#Her name is Freyja btw | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

awilddreamermain · 4 years ago

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Okay okay to those few who wanted to hear about my original book characters (@janshu @doinmybesthere @suedebunn ) I'll tell you a little bit about my favorite ones and I'm so sorry this is messy but I'm doing it while I think about it.

Lorelei

Okay so 🥺 she's actually my first character ever and I made her when I was 11. Originally this novel was gonna be a board game because I was bored and had no friends, I carried around a binder with doodles and info and POOF here she is today:

· human turned demigod, how is a secret but her "mother" or patron goddess is Freyja.

· has ungodly strength, could literally level mountains and throe her mans Halvar through a wall no sweat.

· she has this special horn that can summon bears within 15 miles of her to come to her rescue and fight with/for her

· she's the leader of the "save the worlds or die trying" group, because y'know, fictional mythological apocalypse aka Ragnarok

· She's 5'5, blonde, shit ton of freckles, a total cutie and you wouldn't know she has a temper at first glance. Say something rude to her, see what happens. Better yet, compliment her ass and get your face caved in with her fist.

· Zeus is scared of her lmao and has tried to kill her because of it

· she's Norwegian and Irish, her mom doesn't know a lick of her English. Spoiler alert: her mom dies and become a Valkyrie. It's okay, it's not much of a spoiler.

· I actually gave her one of my distant relative's last names, McGarrah.

· look up k.els.ey on Instagram, scroll until you see blonde hair and that's who I modeled her after.

· she has a mink companion 🥺

· I love her so much

Halvar

I actually have a piece of art of him made by a friend a long time ago but I sadly don't have any way to credit her so if you wanna see, dm me? I guess? He's a hottie—

· anyway, he's half human and half orc, his dad was an ugly fuck bit Hal is 😩😩

· he's 7'2, imagine the height difference between him and Lori. Did I mention he's a big beefy himbo?

· he's a literal sweetheart and mama's boy, sadly both his parents passed but uh, he killed his dad to save his mom. His dad was an abusive fuck.

· His patron god is Hephaestus, because Hal's a blacksmith for the demi gods (how he and Lori met)

· he was like a puppy following her around btw, she thought he was annoying at first but he grew on her

· literally had no idea how to talk to girls so he made the mistake of ssking Ares (yes, the god) and Ares told him to compliment what you like about them. Well, it was her ass, and he got a black eye for saying something about it.

· oh yeah he's green, with red hair and blue eyes. It used to be brown but Lori's eyes are brown and I wanted them different. Brock O'Hurn is his face claim!

Borak

Borak. He is so— ugh I LOVE him, what sucks is I can't draw and I can't decide on what he looks like. His face and voice claim is Tom Hiddleston, I don't mske the rules.

· HE CANNOT SIT IN CHAIRS FOR THE LIFE OF HIM.

· he's a dragon human hybrid, it's actually my own soecies but I low key forgot the name off the top of my head.

· poor baby was a gladiator slave 🥺 but he was freed by Ares. Yes, the god.

· he was also a bit of a sex slave for the empress of the empire he was forced to entertain. BUT Y'KNOW WHAT? HE WAS THE BEST IN THE ARENA. and he isn't a big beefy dude either, he's actually quite skinny but he's got muscle obviously. He's just really smart and fast.

· total flirt

· he falls in love with a nymph

· said nymph becomes his wife at some point

· he's vvvvvv protective of his student Nevin

I like to think of him with a black, tan, and brown color scheme with really cool Snake green eyes. He's got a tail, dragon feet, horns, and uh, used to have wings but they were kinda cute off my the empire. It was done when he was very young so he doesn't feel any pain.

· I actually came up with him listening to this song↓

But his theme is this:

Barrett

Charlie Hunnan (Hunnam?) Is who I think of when I picture Barrett, he's a werewolf btw. He's grumpy too so careful.

· Barrett is an acquired taste. He's brash and brutally honest, he's rude and angry and wants to constantly fight whoever pisses him off. However, he has his calm, sage moments.

· He's the son of the Beta of his pack

· His patron god is Thor, imagine how much he enjoys ale and women.

· He's introverted, prefers to be a lone wolf than be in a crowd unless he knows and trusts you.

· He taught Lori how to punch.

· Beast with an ax, he'll chop you into pieces

· He doesn't like Halvar. Maybe it's because he likes Lori 🤫

· Hr has a dog friend names Heath. They talk to each other.

#Spotify #{🖋} — dreamer's original characters

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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Κατακηλέω (νοσταλγία deleted scene)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Κατακηλέω: to charm, cast a spell over (Ancient Greek)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Narses/Reader but you know how that is

Summary: This is a deleted scene that happens between chapter 16 and 17, it centers mainly around Narses.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: The usual, plus a graphic depiction of burning alive (or my best attempt at writing it anyways)

A/N: Yeah idk what to say here lol, I put this together mainly bc @xbellaxcarolinax made a point of there being little Narses on the story, and bc she was interested in a chapter more centered around him. I write a lot of rambles that I don’t post cause I don’t think people wanna read ‘em, but here it is one of em, in deleted-scene form lol. Hope you like it, and thank you! <3

Also yes I have Michiel Huisman as Daario in my head as a faceclaim for Narses, idk what to tell ya, I suck at describing characters so of course you had no way of knowing that, and I’m sorry.

Taglist: (I’m sorry if you don’t wanna be tagged in these kind of chapters btw, just lemme know and I’ll keep you on the main story ones only, or just the main story and Ivar PoV ones, whatever works for you) @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson

“It scares you, doesn’t it?” Freydis starts suddenly one night, and you lift your eyes to her but don’t say anything. So, she continues, “The reminder of what you could do.”

“If you mean-…”

“You know what I mean. You could lie, and I keep wondering why you don’t.”

“Lying is what you would do, is it not?” You snap, head tilted to the side.

The blonde’s smile turns smug, as if she just made you give away a card. Instead of saying anything regarding that, she shrugs,

“You have traveled a lot, lived a lot,” She states, moving carefully and taking a seat next to you, seemingly choosing to ignore your eyes following her. “Will you tell me you are unaware of what men are able and willing to do for a woman’s love?

She stops whatever it is she was going to say next when an elderly woman enters the apothecary, her blue eyes following the woman’s moves. You are reminded of that night when she shared her thoughts by a window and was interrupted -eyes and ears follow the witch-, and realize why she holds her tongue.

Instead of waiting for the other woman to leave, she stands up and asks you to follow with but a gesture of her head.

Certain steps take you both to the same elevated patch of cold and foreign grass that saw you lay on your knees and pray to whatever Gods heard you to give you an answer.

And so, Freydis continues on,

“Look at all Ivar did to get you to be at his side. Imagine what he would do with the promise you could love him,” Manic blue eyes meet yours as Freydis stops you with a hand on your arm. You pointedly look down at it and back up at her face, feeling a tightness in your chest, dread mixed with disdain. “Imagine what he would do if you pretended to love him and threatened to take it away.”

There’s only one answer you can give her.

“Get your hand off me.”

If you were your mother, you’d have a sword in your hands and a snarl on your lips. But you never wanted to fight like a man, and so you only let the cold of this land seep into your voice and harden your expression, your voice.

She remains frozen for a few moments too long, and you once again pointedly look at her hand and back into her eyes.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” You state, and only then does she comply, her eyes searching yours. You return your arm to be comfortable covered by the warm cloak, and turn to keep walking. “I do not want to hear another word of this, you hear me? Not another damned word.”

“Does that mean you’ve given up? You’ll let him keep you here?”

“I said not another word.”

Freydis swallows whatever her words are to be next, and nods her head, accepting your order as if she thinks you gave her a choice.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Freydis speaks again.

“You choose to protect him now, is that it?”

Her dainty and delicate voice loses none of the edge and the certainty, even as her eyes betray something more human.

“You are a smart woman,” You concede instead of answering her questions, and tilt your head to the side, “But a smarter one would know when to hold her tongue.”

“You don’t hold yours.”

“I never claimed to be smart,” You reply easily, before bowing your head in goodbye. “Goodnight, Freydis.”

She knows it is a dismissal, and a rude one at that, but she only returns the gesture. You could swear a strange sort of pride shines in the girl’s dark blue eyes as she takes her leave.

____

And now you sit alone overlooking that same cliff and you cannot get her words out of your head. You wish you could hate her, berate her for her games and call her names, say she is nothing but a liar, a whore.

But it is not so simple, is it? You seduced a man into giving you his army, did it so well Freydis trusted you to seek Freyja’s favor and do the same with the King, knew you had what it took with only but a look at you.

You promised your love to Narses only for the faint possibility that he could drive the Byzantine Christians off your lands, that he could bend his army and his strength to your will and give you the kingdom you deserved.

And you did to Narses everything that Freydis would have done to Ivar. You kissed, lied, and promised yourself; for the sake of a game.

Because when all you are told you can be is a warm pair of legs to wrap around a man, a pretty little jewel for him to keep and parade around, a quiet and beautiful maiden to stand beneath who the Gods deem you belong to; you learn to play games, all women do.

You wrap your legs tight enough he begs for mercy trying to escape your spell, you show them how even jewels draw blood if squeezed too tight in a fool’s hand, you let beauty carry you near him and your voice be a whisper as it reaches his ear. You play games.

But, as you sit on the cold grass overlooking Kattegat’s horizon, the sea and the sky meeting far away and reminding you strikingly of dusks and dawns spent on that temple overlooking the ocean and awaiting for those ships; you think about how no women speak of what happens when the game ends.

Because it always ends. It is a world of change, after all, a world of wheels turning and of days and nights and of seasons unending. It goes on and on, and the world changes, the games end.

Maybe you don’t hear women speak of what happens when it ends because few survive it. Those that do, maybe, just like you, refuse to speak of it, refuse to give voice to the pain and the shame that comes after playing with a heart not your own.

Refuse to admit the regret.

“You’ll do it?” He asks, eyes shining, “You’ll be my wife?”

“I would love to marry you,” You lie, you lie, you lie; and it burns your heart, “But I don’t want to bring our children into a world that will push them into the dirt for the Gods they follow, Narses.”

And just like that, promises, vows, oaths, fall from his perfect lips like he cannot help it. And you believe him, because if you hold your breath and dive past the smoke into the memories of your past, you can recognize that the way Narses looks at you now is the same way your father used to look at your mother.

You remember Sieghild’s teachings about Freyja, about her ways of persuasion and seduction, and wonder if, even if you are foreign to her, the Goddess looks over you. You wonder if she would smile or frown at your games.

You fall down on the grass, keeping your hold on Narses’ hands to tug him down with you. Narses falls with a laugh, legs and arms holding him up above you, dark green eyes shining as they look down upon yours.

It is remarkably easy, to surrender to his kiss. You close your eyes, letting your fingers go up into his hair, and allowing your lips and tongue to dance with his.

When his impatient lips move down to your jaw, your neck; you let him, craning your head back so he can have more access to your skin. If you clear your mind, you can almost feel nothing but pleasure.

When you tug particularly hard on his hair as Narses bites at your collarbone, you feel a breathed laugh leave his nose.

Lifting himself up in strong arms on each side of your head, Narses looks down upon you. His words should not hurt like they do by now, as you are so familiar with them you know what they will be before he even opens his mouth.

He steals another quick kiss, and whispers, “I love you.”

As a lover, as his future wife.

You smile through the pain, and answer, “I love you.”

As a friend, as the protector of your people.

As an instrument of war.

You are reminded of the safety of Narses’ embrace, however suffocating; and you can almost taste your name on his lips, bloodied as they were the last time you saw him alive.

“You are in the Elysian Fields, I know,” You start telling the wind, hoping it can carry your words to him, “Or maybe these Varangians’ Gods are fighting with ours to take you with them to Valhalla. Either way, I hope you can hear my voice one last time, my friend.”

You laugh brokenly to yourself, lowering your gaze to the grass under your body, caressing the dark tresses of nature.

“I know I don’t make much sense, I-I never did to you. Ramblings about Fate and empires fallen and tales of Gods and heroes; things that you had no interest in hearing. And yet you still looked upon me like something…something out of a dream, Narses,” You tell him, pain clawing at your heart, reopening wounds you thought you closed long ago. You smile sadly still, and reminisce, “You used to tell me I was your dream, and…I wish I could tell you that you were mine, I truly do. But I can’t.”

And regret fills you, the useless and heartbreaking gift of hindsight showing you that the path you took led only to pain and war. Narses was sent by your choices, by your games, by your mistakes, to die; and you…you were sent here. To what?

You dare think not even the Gods have an answer to your present, or future. But you do have answers to your past, and if someone deserves to hear them, it is Narses, wherever he may be.

“Returning to Eleusis choked me with the smoke of all the fires lit before I left and during my time away. I…blinded myself with ambition and I thought the only way I could fight was through you,” You explain, honestly, brokenly, the only way you know how to, “I knew that if I had the heart of Thebes’ Strategus, I could get what I wanted. I just had to have enough guile, enough lies, enough poison; to trick you into giving me your heart.

You offer the wind a hollow chuckle, bitter and angry and oh so filled with regret you can feel your heart poisoned with it.

“And I did exactly that. Maybe Aphrodite and Peitho blessed my lies, maybe Sieghild was right and Freyja watched over me,” You look over Kattegat’s horizon, facing the truths of your past when you don’t know what you want out of your future, “Either way, I used you, I hated myself but I still did it and…I got what I wanted.

As the agony of the flames crawls over your legs, scorching your skin with the inferno, blinding your eyes with the smoke, flogging your throat with your screams; you turn your gaze to the sky, blackened and barren as it is, and plead the Gods you have fought and bled for to grant you a moment of mercy, a painless death.

And flesh being charred smells awful, making your poisoned lungs heave for unattainable retrieve. You hold a moment of clarity in your mind to beg for Sieghild’s forgiveness, that you left her in this world alone after she sacrificed so much for you. You hope her Gods let you visit her in Folkvangr.

With one last ragged and angry scream, you let your strength leave you, your agony leave you, your regrets leave you.

When you awaken you find yourself in too much pain to accept this is the Underworld. Before you open your eyes, a moment of panic and dread fills your heart at the thought that the Christians left you alive to torture you, but you hear familiar voices, smell familiar fragrances.

Sieghild’s hand over your forehead, gentle and loving in ways she rarely is, makes a small smile tug at your dried and bleeding lips.

“I know you are awake, open your eyes,” She chastises, gruff even when relief clogs her voice. You do, and her smiling inked face settles your quickly beating heart, makes you forget the pain for a moment. “I love you, you stubborn child.”

You allow yourself a smile, closing your eyes again and focusing on breathing for a few moments, before whispering, “I love you too, minn móðir.”

The shieldmaiden chuckles brokenly, pressing rough lips on the crown of your head. After a few moments of silence, she sighs.

“By the way, you mad woman, you did it.”

“Did what?” You ask raggedly, wincing as you lift your head to accept the cup of water she offers.

“Listen, little one,” She instructs, and when you do, you hear the rustling of armor plates, the heavy steps of soldiers outside your door. The Viking woman shakes her head in almost disbelief, “The Strategos, that boy, he saved you from the flames.”

“Narses?”

“His soldiers came with us, we have nearly a thousand men here.”

“I did so many things wrong, Narses. I lied and manipulated and pretended, and maybe because the Gods are cruel, or maybe because reaping what you sow is an empty promise; I succeeded, and I got what I wanted. I knew I wouldn’t win, not against the Empire, not against the Christians, but…I wanted them to remember me, to remember our names and our Gods and our ways. To remember we don’t die silently.

And even if it hurts, you admit to yourself that you would do it again. You wish you could have loved Narses the way he deserved, you wish you could have been honest, you wish you could have found other ways to fight for your kingdom; but…you understand why you did it, and feeble and useless as it is, you want to forgive yourself for it.

Where there is war there can never be love, right? And you wanted war, you will not lie to yourself and say you truly wanted peace all along.

No, you wanted to see those Christians that came to take your home bleed at your feet, you wanted Attica to be free again, and Laconia, and Macedonia, and Arcadia, and many others. And you would wage war for your freedom for a thousand years if needed.

You would promise Narses your hand again if it came to it. You know you would, because the person you were when Attica was yours…she would have done that and much more for a chance at freedom. Now, you know better. Now, you let yourself be softer. Now, the world is a lot bigger than it seemed back then.

Now, things are different. Maybe you are, maybe the world is, maybe your heart is. Maybe Ivar is.

You smile at the barren horizon that doesn’t seem so foreign and intimidating now, and whisper, “I could do it now, I know. I would end up dead when he knew the truth, that’s for certain, but the victory would be mine, our people’s, by the time Ivar could catch up with my lies. I could, Narses.

“We need Stithulf’s support. We will ally with him, and even if you scream and fight it is what will happen.”

But you are shaking your head before he even finishes speaking.

“As Anassa of Attica I ca-…”

“As the commander of your forces, as the man you’ll marry, I’m telling y-…”

The hostility, the command, in his tone startle you to attention, and you narrow your eyes as you step closer. You don’t reach his shoulder, but the years have taught you there’s few things a man fears more than a woman that refuses to fight like a man but still fights.

“If you try using that to silence me, I fear you will not live long as my husband.” The threat drips from your lips like wine, but Narses doesn’t cave for once, and he drags a hand over his face.

“You always fight me, why do you…why can’t you be…?” His words die in a sigh, and you lift your eyebrows.

“Why can’t I be someone I’m not? Would you love me if I were anything other than me?”

“Sometimes, I wish you were,” He sentences, a hand over his eyes as he grunts out the words. Your heart drops, and so does your guard. He sighs again, and a hand reaches up and cups your cheek, unaware your whole body tightens to a coil the moment he touches you. “Sometimes, I fool myself into thinking I still see the woman you once were in you. The woman that wanted a life surrounded by Eleusis’ warmth, the woman that cared not for war, for vengeance.”

You grit your teeth, and step back, closing your eyes tightly as you croak,

“That woman was never all I was. I wanted Eleusis, I still do, but that doesn’t mean I never wanted revenge, Narses. Those Christia-…”

When you feel he finally drops his hand from your cheek, you open your eyes and watch his hand clench into a fist.

“Why do I have to love a woman like you?” He hisses, turning his back to you and slamming both hands on the weak table in front of him. “I’ve asked the Gods why, you know. Why I have to love a woman arrogant and ambitious and…Hera help me, a woman that is not mine. Never was, never will be.”

“I-…What are you saying?”

“Do you think I’m enough of a fool to think I can make you my wife? If the Fates don’t stop me you will,” A humorless chuckle leaves his lips, “Lord Hades might split open the earth and drag you to the Underworld before I get to call you my wife.”

“Don’t say those things.”

“It is true! I was not Fated to have you, even if the Gods know I was Fated to love you,” He shakes his head, teeth gritted and eyes failing to meet yours, “We both know what made you say yes to me, and it is what is keeping you from saying yes to Stithulf. It was never love.”

Shame chokes you, keeps the next words form leaving your lips. Your lips tremble and your eyes cloud with tears as you look at his tense back, nothing but regrets shining in your eyes.

“Are you-…will you l-leave?”

Will you leave me? Is the question you dare not ask, because you do not have the right to believe he should want to stay at your side, not after everything.

You still don’t want him to leave you alone here.

But the Thebesian takes a deep breath, straightening his back again and turning to you. The same anguished softness you saw so many times in his eyes still shines in them now, and he shakes his head.

His voice when he replies feels like warmth, like safety and nostalgia,

“I will always be at your side. Until Hades summons you home, I’ll be at your side.”

You look into his warm eyes, and with shame still burning your chest, you ask,

“Why? The Gods know I do not deserve it. Why do you stay?”

The answer leaves his lips with the same certainty it always did, with the same hope and the same truth,

“I love you.”

You like to believe you would have loved Narses, you like to believe you would have been content remaining as Eleusis’ Priestess. You like to believe you could have birthed him children for you to teach the way of the Gods and he to give the fame of his family.

Problem is, you fear now, with the taste of this strange freedom still fresh and sweet on your tongue, you don’t think you could have ever lived with the binds of what Narses wanted to make out of you. A priestess, whose ambition is forgotten when he wills it so; a woman, whose eyes will need to lower from his; a wife, to be quietened when he speaks.

And you don’t want that, to be what Narses wanted you to, what Galla wanted you to, what Freydis wants you to, what Ivar wants you to. You want to be you, and you want to fight, and be compassionate and revengeful, and be soft and relentless, without needing to choose one or the other.

You want nights of stupid arguments and infuriating talks, you realize around a broken chuckle, you want foreign languages and even more foreign customs, you want…you want Ivar. In all his vitriol, in all his bloodthirst, in all his awkward gentleness and in all his armored heart, you want him.

Tears of regret and the path not taken fill your eyes, and you find yourself sobbing out a small laugh, “But the person that lied and tricked you, that could do the same to Ivar…she died amongst the flames, left me in her place, I think.

The Priestess is dead.

Taking the small knife Ivar gifted you what seems like a lifetime ago, you hold a lock of your hair in front of you, and cut off the wind-blown and tangled strands, holding a short tress in your hand that weights like a decade of apologies and promises made.

“I’m sorry. For everything I did and everything I didn’t do,” You promise him, closing your eyes and almost seeing his smiling face before you, his eyes shining and his sun-kissed skin weathered around a smile. “In another life, I may have loved you like you deserved.”

You open your palm, and let the strands of grief be carried off by Kattegat’s winds way across the sea.

And in another world, on another land, a dead man takes a breath.

____

So, hope you liked it, hope that last sentence got you wonderin’, and hope you have a nice day/night!

Thank you so much for reading, see you Tuesday with the scheduled update: chapter 18 :)

#ivar the boneless x reader #does this count tho #i guess so #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #νοσταλγία masterlist

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mythologyfolklore · 5 years ago

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Norse Gods headcanons

1. Óðinn used to have two older brothers, Vili and Ve. The three went through a lot together, like killing the giant Ymir and creating the world. At the same time the brothers took hold of Óðinn’s possessions (plus his wife Frigg), when he was away for a long time (that's in the Prose Edda, btw). He re-established his authority upon his return, but still was devastated, when they died.

2. Frigg is perfectly capable of holding her own and everybody knows. Óðinn is super protective of her anyway.

3. Frigg is actually a (far older) cousin of Þórr. (I got the idea, because in the Lokasenna, Loki calls her the daughter of Fjörgynn and Þórr’s mother Jörð is also known as Fjörgyn - I decided that Fjörgynn and Fjörgyn are siblings)

4. Loki, as a fire giant (yes, I went with that shtick), wasn’t born in Jötunheimr, but in Múspellsheimr. He got bullied for being small and ran away. He doesn’t miss Múspellsheimr, but he does miss his mother and grandmother.

5. Because Loki is a fire giant, his body is smoking hot (heh!), no matter what shape he takes. Humans can’t touch him without burning themselves and even the gods find his heat mildly unpleasant. He never feels cold and heat doesn’t bother him. Most of the time he suppresses his fire form, but it leaks through, when he gets too angry.

6. Þórr is a weather god, but also a vegetation god (being the son of Earth herself). So when he isn’t bringing rain and thunderstorms or killing Jötnar, he really enjoys gardening with his wife Sif.

7. Because Loki is Óðinn’s blood-brother, the Allfather’s children call him “uncle” sometimes, when they’re feeling affectionate (except for Höðr). Loki doesn’t mind - unless it’s coming from Baldr.

8. Baldr, with all his kindness and sweetness, is thought by everyone to be happy. But he actually suffers from a deep depression. The only ones who know the truth are his father, Höðr, Heimdallr and Loki (of all people). Hel too will know, once they meet.

9. Óðinn loves all of his children equally. Really. I swear. He just sucks ass at showing it.

10. Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel are triplets. They were born in exactly that order.

11. Loki cutting off Sif’s hair wasn’t a harmless prank. He did it to let everyone know, that she was unfaithful to her husband (in Norse society shearing off a woman’s hair was a punishment for adultery). Needless to say, Þórr was incensed.

12. Heimdallr sees and hears everything and knows the future. It cost him an ear, just like Óðinn had to sacrifice an eye for greater insight. But sometimes, the Guardian would sell his soul for earplugs (especially, when Loki and Sigyn get freaky).

13. Bragi used to be a Midgardian bard, who was so good, that he was deified to make music for the gods and the Einherjar in Valhalla. He’s also happily marred to Iðunn.

14. Höðr is Baldr’s younger twin and god of darkness and winter. Because he’s blind, he uses his umbrakinesis and cryokinesis to orientate himself. He’s also capable of umbraportation (teleporting via shadows/darkness).

15. Apart from his twin Baldr, Höðr has exactly two friends: Heimdallr and Bragi. Heimdallr, because he’s so understanding and Bragi, because he’s a nice guy and taught him how to play harp.

16. Óðinn and Loki are both huge pranksters. That’s one of the reasons, why they’re pals.

17. Mimir is a jötunn, but he is one, who is shapeless and doesn’t actually need a body. So being decapitated didn’t bother him at all. Most of the time he just appears in form of a talking severed head or skull, to humour Óðinn, ‘cause he’s morbid like that.

18. Mimir is Óðinn’s uncle on his mother’s side.

19. Don’t talk to Baldr, before he had his morning coffee.

20. Heimdallr doesn’t often listen to music, but he does have a playlist full of tragic opera music on his MP3 player. It’s his guilty pleasure, when he’s off duty (even he needs a break sometimes and then Huginn and Muninn cover for him).

21. Loki’s marriage to Sigyn was arranged and at first they really disliked each other. The only reason they agreed to this was because Loki wanted to be part of the community and Sigyn was the only one available, as no one wanted to marry her. Their relationship was a really slow burn.

22. Because Heimdallr sees and hears everything, he COULD blackmail everyone in Asgard (except for Baldr and Höðr, who have no skeleton in their closet). But he won’t, because he’s a nice and silent guy (unlike Loki).

23. Sigyn is a real spitfire and a shrew. Almost no one really likes her, as they find her temper hard to deal with. Most of the times it’s her husband she gets mad at, because obviously.

24. Freyja's bestie is Heimdallr, because he duked it out with Loki that one time to get her Brisingamen back. She’s also pals with Þórr, even though she considers him dumb as bricks.

25. Freyr and Freyja are twins. Freyr is the nice one and Freyja the badass one. Freyr is actually just as smart as Freyja, but it’s hard to believe, because he often acts really stupid (like, you know, “giving his sword away to get married”-kind of stupid).

26. Hel is a telepath. She can read the minds of the souls that come to her realm. She uses that ability to judge them and decide, where they go. She's blunt, extremely intelligent and as placid as she is clinical. She also happens to be a sucker for cute things and loves children.

27. Óðinn is attracted to everything that has more than five brain cells. Loki isn’t remotely that picky.

28. When Sigyn was born, she was supposed to become a Valkyrie, hence her name (it means “Victory-Bringer” or “Friend of Victory”, depending on the translation). But Óðinn quickly changed his mind, when he realised, that the girl was way too unruly to join the Choosers of the Slain.

29. Frigg is very sorrowful and very silent. Only Baldr is more sorrowful and only Viðarr is more silent.

30. Óðinn regrets treating Loki’s children the way he did, but thinks it’s too late to make it okay.

#norse mythology #norse gods #odin #loki #thor #frigg #freyja #freyr #baldr #bragi #hödr #sigyn #jörmungandr #fenrir #hel #heimdallr #mimir #vidarr #sif #headcanon

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reeree1500 · 6 years ago

Text

The Return- Part 5

Guys I'm so sorryyyy!😭I HAD MAJOR WRITERS BLOCK😭 It was actually so bad! And then the fact that Tumblr deleted my whole draft and I had to start it over again🙄 Big surprise towards the end btw😂Anyway here's part 5 y'all...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 part 8 part 9 Part 10

Disclaimer: My sucky writing, Incest, grammar and spelling😅 and just overall the whole thing😂 please don’t kill me🙏🏽😂 @yanii-the-hippie is already trying to😂

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @youbloodymadgenius @laketaj24 @oceans-daughter-3 @peaceisadirtyword @cainismyname @readsalot73 @wuxiesalt @camatsuru @amy8220 @cutegyrl927 @cindy-exo @affection-rabbit @ragnarssonsbitch @mel0nch0ly @queenofallthyfandoms

Flashback to 6 years ago...

“RUN! (Y/N)! RUN!” Helga screamed...

On that fateful night you had been awakened from your slumber by one very worried Helga. She was the wife of the scary looking man Floki. And you could never come to understand how such a cheerful and radiant person, could be with someone so dark and mean. Helga had come in to the homestead whilst everyone was asleep. She had overheard her husband and Aslaug talk about getting rid of the christian child of Ragnar Lothbrok. She knew about (y/n), but she never thought that an innocent child would have to pay for the sins committed by those around her.

As Helga made her way silently across the home trying to find the child, she couldn’t help but feel guilty. She was betraying her husband and the Queen at that. But she couldn't get over the fact that an innocent child would be murdered. When she sees (y/n)’s and Bjorn’s bodies cuddle up on the bed, she softly approaches the little girls’ side. Tapping her on the shoulder she manages to wake (y/n) up. Startled you go try tp scream and thats when she places her delicate finger over your lips. Signalling you to be quiet. “Follow me, you and your family are in grave danger.” The feeling of wanting to protect your family from anything consumed you. Even being 13 years old you understood that family came first and that you would gladly lay down your life to save theirs. With that, you untangled yourself form Bjorn’s embrace and gave him a small peck on his forehead, then you made your way to your parent’s room. You peeked inside to make sure they were asleep and then tip toeing to where they lay in an embrace you softly kissed both of them goodbye.

You knew that this may very well be the last time you ever saw your parents. But, you could tell through the look in Helga’s eyes that whatever she was talking about your family being in danger was in fact the truth. Helga helped you gather some of your things quickly and as you rushed to the door, you almost forgot your teddy. “Wait, I need to grab my teddy. I cant leave without it, its the only thing I’ll have left of them.” You silently whisper towards Helga as she stands watch by the door. “Ok, but you must hurry. They'll be here any second now. And if they find you, I can assure you that no one will survive.” At that you scurry back towards your room. In there you find a sleepy headed Bjorn almost waking up. “(y/n), what are you doing? Come back to bed, you know we’re gonna start your training tomorrow morning.” He yawns out. “Sorry, I'm just really thirsty. Ill get a glass of water and come back ok?” you murmur to him. Bjorn just nods whilst yawning and goes back to sleep. But before you close the door and disappear you can hear him murmur the words I love you...

Your POV

After the moment that we shared in the Great Hall as a family happened. Mother, father, Bjorn and I had gone down to the lake by the old homestead we once lived in. There we all lied down on the grass and I had caught them all up on what had transpired on that night 6 years ago. “So let me clear this up, Helga...as in Floki’s wife. Broke into our home and kidnapped you and then sent you away on a boat to Frankia...” said Lagertha trying to wrap her head around the subject. “Well, mother I wouldn't really put it like that, but technically yes. She kidnapped me in order to save me and yourselves. Or so she claimed. She didn't really get into details on who was after me. She just told me that my life was in danger and I finally believed her when we were being chased by a group of mercenaries.” I respond to her. In that we all fall into silence. Over looking the lake I can tell that my family is processing all this information. Not only because of how quiet they are at the moment, but because I can feel their eyes on me. As if they believe that I shall vanish right in front of them.

“I missed this... Having my family together, overlooking the lake and just the serene and calming effect that this place has on us.” My father breaks the silence as he looks out towards the lake. He runs his fingers through my mother’s hair. And I cannot help but think about how come they never told me. “Soooo... since we’re all together finally. Can someone tell me how in the name of God and all that is good. No one ever told me about Aslaug and her sons?” With that my father’s fingers come to a stop at the ends of my mother’s long golden locks. “It just went something you tell your child out of the blue, (y/n).” My mother responds for my father. They always did this. Even as a child, when one of them was being questioned. The other would jump in and save them as if the question was directed at them. “But why keep it a secret? I don't understand, if you were married to Aslaug and Ivar and I are the same age that means that you laid with mother during the time you were married to her. Meaning that I have no claim to anything. Im a bastard.” At this my father lifts my mothers head from his lap and turns to me. Rage and sadness is what I am able to detect from his electric blue eyes.

“You are not a bastard child! I will not have you slander my name or your mothers with such lies. Your mother and I are married, in the eyes of both the Christian God and Freyja and Odin. Yes, your mother left me when Aslaug became pregnant with Ubbe. And many years later she came back to me, however I could not let her go. Be it selfishness or pride, she was mine and I am hers. Till death do us part!” At that tears well up in my eyes. Not because Ive just been scolded by my father. But, because this is the first time that I could really say that he has shown me his emotions. The night where we reunited, was only a small glance of emotion. But, this moment here had probably been the closest thing to a heart to heart that I have ever had with my father. He wipes my tears away and then goes to face Lagertha who had also been tearing up through this revelation. And they share a small, but passionate kiss.

I do not know if its just the overwhelming emotion that I’m processing, but I cannot help but bring my finger to my lips and think of a certain ill tempered boy...

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As the hours went by, we had decided to not only renovate and clean up the homestead. But we relieved some of the old memories we had. Bjorn and I decided to get in the water and go for a swim. Whilst Lagertha and Ragnar stayed in the house “cleaning up”. Bjorn and I knew exactly what that meant. As I laugh thinking about the situation that my parents are in. Bjorn sneaks up behind me and dunks my head into the water. I try my hardest to push him away and try to get rid of his hold on my head. My lungs need a break and as I almost felt my self drifting away, Bjorn pulls me back up. Gasping for air and coughing out the water from inside. I turn around and hit Bjorn’s chest as hard as I could muster at the moment. “Bjorn! What the hell!! you could've killed me!” I yell at him through my punches. “Ow..ow.. OW!!!. I was just joking... Jeez woman lose up!” He responds trying to shield himself form my hits. “Well it wasn't funny...”

As I swim towards the shore and go to collect my clothes, Bjorn turns me around and looks into my eyes. “We need to talk. And it’s not something that you are not getting yourself out of.” At this I can only gulp. Did he find out about Ivar and I? Is it possible that Hvitserk told him? No..no, Hvitty wouldn't do that. But then again he’s know the boys his whole life. I have just met them. “What about, big brother?” “Sigurd told me something when we had been waiting for mother’s arrival. And you could say I‘m a little concerned, and I just want to get to the bottom of it.” He says while eyeing me carefully. At that moment before I could respond the sound of the horses hooves could be heard form down the road. Bjorn and I quickly exchange looks and begin to dress immediately. We run towards the homestead and burst through the doors. It seems as whatever mother and father had been up to had just finished.

Seeing our exasperated sighing and how flustered I must have looked father reaches for his sword. “Why are you both so out of breath?” Mother asks wrapping the quilt around herself. “We heard horses down the road. We didn't know if they were friend or foe. And Bjorn didn't have any of his weapons with him.” I manage to get out. At this both father and Bjorn make their way towards the door. Peeking out the one of the small holes Bjorn is able to make out who it was standing outside. “Its the guards accompanied by Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar.” Something told me that this would be quite eventful...

--------------------------

Ivar POV

The moment (y/n) and her mother reunited in the great hall brought a tear to everyones eye. I admit that maybe I got a little emotional as well, but no one would ever know that. However, I noticed that my beautiful mother had left the room with rage and tear filled eyes. I had never seen my mother go through so many emotions in one day. She went from having a good blessed morning to having a shit hole day with that whore Lagertha coming back. I mean she gave birth to my beautiful (y/n), but still. Every time I see her I cannot help, but want to choke her to death fro all the pain she caused my mother.

Shaking me from my thoughts Ubbe starts going off on Hvitserk. “How could you be so stupid! (Y/n) has a target on her back and you decided to go off into the woods alone without anyone else?!?!?!” In this sense Ubbe was right, Hvitserk put (y/n)’s life in danger all because he wanted to take her from me. It wasn't enough for these people that I am a cripple. But they want to take the woman that the gods sent to me! This is unacceptable and I will not allow it. “Ubbe is right. She could have been killed because of your insolence Hvitty!” I scream at him. My blood had been boiling at this point. “Oh shut up Ivar! We all know that if she would have asked you to go with her, you would have done the same. If not take her some place remote where she could not leave your crippled ass!” Hvitserk barks back at me.

All this time Sigurd is sitting by the fire pit whilst tuning his lyre. “You both should just accept the fact that you're in love with your own sister. And that it will never go anywhere. Besides I overheard father speaking in his chambers the other day with Bjorn. They're looking for suitors to marry her off to. That way she will be hopefully safe from whoever is hunting her.” Sigurd says as calm as one could ever be. At this my mouth hangs open and Hvitserk and I exchange glances. “N..No... That cannot be. Father would never marry (y/n) off to someone she doesn't know. And the fact that he just got her back should keep him form doing so as well.” Hvitserk struggles to say. Im still trying to process the fact that my purpose to live will be taken from me once again. This I cannot allow...

-----------------------------------------------

“Ivar you’re sure that this is the right way?” Hvitserk asks me for the hundredth time. This time instead of answering I just keep going. This man-child will not drive me insane today. Not when the task at hand is so dire. Making our way through the woods and down the path, I spot my father’s horse as well as 3 other ones. Urging my horses to go faster I catch a glimpse of (y/n) runnings towards the homestead whilst trying to slip her dress back on. The way that the drops fell from her hair and onto her chest and then down the valley of her breasts made me come to a halt. Before I knew it the guards and Ubbe had all passed me and there I was still sitting in my carriage on the same spot. Once she was out of my sight, I got it together and got to the house. There we were greeted by father and Bjorn. “Ubbe. what brings you all down here?” my father asks. “We wished to know what we should do about the investigation. You all just took off without alerting anyone.” At that Lagertha steps out of the homestead clearly in a disheveled dress. From that we can guess what her and father were up to before we could get here.

“Actually Ubbe... Your father and I have come to terms that (y/n) shall be trained by me. This way I can properly teach her how to use her strengths and weaknesses to her advantage. Something you boys will not be able to teach her.” At the mention of this (y/n)’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well... Mother (y/n) isn't really one to train, if Im honest with you. Poor girl is was never taught how to properly defend herself. And through all the training that we've put her through, its not much of an improvement...” Bjorn says, but then trails off due to (y/n) punching him in the gut. I can tell you that I have never been as in love with someone as I am with my own sister. Which is ridiculous to many, but the truth...

---------------------------------------------

Your POV

Weeks from the time that my mother arrived had gone by. My training started immediately after the conversation that we all had at the porch. Ubbe and the boys had finally gotten somewhere with the investigation with the help of Lagertha. They had found the murder weapon, a small dagger with intricate designs. Bjorn had taken it to get a closer look, but from what I had seen in his eyes I could tell that he knew who was behind this. As I think of who could have been behind the murder of my best friend, the wind is knocked out of me. “(Y/N)! Concentrate! Never take your eyes off your opponent! Thats the number one rule on the battlefield!” My mother yells at me from above. Extending her hand out towards me I grasp on to it and she pulls me up from the ground. Dusting myself off I mumble an I’m sorry to her and that I will concentrate next time. “When facing a real opponent child you will not have the luxury to be better again. Its do or die!” She holds onto my shoulders as she looks into my eyes and then leans her forehead against mine. “I want you to be able to defend yourself. It might come a time where neither your father or I. Bjorn and your brothers will be there to protect you. And I need to be able to sleep at night with the thought that my child will not be taken from me again by some imbecile...”

My mother and I exchange a final glance before she heads off towards the great hall in what I think is an attempt to find my father. My father and Bjorn have been very secretive lately. Every time I walk into a room I can tell that the conversations they were having were about me before I got there. And it was very much getting on my nerves. Picking up the bow that Ivar had made for me I start to aim at the dummy target. But before I knew it something startles me and I let go of the arrow without knowing where it would hit. “AHHHHH, are you trying to kill me woman?!??!”

“Ivar, Oh my God I’m so sorry. You startled me.” I say whilst rushing towards him. “I see that you've taken a liking to the bow I crafted for you...” blushing from his words I simply nod my head and stare at the ground. “(y/n). I wanna have a serious conversation with you. But it must be done in private.” He whispers the last part to me. I rear my head towards him and proceed to grab his hand. Ivar takes it upon himself though to lace our fingers together and walk together to "our” chambers. Passing by the market, I notice the looks that people have been given us and the not so quiet whispers. Embarrassed and not wanting to drag attention to myself anymore than I already have. I attempt to let go of Ivar’s hand, but he will have none of it. He jut grips my hand harder and walks a little faster towards the cabin.

Once inside Ivar walks towards the bed and starts taking off his braces. “Close the door please. I would like this to be a private conversation between you and I. For the time being.” Doing as told, I close the door behind me and make my way towards him. Ivar is struggling to get one of his braces off, so without thinking I kneel before him and push his hands away to try and help him out. At this action Ivar looks at me with shock and a hint of adoration. Over the last 3 months that I have been here. I observed Ivar take his braces off before bed. Something about them fascinated me and I couldn't pinpoint what it was. Picking myself up from the floor I go to sit beside him on the bed in one swift movement Ivar pushes me back on the bed and gets on top of me.

Before I could scream his lips touch mine. Unlike the times before I find myself reciprocating the kiss. Our lips begin to move in sync with each other. He traced his tongue on my bottom lip asking for entrance which I denied. At this he got frustrated and slapped my ass. As I opened my mouth to yell at him for hitting me, he took this as a chance to slip his tongue in my mouth. There was no fight for dominance as he overtook the situation. My fingers tangle in his hair trying to pull him closer to me. His hands caress my sides and then cup my breasts. In this I cant help, but let out a moan. Ivar pulls back and stares at me while bringing his hand up to brush my hair outta my face. “I would really love to continue this, but there's something I have to tell you (y/n).” He untangles himself from my grasp and brings my hand to his lips. Placing small kisses on the back of my hand he closes his eyes and then reluctantly gets up. As I lay on the bed, I can only think of what we were up to seconds ago. What would have happened if we didn't stop. Pulling me into his lap and out of my thoughts Ivar grabs my face in his hands.

“Before you got here I was a scared and lonely boy. With no notion of what love was or could have been. To think that the gods made you especially for me and brought you to me at the most opportune time is a sign from Odin himself. (Y/n) I will not let them take you away from me. Not now or ever...” Ivar closes the gap between us with a small and tender kiss. “Ivar... it’s wrong. How we feel about one another isn't right...” my eyes well up with tears. What cruel joke is this that God is playing. Why? How come the man that I love is my brother... Brushing my tears away, I could tell that Ivar is having the same predicament. “Father plans to marry you off... That is what I wanted to talk to you about.” His eyes do not meet mine this time. “Wait...no it cant be. Father would never do that. he always said that I would be free to marry whomever I pleased and fell in love with...” Nothing the change in my breathing Ivar hugs me and rubs my back. “I will not let them. You will not be sold like cattle just because they cant find the killer and are afraid.”

“This is why I want you to runaway with me. Will you (y/n)...”

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Bjorn POV

I cannot control the anger boiling inside me. How could she do this... Storming off from the meeting I went straight to my cabin. There she greeted me as if nothing was wrong. “Love I made some...” Throwing the bowl of soup from her hands I pushed her back onto a chair. “Bjorn what's wrong with yo...” “What wrong with me?!?!?! How about what's wrong with you? You killed Mira! You tried to kill my sister!” At this point all I see is red. I cant even describe how I felt when I saw that the murder weapon was Torvi’s dagger. And to think I was gonna tell her the truth and let her in on the reason as to why she could be wanted dead. “Bjorn.. please! It was not like I wanted to do it! Aslaug forced me too. She had said that you were in danger! Please Bjorn you have to believe me! I did it for our family!” Shaking my head at her I turn around and head towards the door. “Get your stuff, I don't want you here when I come back. I will tell my father everything that you and Aslaug have been planning. And for the sake of what we once had I will give you this heads up so you can leave. And do not come back!” Slamming the door of the cabin I head towards the great hall and begin t think to myself about the first time I laid eye son my sister....

19 years ago...

“Bjorn... come meet her.” I didn't want anything associated with that child. The fact that I had already lost a sister and that my parents had now taken in a child that wasn't theirs baffled me. “She's not my sister. She the child of a christian priest...” At that my mother looks at me with sadness in her eyes. “Bjorn I know that you still hurt over Gyda and the fact that she didn't survive and you did. This child however is your sister. No matter how she came into this world, the gods have given us a second chance. Please come and meet her, for my sake?” At that I go towards my mother and get a closer look at the child. Her features resembled that somewhat of my father’s. Not much, but enough to be able to pass as the child of my father and mother. “What about Athelstan? Is he okay with you taking his child?” I ask my mother. At that my father walks in and kneels before me. “You must protect her with your life Bjorn. From this day onward she will be yours to take care off. She is your sister and no one must know that in fact she is Athelstan’s daughter or she and all of us will be in danger.” At that I understood why my parents had done it. Taken a child that wasn't theirs in order to protect it. Although I didn't want her, I cant help but feel a strong sense of protection over her. As if my sole task in this world is to protect her... “Bjorn...she doesn't have a name yet. Would you like to name her?” My mother asks whilst placing the child in my arms. The baby opens her eyes and looks up at me. Her beautiful eyes open up to reveal those (y/e/c) orbs. She cracks a smile at me and at that I cant help, but laugh. “(Y/n)...her name will be (y/n).”

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honestsycrets · 6 years ago

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A Dog No Longer I

❛ request | this is a request for hvitserk’s 5crown, um i was wondering if you could possibly write something about reader rejecting his marriage proposal considering that their relationship was strictly for sex but he fell in love, then years later he sees her married to someone else and we see a little dark!hvit or like berserker!hvitty

for hvitserks 5crown, could you maybe write something where he is fed up being the brother who hasn’t accomplished much so he challenges another earl for their kingdom and wins but instead of removing the wife he marries her himself and she is like some incredible shield maiden and she really hates him but he’s hvit is determined to win her over ? thanks lots love your writing btw like so much

❛ word count | 2043

❛ genre | action

❛ summary | You were always meant to be his. But you never took him seriously.

❛ warnings | dueling, character death, violence, jealousy, aggression, light humiliation

He had many women but never a wife. None gave him the desire to make her his wife. Or rather, none before the shield maiden (Y/N), Berseker’s Bane. When you entered the field his men felt a sense of rejuvenation. Long were the hours upon the field pressing on to claim land in the name of his brother Ubbe. So when you appeared and shouted with the howl of a Valkyrie, calling out to Odin and Freyja, they would shout with you. They would handle the smaller sort of warriors and you, just like his brother Bjorn Ironside, would take care of berserkers. You had a knack for it and sought them out on a bloodied field of fear induced excrement.

Come here, son of Ragnar.

For some time he wondered if the introduction of sex was his idea or hers. If the way that she wove her hips in front of a lit flame in front of Torvi’s body, climbing over her with the pure intention of driving him wild, was all an act to bring a son of Ragnar into her bed. Every moment that you rode him, driving his cum out into your fertile womb was nothing to you. This was all for a purpose. To have a child from the house of Lothbrok growing within your stomach.

Did you think this was ever more than sex for me Hvitserk?

Did you think you were actually special?

One day-- You no longer wanted him.

You could never have me. You laughed and went on about your business leaving him to his with a stomach full of his child. Years passed and Ubbe passed in battle. Torvi, as she always claimed, went down with him. In the last years that he made up for the death of Guthrum with the life of his nephews, there was a rise in your name. That was fine… good. Good until he came to Aarhus and all went to shit.

“King Hvitserk!” The man bellows. Older, but not bad looking. His hair was cropped short, shaved around the sides. Snakes wrap from one side to another. Earl Eirikr was a fine earl. His people were well loved and cared for. Trade began to flourish in Aarhus, making it one of the larger trading points in his newly acquired lands. But… there was an issue.

The woman sitting beside him as his would be queen? That was you. He can barely recognize you donning beautiful golden dangling earrings that contrasted against the passionate red that drove his hand straight to his pants as he walked in beside his nephews. The old man welcomes him forward with his other hand around your waist.

“My wife has told me much about you!”

He bet he fucking did. You wore that fine, unrepentant pride with your head raised. Obviously you were proud that you had gotten one up on a son of Ragnar. That couldn’t stand. He wouldn’t let it.

“What brings you to Aarhus?” King Eirikr asks. Hvitserk comes to a stop in front of the older king, his hand upon the pommel of his braid. Hvitserk’s nose tickles as he shifts to look at him past fluffy furs.

“You have stolen the woman I intended to make my wife. I need to spill blood.” Hvitserk says. Eirikr glances to you with his stormy grey eyes worn by bags of his stress. Reigning had aged him-- and so had you, apparently. He expects to speak and yet-- you did it for him.

“Ah.” Eirikr clears his throat turning to face you just slightly. “I did not not know you had an arrangement.”

“We didn’t. No man makes me do anything. I thought you would know that by now, Hvitserk. I suppose not, given how your brother-- dear late Ubbe always handed everything down to you.” Like a woman you egg him on. Hvitserk’s eyes keep still. The older he got, the wiser he became. He knew far more than expect that you would treat him with respect.

It’s a ploy to run him off.

“You’ve disrespected me. I challenge you to a duel.” Hvitserk folds his arms over his chest by his nephews. Gladly you step up to receive him.

“Not you.” Hvitserk holds your eyes. The heat he brings to the engagement is more than the little brat you were so used to. The pretty boy of the Ragnarssons who seemed to be more woman than man to you. His features are hardened. Once full cheeks streaked by scar and the long days of battle.

“If you are really a man, you will fight me for your wife’s hand. If you lose, I will take her and your lands.” Hvitserk says in a silken trill. At this you shove forward, huffing against his skin. The air you exhale into his face would normally have made him falter when it was you. Ubbe… and you. Nothing changes this time: if you were to say no on behalf of Eirikr, it would have been a show of weakness. After all, no man said no to a duel.

“Fine.”

Your fists clench into tight balls at your sides. If there was one thing Hvitserk knew you hated-- it was being the stereotypical woman looking for her forever man on her knees. You had rather take up his very sword and gut him like a raw fish regardless of the consequence.

“Mother? What are these men doing?”

A small figure pushes through the crowd. Young, yes, but approaching the age of manhood. These were vital years for him to learn the good art of battle, stratagem and self preservation. Hvitserk catches him within his vision-- green eye meeting green eye. No fool here would be able to tell Hvitserk Ragnarsson that this little boy was NOT his. The same willowy body, blond hair beginning to turn into his honey brown hue. You lurch out to tug the boy to your body, turning him and bringing your arms in front.

“This is your father, King Hvitserk and these are his men.”

Standing in front of him is a thin little boy. It doesn’t immediately register that this is the son you left him over at first. The same must have gone for the fine young man in front of him. What stories had you made up for why he was here?

“I don’t understand, mother. Why is he here?” The young man stands his ground in confidence that Hvitserk himself didn’t have at such a young age.

“For your mother.” Hvitserk unclips his furs and hands it off to his young nephew. He bends before his son, gliding his hand over the young boy’s arm to his shoulder.

“I’m here to take your mother as my wife.”

Never once had your son been approached by someone like that. There were shieldmaidens seeking your advice, men that congratulated his stepfather on arranging a good and fair marriage. All of these instances were blessings.

“No!”

With a whap of his fist against his cheek, Hvitserk raises away from his son. He would get used to it. Children were as fickle as women were. While he might be saying no now, he would be saying another story when his broken family was put together. The young man turns to hold you as if he could change this for an instant.

Something low in Eirikr’s stomach tells him that there was no coming out of this. For he had not the luck to fight a Ragnarsson, something that Hvitserk and all his glory did have. A man that was handed everything finally come to make something out of nothing? It would have been about time.

“Hurry up, Eirikr.” Hvitserk warms a dark, deep smile. “I can’t wait to bed my wife.”

Despite knowing better than to goad Hvitserk on, you reach out toward your husband. If another man wanted to fight for you, you wouldn’t just stand by without getting under Hvitserk’s skin. Long ago, Hvitserk used to be a man of primal things. Gluttony and pride were his chief concerns, oh but you knew, envy boiled underneath the surface.

“You can do this.” You brought your husband around, guiding his large hands around your waist. Slowly you guide Eirik into a smooth kiss, your palms against his furry beard. There’s something there beneath your rough exterior… something almost affectionate that Eirikr brings out of you. In all the time that he fucked you, he can’t recall once.

Not once that you touched him like that. Your hands never stroked the softness of his cheeks or held his jaw while you kissed him, lips and tongue all working against his own. Not during sex and especially not out of sex in the company of all these men. The normal, youthful Hvitserk would have just looked down. Look away and pretend that he was the dog that everyone on Midgard made him out to be. Even you who he thought… he truly thought he had something with. This in fact was another illusion by Loki and Hvitserk? Suddenly he was back to being that clueless dog. Not anymore.

His hand flew to his belt, clutching the grip of his sword and in one fine sweep he unsheathed it. You notice it before your husband, pulling your lips free from his just seconds too late.

“Uncle wait!”

He spins out and his blade slashes into the soft skin of your husband’s side to split his tunic open. Eirikr makes a sharp bark of pain in response, falling back toward the closest one of his men. Using the weight in his steps, Hvitserk stomps towards him without heeding anyone’s word in the matter. It’s not a fair start-- Hvitserk should have waited! The crowd begins to roar in protest.

You hold up your hand knowing that backing down would shame your husband who was… not of the same state of mind as Eirikr. For him, this was a fight. For Hvitserk, this was so much more. Everything accumulating up over the years in this one moment. In a way you thought he longed to show you the sort of man he could be.

“He is berserking.” You say from the side, reaching out toward your feisty green eyed son. Your arms tighten around him like a cage to keep him in place.

“I’ve never seen one up close!” Your young boy says as if it is a spectacle that causes you to cringe. No man should have to fight a man that bit his shield and roared with the feistiness of Nidghoggr. Eirikr darts underneath table in search for his weapon. Hvitserk follows close behind looking to devour him whole. When he finally gains ahold of a weapon, he might as well had not have had it in the first place.

Hvitserk is fast. He sweeps this way and that, weaving and ducking with every slash of the earl’s sword. Your son shouts something toward the man that raised him, pricking your ears with his words of love and encouragement. It wasn’t meant to last. Hvitserk puts all his weight into a sweep, thrusting the blade out of his hand. Hvitserk sweeps his blade up, then down his throat. It’s done.

Then, with that same hungry look, he looks to you.

The sons of Ubbe back away, your hands shake upon your little boy with every pounding step he takes. The innocent boy you once knew is now tainted by blood, splattered across his face with drips over his slender lips.

One of your hands leave your son’s chest, ignoring the stifled tears that spill down from his almond shaped eyes. Hvitserk spares the boy a look, flicking his head in the direction of his nephews. So you push him in that direction, raising your head with the same indignation as earlier.

“You were always overly prideful.” Hvitserk husks, reaching a bloodied hand out to your chin. He tips your head up. “But not anymore, are you?”

Before you can respond, Hvitserk ducks down to pick you up with his hands on the back of your knees. He stands with your body over his shoulder, pridefully stomping toward your room. As a shieldmaiden, it makes your teeth grind to be unable to stop him.

After all, he did win.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke@arses21434, @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102

#hvitserk x reader #hvitty x reader #hvitserk/reader #hvitserk imagines #hvitty imagines #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #berserking hvitserk #5cw: Hvitserk

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systlin · 7 years ago

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So I love Crash Course videos but the mythology series seems a bit oversimplified. Anyway he said that in the Norse pantheon goddesses don't have much of a role/much personality? Anyway, stories about goddesses, particularly Frigg?

I’ve got a bunch of asks about Frigg and Freyja, and also BOY FUCKIN HOWDY is that a lie.

We see more of the male gods, true, but you have to remember that much of what we know of Norse myth was written down later by Christian scholars, and filtered through that lens. They didn’t like stories about powerful goddesses. So Freyja, the glorious, beloved, and terrible lady of beauty and war, who I always picture something like Galadriel in her fury,

Is reduced to her roles of fertility and beauty, and many of her stories, such as how she got her cats, are lost.

Frigg often gets reduced to her role as mother and wife, and while Freyja gets her dues as the somewhat wild lover of sex, people seem to consider Frigg…almost not at all when it comes to sex, which is odd to me.

Frigg is the goddess of motherhood, but it should be remembered that motherhood is far from a soft art. She walked the world after the prophecy of her son’s death, extracting a vow from every living thing never to harm him (she missed mistletoe, unfortunately.)

She’s the Queen of Asgard. She is the only one save for Odin himself allowed to sit in the throne. And while her husband rambles everywhere and has loved many women, she is the one and only that he always returns to. (They’ve actually quite a good relationship, one that seems based on mutual trust and respect and affection, and she’s even seen to outwit Odin himself a time or two. And unlike Hera, Odin’s occasional tryst with another woman does not seem to upset her. There’s a mention in one myth of, during a long absence on his part, her taking up with his brothers Vili and Ve until he got back. Odin didn’t seem to care about this in the slightest.)

She’s the lady of marriage, and not just any marriage but happy marriage. Here’s where her desexualization makes no sense to me; she’s the lady of marriage, and motherhood, and children…and where do kids come from? One guess.

(Sex. The answer is sex, btw.)

I mean. She married the God of Ecstasy (among many other things). And. Well, some of Odin’s many, many, many names include “Delight of Frigg” “Frigg’s Lover,” and “Dweller in Frigg’s arms/embrace”. So, yeah. To me, she embodies the joy of a healthy, enjoyable sexuality within a stable relationship, where Freyja is more the patron of the single, footloose and fancy free. If that makes any sense.

She’s the patron of cottage arts, or those arts often governed by women, and which were often the basis of a large part of trade. Weaving and spinning, in particular. She’s a powerful sorceress and seeress, who can see the future in her weaving.

She’s the lady of the hall. Remember, in the Norse world women ran the households, including all the finances because math was seen as something too powerful and magical for men. And in Frigg’s case…Odin is the consummate wanderer. Who do you think runs Asgard while he’s gone?

She’s the lady of diplomacy, which is a delicate and complicated art. She is the one who rules over times of productive peace within the social order.

#cyborgscholar

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tepkunset · 7 years ago

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Why I support the diversifying of Asgard in the MCU

In the comics, Asgard can be pretty racist.

No, I don’t just mean racist as in “where are all the nonwhite people?” I mean they have treated nonwhite people poorly; both visitors and their own citizens. (Because yes, there are Asgard citizens of colour in the comics. Which I will also get to!)

Now, disclaimer: I’ve never been a huge fan of Asgard stuff, (just not my jam, save for Angela). Most of what I know comes from crossovers and the few things I have read, such as Angela (recommended) and Fearless Defenders (not recommended) for example. So I cannot possibly claim expertise by any means, like I dare say with X-Men stuff. So, just please keep that in mind. :)

Speaking of the X-Men, lets talk about that time Loki kidnapped Storm in order to make her a new God of Thunder under his thumb, as an example of the casual mistreatment of Black characters.

Loki comments on her beauty, but cannot finish without adding this:

Captions: “Her name means “Beauty” and she is in truth most pleasing to the eye, despite her dusky colour. Like all heroes, she is depressingly noble... Yet I sense within her considerable passion, too long denied.”

But Loki is a villain at this point in time, and hey, maybe one of his villainous traits is that he’s casually racist?

Except lets cut to when Sunspot, the Black Latinx boy who’s now been teleported to a tavern in Asgard:

Captions: “Ten on the shadow-skin!” “Doesn’t he wash? Is he diseased?”

Throughout the entire time Bobby is there, they call him “shadow-skin.” Even after he earns their fear/respect by besting others in combat with his mutant strength. (This is enough to make Sunspot not want to leave, as he feels like it’s the perfect escape from his current rather shitty situation on earth, what with his father joining the Helfire club.)

Hogun and Fandral deduct that he must be from earth, where his skin tone is more common. It is interesting to note that Hogun, the Mongolian-coded man, does not use ‘shadow-skin’ to describe him.

Why would you want to put this behaviour in your movie? In a world that is supposed to be this pinnacle of greatness? (Although I really loved how Thor: Ragnarok showed that “greatness” was not at all what it seems. Very clear allegory to the white painting over of history to avoid responsibility/guilt.) By adding more racial diversity to the world of Asgard, this negates the white = godliness association, and instead supports a narrative of multiculturalism.

I like it when movie adaptations stay true to the comics as much as the next person, but exceptions are always made when said changes are improvements. This is a GOOD change.

Now, while Asgard is a place dominated by blonde-haired, blue-eyed white people, there are indeed nonwhite characters walking around, and have been for a very long time. In the comics, Asgard is a place home to people of many different backgrounds, mostly Aesir and Vanir after the war between them ended with Odin and Freyja’s marriage, but many more. However, when fans say “Asgardian,” they almost exclusively think of the Aesir. Asgard is an extra-dimensional place like any other, and therefore people come and go from it like any other.

I mentioned Hogun above, but I’m going to skip to Sera, because I love her. This is Sera:

Sera is a Black trans lesbian and a powerful magician. She is a main character in the Angela comics. (Which again I must highly recommend. Asgard’s Assassin and Queen of Hel were awesome.) She’s pretty GD great and I’m still not over Bendis breaking her and Angela up by adding Angela to his GoTg run while not inviting Sera. I could go on and on about her but I won’t, only because I highly encourage checking out the comics with her yourself.

Now, back to Hogun. Apparently there were some fans who reacted to Hogun’s casting with “WTF there are now Asians in Asgard!” How fans seriously saw this guy...

...and thought “oh yeah, he’s white,” I’ll never know.

Hogun is not from Asgard. His homeland was destroyed, as were most of his people, so there is not a whole lot of information on his background and culture. What is fairly clear though, is that Hogun’s character is influenced a lot by the ancient Mongolians. I don’t have receipts on this so take it with a grain of salt, but supposedly this was even said by one of the writers. Hogun has been around since the 60′s, BTW.

Another example? Here is Sigurd, from Loki: Agent of Asgard:

These are just three stand-out examples.

“But what about characters that are Asgardian by birth? Like Heimdall! How dare they cast Idris Elba to play Heimdall!”

Ignoring the fact that Heimdall was born in Vanaheim... Here’s the thing. Unless there’s some kind of spell keeping them from doing so otherwise, Asgardians can appear however the fuck they want. You’ve got some people who are extremely magical, like Loki, and can full blown shape-shift. But supposedly every Aesir/Vanir can change how they appear to some degree. And Heimdall HAS appeared with darker skin in the comics before.

This is Heimdall as he appears in Loki #4 (2011):

Captions: “Heimdall could not let the moment pass without comment.” “He would not cry to save Balder, but if good ale is provided, he’ll drink it, aye?”

As you can see, he is specified to be Heimdall.

So, to summarize, because if there’s one thing I hope people take away from reading this, it’s this: The Marvel Thor movies are loosely based on the Marvel Thor comics, which are very loosely based on Norse Mythology. That’s a lot of loosely. And if the movies want to take some creative liberty to make improvements by adding a more diverse cast, something that has statistically proven to bring in more money... why don’t they have everyone’s support?

#thor #marvel #mcu #marvel comics #asgard #diversity #racism

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