#Hvitserks Heathen Feast

[bouncehousedemons]

Blood & Thunder

Rating: T Pairing: Hvitserk x OFC Warnings: Slight angst, mild mentions of blood and violence. Word count: ~1400

Summary: Since arriving in the Golden Land, Hvitserk has felt he is missing his purpose in life. That is until his meets a young woman from the Mi’kmaq tribe who reignites his sense of adventure.

Author's note: Happy birthday @captainkilly // @underragingwaves! This is my gift to you. I hope you enjoy it. This is part of my wider Salt of the Earth and Sea series, but can be read as a standalone. A while ago someone commented saying it would be nice if Hvitserk was given his own love interest in the Golden Land. Knowing how lazy I am when it comes to writing fics off my own steam, I set myself the deadline of Killy's birthday to write this, so I could gift it to her.

It has been three months since Hvitserk was reunited with his elder brother, Ubbe. Three months of becoming accustomed to life in a new land. Three months of settling into an uneventful life of farmsteading. It is peaceful and it is quiet. Why is it always so quiet?

Hvitserk longs for adventure, but most of all he longs for someone to share it with. He looks upon Ubbe and his flame-haired lover, Casja and covets what they have. He has not been with anyone since losing Thora, but now he longs for companionship.

Hvitserk finds himself drawn to the neighbouring Skraeling tribe, soon learning that they refer to themselves as Mi’kmaq. They hunt with spears and arrows, use every part of their kill and roam for miles on horseback. While there are plenty of similarities between his people and theirs, it is their differences that intrigue him most. It slakes a thirst for the unknown that is part of the very fabric of Hvitserk’s soul.

One young woman in particular captures his attention; Avaldidida. Hvitserk has never heard a name so beautiful. Her umber eyes turn to the colour of honey in the sunlight, her long dark hair falls loose around the bronzed skin of her shoulders, with intricate braids adorned with beads and feathers. She must surely be a goddess, Hvitserk thinks.

Upon their first meeting Avaldidida comments on the fact that Hvitserk’s eyes aren’t blue like the others’. Blue eyes mean danger. Completely misreading her comment, Hvitserk leans in to kiss her and laughs in shock when she forces him backwards, the flat of her palm to his forehead.

Despite this, Avaldidida and Hvitserk become firm friends. Seeing her quickly becomes the highlight of every day for him. They hunt together on horseback, skin the pelts from their kills and spear fish on days when the weather allows it. She chuckles at how bad his aim is with a bow and arrow while riding and when he is able to smile along with her, Hvitserk knows his heart is no longer his own.

When Avaldidida does not show up that day for the ride they had planned, Hvitserk feels that something must be wrong. He travels on horseback to the nearby Mi’kmaq settlement to seek Avaldidida out and is immediately concerned by the scene that greets him.

A woman wails in anguish over the prone form of a young man. A bloody wound oozes in his chest, red and grisly. The settlement is a clamour of activity, as people rush to grab weapons and mount horses.

“You have to go!” Avaldidida says urgently to Hvitserk as she rushes over to him.

“What has happened?” Hvitserk asks, dismounting and placing a gentle hand on Avaldidida’s shoulder.

“There are people…like you.” She replies hesitantly. “They attacked a group that were fishing. They have killed Peminuit. We must defend ourselves. You cannot be here.”

“I’m helping you.” Hvitserk says without hesitation.

Avaldidida’s eyes go wide. She studies Hvitserk’s face to see if he is being serious.

"You would help us, Hvitserk?" Avaldidida asks, a hint of disbelief to her tone. "You'd be risking your life."

"And I'd do it gladly for you, Ava." He responds with a proud smile.

Avaldidida averts her eyes, a small smile playing upon her lips. Ava. She likes that.

“Do you have a weapon?” She asks.

Hvitserk unclips the axe from his belt, holding it out for her to inspect.

“That will not be enough.” Avaldidida states.

“Oh, trust me.” Hvitserk grins. “It will be.”

Hvitserk falls back into the throes of battle like it is the arms of an old lover. His heart hammers in his chest, he revels in the thrill of it all. Howling like a wolf, he hacks and slashes through men who, once upon a time, he would have fought alongside, not against. 

He wears the blood on his face as proudly as the wolfish grin that never falters. It matters not that he is attacking and killing what are potentially fellow Northmen. He has a new purpose to fight for now; her.

When the last of their opponents have fled, their numbers cut back to too few to stand a chance, Hvtiserk screams triumphantly. His eyes search for Avaldidida and finds her sheathing the last of her arrows.

He strides over to her, pulling her into a tight hug, a wide smile still plastered to his face.

“We did it, Ava!”

His smile finally fades when she pushes him roughly backwards. He stumbles a little, confusion taking hold of him.

Avaldidida’s body language is rigid and tense, her facial expression is cold. Hvitserk feels he can see a look of slight disappointment in her eyes. It’s only when he looks around he notices the rest of the Mi’kmaq tribe are mirroring her body language, regarding him cautiously.

“Thank you for your help.” She says flatly, before turning to walk away.

“Wait!” He rushes to block her path. Hvitserk looks at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with sadness. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Avaldidida sighs, bowing her head for a moment before looking up at him, a frown distorting her delicate facial features. “You take pleasure in killing, Hvitserk. There is no honour in taking another person’s life. We do it only to protect ourselves, not for enjoyment.”

Hvitserk stares at her, his mouth agape, too dumbfounded to say anything.

“Go back to your brother, Hvitserk.”, Avaldidida says, a tinge of sorrow in her voice. “You are too dangerous to be around my people.”

Hvitserk feels as though his world has imploded. No one has ever turned their back on him because of his prowess in battle before. He does not sleep that night, his heart aches over Avaldidida’s rejection of him.

He turns her words around in his mind; “you take pleasure in killing”. He used to. However, today he’d taken pride in defending the woman he loves and helping to defend her people. Perhaps it didn’t help that he’d never actually told her he was in love with her. But he was certainly no danger to her and he’d make her see that.

At dawn’s first light, Hvitserk is up and back on his horse. He will not wait around for Avaldidida to forgive him. He will earn it. He has never shied away from a challenge and this is one he is more than prepared to take.

Word quickly spreads throughout the Mi’kmaq as they spot Hvitserk’s approach. Avaldidida is already waiting for him when he arrives - an arrow strung in her bow and pointed directly at him.

“Leave or I will kill you.” She orders.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have by now.” Hvitserk says with a gentle smile, as he jumps down from his horse. “I’ve seen you hunt with that, you could have gotten me when I was a mile back, but you didn’t.”

She sighs, lowering her bow, holding the arrow as she releases the tension on the string. “Why are you here?”

“To give you this.” Hvitserk unclips his axe and lays it at her feet.

She says nothing, quirking an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You are right, Ava.” He confesses with a slight shrug. “I did enjoy the battle yesterday, but only because I was fighting for you. My axe is yours, as is my heart. I don’t care if you never want to see me again after this, that is your choice, such as it is mine to fight for you.”

Her expression is unreadable as Hvitserk looks at her, although her body language seems slightly less guarded. Hvitserk takes a few steps back, having said all he wanted to say, he intends to leave.

He freezes in shock when she pushes forward, pressing her lips against his. When he doesn’t respond she pulls away, embarrassment radiating from her. 

Hvitserk is quick to regain his composure, realising his mistake. He pulls her to him and kisses her hungrily, something he has yearned to do since the day he first laid eyes upon her. 

She smiles as their lips finally part, their foreheads resting together. “At least you are a better kisser than you are an archer.”

[sunshinepanic]

[laketaj24]

Imagine seeing Hvitserk visibly jealous that his brothers are fawning over you.

He’d clench his jaw, glaring in the direction of them. “Do you not have anything better to do?” He scorn at Ubbe as he touched your face. You wouldn’t mind the attention from them, flirting meant nothing to you. Afterall you were going home with Hvitserk every night for forever. “Calm down.” You’d laugh.

So he’d watch from the corner while they enjoyed your company. It wouldn’t take much to see he was still irritated. You’d try to ease his nerves on the walk home, touching his shoulders and bulk arms. But when you got home.... he’d eat you until you crumbled. “You thought it was funny to entertain them...now you’ll entertain me.” You’d Begging for a break once you came but he would then start again.

(IMAGINE THAT MAN CRUSH MONDAY ™)

[lisinfleur]

Mishaps - Prologue: Lights Out

Inspired by:

Author’s notes: The request I received from this anon kinda inspired me to a plot that couldn’t be resumed in a single shot. So, I decided to start a new series for Hvitserk! This way I’ll be able to develop entirely the ideas this sweet anon gave me and instigate you guys for one more fiction of our favorite Vikings at the modern world. This work’s AU will follow the same line of Payback, so if you liked this previous work, maybe you’ll enjoy this one as well! I hope you guys like it and thank you one more time for the inspiration, dear anon!

Warnings: Modern AU, Criminal Vikings AU, Dark!Hvitserk x Reader, mentions of murder, violence, crime, some angst, some action, cursing and more. 18+ ONLY!

Words: 2384

__________________________

Your eyes opened, facing the white roof of your small bedroom one more time. The cell phone alarm making a stupid scandal on the other side of your room with one special electronic music you thought it was noisy enough to wake you up from your dreams or nightmares.

You sighed, lifting yourself up from your bed, stretching the muscles and articulations with some snaps before you threw your legs out of your mattress, straight into your slippers. Then? Every day morning's routine: brush your teeth, get dressed, tie your shoes and fifteen minutes in a bus before walking another twenty minutes to reach the central coffee shop where you were used to working in during the whole last year.

"Good morning, Annie!"

You could count on your fingers the days when something of your day was altered since the Witnesses Protection Program dressed you in that identity.

Mary Ann Watson. The most common name they could find to fit you in. Your father was an HQ enthusiast and wanted to name you after Peter Parker's girlfriend, Mary Jane since his last name was Watson. Your mother's mom first name was Ann. They married the two ideas and there you were.

You had to admit the officers from that program were really good to create life stories and the one they created for you was really better than tell everyone your father was a fucking drug dealer that you saw suffocating your mother to death in your house's living room before giving up on searching for "that little piece of shit she gave birth to" when he couldn't find you hidden spot behind the warmer, hoping you would starve to death without her and solve all his problems at once.

Surely a man obsessed for HQ was better.

But you never allowed yourself to forget your true name. (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Your mother's last name, your true mother's favorite name.

To think about her was also a part of your daily routine. Remember her fairy tales, her sweet smile, the way she used to caress your hair until you fall asleep in her arms. You missed her and you never stopped thinking that sweet creature deserved a better end than what she had in your father's hands.

You never had the chance to know if or where she was buried or visit her grave. But you liked to think she was looking at you from the sky, as a star, the way she used to say she would be one day.

And in the last days, you were looking at the night sky more often, thinking what would your mother think about your plans for life, about your current life.

About him.

Hvitserk.

You didn't know his last name yet, but you were the only one able to pronounce and write his name at the paper cups of the coffee shop properly and it caught his attention for you.

He was coming more recently, in the last three months, according to him, because he moved to a new apartment for some privacy.

Who wouldn't want some privacy with four other brothers?

Details from him you discovered while he was waiting for his coffee at the balcony, openly flirting with you with that sexy glares and the sweetest smile in the universe.

"Sunshine is already outside, babe. Go there to receive your daily smile" one of your friends joked, smiling; causing you to blush and roll your eyes at her.

They started calling him "Sunshine" because of his smiles. They were so cute and surely would make the entire coffee shop to smile with him like the first sunbeams on the horizon.

But the truth was that you were already starting to get used to your "sunny mornings" since he made to take his breakfast in your store a daily habit in his life.

You adjusted your apron, smiling when you came out from the back of the store, seeing him at the balcony in one of those white t-shirts you thought dressed him so well.

"Good morning, Hvitserk," you said, getting an instant smile from him "Welcome back. What will you want for breakfast today?"

"Did I already told you how much I love my name in your lips?" he flirted, causing you to blush, giggling embarrassed "Good morning, pretty Ann. What will I want for my breakfast today?" he asked back, testing if you already knew his taste, for fun.

You smiled, placing the notes at your notepad and pulling the sheet to deliver it to the kitchen.

But this time, July - your companion for the day at the balcony - decided to make things a little bit better for you, smiling at the sheet you gave her and yelling at the kitchen, loud and clear...

"Ann is asking Sunshine's double mocha latte with extra chocolate sauce and two chocolate muffins!"

"Ann's Sunshine double mocha latte extra sauce two muffins received!" The kitchen answered, causing your face to explode in red and Hvitserk in a delicious laugh.

"Ann's Sunshine?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "I think I need a nickname for you, as well, princess," he winked, causing July to laugh at your disconcerted smile.

What a way to start the day!

"They started calling you this way..." you tried to explain, red as a tomato, but he just smiled again, touching your chin in a quick touch, knowing he couldn't go further than that since you were working.

"It's fine, silly one. I liked to know I'm yours somehow".

Pretty direct, not even trying to deny he was interested.

Shit! How could you avoid smiling at such a sexy man?

Hvitserk had that duality you always found so gorgeous in some men around: sometimes he seemed sweet and childish as a boy. But sometimes, like now, he was sexy as fuck, winking at you with a smile locked in the corner of his lips, causing your heart to warm in the same intensity he could melt some parts of your body that shouldn't be melting under your uniform skirt.

You smiled back at him, listening when the kitchen delivered his order, picking up the tray and bringing it to him with some napkins for the extra sauce that he always took of his mustache after licking his lips to enjoy every single drop of his mocha.

As always, he took the moment to touch your hands at the sides of the tray, caressing it before looking at you.

"Thank you, princess..."

This time, you decided to break the routine, caressing his hand back with your thumb, earning a new smile in his lips. A satisfied one.

"You're welcome, Sunshine," you joked, smiling at him and going back to your work when he started eating, sometimes looking at him, exchanging glares in a sweet way to start your day of work.

At the end of his breakfast, you saw him picking a pen in his pocket, writing something in one of his napkins and rolling it in a ten dollars note - the tip he was always leaving for you every morning, making you think he should be rich as fuck to expend around three hundred dollars in tips for you per month, but it was something you never questioned.

He pinned the note in the cup holder as he was used to doing and smiling at you, waving good-bye to leave to the door that would take him to the back of the store - the same way of every day, but today, a little faster, since his phone was ringing.

You went there, still seeing when he picked up his phone before leaving through the door, picking the note and the napkin to see what he wrote.

In the napkin, his phone number and a smiley face beside a little note.

 "Send me a Whats. See you soon, princess. Your Sunshine."

 "Uhh... Sunshine gave you his number! What are you waiting for?" July joked looking over your shoulder "Send him your number, silly princess," she said, making you smile.

"We can't use our phones at work, July. I'll do it tonight," you answered, causing her to frown.

"Hey, you can't use your phone inside the store, but nothing prevents you to send him a quick message while making me the enormous favor to put the garbage outside. Uh? Go go go, girl! Miss Fortune doesn't bless you twice in a day! Go!" she giggled, pushing you towards the kitchen doors.

You got into the kitchen laughing, picking up the bags of garbage and stopping by your locker to pick up your phone, sending him a sweet message as an answer to the note he left for you, saving his number at your phone with the sweet nickname he accepted so well.

 "Here is my number, Sunshine. Can't wait for tomorrow's dawn. Your princess".

 After placing your phone back into your locker, you started walking out of the dressing room, picking up the garbage bags and taking it outside to the container. Your thoughts flying over the clouds, thinking of what could be starting that morning.

One by one you carried the bags outside, too distracted to notice you weren't alone until the curse in a familiar voice invaded your ears, freezing your body near the back doors of the store.

"Why the fuck do I always have to clean up his fucking mess? I'm not a damn garbage man, Ubbe! I'm the fucking dealer, not a damn clean up team! This was supposed to be Sigurd's work..."

Your heart raced into your chest. It was his brother's names...

It was his voice...

What in the actual fuck was going on?

Your fear and your education were screaming at you to go back into the store. To forget what you heard and just let it go. It was not of your business! You shouldn't be listening to anyone else's calls!

But those words...

You stood at the door, trying not to be noticed as the conversation continued, looking at the direction where his voice was coming from, seeing Hvitserk's back turned at you as he was motioning his hand, talking angrily alone at the alley while his other hand was holding the phone against his ear.

"To hell with these childish fights! This is Sigurd's work, not mine! I'll not sell the stuff, organize the money, make the spots administration and still have to clean up Ivar's stupidity! If he fucking got an officer killed, he can fucking get rid of the damn body and clean up his own damn butt!"

Your blood ran cold at the same instant. Not only because he was clearly talking about a murder, but because July was right after all: Miss Fortune does not bless you twice on the same day.

Hvitserk turned around while talking and his eyes caught your figure at the door, livid, looking straight at him and fucking up any chances you could have to tell him you never listened to that conversation.

"Shit." you heard him cursing.

His eyes looking at you, running shivers down your spine.

"I call you later," he said, before hanging up the phone in his brothers face and start walking towards you "Princess..."

You didn't even wait for him to say anything. Your legs acted before your mind and ran into the store, locking the back doors to prevent him to come in. Your heart beating like a drum when you glued your back against the wall, seeing him standing near the door, looking inside at the little circular window in the center of the wooden door.

He knocked at the door and your heart almost stopped when you heard his voice on the other side. The fear bringing tears to your eyes.

"Princess... Come outside, let me explain..." he started, but not seeing you through the windows, you heard his tone changing. "Fucking shit! Damn Ivar, you fucked up everything! Fuck!" he grunted, seeming to leave the alley.

You could bet he would appear at the store, trying to talk. And at the balcony, you would have no reason to avoid him. There was no other way...

You went inside, picking up your bag, finding July at the hall while walking back to the backdoors.

"Ann? What happened? You're pale!" she asked. "Are you crying? Babe, what's wrong?"

"I'm not feeling ok," you answered, trying to create an excuse "Someone called me with terrible news, I need to go, please tell the manager I'll compensate tomorrow".

"Oh dang, the day was so good," she said, wiping your tears "Go, babe, I'll take care of everything," she said.

And you hurried up through the doors, trying to go away through the back alley before he could reach the front doors of the coffee shop to reach you.

He would do it, right?

Of course…

Of course, you were wrong.

Your steps didn't even turn the corner at the end of the alley and you felt his heavy grip pulling you back, inside of a door in the back of another building you never saw open.

But somehow, he seemed to have the key.

One of his hands surrounded your waist. The other placed a cloth in your face, covering your mouth and your nose, forcing you to breathe the strange and acid smell that invaded your lungs.

You tried to scream and fight his grip.

Tears rolling down your face when your mind went through the worse moment of your life and you remembered your mother struggling against your father's grip just as you were doing now.

But he wasn't screaming names or strangling your neck. Instead, you heard him sizzling in your ear as that stuff you were breathing started to make you numb. Your fight failing as his voice invaded your ears, clearly frustrated.

"Shh... I won't hurt you, princess... I won't hurt you," he said, supporting your body against his when your legs started to be too smooth to keep you standing.

The numbness started darkening your vision and the last thing you remember to see was Hvitserk's disappointed expression, lifting you up to his arms and mumbling at your ear before everything became dark.

"It wasn't what I was planning, princess... I'm so sorry..."

And then...

Silence.

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[hvitserks-revenge]

I love that he turned the little Buddha around 🥰

[igetcarriedawaywithyou]

Hvitserk’s Valkyrie - Chapter 5

Summary: She walked into the great hall that night and all Hvitserk could think was that he needed to know who she was because she would be his. He had seen visions of her in his dreams. The gods had sent her right to him and he wasn’t about to let anyone else have her. But what did the gods want for them?

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Vikings

Tags & Warning: Fluff, OC, I’ve given up on Canon

Words: 4087

Gif from: @whenimaunicorn

Authors Notes: Sorry for the unexpected hiatus! But I’m coming back slowly! 

All the warriors of the Great Heathen Army have gathered around the altar outside, lines of lamps leading to it. Bjorn and Torvi with their children stood on one side while the rest of Ragnar’s sons stood opposite, Margrethe with Ubbe, then Sigurd, Hvitserk stood on the other side of his sister in law. Just behind his shoulder, half hidden by his height, Kára watched Earl Jorgensen make his way up the altar. Glancing over his shoulder, Hvitserk tugged Kára forward, grasping her hand.

“Stand with me.” He whispers. His fingers knit with hers. Everyone is gasping watching a night sun fly over the sky. A blessing from the gods. Their eyes follow it fly by as the chants begin. The sacrifice has been made, Earl Jorgensen will sit in the halls of Valhalla in honour. The warriors move to the hall to feast before their long journey. Kára watches as the crowd of Vikings move, Hvitserk body shifts to follow his brothers back. His grip on her hand is strong, she wants so much to easily follow him. Instead, she loosens her hold.

“What is it?” He turns, trying to tug her forward, you can tell Hvitserk is eager to go eat, the boar had been roasting on the spit and the mouthwatering smell was now wafting towards him, beckoning him to eat.

“I think a visit to the Seer is in order.” She said quietly, she looks away not able to look him in the eye. The nagging feeling in her chest was too much. No matter how much she relished the attention from Hvitserk, she had to be sure.  

“Do you still not believe?” His hands come up quickly to cup her head, hold her in place, forcing Kára to look at him, almost feeling like she could lose herself in his blue-green eyes. “What can I do to prove you this is what is for us?”  

“Wait for me.” She whispers, taking hold of his wrists, she pulls her face out of his hands. Smiling up at him she turns away and pulls his cloak tightly around her, Hvitserk watched the swish of the cloak as she moves toward the Seer’s hut. Kára slips into the Seer’s hut, the old man sat shaking near the cracked window in the moonlight.

“So, you have come.” She places the small pack of seeds at his table before moving to kneel in front of him. His presence is intimidating and terrifying.

“But will you tell what I wish to know,” she asks, “without your riddles?”

“These words are not mine.”

“Then have I made the right decision by coming here?” she desperately implores. “Is it my destiny? To be here, with Hvitserk?” Kára’s youth shines through on her face. If the Seer could see the pain and confusion on her face he might have pitied her.

“The gods have a destiny for everyone, child. You are meant to be together. The choices he’s made so far are distractions from finding you. But his future choices will be what that matters, and yours, they will lead apart, then together. Perhaps. Nothing is certain.” Kára sits still on the floor, attempting to grasp this information. What choices? Should she truly be here? Nothing was keeping her in Hedeby now. The Seer’s palm appears in the line of vision to pull her from her thoughts. Licking it she rises to leave.

Kára looks up to see the night sky has turned green with light, ‘two good omens in one night’ she thought, headed to the hall along the beach she sees Staðr trotting towards her, she takes a knee and open her arms to wait for him, but the hound turns just before he reaches her, heading to the shoreline. Following she sees Hvitserk sitting on the dock, his legs dangling over the edge. His body almost hidden by the barrels and crate stacked along to be loaded tomorrow. Without turning around, he asked:

“Did you find the answers you needed?” His posture is casual, legs swing off the dock, his hands braced on the ledge between his knees leaning him forward at a precarious angle. She sits beside him, pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, she tucks her chin in the cleft between her knees, staring out at the calm water.

“Some.” As she shifts the rest of her cloak behind her.

“Do you need more answers?”

“Yes.” Her head tilts so she can look at him. Her face shines in the moonlight, and only looks like perfection to Hvitserk.

“Ask then.” He shifts to face her leaning back against the post of the dock, one leg still dangling, his other foot coming to rest somewhere behind her, knee bent to prop his arm.

“How do you know this is true, that this is what the gods want?” She watches him with such scrutiny that he wants to look away, he lets out a breath, closing his eyes he leans his head back against the post as well.

“You are so sure.”

“We’ve seen each other in our dreams have we not?” Her eyes narrow at him. “I’ve said so before.” She watches him like a hawk now. “Do you not see your dreams to be true?” his voice sounds of annoyance.

“I do not! When I say I think I have seen you in my dreams, it is because I have heard such stories from Bjorn. He cares greatly for all of you. He would talk endlessly of you all! So I would think of what you all would look!”

“But you do, you can see you want to in your eyes, svass.”

“I want to…” She hesitates to sigh “Our dreams, the idea that we are being pushed together is ...” She hesitates. “Frightening. How do you know it to be true?”

“My mother had the gift,” he replied slowly. “Other times I have dreamt, I have seen come true in front of my eyes.” She says nothing, but her clear eyes are so bright against the night sky, the green lights in the sky reflect in her dark irises. She sighs heavily and closes her eyes in contemplation.

“Do you believe me?” He leans forward coming close to her face. “The gods want us to be together.”

“I believe they want us to be together.” She says softly. She feels the tips of his fingers reach out to brush her hair. “Whatever this spell is between us I cannot deny anymore.” His fingers weave between the strands now.

“But as I understand, we will both make choices. That will lead us away and back to each other.” His hand now comes to cup her neck. “Will you accept with that?” she asks. Too afraid to look him in the eye.

“You will be with me always.” His words startle her, as she finally looks at.

“Our loyalties lie in different camps Hvitserk.” Her hand comes to hold his wrist. “Will you be able to live with my choices that will be different than yours?”

“You’ll stay with me.” His grip is stronger now, hurting, almost bruising. Pulling her toward him. Her body slides closer to him between his legs.

“Listen to me Hvitserk!” She urges, her fingers now dig into the tendon of his wrist, an effort for him to let go. “I want you, more than anything I have ever wanted. But I need you to promise me something,” his grip has been pulling her body closer to his still, her legs push against his leg still dangling over the dock.

“Anything.” He’s pulled her close enough now that she is half leaning on him. The noses barely touching, if they were breathing any harder their chest would touch. She turns to rest her hands on his chest, letting her weight rest there. She looks up, searching his face.

“When these choices must be made you will not stop me from making mine, and I from yours.” Her hands come up now, to cup his neck, her thumb just grazing his cheekbone. Her eyes pleading “Trust that I will come back to you, that the gods will make it so.”

“No.” he growls, his teeth are clenched. “You will stay with me. Always. That is all.”

“Hvitserk. You will not be able to keep me caged.” She tries to pull away. His grip too strong now as he brings his other arm around to keep her against him. “If you try to, we will never be together.” She holds his face in both her hands now “Promise me. Then we will be able to have our life.”

“We can have it now. I’ve seen it!” Hvitserk retorts stubbornly.

“Have you seen all of it?” she snaps, Hvitserk has never seen her angry before. “We do not know what the gods actually want from us do we?” Such anger from her makes his blood boil. Heat comes from her skin, mingling with his. Looking her in the eye

“Fine. You have my word.” He pulls her head to rest against his. “I do not like it, I do not have to, but I promise, as long as you come back me to.”   “The same for you.” The heat between them is heavy. Finally, after what seems for ages, their lips crashing together. Soft was all he could think, she was soft and real under his hands and lips. Running his hand down her side he pulled her closer as if there was more space between them too, to make them feel like they are one. He pushes his lips hard into the kiss, putting any emotions he could not say aloud into the kiss. She returns in kind. Anything she does not understand, the little she does right now. All they know is that it is right. Under the Goddess Freyja’s green night sky.

---

The morning of the Great Heathen Army’s departure has arrived. Across the pier she could Bjorn see pacing back and forth in front of his brothers, demanding their trust for their war. They would be leaving soon. As soon as the boats were done. She knelt down to finish packing dried meats in crates on the dock, so she could watch under hood lashes across the way at the brothers. The brother’s rise to move away. A decision has been made, no one looks angry, except for Ivar but then again, he always looks angry. Finishing the crate, she passes it off and heads towards her hut. In the days that Hvitserk and Kára have known each other, it feels as if they have always been in each other’s lives for eons. Making themselves comfortable in either of their spaces.

Pushing into her hut she hurriedly shoves the last of the herbs in colours threaded pouches and wraps her blanket, she ties it her pack. She takes Hvitserk’s cloak from where it lay on her bed wrapping it over her shoulder tight and buckles it in place. She gathers her weapons and pack, locking up her hut she goes to say her farewells to Lagertha. She enters the hall; the Queen of Kattegat is sitting on the dais with Torvi and Astrid.

“Is it time for you to leave already?” She embraces her tight. “May the Gods watch over you on your journey.” Lagertha watches as Kára moves to hug Torvi and Astrid. “For your first raid. A gift for you.” Torvi pulls a shield from behind the throne. Painted blue and red with Lagertha’s crest. Kára runs her hand over it. “May it protect you.”

“My thanks Lagertha. For everything.”

“It is as Bjorn said, you have become the daughter I thought Gyda would have grown to be.” Holding Kára shoulders. “Your mother was always there for me in times of need when we were in Hedeby, your father too. I only hope I can be there for you in their absence.” She takes a small dab of gold paint on her thumb from beside her and pulls it down over Kára’s left eye and a dot under it. Lagertha takes her face in her hands and kisses her forehead.

“You are. I cannot thank you enough for it.” Kára embraces Lagertha tightly. Any fears she might have had melted away.

“And when you return, you will have to tell me what the seer has said about you and Hvitserk.” Blushing Kára ducks her head. Not much goes unnoticed by Lagertha, if anything at all.

“I will. But as I have been told, we can never know what the gods want for us. They want something though. I am still unsure though.” Lagertha smiles knowingly. Kára kneels down to hug Guthram and Erik and then heaves the shield over her shoulder.

“I will see you when I return, with stories of triumph.” Lagertha holds Kara at arm's length a moment longer, a warm motherly smile on her face. Kara heads out, nodding to Bjorn on his way to say his own farewells, he is obviously frustrated with Ivar. Reaching the docks, you see Hvitserk tying sail lines tighter with Floki, spotting her he vaults off the side of the boat immediately. Every time she sees him, it reminds her of a child, she wonders how after all that he has done and been through that he can still act like a carefree boy. He takes her hand leading her on the boat. He’s rambling on about something.

“Kára? Kára.” Hvitserk is shaking her shoulder, she snaps back, looking up at him. He gestures to her pack and shield, handing the shield over he flips it over to look at Lagertha’s crest painted on it, he raises a brow at it but still hooks it on the side of the boat beside his own. She places her pack beside his, he’s been watching her, confused be her expression. “Nervous?” she gave a small nod; his finger follows the gold paint down her cheek. “You have no need to be.” A smile blooms on her face. At that moment Staðr jumps between them, barking for attention.

“He followed me.” Bjorn comes up to them. “Bring him. A wolf will strike fear into the hearts of the Saxons. And will be an excellent scout.” Kára takes a knee as she whispers to the mutt, as Bjorn heads to Floki.

“Baby! Could not stay away, could you?” rubbing his ears, Staðr bumps his head against hers.

“This mutt enjoys getting between us” Hvitserk smirks. Staðr barks in response and jumps up on Hvitserk. Staðr paws sitting on Hvitserk’s broad shoulders easily. His hands come up to scratch the mongrel’s ears and then shoves him down. The rest of the vikings around them eye the wolf nervously. “Let’s be on our way.”

As night falls, Kára sat at the rear of the boat with Floki, her cloak pulled tight around to ward off the cold ocean breeze.

“Hvitserk tells me the Gods have chosen you for him” giggled Floki.

“You would know, Floki, beloved of the gods.” Her eyes follow Hvitserk’s arms as the pull and push the oar steadily. Staðr slept curled up, radiating heat, in front of her. “But I cannot deny there is something the gods want from us. They will test us it seems.”

“As they do, I would say you would feel my wrath should anything happen to the boy, but I am more concerned for you.” She turns back to Floki now, looking at him to continue. “Hvitserk is lovable, he has Ragnar’s heart. But his darkness too.” Her head tilts waiting for Floki to elaborate.

“Bjorn told me many stories of you Floki, you and Ragnar. You loved Ragnar. So, you love them.” She jerks her head to Lothbrok men scattered about the boat.

“I do, but I love Lagertha too and Lagertha loves you. So, I will warn you. He smiles and plays but that is not all he is. Ubbe may look like Ragnar, but Hvitserk, he has Ragnar’s protectiveness. If he cares for you, he will go to the ends of the earth to keep you. I cannot stop the gods for whatever it is you must face. But I do not want you to suffer needlessly.” Floki reaches and barely touches her forehead with his fingertips. “Perhaps you will make him a better Viking.” Hvitserk plops down beside her. Pulling her close under his arm, his natural warmth welcoming.

“Who is a better Viking?” Hvitserk asks. He tugs the other end of his cloak to cover his legs.

“Hopefully you now that you have a woman!” Floki giggles again, kicking Hvitserk’s outstretched legs.

“Since when has he ever been a Viking, to begin with?” Ivar crawls over and props himself up opposite them.

“I have seen more battles than you little brother” Hvitserk gives Ivar the stink eye.

“And what of all the woman you’ve had?” Ivar gaze shifts to Kára now, having his fun at her expense. Everyone knows of Hvitserk’s womanizing. Hvitserk’s body stiffens at Ivar’s comment anyway. Kára’s eyes narrow at Ivar.

“They could try coming near him now, I will cut them down where they stand.” She snarled. Hvitserk is smirking now, watching her be possessive of him warmed him.

“I would believe her, Ivar” says Floki as he turns the steer away from himself “you know better than to antagonize a shield maiden. Leave them both be, you brat.”        

When shores of England came into sight, Kára leans over the shields, she watches with wonder. There are moments when Hvitserk questions how her mind works. She is still a mystery to him, cold as ice one moment, childlike bewilderment next like she is working too hard hide herself. He wants to know everything about her. He cannot yet. He cannot be distracted. First, he and his brother’s will have their revenge. Then he will see about Kára.

The sons of Ragnar gather around the fire with Harald, Halfdan, and Floki as Kára comes back from a scout, Staðr trotting along beside her. Bjorn spots her and motions her over.

“How long?”

“Two days, they’ll reach the field to the northwest of here at the sun's peak. They are a small party. They will not expect our numbers” She rounds the group behind Bjorn to join Hvitserk leaning against the tree, snagging the piece of salted pork from his hand. He gives her a playful stink-eye.

“The field?”

“The road curves to come around on the other side of this wood, where I assume they will come from, in between there is some hill, we would hold the high ground if we make our mark between the hills. Our back covered by the wood.” Bjorn tosses her an apple as she finishes.

“Good, we’ll meet them in battle there. Harald, have your men take the side closer to camp, Floki will take the other. Tomorrow we will have our revenge.” Kára snatches Hvitserk’s cup and downs his drink before he can say anything. Walking away she tosses it over her shoulder back at him. She’s been teasing him for weeks now since they left Kattegat. She rests a hand on Bjorn’s shoulder before heading in search of dinner. Staðr rubbing against Bjorn as he passes by to follow his mistress.

Kára enters the tent later to find Hvitserk face down on the blanket. He insisted that she stay with him. Seeing their things mingled together made her warm inside. She wasn’t sure what she should be doing or saying with him right now. His mother had been killed by the woman who now ruled Kattegat, the woman who had her loyalty. His father left when he was young and now they were avenging his death. All she could do was support Hvitserk, she didn’t know how to do that. While both of them had spent time together, they had yet to actually talk about anything important. Most of their time was spent with others on a boat or here at camp always surrounded his brothers or other Vikings.

“Hvitserk?” she whispers, she cautiously reaches out. His hand snaps out grabbing her and flipping her down, so he can sit astride her, his body pinning her down. His face buried in her neck, inhaling her scent.

“After we blood eagle Aelle, tomorrow,” He murmurs into her shoulder. “I’ll have you.” There is heat to his voice, a grind in his tone the lights a fire in her.

“Yes,” she answers huskily. He trails light kisses up her neck, she hums, stretching her neck giving him more access. He follows her jawline up to lips, pressing hard against hers. Possessively. His tongue teases the seam of her mouth for entry, opening her mouth she sucks his lower lip into her mouth, biting, teasing him in return. Their tongues meeting, playing with each other. He pulls away, making Kára whimper for the loss of his lips. Instead, he presses hot kisses down her neck now, his lips linger on her pulse point feeling her heart race. His hands are unbuckling her vest, hands move into his hair, her nails scraping his scalp, tugging the roots hard. His lips have continued lower, using his teeth he pulled her shirt tie open to trace her collarbone with his tongue “Hvitserk” she gasps, her throaty tone exactly what he wants to hear. Her want. To crack her perfect mask that’s been in place too long. Only for him to see. To have her beg for him. His hands sneak under her shirt, warm and large against her midriff. Rough but firm. His fingers grip her hips tight as his hips bear down on her. She can feel his cock pressed against her belly. With a last taste of her nape, he pulls back.

“Tomorrow.” His breathing is laboured. Staring her in the eye, he can barely see the blue irises, just a small ring of them. “I’ll stay with Ubbe tonight.” He heaves himself of her body. Before he can leave she pulls him back.

“Stay.” Her striking eyes begging. “You said you would stay, always.” His face softens, nodding, leaning down he unbuckles his boots, taking his time to regain some rational thought and his breath. Standing straight he finds she’s already divested her armour and breeches. Watching her toss clothes aside, he yanks the shirt over his head. Her now bare legs, stare back at him, she shifts to one side pulling the blankets towards them. Crawling over her he flops down on his back beside her. She pulls the blanket they share under her arms, she tucks her head into her elbow as she turns to face him. Desire still hangs in the air as they settle in. “Why are you so patient with me?” she asks suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“You could have your way with any woman Hvitserk, everyone knows it. Yet, you have not with me. You take what you want. Always. Like you have no control.” Her hand creeps to trace the ink on his shoulder.

“I do take what I want.” Pulling her leg over his waist “I will have it.” His hand travels up to cup her rear. “I only want you.” Her body is flush against his “and will have you.” He squeezes her arse. “do not doubt that.” He’s nibbling on her neck again. Sighing she relaxes into him. His arms tighten around her. “You test my patience, but I will not have you go to someone else. It will be worth the time waiting. ”

“Are you ready for your revenge?” She changes the subject instead. rolling on his back, Kára rests her head on his chest, letting out a breath she feels the light touch of his lips on her forehead.

“Yes. It will be most satisfying.” Anyone could hear the grin in his voice. They lie in the comfort of each other. The once pregnant silence was not so deafening any more Kára notes.

“I heard stories of him, growing up.” She tilts her head up to see his reaction. He gives nothing away, instead continues to stare at the top of the tent. Her foot rubs his leg, waiting for him to respond. He just clutches her leg tighter. “The way I saw him, he was a good father to his sons, but not to the men he needed to raise.” He snorts.

“He will still be avenged. Leave it be. Sleep now.” He squeezes her close pressing his lips to her head, inhaling her welcome scent.

Tags: @zombienaomi, @anarchy-is-coming @lol-haha-joke, @zombienaomi, @anarchy-is-coming, @lisinfleur, @romanchronicles , @oddsnendsfanfics, @readsalot73, @vikingalexthedane @thevikingsheaux @laughinglikenialler @messycurlsmessydreams

[honestsycrets]

When they didn’t like our puppy before but now that Ivar “fucked up” they come running. Come in girls, welcome home. 😂

[collecting-stories]

Magnolia XVI | Modern!Hvitserk

The day of the funeral has everyone in Sweden. 

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

You were in the hotel room, trying to figure out what to wear and, by default, what bra to go with what outfit. You didn't have many 'funeral' clothes but you had one nice black dress that you'd worn to a cousins' wedding a few years ago that was modestly cut and appropriate enough for the occasion. It was just a matter of how comfortable your under garments were going to be based on how your dress fell with certain bras. As you pulled a bralette out you heard Hvitserk's voice over the shower, calling your name. You abandoned getting dressed and headed into the bathroom. Hvitserk had done little in the way of talking the last few days, mostly just staying cooped up in your bedroom and then getting up and going to work like nothing was wrong. You worried about him but you didn’t want to push him into anything he wasn’t ready to face.

“You alright?” You asked. Nesbitt was laying on the bathmat, acting as a guard to your boyfriend. Hvitserk had insisted on bringing Nesbitt along to Sweden and Ivar had gotten him registered as a service dog so that you didn't need to bother with caging him.  

The curtain pulled back and Hvitserk’s eyes met yours, his hair hanging down around his shoulders, damp strands framing his face. “Will you wash my hair?” He asked, “I was trying and I got soap in my eyes.”  

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, quickly undressing the rest of the way and climbing in the shower. “You may need to sit on the ledge, you’re a bit taller than me.”  

Hvitserk sat on the back ledge of the tub and you stood between his legs, pushing strands of hair from his face and laying a kiss on his forehead. “Will you use your shampoo?” Hvitserk asked.  

You nodded, grabbing the bottle off the shelf and uncapping it. Hvitserk closed his eyes as you lathered shampoo into his hair, trying to remember the way the lady at the hair salon does it, like you were giving him a massage at the same time. When you were done you made him stand up and moved him under the spray of the shower, reaching up to rinse the shampoo out of his hair.  

“I think your hair is longer than mine,” You teased, running conditioner through the ends of his hair. He was facing away from you so you couldn’t tell what face he was making but he didn’t reply to your joke.  

When you finished, with a quiet “all done”, he turned around and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back, tilting your head to place a kiss above his ear.  

“Hey, I love you.” You said, keeping your voice quiet.  

Hvitserk’s reply was muffled by your neck but it sounded similar enough to an ‘I love you too’ that you told yourself it was. When the water started to run cold he finally untangled himself from you and climbed out of the shower. You watched him grab a towel from the heating rack and then disappear into the bedroom to get changed. After you dried off and pulled on one of Hvitserk's shirts you headed into the bedroom after him. He was just sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the open closet door and the nice suit hanging there, waiting for him to put on.  

Today was the funeral and while you're mind was on Hvitserk and Ragnar it was also selfishly on the prospect of meeting his family. His mother and his other brothers would be there. It was the first time you were seeing any of them face to face and you were nervous, thinking that their first impression of you was your phone call to them that Ragnar had died. You'd expressed your worries to Ivar just the other day when he'd stopped by your work.

"I only had you call because I knew they wouldn't believe me." Ivar commented, sitting across from you eating. He'd brought in lunch to your bakery and you were sitting a table with him.  

"I know, but I'm just saying," you shrugged, "I doubt they'll be thrilled to see me."

"They'll be fine." Ivar replied, "besides, what's not to like about you?"

"Thanks, I guess." You said.  

Now, while you worried about meeting his family for the first time under the worst circumstances, you also worried about Hvitserk. You took the brush and a hair tie from the dresser and crawled on the bed behind him. He didn't say anything as you pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"Can I brush your hair?" You asked.  

He nodded and tilted his head back slightly so that you could brush through his hair more easily. While you worked out knots at the ends of his hair Nesbitt came out from the bathroom and laid at his feet. The dog had been everywhere Hvitserk was for the past few days, so much so that you were forced to bring his food and water bowls to him so that he could eat. He refused to leave Hvitserk's side for longer than a the couple minutes it took him to do his business outside and then he was right back to watching over your boyfriend. When Hvitserk went to work in the evening Nesbitt would lay at the door with his nose pressed to the doorjam waiting for him to come home.  

"I feel like this is my fault." Hvitserk finally said, once you'd tied his hair up in a bun and kissed his shoulder another time.  

"He was sick H, there was nothing anyone could do." You reasoned.  

"But I knew he was sick, he told me and I acted like he was lying to me. I pushed him out when I should've been spending those last few days with him. You were right, I should've listened to you and talked to him. Instead I had to act like a fucking child and refuse to see him. And now he's gone." Hvitserk said, the unmistakable sound of crying in his voice.  

You pressed a kiss against the back of his neck and then another to his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. This wasn't something you wanted to be right about. You tried to think of something to say but you couldn't put words to how you felt. Terrible for Hvitserk and Ragnar, that neither of them had the time they needed with each other.  

"What time is it?"

"Nearly eight, we should be off soon." You replied.  

Hvitserk stood and your arms fell away to your sides as you watched him stand up and walk to the closet. You dressed quickly, pulling on the black dress you had and a pair of flats, too afraid that you would embarrass yourself and fall if you wore heels.  

The funeral home wasn't far from the hotel the three of you were staying at. As you stepped out of the car, Ivar and Hvitserk in toe, a rather beautiful woman came hurrying outside, throwing her arms around your boyfriend. She looked like she could have been a model and she was tall enough to be one as well.  

"Our mother." Ivar whispered in your ear.  

When she pulled away you could see the resembalance. She held Hvitserk's face in her hands, her eyes a light with tears as she smiled at him. "What a terrible thing to bring us together but I'm so glad you and Ivar could make it." With that she kissed him and then moved to Ivar, embracing him the same way. 

"Yes, mother, we're all sad together." Ivar replied.  

She pulled away, sending Ivar a warning glance before turning to you. "You must be Hvitserk's girlfriend, he's told me all about you."  

You glanced to Hvitserk. "I may've mentioned you back at Christmas."

"May have," Ivar said, rolling his eyes.

"Come, come, we'll go inside. I'll introduce you to my son Ubbe and his wife Margethe."  

"Ubbe and Meg got back together?" Ivar asked, though he'd already known the answer. He was asking more for the benefit of Hvitserk, who looked rather pale at the mention of her.

"They've reconciled their differences. Sif needs a father after all." Aslaug replied and her tone was heavy with judgement.  

"Whether it's the wrong one or not." Hvitserk said under his breath, his grip on your hand tightening.

"Is Sigurd here?"  

"He couldn't make it."  

"As usual." Ivar said.  

Once inside the funeral directior greeted the three of you, guiding you and Aslaug back into the reception area, where so far only immediate family had gathered. Another woman, beautiful also and a little older than Aslaug, stood with a man who looked just as much like Ragnar as the rest of the young men in the room. Ivar was there at your side, commenting on each person as you entered the room.  

"My father's first wife Lagertha, we do not get along."

"Your families?"

"Her and I." He replied. "And her son Bjorn, his wife Torvi. They have children though I do not see the devils."  

"That’s Ubbe then," you looked forward to the young man who had just hugged Hvitserk. Everyone seemed far more attractive then you'd originally anticipated. 

"And Meg, with someone's child."  

The toddler that sat in Margrethe's arms was busying herself with a set of car keys. You couldn't decide who she looked the most like, her mother, her supposed father, Ragnar, or Hvitserk. Your boyfriend claimed the baby was his father's though Ivar had mentioned to you earlier in the week that Meg had told Hvitserk originally that the baby was his and he had told her he wanted no parts of it. Now you supposed, according to Aslaug's comment, she was saying it was her husband who fathered the child in her arms.  

"Hvitserk," her voice was light and airy as she reached one arm out to hug him. Your boyfriend complied, hugging Margrethe for a second before pulling away and stepping back. "Sif," she directed her gaze to the child in her arms, "say hi to uncle Hvitserk."

He looked away at Margrethe's words and Ubbe cut in between them to introduce himself to you. "You must be Hvitserk's girlfriend, I'm Ubbe."

"Nice to meet you, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." He said, offering a hug that you accepted. "Thank you for calling, I know that couldn't have been easy."

Some one touched your back and you pulled away from Ubbe, turning to find Bjorn there. "You're the one who called?"

"Hvitserk's girlfriend." Aslaug replied, sending a glance Margrethe's way.  

"Thank you for calling," Bjorn said, "And for coming today, it would've meant a lot to my father." He did not hug you but he clapped your shoulder gently before stepping away.  

Not much else was said as guests came through the doors, greeting the family and offering condolences in their loss. Ivar sat, telling you to take a seat with him. He laid his crutches beside him and avoided making eye contact with anyone so that they wouldn't come up to him.  

"Sif is adorable." You commented, watching the little girl smile and giggle as Ubbe held her.  

"That's your take away? You've met the infamous Meg and your reaction is, well her and Hvit had a cute baby together."

"He says it's Ragnar's."  

"And Ubbe pretends it's his, but we all know Sif is Hvit's kid." Ivar replied. "I'm rather familiar with paternal denial, as it is. Ragnar tried to say I wasn't his but everyone knew I was. Hvitserk can say all he wants that Sif is our father's or Ubbe's but the truth is that he's the father."  

You were quiet as you watched Hvitserk greet friends of his father's.  

"I know it's not something you want to hear."

"What makes you think that?" You replied, glaring at Ivar.

"We're here a week. You can't spend the whole time denying the truth. Neither can Hvit."

So whose the dad? 

tagged: @thinkingsofamadwoman @lif3snotouttogetyou @listensweettea @strangunddurm @oddsnendsfanfics @kawennote09 @niamandthings @imagoodassninja @pebblesz892 @vikingsmania @dina-m16 @tinymoonshine @titty-teetee @flowers-in-your-hayr @attorneyl @missrobyn81 @kenzieam @knu18 @ivarslittlebadgirll @thedorkcitycentral

[brightlycoloredteacups]

Cuddle

A happy (late) birthday to @alittleblackmagic, one of the people I’ve been fortunate to grow close to through this hellsite. ILYSM. Sorry It’s short, I’m doing this from my phone. 

Parings: Reader/Ubbe/Hvitserk. 

Warnings: None really, nudity, fluff. 

This, by far, had been the best birthday you could’ve ever wanted. It had been a low key party, just a few close friends and family. The boys, you. Nothing over the top. No decorations, no party hats, just movies and popcorn and hot Cheetos with queso.

You lay between the boys, content with how things had gone. They decided to stave off their usual nighttime escapades in favor of simply being with you. Between dozing off and cuddling, the boys would give you sweet kisses, whisper ‘i love you’ and ‘you’re amazing’ and ‘I’m so lucky to have you’ in your ear. You smile with each sentiment. 

When you all give up on trying to stay awake, entirely too comfortable in each other to stave off sleep, you give the boys one last kiss, and thank them silently for one of the best days ever. This, you think before sleep takes you, is exactly what life is supposed to be like. 

[lordavanti]

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader

Request: Hello ! Can you please do a little something where the reader is forced to marry Hvitserk and at the beginning she's very scared and shy towards him but he shows her kindness and she opens up to him and they are you know like tie power couple and Hvitserk can never keep his hands off her? Well anyway thank you. It doesn't matter if you do it or not. You're amazing. Words: 1590

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Being here in the middle of all of this wasn’t really your dream coming true, nothing was and yet you stood hear, leaned against the stone brick walls of York while Hvitserk was devouring an apple like he would devour you. The way he looked down to Ivar who for the first time actually walked reminded you off how he often looked at you, approvingly. You were forced to marry him, just before the dead of Ragnar Lothbrok, it felt like yesterday, the fear, the uncertainty. Never was quite the same, Ragnar died and he forced you to join him to England, to revenge his fathers dead. You were simply nothing in those moments, a scared girl praying to the gods this would go over quickly. But it didn’t and throughout the extend of events you were forced to change. You needed to be there to clean Hvitserk his wounds, to braid his hair and in a weird way it made you stronger. He gave you a dagger before he learned you to use a sword and not ever he raised his voice to your insecurity. It was because of that that you really started to love him. It was  then that you learned to stand by his side. 

But the battle he fought between two brothers was hard on him. He always looked so joyful, following Ubbe but nodding to Ivar. Things were tensed between Ubbe and Ivar and in a way Hvitserk sat right in the middle. With York about to be attacked by the Saxons you didn’t had much time to talk to him. There was so much that Ivar wanted to be done, spikes, fires for smoke, a whole battle strategy you were stunned of Ivar brought it together. You were tired before the day ends as you walked into the church, noticing Hvitserk leaning against a pillar, in thoughts. You sneaked behind him, pushing your hand through his arm an resting your head on his shoulder. ‘You can hide as much for your brothers but I see your troubled mind from miles away.’ You softly said. Hvitserk looked to his shoulder, into your eyes before he grabbed your hand, turning his body around while his hands sneak around your face. ‘You can see all my trouble.’ He whispered, pressing you against the pillar before kissing you. You smiled, fingers urging in the loops of his armor while opening your lips. ‘Brother, instead of kissing your dear sweet wife you should prepare yourself, the Saxons are coming.’ Ivar mocked, making Hvitserk freeze against your body. You turned your head away and looked to Ivar who walked himself stiff out of the church. ‘That is him preparing Boneless.’ You reacted to his always interrupting words. You heard Ivar chuckle loudly before looking back to Hvitserk. ‘He is right.’ Hvitserk said. ‘No he isn’t. There is a battle to come Hvitserk, you are torn between them both, you can’t be distracted.’ You urged him quietly. Hvitserk closed his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple. ‘Ubbe is right, we should claim the land.’ He muttered. You gazed over his shoulder, letting your head rest on it. ‘But Ivar is right to.’ ‘Yes he is.’ Hvitserk signed. You pulled yourself up, stroking your fingertips over his jaw. ‘You need to go fight some Saxon soldiers, I will be waiting for you.’ You smiled. He cupped your face again, tilting his head slightly. ‘Why aren’t you fighting with me?’ He asked you, placing his lips on your cheek, traveling them over to your lips. ‘And get you more distracted? I will killing Saxons from up high, safe and sound like you love it the best.’ ‘I love it the best when you lay beside me in bed.’ He joked. You chuckled, kissing him tenderly before petting his chest. ‘Let’s go.’ You stated. He signed, rather wanting to keep kissing you that leaving you. You grabbed your arrow and bow and followed him outside to where Ivar and Ubbe would be. From out of that tower you had a clear view. Ivar was looking out of the window, hooded and with that grin on his face you hardly liked. Ubbe was divided about all of this while Hvitserk looked softly aside to you and you smiled when his fingers sneaked around yours, giving you a short squeeze before Ubbe said it was time to go. You watched them leave before you slowly looked back to Ivar who was gazing outside. ‘You better take that helmet up to.’ You stated, grabbing your bow while walking outside to your position under the other archers. You weren’t a good fighter but a better aimer. Aside that you were more safe up here then down there. It was a satisfaction to see the Saxons walk in the traps that Ivar laid out for them. You ran over the walls, shooting arrows in every possible direction until you noticed Hvitserk, he was growling like a wild animal, static jumps as he killed another Saxon on his sword. You never saw him in the heat of a battle once, your inexperience always kept you back. With an arrow in your hand you looked to the power in his hand as he killed another one. They came from everywhere and the grin on his face never died. Looking at this version of Hvitserk made you weak on the inside, wanting to feel that kind of power running through your veins. You took an arrow and aimed for the Saxon approaching him from behind. You shoot on the moment he turned around, seeing how the Saxon dropped down he looked up, meeting your gaze. He gritted his teeth, giving you that heated look that made you smile in proud before he got back to his enemies and you to defending his life from above. Battle made you stronger, but seeing him fight did so much more. You laid your bow down, looking for Hvitserk as you walked through the church. You didn’t had to look long for he grabbed you from behind, pressing his lips against your neck. ‘Hmmm.’ You turned around in his embrace and looked up to his blooded and filthy face. You fingertips rested against his jaws as you studied his face. ‘You fighting was the most glorious thing I ever saw.’ You whispered as his hands wrapped together against your neck. ‘The gods have protected you so well.’ ‘The only one protecting me was your skilled hand Y/n.’ He whispered, pressing his lips eager against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his arms pressed your body closer. You wanted so much more then only a kiss, then only the feeling of his tongue dancing with yours. When you were out of breath you opened your eyes and looked up to him. ‘Is my husband wounded?’ You asked him with a tender smile. He looked down over your body, slightly smiling when you started to unbuckle his armor. ‘Maybe.’ He muttered, still looking to your face. You bite your lip, looking to his armor while helping him out of it. He pulled out his shirt and your finger instantly found his smooth skin. You looked down over his chest while walking around him to look at his back to only find nothing. You pressed your lips against his shoulder and smiled. ‘Your work.’ He said, looking over his shoulder to you. You kissed his skin again before handing him his shirt back. ‘Let’s go find your brothers.’ You announced. ‘You look tired.’ He noticed, pulling his shirt back on. You stroke a strand of hair out of your face and shrugged. ‘I’m not so used to this. Before this I was a simple girl.’ ‘Take some sleep.’ He nodded to your sleep place. You shook your head and he titled his head, laying his hand in your neck, stroking your face. ‘I need your strength, I can’t have it when you are exhausted.’ He said with a little concern gleaming in his eyes. You lifted your head up under the slight pressure of his thumb and looked into his eyes. ‘Rest.’ He commanded. ‘Come back to me soon.’ ‘Always.’ He kissed your lips before grabbing his belt with sword and walking away. You looked after him, thinking about sleeping or staying at his side, but he was right. He joined you after some hours. You felt his arm sneak around your waist and you turned around in your sleep, facing him with tiny eyes, resting your head against his chest. He muttered something, pushing his nose in your hair before the both of you fell asleep together. Nothing was so secure then his arm around you, then the warmth he radiated. But how much you loved it, you woke up just a tiny little by Ubbe waking Hvitserk up. But the time you understood and were fully away they were gone. You rolled on your back, looking to the empty space beside you before looking around, meeting Ivar his blue eyes flaring up in the darkness. ‘You better pray for the gods your husband comes back safely.’ He chuckled dark. You slowly looked away from Ivar to the big wooden door, knowing that he followed Ubbe for a peace offer to the Saxons. And Ivar was right, why should he come back, two sons of Ragnar in the heart of a Saxon camp … your heart started to shattered right were you sat, afraid for what could follow on this risk Ubbe was taking.

[cultliter]

Poetry

So if you follow me on instagram you might already know that I’ve been reading a book called adultolescence and it’s inspired me to start writing poetry again would any of you actually like to read it let me know

[mrsalwayswrite]

The Predator (Ivar x Reader)

Summary: Ivar has always admired you from afar, a true shieldmaiden that would even make the Valkyries jealous of your skills. But when the chance comes for him to speak to you, to finally push past his fears and insecurities….death stalks in the shadows waiting for its moment to attack.

This is my contribution to the @vikingsbigbang2022!

The idea for this fic was actually from a request/conversation I had with @childishhoe eons ago. I hope you like it!

Also, I want to give a huge shout out to my collaborating artists: @quantumlocked310 & @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog y'all have been amazing in this process. Thank you!

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Playlist by @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog (added at the end)

Thud.

Releasing the tension from the drawstring of his bow, Ivar peered down the field towards the target at the end. The corners of his lips turned up in the faintest idea of a smile. The arrow had landed in the dead center of the clumsily drawn target. Just like the past nine other arrows, scattered amongst the various targets drawn on stumps or bales of hay.

"Have I mentioned yet how frightfully accurate you are?"

Ivar glanced at Ubbe, who stood next to him with a proud smile on his face. "You did yesterday."

"Hmmm….seems like you were blessed by the gods."

"I'd rather have my legs." Ivar mumbled, his good mood immediately soured.

Ubbe squeezed his shoulder but thankfully kept any words behind his teeth. Seeing that Ivar was out of arrows, the elder brother walked down to the end of the archery range to retrieve Ivar's arrows again.

The dark-haired Ragnarsson absent-mindedly watched Ubbe pluck the arrows from the targets, pleased that his brother knew to keep the pitying looks or comments to himself. Everyone had gotten better about hiding their pity but Ivar could still see it….could feel it taint the air….and it made his blood boil. It made him want to thrust his dagger into someone's chest and rip their still-beating heart out, to paint himself in the blood of those who dare pity him, to hear their petrified screams….to remind them all that he was more than his useless legs.

That someday the whole world would know the name of Ivar the Boneless….

….and they would fear him.

But for now, he temporarily suppressed his homicidal tendencies. His mother chastised him enough when he verbalized all the ways he would love to torture Sigurd. Not that it stopped him. He just hated seeing that disappointed look on her beautiful face. Or the swat to the back of his head from Floki. That did not mean he did not have plans though….for the future.

The sounds of others in the practice yard drifted around him like a chilling breeze. His jaw tightened fractionally. The two Ragnarssons were off at the furthest corner of the archery range, no one else around them. Several of those that stood around or practiced with axes and swords called out greetings to Ubbe when the two brothers passed. But no one came to join them, to practice archery or just talk….because of Ivar.

That easy comradery, that acceptance, that respect from his fellow Vikings, was something he never experienced. They thought him worthless, useless….just a cripple.

They kept their distance. Never were they outright rude to his face, because everyone knew Ivar's temper and violent tendencies would warrant him to inflict pain on them, but they never tried to join him or whichever brother was babysitting him for the day.

So he watched and observed. Only in the dead of night when he was alone, did his imagination create fantasies of being able to join the other warriors. To be recognized and wanted. To be respected. To be liked.

For now, he would accept their fear.

A cheer rang out through the practice yard. "Hvitserk! Hvitserk!" Several voices chanted his name like they were summoning him forth.

While sitting on his stump, Ivar turned to see his flaxen-haired brother stepping into the center of the sparring area, a sword in one hand and an axe in the other. His smug smile could be witnessed even from where Ivar sat, as those watching cheered him on with enthusiasm.

The youngest Ragnarsson wondered who was stupid enough to try and fight his brother. He begrudgingly admitted that all of his brothers were fierce warriors in their own right, a trait surely gifted through the blood of their father and being descendants of Odin the All-Father.

Yet neither the father that abandoned them nor the one-eyed god in Valhalla ever answered Ivar's whispered prayers and silent cries.

In the sparring area, a new cheer arose as Hvitserk's opponent stepped into the circle. Carrying a sword and shield, you rolled your shoulders, preparing for the spar. The chant of your name filled the air, like those around could not help but be in awe of you. For it was the air of confidence surrounding you that made people magnetized to you.

And Ivar was no exception.

Your name flowed from his lips in a reverent murmur as his vivid, blue eyes refused to look away. You were perfection in every way. Your movements were fluid like a dancer's and calculated like a strategist's. Every year that passed, you continuously grew in beauty, a kind that should not be known in the mortal realm. People flocked to you, both to win your affections and bask in your presence. Your skills with a blade were already legendary. Many claimed one day that you might surpass Lagertha herself with your sword skill. You were confident and strong, poised and regal. A valkyrie amongst mortals that were blessed just to be in your presence.

The sporadic times Ivar and you interacted in passing, usually around his brothers, you never ignored or awkwardly stared at him like other women. As if they were unsure what to do around him since he did not have working legs or they feared he would randomly stab them. But not you. Instead, your gorgeous eyes would meet his, a smile on your lips, as you greeted him like he was worth your time.

On occasion, you would ask him a superficial question and it was all Ivar could do to remember how to speak. Then to his further astonishment, you would actually listen and respond. The few conversations you bestowed upon him were typically short-lived, for his brothers were always around and would steal your attention away or you would have to leave to fulfill your duties.

Yet in those moments, Ivar swore his heart stopped and he could grow wings and fly.

His brothers teased him about his crush on you, how he would go starry-eyed and barely able to speak in your presence. In retaliation, he would just remind them that whenever they made advances towards you, you would quite clearly make your feelings known - usually with a dagger against their balls. Not that it stopped their flirting.

Ivar knew of a few bets going around, trying to see who would be the first brought to your bed here in Kattegat. Yet so far, no one had won.

The riotous cheering resumed in the sparring area as Hvitserk and you began circling one another. In a blink, Hvitserk advanced, swinging his sword and axe only for them to repeatedly bounce off your shield. The two of you sparred for several more minutes, taking turns in attempts to land a hit or make the other stumble. Finally both of you stepped away, chests heaving and grins on their faces. Hvitserk said something that had everyone nearby laughing as he winked at you.

Ivar's hand tightened on the bow in his lap.

You shook your head with a smirk. Then you glided forward with an effortless grace and initiated the sparring this time.

"I heard she trained under Lagertha for a few years before coming here." Ubbe stated, coming up to Ivar's side with the arrows in hand, even as he watched the fight. "That's why she's so good."

Ivar grunted. "I hope she makes Hvitty eat dirt."

"She probably will."

This time something in you had shifted. No longer were you fighting on equal terms with Hvitserk. Oh no….it became obvious you had been toying with him this whole time.

In frustrated retaliation, Hvitserk's hits began to get more wild, his blocks more sloppy. Yet you continued to dance around him, taking each hit and easily returning your own that he barely managed to escape. Once you managed to knock him onto his back, but with a quick roll, Hvitserk was up and charging at you again.

Finally, with a clearly well-practiced and almost unbelievable move, you slipped under his guard. Using his momentum against him, you feigned a spin and snuck a leg out to swipe at him, effectively tripping him. Before he could do more than raise his face from the dirt beneath him, you had one foot on his back and your sword tip at the nap of his neck.

Ivar sworn he had never seen a more beautiful and erotic sight in his entire life.

After a moment, you allowed Hvitserk up, clasping forearms after with smiles still on your faces as those around cheered or swapped coins based on their betting. Moving away, you settled back to lean against a railing, happily accepting the water from someone next to you. With your sleeve, you wiped the sweat from your brow before taking a sip. One of the shieldmaidens at your other side muttered something that made you laugh, shaking your head before you playfully shoved her.

A smile tugged on his lips in answer to your own laughter. But it died a swift death when he noticed the many other pairs of eyes watching you. Some of those looks were nothing short of hungry.

"You should say something to her."

Ivar shifted his icy glare to his elder brother. "What are you talking about?"

Ubbe shrugged. "It's obvious you like her….don't deny it. The death glares you give the others are enough to confirm it. So, you should tell her. Who knows? Maybe she feels the same."

Ivar scoffed, even as his heart pounded in his chest like a drum at the mere thought of you returning even a smidgen of his affection. "No. She's too nice to say it to my face. But she has no interest in any of you, why would she be interested in the cripple then?"

"Ivar, it's not…."

"Shut up. I'm done talking about this. Let's go find our idiot brothers. I'm tired of waiting around for them." Ivar slid down the trunk and began using his hands to crawl back towards the Great Hall. He could faintly hear Ubbe mutter something under his breath as he picked up Ivar's abandoned bow and arrows, used to have to carry things for the youngest Ragnarsson.

Before he got too far, Ivar could not help himself as he turned to look over his shoulder one last time at you. Leaning against the railing, you watched the next sparring match with a small smile on your face, looking beautiful and happy.

With that image in his mind, Ivar continued to crawl away, each drag of his lower body haunted by the eyes he knew would be following his movement like he was some rabid beast in need of being put down for the safety of all.

But the worst part was the knowledge that someone as perfect as you would never look twice at him in desire. He was a snake, meant to crawl on the ground, and you….you were a Valkyrie meant to rise above everyone and dwell with the gods.

*****

His vibrant eyes peered down over the edge of the short cliff, cloaked by the bushes he looked through. Lying here, with his belly on the ground, no one ever saw him. He knew from experience, enough times spent tracking various people to see what he could observe, or witnessing his brothers and their various paramours. He knew no one looked towards the ground for the eyes they could feel watching them. Never thinking about the danger that lurked at their feet.

This revelation was both the shadow of truth he veiled himself in and the chain that kept him prisoner.

Now though, he was thankful for a very different reason that he had honed his skills of stealthily tracking and following someone without their knowledge. Quiet and sly as a serpent in the underbrush, he carefully moved closer, crawling forward on his elbows.

It was the muffled crying from below that twisted the knife in his heart and kept him hostage on the precipice.

Amongst the raised roots of an ancient-looking tree, almost hidden by the natural alcove between the tree and the sharp slope of the short cliff, you leaned against the trunk of the tree. Your face was buried in your hands, weapons laying discarded just within reach. Your stifled cries mixed with the sound of the nearby gentle stream, creating a conflicting symphony of peace and heartbreak.

It was not pity that filled him as he gazed down at you. No, he knew pity and loathed it. He would never place such a revolting emotion onto you. What filled him instead was….sympathy. For he knew what it felt like to purposefully draw away from others, to hide oneself away from the world, and only then be able to shed the restricting mask and release the pent-up pain without fear of others' judgements.

Almost a fortnight had passed since he had begun following you, trailing behind as you left Kattegat and ventured into the surrounding forest and to your safe haven. At first, it had been curiosity that caused him to track your journey. Only to be shocked when he discovered you in the hidden dell, taking your clothes off and bathing in the shallow stream, softly singing to yourself the whole time. His mind shut down, unable to comprehend what his eyes bore witness to. You appeared as an apparition, something not meant for mortal eyes. A vision that the gods guarded jealously. The image of you was immediately seared into his brain, never to be forgotten for however long he lived. For gazing upon you, was the epitome of divine beauty, both inside and out. A goddess that was meant to be worshipped for all eternity.

After seeing you bathing for the first time, Ivar spent the rest of the day in a haze. Nothing could draw him out of his reverie. It was as if you had cursed him, only able to think about you, to remember you in all your glory.

The next time he saw you, he was sharpening an axe at the blacksmith's. You walked by, but not without greeting him first with a call of his name and a mesmerizing smile. He was lucky that you continued on your way because he barely caught himself from slicing his hand open in his gawking and encouraging his tongue back into his mouth after accidentally swallowing it. He was certain that if you had caught him spying, you would have confronted him about it. When you did not say anything, nor in the days after, all he could guess was you were unaware of his observation.

So whenever he saw you heading for the forest alone….he followed.

In his mind, he reassured himself it was for your own protection. Of course, he knew the skill you possessed to fight and defend yourself. It was a favorite pastime of his to watch you knock over-confident, cocky men flat on their asses. Especially the ones that hoped to gain certain favors from you.

Yet he noticed that when you were alone in the quiet, hidden dell, you let your guard down in more ways than one. You looked at peace with your eyes closed and face lifted towards the sun like an exotic flower. Your faithful weapons were set aside and seemingly forgotten about while you were here. It was in this place you sought solace from your companions and the tasks and responsibilities heaped upon your shoulders.

He vowed to stand guard so your face would never have to shed that look of serenity, causing you to appear ethereal.

Now though, he trailed behind you to provide comfort and companionship. Even if he was not right next to you physically. He silently hoped somehow you could feel his presence and know that you were not alone. That you did not have to grieve alone.

It had been four days since the news of your mother's tragic and unexpected death had reached Kattegat's shores. Every day you accepted the condolences with a genuine smile and continued to train and spend time with your companions like normal. It was when you ventured here, into your safe haven, that your pain finally spilled out onto the ground. Staining the earth around you with your grief and tears. Tainting the air with your heartbreak.

And Ivar kept to the shadows, watching, waiting, making sure no one disturbed you.

Today, your weeping was not all-consuming, but still enough for Ivar's hands to itch in some misguided attempt to comfort you. Once the outpouring of your grief ceased, you wiped the tear tracks from your cheeks with the sleeve of your tunic. Only the gurgling stream and the bird calls filled the air.

With a weary sigh, you stood up and stretched. Ivar could not help the way his gaze slid over your perfect body, touching as much of you with his eyes as he could. For never would you allow him to touch you with his dirty hands. You were too perfect and he was….he was beneath you in every way.

Ivar prepared to slither back and hide as you ascended up the slope of the cliff and make your way back to Kattegat. A dance the two of you had done for the fortnight now that Ivar had been watching over you. Even if you were unaware of the dance you participated in.

Just as you reached your hand out to grab your weapons, laying on a nearby stone, you froze.

Your head slowly, cautiously, hesitantly, turned to the right. Your body was still bent with your hand outstretched, as if the weapons lay forgotten in that moment. Your eyes were glued to the trees across the shallow stream. Tension sung a melody throughout your body as you carefully straightened from your crouch. The sword now gripped in your hand like a lifeline.

Fear and concern kept his fierce gaze locked on you and on the trees, wondering what you saw, desperate to know what had you so on edge.

Then Ivar saw it….

….and a shiver of terror trickled down his spine.

Moving silently and with an unnaturally, graceful prowl, the wolf stepped out from behind the trees across the small stream. Flaming red like the fires of Muspelheim colored its eyes. An inky, black coat covered its body, appearing to absorb the filtering sunlight like a black hole. Fangs emerged from its snout, as long as Ivar's dagger and twice as sharp. The wolf easily stood as tall as a horse, yet its presence conveyed more. As if it's massive body still struggled to contain all of it.

Ivar gaped. For he knew before him had to be a spawn of Fenrir, sent to Midgard for nothing less than to wallow in carnage, to drink the blood of all it devoured and to create chaos with each of its powerful footfalls.

And at the moment, it's destructive gaze was set on you.

It's lips curled back in a snarl. The growl that left it's throat could make mountains shake in terror. Nature itself silenced to give way to the creature that commanded attention and awe-inspiring horror. Then one massive paw lifted, proceeding another, bringing it a step closer in it's prowl. Those burning eyes never left you the whole time.

At its step closer, you swiftly shifted your stance, hands gripping your sword with a death-like grip. From where he hid, Ivar could see the tremors of trepidation careening through your body. Yet even in your terror, you refused to go down without a fight. Even in the face of what was certainly death itself, you stood your ground. Denying it from taking your soul easily.

In that moment, Ivar knew what he had to do. Never had he been so certain of his actions. It felt like Odin himself placed a hand on his shoulder in guidance and reassurance. Viciously, he shoved down the fear and dread clawing at his limbs. He refused to watch you fight alone. He refused to let you die. Not you, his Valkyrie, his goddess.

With a guttural warcry, he shoved himself forward. Half crawling, half falling down the cliff's slope, he finally touched the mossy ground and crawled his way over to where you stood, ready to defend yourself from the monstrous creature.

Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, wide with determination and dread, but you made no further move.

Wordlessly, he passed you, crawling until he was between you and the stream. The wolf remained on the other side of the stream, watching with a malicious glint in it's gaze. Then it took another powerful step closer. The water from the stream caressing its front paws, only to retreat as if nature itself feared the creature.

From just behind him, you softly whispered his name but he did not turn his head, never removing his gaze from the wolf.

Piercing, blue eyes locked with burning, red eyes.

Ivar reached back and unsheathed the dagger he kept strapped to his thigh. A gift from Floki. With iron in hand, Ivar unleashed his own furious growl.

"Come on! Don't you know who I am?" He yelled at the creature, born of darkness and fire. He smacked his chest with the flat of his dagger. "I am Ivar the Boneless! You can't kill me! Now come on!"

The air crackled like lightning and thunder covered the sky, even though no clouds could be seen in the vast, blue sky. Time ceased, the Norns pausing their eternal spinning to bare witness. A life thread would be cut today. Ivar refused to let it be yours.

The spawn of Fenrir released a howl that seemed to shake the very ground they stood on. The trees quaked and trembled. The water swirled under the sheer force of it's howl.

A righteous fury arose like a storm within Ivar. Tremendous waves that would break ships crashed and roiled just under his skin.

"What are you waiting for? I laugh at death!" Ivar taunted. "Come on! I shall kill you today!"

Red eyes remained locked with blue eyes.

A terrifying snarl escaped past the confines of it's mouth. It lifted a paw, ready to place it in the water, ready to cross and bring forth the destruction it was bred for.

Then it stopped.

A sneer played on the face of the youngest Ragnarsson. He knew that even if the creature killed him, Odin would happily welcome him into Valhalla. For what greater honor would there be but to fight a monster the gods themselves feared and to win. Even if it ushered in his own death. What did he need to fear with the knowledge of Valhalla waiting for him.

He only hoped to spare you from the dangerous touch of death. It was not yet time for you to return to the gods.

Suddenly, the wolf dropped it's paw back to the mossy ground. Lowering it's head slightly, those furious eyes remained fixated on Ivar. Lips curled back in a silent snarl.

Then as if a spell had been broken, it took a step back in retreat.

And then another.

And another.

Slowly, it slicked back into the covering of the surrounding forest. Red eyes never leaving the blue eyes that gazed after it in confusion. It's black coat blended into the shadows of the forest. Just as silently as it arrived, destruction promised with each step, it disappeared.

Neither Ivar or you moved for several minutes. Tension and adrenaline hummed through your veins as you both waited for the monsterous wolf to return. In those minutes, time itself restarted once more. Nature reemerged from where it had hid. The singing of birds filled the air and the quiet gurgles of the stream coaxed a resemblance of peace again. Even the sunlight streamed down warmer and brighter than before.

"Ivar, are you alright?" You asked, once you must have deemed it safe to move. With your sword still in hand, you dropped onto your knees next to him.

Taking a deep breath like he had been underwater for too long, he shifted his body around to sit on his ass. In the movement, he accidently brought himself closer to you. His heart faltered when he realized the proximity he unintentionally created. Your breath fanned across his face as you stared wide-eyed at him. It took an embarrassingly long moment for his brain to remember your question and not get lost in your alluring eyes and intoxicating presence.

"Uh, I'm….I'm fine….and you?"

"I…." You shook your head then turned your face to look in the direction the wolf disappeared to. "What was that?"

"I don't know. Do you think it's gone?"

"I hope so."

He blinked as he stared at the expanse of trees across the stream. How could a creature like that just appear then disappear? What had drawn it forth? Would it come for Kattegat next? Should he tell his mother about this? Did they need to prepare Kattegat for a war with this enemy of the gods themselves?

Feeling eyes on him, he turned back, startled to find you staring at him. "What?"

"It….it was you….you scared it away."

"What?" He accidently barked in surprise.

You huffed, still kneeling next to him. "Ivar, think about it. Something like that. A creature like that!" You gestured in the direction the wolf had been. "The only reason it would back down would be if it met a bigger predator than itself."

His mind froze. Refusing to decipher your statement. Unable to believe the words coming from your mouth and their meaning. His insecurities battled with the unknown truth now spoken aloud.

A gentle hand cupped the side of his face, causing his heart to soar under your touch, forcing his eyes to meet yours. Something swirled and danced in your eyes, threatening to drag him under and drown him. As long as you continued to behold him like this, to touch him like this, he would readily drown in you.

Your thumb stroked his cheekbone as you whispered, something akin to admiration in your tone. "I think…. I think we have all underestimated you, Ivar the Boneless."

Words tangled up in knots on his tongue. An embarrassing warmth colored his cheeks as he flushed under your praise. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if he had somehow died and this was Valhalla.

"You are made to do great things. Even Fenrir cannot stop you from your destiny it would seem." You stared into his eyes, searching, seeking, finding, reevaluating. Then you ever so slowly drew closer. With the softest of caresses, you pressed your lips against his cheek for a moment before drawing back. "Thank you….for coming to my aid….for defending me. I won't ever forget it."

Air was no longer needed to breathe. Gravity no longer tethered him to the ground. For all Ivar knew, he could float amongst the clouds now.

A sweet giggle brought him out of his inner revelry, along with the feeling of your hand gently caressing his face on its way down to land back in your lap. He immediately missed the sensation of your touch and wished he had the words to ask you to return it.

Smiling, you smoothly glided to your feet. After one last look towards where death had stood not long ago, you glanced back down at your companion. "Come on, Prince Ivar. We should be getting back before the sun sets."

He nodded his agreement. Although, truthfully, he wished to linger in your presence, this intimate, comfortable moment that you found yourselves in. To maybe find the courage to ask you to allow him to touch you, to caress your face or hold your hand, even for just a brief second. Instead, he watched you wander over and grab your sword's sheath from the ground where it had previously laid. Skillfully, you slipped your sword into its sheath and then onto your hip. Lastly, you tucked a dagger back into your boot and one up your sleeve before turning around to face him.

"Besides, after this, I feel like you've earned the right to travel by my side instead of following me and then hiding in those bushes above. I can't imagine it's comfortable." You teased with a wink.

A blush returned to stain his cheeks at being caught. It did nothing to stop his heart from soaring at the notion that you would not reject his presence in the future. That maybe it would just be the two of you again in your safe haven. On second thought, he might suggest a new location for you to find solace after this….encounter.

He watched you scurry up the slope nimbly. Once at the top, you turned around to wait for him with a smile on your face. A beautiful, beaming smile….for him. His heart thudded in his chest as he gazed back at you.

Carefully, he slipped the dagger back into his sheath on his thigh and prepared the grueling climb up the side of the cliff. But knowing you waited at the top for him, it was worth it.

On instinct, Ivar turned to look towards the spot where the wolf had been. Nothing remained that showed of the creature that had stood there only minutes ago. Almost as it was a mirage instead of flesh and blood. A bloodthirsty grin spread over his lips as he thought about the words you said. How it was him that caused the wolf to back down. How it was him that the beast recognized as the greater predator.

With that in mind, he turned to follow you up the slope.

Even with his useless legs, even with his insecurities and faults, even with the doubt and pity spewed upon him daily that made his blood boil in rage….even with all of that, he was still the apex predator.

Maybe the blessing of Odin had not abandoned him after all.

Tag List: Vikings (all):

@youbloodymadgenius @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @quantumlocked310

Ivar:

@breezykpop

[sunshinepanic]

I’m sorry but can we please talk about Marco being a complete daddy right here!?!?!

Source: @alexhoeghandersen Instagram stories

[laketaj24]

I had a dream about Hvitserk last night. This is out of character and though it was great... I demand he give that spot back to Ubbe. So somebody come get your boy. I’m blaming you because of the fics. I’m sure there are more that contribute

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @kawennote09 😂

[bouncehousedemons]

Lust

Rating: E Pairing: Hvitserk x female character, Ivar x female character (written in second person, regrettable use of y/n) Warnings: Smut, angst, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, brief mention of abortion Word count: 8k (7 chapters)

Summary:  Hvitserk liberates a farmer’s daughter from her quiet life in Northumbria, only to have his younger brother take a keen interest in her.

Read the full fic on AO3

[sunshinepanic]

Ivar and Hvitty, Season 6