd been slapped and bit her cheek in the process.

A fierce yell from outside remenated until Asger burst into the tent and tackled the churchmen who held Avery, sending them to the floor. Dazed, Avery stumbled up, crawling towards Indra, seeing the knife on the ground. She wasn't going to hide anymore. She couldn't.

She wasn't anything like a trained man, nor someone who had attacked in such a way before, but she jumped onto the churchman's back before he could straighten. Indra lifted her head and stuck a leg out regardless of the pain radiating throughout her face, and he tripped, both women using their weight on his arms as he thrashed helplessly on his back. Avery held up the knife, but Indra took it from her, panting, and slit his throat while screeching in triumph. When she fell back, Avery went and scooped her up, looking to Asger still struggling. He shouted something thickly towards them, and Indra tugged her in urgency. "He says 'run'."

Both of her eyes were almost swollen shut and Avery didn't even know if she was focussed on her as her eyes rolled. She was bleeding from multiple places, staining the cloth they wore. And for a moment Avery disassociated, turning her hands over to look at the blood on them.

"Avery!"

"Yes, I heard… Let's get you up. Come on…" She began pulling Indra, got an arm over her shoulder, stumbling out of the tent while Indra held her ribs and whimpered with every step.

It was like walking out into Hell itself. Man against man, a horse running straight through the middle of the temporary camp, carts on fire. She saw it for what it was. That they were no different. There was no such thing as negotiating, surrender, or peace. Both sides, with a plan or idea in mind were demons on either side of the ocean. It was a reverse image of her village, though this time she sat on the side of the Vikings.

"We have to hide…" Indra wheezed.

"Yes, but where?" Avery frantically looked around, the treeline wasn't far but wandering out towards it could make them a target. There was nothing else to try. A howl came from the tent behind them, something smashing as Asger battled inside, and Avery took off towards the trees.

Every step was effort with Indra hanging off her, their pace too slow for the urgency inside her chest. She almost dropped her multiple times. "Come on, Indra! We are almost there!" Their skirts caught their legs and tripped them up, crashing into the dirt. "Indra!"

"Just go, Avery!"

"I'm not leaving you." With new strength, Avery managed to get them to their feet, turning towards the woods.

Hitting the treeline safely was beyond relief.

How long they had walked - or more stumbled through the woods, she didn't know. They could have even gone in circles, and Indra was near collapse. All that she knew was that it was dawn, morning burning through the tops of the trees. It could have been even later than she thought as the darkness was obscured through the overhang above their heads, the forest cloaking them from time.

It was also quiet. Too quiet.

Indra gave out suddenly and tumbled to the ground, eyes closed, and Avery joined her. They laid in silence, just breathing, looking up to the trees, covered in dirt and blood while sharp stones and branches stuck into their backs.

Avery found she was trembling when she sat up. "Indra, we have to find somewhere to rest…" With no reply, she checked Indra, to find she had passed out, exhausted, and probably in a lot of pain. It was cold too, making her hands feel raw and feet numb. "Indra, wake up." Avery shook her, only for her to groan in response. "Indra, please! Please! Don't leave me…" she trailed off, looking out to a wooded wilderness where everything looked the same. A weird call from an animal pricked her ears, the howl of the wind filling her with horror. "Indra!" She shook her more violently, to receive nothing this time.

In fright she scrambled away from Indra on her hands and knees. A realisation - a probing, dreaded thought washed over that perhaps Indra was dying and she could do nothing about it. Perhaps she would get lost and end up dying from the cold or fright herself. Touching her face, she only just now became aware of the sting on her cheek. It burned and felt wet, but she was unable to see what real damage the churchmen had done.

Her thoughts went to Asger and she wondered whether he had gotten away. But did any of it matter if the both of them now died in this wood? At least Indra knew some hunting skills whereas she did not. If she started a fire, would someone she didn't want see the smoke? Could she even start a fire? She needed the right tools, something to spark, rocks, twirling dry sticks against each other. But in the morning dew how would that be possible?

Her mind raced with every thought possible. Figuring that they were going to die anyway.

So, this time she wouldn't run. She wouldn't leave Indra. She'd learnt from her mistakes.

Avery crawled back over to Indra until she could snuggle up to her and push her chest to her back, hugging her as close as possible.

Through bad dreams and terrors, Avery had dreamt of some strange things. At one point she'd floated up through the trees, lightweight like a breeze and could see the two of them huddled together, cocooned, like potential butterflies.

Avery began to giggle. The only sound in the vast darkness that surrounded them. She wondered if she'd be a blood red butterfly between the cream coloured rags of her dress. If she'd have torn or long floaty wings. Lifting a hand up to the sky, she opened and clasped it, pretending she was flying up and away.

"My wings are broken…" she heard herself say.

She laughed harder, snorting and coughing at the morbid thought. "I'd be a butterfly with broken wings! Indra, what type would you be?" Of course, Indra didn't reply and hadn't for a while. "I'll choose for you. I think yellow… with green flecks, possibly owl like eyes on each wing. You could fly me around because mine are broken…" She dwelled on that thought a long moment. "I know you would. We could fly together-"

"Avery…" a voice drifted into her thoughts.

"But you would be a bigger butterfly…" she trailed off, unable to connect the voice to a person.

"Are you hurt?" She felt warm hands against her ice cold skin and only now did she notice that her eyes hadn't even been open. "Avery?"

Ubbe had heard her laugh while scouring the forest, an off-chance as he'd already walked through most of this side of the wood. And now that he had finally found her, he worried for her sanity, she didn't make any sense at all. She blinked her eyes open but didn't even see him, and was floppy when he pulled her from Indra. The two women had been out for over a day.

He grabbed her face to steady her. "Avery, look at me!" His voice was tight, laced with panic. He hadn't rested since the battle, since he returned to the camp, since Hendrick had come back with news of lies the Earl had spread. He owned and ruled both Keeps single handedly, and set up a ploy to split and weaken the northmen. But he had underestimated their strength in such small numbers.

Where the Earl was, was unknown for now. He'd misjudged the courage of those left at homecamp. It was a desperate move made by a desperate man in utter fear.

Ubbe looked up when Hendrick rushed over and clattered to the ground. "Indra... Indra, open your eyes, my sweet girl." He put his ear to her chest, relief washing over his features as he glanced at Ubbe. "She is alive!" And in one strong scoop, picked Indra up from the floor, the woman looking small and feeble against him.

Sighing, he slowly looked down to Avery. This time her eyes were wide with recognition, staring back so deeply, so calmly up at him.

"You would be a blue butterfly."

"What… Wha..." He smiled as he shook his head, cradling her against him. "You want to go home?"

She clung to him rawly. "What?! No! You can't send me back… There is no where… My home is here-"

"With me."

Avery calmed at once. "With you."

The colour was lost on her face. Shrouded with a hood, Avery kept her head turned to the wind, letting it sting her cheeks, the large bruise having formed over one and a slightly puffy eye while the cart she sat on bumped and groaned over the landscape. Every now and then Asger would catch her eye from next to her and smile as he drove the cart.

They were moving to the Keep, continuing on their journey. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Indra among two others resting behind them. Indra said it hurt when she held her head up; her face and head was severely bruised, including a split lip and a black eye. The other women had used elixirs Avery didn't know of to aid her, helping minutely, looking shiny on the skin. They'd smeared her cheek with the same oily substance too, but she didn't specifically find any relief, and Indra faired worse than her, so she could only imagine the pain.

Trailing behind them was Hendrick, keeping his eyes solely on Indra. And behind him rode Hvitserk, drinking from a skin.

Ubbe trotted back down the line on his horse, and Avery moved the material of the hood to cover her face. "How are you feeling?"

Avery was aching from every muscle, with barely the energy to keep her spine straight. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to lie."

"Sore," she settled for. "I've had worse though."

He didn't speak for a long moment. "I don't doubt it." Then he breathed in and out like he was about to say something but didn't know how to word it. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"I'm getting used to fearing for my life that now it isn't even fear…" she spoke quietly. "It will never end so why fear it?"

"This was the last thing I wanted to happen. I didn't know-"

"It's not your fault, ooh bear," Avery interrupted him. "It was a good plan. It ended well regardless of what we were confronted with-"

"We?" he questioned, his turn to interrupt her.

Avery kept the material drawn over her face as she looked to him. He seemed more handsome than before; strong, alert, even through the expression of concern. "I don't see my home as a land anymore, but as the people around me. Wherever I've been it's always been the people. The land is immortal but the people are not. It will thrive far beyond us. It should be the people around that we love that we should hold close. Without them, what is there?"

"Darkness," he said, frowning. "A lot of darkness." He rubbed a thumb over his lower lip and exhaled. "Avery, I must tell you of what happened in my past so you can put your own judgment on me. So that you know what you are getting into." She shook her head to refuse. "Avery, it wasn't an option." His voice changed; deeper, one of authority.

"I want you to know that I knew my last wife would be killed and I did nothing to stop it," he blurted. "I didn't want to stop it because she went behind my back, many a time. I also fancied another that I shouldn't who brought me much trouble."

Avery was speechless, trying to process the new information.

"I haven't found an easy way to tell you, so this is me trying…" he said with an air of aggravation.

"It's fine. Then please tell me what I need to know," she said calmly. "Because you don't seem to be that man anymore. So tell me... Tell me what I need to know."

The earnesty in her voice stumped him a little, so he managed to find a place to start. "My brother Ivar punished me for not taking his side. Every night I dreamt of carving my name into conquering lands, that my own ambitions or wants did not control me, to find a seat back at my brothers table as family. It only took me the days to ride with you alone to know that I am not that type of man either. I was not the old me, nor the new one they'd created or viewed me as. And I don't want to be either of them. It does not make me happy. But you..." He then struggled, taking another deep breath.

"...I don't want anything from you."

"No."

"That is all there is to know." She still hid her face, an idea forming, though she tried to fight it. "When I lie with you will you still want me after? When I'm no longer young, when I'm old and tired. Will the longing for battle when you're finished change you? Will you take another - become bored with me?"

"Avery, I am not that kind of man." He rubbed the back of his neck quickly. "Though I can only offer you words, not actions of proof. But that is not me."

"No," she said, almost mimicking him from earlier. "Then there is nothing you need to tell me."

"When did you become so wise?" He tilted his head at her, smiling enticingly in that certain way that she had to look away, because it made her forget about her God, even if only momentarily.

He reached out to her hand in her lap. "And don't ever hide your face from me."

Hesitantly, she let the hood drop, revealing the discolouration, the redness under her eye. When she looked at him, she could see that he was trying to hide his worry behind an encouraging smile.

As if to ensure her that she was safe now, he tugged at her hand. "Do you want to ride with me, stulka?"

The words she wanted to say in reply were too suggestive, too unordinary for her. But one thing she'd realised was that life was unpredictable, and she didn't know how long she'd be granted to stay. So, already full with regrets, the last thing she wanted was adding yet another. "I want to lie with you, ooh bear."

[pokeasleepingsmaug]

Forced bedsharing with IVAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Alright here it is and since I have lots of vicious, insane Ivar feels after that episode, it’s not very nice.

TW: mild dub con, hate fucking, sex as punishment, love/hate relationship

“Do you really think that’s going to work?” You ask, exasperated, watching Ivar trying to fit the blade of a knife between the door and its frame to lift the locking bar on the outside of the door. The blade was too wide though, and he was growling and cursing as he tried to force it through anyway.

“Shut up and check the window,” Ivar ordered, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I already did. The castle’s built on the top of a cliff. We climb out the window and tumble to an inglorious death on sharp rocks.” Ivar turned to glare at you, a look of pure rage on his face, and you had to fight the urge to remind him this was his fault.

“This is all your fault,” Ivar huffed, rolling his jaw in frustration as he glowered around the room. You only snorted and kicked off your boots, pointedly ignoring him as you climbed into the single small bed in the center of the room. “What do you think you are doing? You sleep on the floor, shieldmaiden! I am your commander!”

“I saved your life!” You remind him hotly, and this stops him short for a moment. “I’m sleeping in the bed. I saved your life.”

“And if you’d just let them kill me, we wouldn’t now be captives!” You could feel your mouth flop open in sheer disbelief. There’s no reasoning with the youngest son of Ragnar, you should have remembered that. You throw yourself angrily to the bed, rolling over and facing the window. The distinctive dragging noise of Ivar crawling toward you is followed by a grunt and the creaking and sagging of the bed under his weight as he heaves himself up. “Do not turn away from me, Y/n.” Ivar’s voice is a menacing whisper, his breath crawling over your cheek like the promise of violence.

You roll over with an annoyed huff, brows lowered, and even though you felt his breath on your skin you aren’t prepared for how close he is to you. “Fine, Ivar,” you hiss, injecting as much venom into your voice as you can, “we can share the bed.” You roll back over, feeling Ivar settle down beside you.

“You’re insufferable. If you didn’t fight like the Christian devil, I would sacrifice you to Odin. My best shieldmaiden,” he muses. “Surely that would bring the Allfather’s favor on me, hmm? He demands the sacrifice of those things we love the most, and yet I cannot bring myself to give you to him.” You feel his shrug. “And so, here we are, captured because of my weakness.” He shrugs again, and you feel him rolling over to face you. “Why didn’t you just let them kill me, Y/n? Then you would be free to serve an easier master.”

The question is so ridiculous, you roll over to face him again. His face looms into your view, mere inches from yours, and despite the grime and dried blood covering his pale skin, he’s beautiful. “I do not wish to serve an easy master. I want to serve one worth dying for. Sacrifice me to the Allfather, I do not care. I will wait for you in Valhalla and then we will fight again.”

You move to turn back over, but Ivar’s warm, callused hand on your shoulder stops you. “Do not tempt me to kill you,” he warns, his striking eyes burning into yours as he closes the small distance between your mouths. His kiss sends shocks of heat and cold over your body like breaking waves. His lips are hard, demanding your surrender, and you refuse to give it to him. He growls into your mouth angry and insatiable, and still you do not back down beneath his onslaught.

His hand cracks against your jaw, leaving a dull throbbing in its wake, and you bite his lip so hard you taste blood. One of his hands finds your throat and he presses down lightly, a threat that doesn’t scare you. You turn onto your back, an instinct more than anything, and Ivar is quick to shift his weight to cover you. Part of you feels this encounter has been inevitable from the beginning: from the very first time you felt his eyes on you as you fought off the Saxons surrounding you. Just a shieldmaiden, the daughter of a simple blacksmith, and yet from that moment on you’d been Ivar’s constant companion on the battlefield.

It was a strange arrangement, considering you couldn’t stand each other off of it. He was a rash, impetuous man, and you were not the type to just roll over beneath the sullen prince’s unpredictable rages. It infuriated him, and he took that fury out on you now.

His hand left your throat to throw your belt to the floor and tug your breeches down over your hips, and you weren’t sure when in this frantic scramble his own breeches had been undone but the head of his cock was already pressing against your slit. You hated the slickness he found there, hated the smug chuckle that fell from his smirking lips as his piercing eyes considered you. “And all this time, I thought you hated me, Y/n,” he purred, his hand returning to your throat. “Have you been dishonest with me?”

“No!” you protest. “You’re sullen and unpredictable and ruthless. But you’re cunning and brilliant and worth dying for.”

“That sounds almost like love,” Ivar muses, and you writhe beneath him as his blunt head begins to push into you.

“I would rather you sacrifice me to the Allfather than lie with me,” you spit at him, but your hips are betraying you, shifting to take him into you quicker, and his breath hitches in a moan.

“Then tomorrow I will sacrifice you,” he promises, voice dark and full of the promise of pain, and you do not doubt the violence in him even as he begins to fuck ruthlessly into you. His pace is punishing, and the girth of him fills you almost painfully. It seems fitting, somehow. Nothing with Ivar could ever be completely pleasant, and yet you find that the discomfort only makes you want him more.

You mewl as he shifts his hips to hit a new angle, his arms framing your head, knuckles clasping into the bed-linens so hard his knuckles are white. He thrusts into you once, hard and sudden, and leans down to catch your ragged gasp by pressing his lips to yours. He’s rough and his teeth scrape against your lips, and even something that should be gentle is a punishment that you know you deserve. “Next time I will let you die,” you promise, and his face is satisfied as he looks down at you, his blow pupils making his eyes look black and deranged.

“Good. Better death than captivity, Y/n. You failed me by saving my life today, and you will regret it.”

His thrusts are rough and deep, hitting an angle so deep he has you half-sobbing from some sharp, pain-edged pleasure. His hand is hard on on your throat, fingers inexorably closing, and your hips buck against him You hate your body for submitting to him, and in some form of twisted vengeance your fingers dig into the skin of his back until you feel lines of blood beneath your hands. Ivar is howling, screaming like an angry beast, and as you bring your fingers to your mouth to taste his blood, his thrusts turn savage.

He’s like a monster, some fiend that haunts the bowels of tall Northern mountains, and his gods-given fury is all directed into making you submit. As you’re clenching around him, screaming like you’re being flayed alive, his smirk is triumphant and wild. His hips stutter into you, and when normal men would melt against you with shaking muscles, he only slaps your face with something that feels strangely like affection, and rolls off of you.

“I might still sacrifice you after we escape,” Ivar informs you, panting from his exertions, “but for tonight you are safe.” He leans over you, hums in consideration, and drops his head like a striking snake to bite hard into your neck. You know it’s possession, not affection, causing him to leave  a mark on you. He settles down into the bed, and he doesn’t pull you close against him. There’s something unsettled in the pit of your stomach, but you try to ignore it, ignore the breathing of the crazed warrior behind you, and settle into sleep. You know you’ve won, simply because you didn’t break under his punishment, and he doesn’t throw you from the bed.