#Ivar the Boneless x female!oc

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XLII

A/N: And we're finally back with another update! I posted on my last update to Can You Imagine? That I was going to try and get on a system of posting an update weekly, rotating which fic I'm updating, which means this will probably be updated about every three weeks going forward. So that said, I hope you all enjoy being back to this story, and I hope you'll stick around for the coming updates- I told you this wasn't abandoned XD Skål!

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

Masterlist

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Asta felt like she was going to explode. Talking to Olaf had brought up all the grief she’d felt over the years, everything she felt she had locked away when she left Kattegat, and now it was threatening to burst out of her if one more thing happened to bring it out of her. That’s why she needed to talk to Ivar- if anyone would know how to stay sane in the face of everything they were facing… Well, it wasn’t him, but he could help her sort through things at the least. 

She let Hvitserk lead her back through the town quickly, indulging herself in the protective arm he’d wrapped around her shoulders. How would she be able to stand it if something were to happen to him, or to Ivar? She’d already lost so much… Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle it- and not like this, when she wasn’t sure she’d handled what had happened so far just yet. If she went through it in her mind- the father she hadn’t known, Heahmund, the father she had, Aethelred, her mother, Freydis, Lagertha, Bjorn… And those were only the deaths. What about Alfred, and Torvi and Ubbe who she hadn’t heard from in… who knew how long at this point? 

Her mind turned back to something her beloved Freydis had once said to her, after the death of the Bishop Heahmund. When she had confessed her heart had broken with news of his death, Freydis had told her that her heart would repair. But that had been before everything else she had lost. She wasn’t so sure anymore that was true. Very suddenly, she held out her hand and held it to Hvitserk’s chest. “Wait,” she said, and he looked down at her confusedly.

“Princess?” he questioned. “What is it?” 

“I think I need to be alone,” she confessed. “I need… I need to think. Please.”

“Of course,” Hvitserk replied. “Where will you be should we need you?” 

Asta swallowed, looking out over the mountains. “I’d say wandering, but that wouldn’t be of any help, would it?” she said with a quiet chuckle. “There’s a clearing not far from here, take the path out of Vestfold and follow it to the east. I’ll be there.”

Hvitserk nodded a little. “Be careful,” he warned her. “Keep your sword about you at all times, just in case.” 

“I will, thank you, Hvitserk,” she replied. “Will you let Ivar know?” She didn’t worry about clarifying, sure enough of him to believe that he would know what she was asking him to tell his brother. And happily, she saw she was right, as Hvitserk asked no questions. Instead, he kissed her on the head and wished her well before heading toward the palace. 

Now all alone, Asta started down the path she’d indicated to Hvitserk, keeping an eye out as he’d requested. Besides, as little as she trusted Oleg and his men, she didn’t want to take any risks.

In the days since Asta left Wessex, she had noticed something about the way she’d picked up Viking customs. She didn’t pray the way she once did, not anymore. She had grown up praying in church, on her knees in the pews, hands clasped together and head bowed. Now, she just… prayed. The rituals had all stayed behind in England, and in their wake was left comfort and familiarity, a relationship as opposed to religion. Freedom she hadn’t once known.

Unlike Kattegat, Kiev had been stifling. She had to hide so many things there, for fear of what Oleg may do if he learned, even having to resort to hiding away to say a prayer. It wasn’t because Oleg had something against Christians- on the contrary, the man claimed to be one himself- but rather because everything he believed about her would begin to unravel if he learned this one truth about her. Asta knew Oleg would never understand how a wanderer who came to Kattegat, and became the wife of Ivar the Boneless, had become a Christian in her time there in Kiev- and to not partake in the rituals of the Kievan Rus would simply make him question things even more. She knew if he continued to pull on that thread, it would inevitably lead him to the truth- that she was English, and nearly everything he knew about her was a lie. No, she couldn’t allow that.

Thus, she waited until she was well enough alone to pray, and even sought out a hidden place to do so. Somehow, she found that just stepping into that space released the restraints she felt she now lived her life in, and she let out a long breath as she felt the peace of it wash over her. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed quietly, her voice nearly a whisper. “My life has changed… so much in the past years, Lord. My family are all but gone, my past buried so deeply inside me that I can hardly tell where the truth ends and this lie begins. Add to that how miserable I feel with each and every lie I tell, and I just… I’m so lost. Telling my story to King Olaf has brought it all back, every part of myself I’d silenced, and I know now that I cannot continue on this path I’ve set myself on. But what happens to Ivar and Hvitserk, if I reveal the truth? They’ve known me for years now, won’t Oleg know this? Know what they’ve done in helping me to conceal this? What will he do to them for covering the lie? I need You to show me what I am meant to do, to give me the strength to do it. I’m so afraid, Lord… of losing anything more than I already have.” She swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. “Help me overcome these fears. Bring me back to You. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” 

The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted Asta, and she turned back to see Hvitserk running down the path. “Asta, you need to come now,” he said, urgency lacing his voice. “They are going to kill King Olaf.”

Asta’s eyes widened as she processed the words, and she blinked a few times. “What are we doing?” she questioned. “What does Ivar want us to do?” 

Hvitserk shook his head. “Nothing,” he answered. “He wants us to attend the execution, but we will not interfere. He wants to keep Oleg’s trust still.” 

As little as Asta liked the idea of just letting this happen, she nodded. “Alright,” she replied. “Then we should go.”

They nearly ran back to town, to the docks where the execution was to take place, so they wouldn’t miss any of it, and by the time they wormed their way up to the front Asta could see that Olaf had already been tied down to a chair. Ivar, Oleg, and Igor were there as well, standing up at the front to watch the execution. Hvitserk moved to lean against a post nearby, while Asta came to stand beside Ivar, watching as two men stepped forward and began to pour oil all over… the wood piled around the chair? Oh. It was then that Olaf began to speak, and Asta’s eyes widened.

“There is someone beside me,” he said.

Oleg frowned. “There is no one beside you,” he said. “You are all alone.”

“No, there is someone beside me,” Olaf reiterated. “Although I cannot see Him, I know He is here.”

“How do you know, you old fool?” Oleg demanded.

“Because He speaks to me,” Olaf said. “I hear His voice.”

Asta swallowed as she realised what he meant, and a chill ran down her spine. Anticipation began to build in her. Listen.

Hvitserk glanced over at Asta, noticing the suddenly attentive gaze she had pinned on King Olaf. He hadn’t confessed to this earlier, but he’d heard the tale end of her prayer. He knew now what the woman was struggling with, so he asked, “And what does He say?”

Olaf answered, “He says, ‘He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. I am the resurrection and the life. I shall walk beside you. Always. Always.”

Asta was stunned. I shall walk beside you. She glanced over at Ivar, who she could tell understood the point of Olaf’s words, and had grown concerned. Why, she couldn’t say, but she knew what it meant to her. She had to do what was right, and the rest wasn’t up to her.

Still, she was distracted from trying to figure that out by Oleg’s interruption, as he instructed Igor, “Don’t listen to him, get on with it.” When he shoved the boy forward, a torch in hand, Asta felt anger boil up inside her. He was really going to make a child do this? He had the gall to order a man’s death, but not to go through with it on his own? To do it himself? She wasn’t sure her opinion of him could get any lower than this. Then, she noticed how anxious Igor clearly was, and her heart clenched.

“This isn’t right,” she murmured from beside Ivar. “He’s a child…”

“I know,” Ivar whispered in return. “But we cannot stop it. Not without raising suspicion.”

She swallowed again as she heard Olaf trying to comfort Igor, even as the young Prince was preparing to end his life. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, though in Asta’s experience that rarely actually helped.

“I can’t,” Igor replied.

“Think of me as already dead,” Olaf advised. “Nothing more can hurt me. Not the thunder, nor the deep swell of the waves, nor yet, the tongues of fire.” 

Igor turned back to Ivar, as if silently asking whether or not he should go through with this, and while Ivar nodded to encourage him, Asta glanced over at Oleg. He was clearly quite unnerved by this, seeing that Igor preferred Ivar’s encouragement to his own, and that, at least, brought a small smirk to Asta’s lips as she turned to watch the execution again. Let him stew on that. Children rarely sought strength from the person who pushed them too far, anyway.

The boy knelt down in front of Olaf, lowering the torch toward the pyre built at the King’s feet. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Olaf replied. “My lands are in order, and I am ripe for Heaven.”

He offered Igor a reassuring smile, and Igor finally lit the pyre, before standing and beginning to back up. Ivar reached out and wrapped his arm around him to pull him back, protecting him from the flames that grew quickly to ensnare Olaf within them. To the surprise of most there, however, the man lifted his hands as if in prayer, and gave nothing even close to a cry of pain as he was consumed. Oleg shook his head and stalked off.

For once, his behavior left Asta unbothered as she watched Olaf’s life fade before her eyes. She hadn’t known him for very long, but she had quickly realized how wise he was, the depth of his knowledge, and the fact he had asked the question that had been the catalyst to her awakening was something she couldn’t simply overlook. It hadn’t taken very long at all, but King Olaf had become quite an influential figure in her life. But the Lord worked in mysterious ways, she knew, and all paths crossed for a reason. She found herself thanking God for Olaf’s life, and for the chance she got to meet him, swallowing as she blinked to clear the wetness from her eyes. The crowd began to disburse, and Ivar asked her if she was coming along with him, Hvitserk, and Igor, but she answered that she wanted to be left alone for a while. 

She stayed until there was nothing left to stay for, a lone figure on the dock. 

Eventually, Asta returned to the Great Hall, and she quickly became aware of Ivar at her side. “My love,” he whispered, disguising it with a kiss to the side of her head. “Are you alright? Hmm?”

She nodded slightly and leaned her head over against his. “Just tired,” she answered. “I don’t think I’ll stay for the feast tonight. I need to get some rest, think about some things.” 

Ivar frowned, not convinced at all that Asta really was ‘just tired’ as she said. But, he wasn’t about to force the truth out of her in front of this crowd, so instead of trying he simply nodded and kissed her head again. “I’ll come and join you soon,” he promised. “And I’ll bring you food and drink. Go rest.”

Asta smiled up at him lovingly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “You don’t know how much of a comfort you are to me.” She leaned up to kiss him softly, and rested her forehead against his, taking a deep breath as if she could draw some sort of strength from him. Ivar returned her kiss before pressing one of his own to her forehead, and releasing her. 

She wandered off to head to their room, stopping to press a kiss to the top of Igor’s head and telling him she was proud of him, and when she got in there, the sounds of the feast now distant, she felt a weight come off her shoulders. Running a hand through her hair, she went and flopped down on the bed. It was then that her door opened, and she looked up to see who had come in.

If there was anyone she had expected to see, it wasn’t Igor. Still, she smiled a little when she saw him, sitting up to greet him. “Igor,” she said. “Can I help you with something?”

“You did not seem like you were well when you left the feast,” he told her. “I wanted to come and see what was wrong.” 

Asta let out a touched sort of sound and smiled at him, reaching out to invite him to come and sit with her. “Oh, sweet boy,” she said affectionately. He did as she offered and settled in beside her, so that she started to run her fingers through his hair. “I’m more worried about you than you need to be about me. How are you after today?”

Igor swallowed and shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to kill him,” he said. “I’m not even sure what he did wrong.”

This brought forth a sigh from Asta, who ended up laying back with Igor and holding him close still. “Nothing,” she said. “Your uncle wanted him dead because he feared the loyalty King Olaf could inspire in the remaining Vikings. This sort of thing isn’t exactly uncommon in war, but…” She paused and gave a soft sigh. “It wasn’t right, especially not the way it was done. Your uncle made the decision, and he should have seen it through himself- not passed it off to his young nephew. I can’t tell you how sorry I am he did that, and how much I wish he hadn’t.”

Igor shrugged a little as if he wasn’t all that bothered. “He said he wanted to teach me how to be strong,” he said. “So I had to be the one to do it.”

“Killing a man doesn’t make you strong, darling,” Asta told him. “Although you are strong for enduring what your uncle made you do today. But killing in itself isn’t what defines strength. In fact, your uncle showed a lack of it when he didn’t kill King Olaf himself.”

“He did?” Igor asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

She hummed as she nodded. “He did,” she confirmed. “Never forget this, Igor. If you ever decide to execute a man, you must always be willing to carry it out yourself. If you aren’t so convinced it’s the right thing to do that you have the strength to do it, then it isn’t right. Do you understand?”

He nodded at her. “I think I do,” he confirmed. 

It was just then that the door opened again, and Ivar was coming in with a plate full of food, a cup balanced carefully on it and leaned up against his arm. He blinked a few times when he saw his wife and Igor laying together. “Did I miss the invitation?” he deadpanned.

“Yes,” Asta teased him in response. “I was just telling Igor how he couldn’t trust you anymore, and he could only trust me.”

Ivar raised a brow and asked Igor, “Is that true?” 

“No,” he replied. “She was teaching me about strength.”

“Ah,” Ivar said. “This makes more sense. I did not think she would betray me that way.”

Asta chuckled softly. “Mm, but he could be lying, you’ll never know,” she joked. 

Ivar smirked and brought her food and drink to her. “Then I suppose I will just have to trust you,” he answered, and once the food was sat on the small table beside the bed, leaned down to kiss her softly.

That was when Igor gave a fake gag and got up. “I’m going to go now,” he announced, causing Asta to fall into a fit of giggles. “Enjoy… that.” He shuddered and then walked out of the room.

“Should we have stopped him?” Asta asked, looking up at Ivar and trying not to laugh, especially when he shrugged.

“I wanted to see if you were doing better anyway,” he said. Her laughter died down instantly. “Mm, you are not. Hvitserk told me you had left the village to pray. You only leave for that when something is bothering you. What is it?”

Asta swallowed and looked away from him, sitting up slowly as she took in a deep breath. This wasn’t a conversation she had expected to have this way, but… she had asked for a path, hadn’t she? The time had simply come to take it. She looked back up at him, and said, “I think we need to talk.”

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @crashbyers, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood, @lotr-got, @dekusdante

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

[theinheriteddutchess]

I hope this works, but this story Hold Me Down by @whenimaunicorn (ifinkufreaky on ao3) is amazing. I've reread it at least twice (and it's part of a series!)

It's a well written story of Sigrunn, daughter of king Harald, who has to stay in Kattegat at times in her life, where she befriends ivar (although it isn't as willingly) but eventually gets into a difficult relationship with him that leads to some suffering, some joy, but mostly confusion as she walks the road of handling a dominant and often violent Ivar and her own submissive nature, while trying to stay true to herself and not disappointing her father.

The first part focuses on the beginning of her relationship with ivar as kids and as a young woman navigating her own desires and the expectation put upon her, while also trying to deal with an insisting ivar, who has a hold on her she doesn't understand.

(Please mind the trigger and warnings. This story involves violence and d/s behavior that are not suited for a healthy, loving relationship in reality. As it is, it is a fiction. Therefore if it's something you might like I suggest you read it because I thought it wouldn't be my thing and the author is so good at building the story I really love it. The amount of detail really makes you feel like you are inside the story and it is so intriguing and beautifully made.)

[thepaperpanda]

Arranged Marriage || Part II || Ivar x Female!OC

Part I

Summary: Growing closer to each other, Freya and Ivar begin to realize that their parents’ decision about marriage was not as bad as they thought. Ivar tries impossibly hard to appear as unapproachable viking to Freya, but he’s actually very charming, as for her liking. Ivar, however, begins to realize Freya wasn’t merely a whiny woman as he formerly thought. As a result of their marriage, their wedding night is quickly approaching.

Warnings: smut (if you’re a minor, don’t read!)

Words: 13,5k

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

The morning came quickly. Too quickly as for Ivar's liking.

He woke up as the first one and discovered how beautiful and peaceful Freya looked while sleeping.

Ivar couldn't stop himself from reaching his palm to caress her rosy cheek.

After that, he got out of the bed and crawled back to his chamber, to not get caught so easily by her side.

Girl yawned loudly, hugging the fur she used to cover herself with, and growled loudly when she saw an empty spot next to her. He left? How could he leave her all alone?!

Freya growled loudly and then got up to her ready for the day by putting on her best dress, braiding her hair as beautifully as it was only possible and putting just enough makeup on.

Ivar was already present in the throne chamber, dressed in black tunica and black pants, with braces wrapped around his legs. He looked so fresh and happy. As soon as he spotted her, he raised his palm to greet her.

Freya huffed and looked away as soon as she noticed Ivar. Of course she was angry, he just left her alone when she was sure they finally had some connection. "Do you... Eat together in the morning? I used to do so with my family and I would like to talk to Ubbe."

"My dumbshit brother still sleeps. Yes, we do, mother is very strict about this." Ivar informed. "Freya, you look so beautiful."

"As I can see you are rude as always but thank you for miraculously kind words." She nodded, smoothing her dress.

"Beautiful and sweet as always." Ivar commented. "Why are you so unhappy today?"

"Oh, well. Let's see." Freya hummed, tapping her cheek. "I had a really pleasant evening with my soon-to-be husband. He was kind to me once but who would have thought he would be gone before I even woke up?" She growled.

"Okay, so what's the commotion about me getting up early? Listen, it takes me a while to get ready in the morning, especially when I have braces on." He raised his finger at his braces. Sweetheart, I need more time than you do. But I can't lie, you sleep so peacefully that I would love to stay with you longer."

Freya blushed but frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why didn't you? I wouldn't be mad, it would be really nice, actually, love."

"I told you why. I had to get ready for the day."

I could help you if you needed it, or at the very least, you could wake me up." She said, shrugging. "It wasn't enjoyable to wake up alone."

"I didn't want to disturb your sleep. You needed some proper rest after yesterday."

She sighed and walked to him, sighing. "Let it be but do not leave me like this." Freya suddenly touched his cheek, gently stroking it. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

Ivar almost hummed and leaned into her touch. "Yes... Good... Keep on..."

Freya kissed his forehead softly after stroking his cheek with her thumb.

Ivar murmured quietly but stopped when he noticed his mother standing nearby.

Aslaug smiled widely and said, "And just yesterday you claimed to snap the neck of a girl that will come here. She has you wrapped around her finger."

You blinked and looked at him, raising your eyebrow at the whole 'neck snapping' thing.

"Mother," Ivar greeted the queen and rolled his eyes at the woman's comment about Freya, "Don't jump to such conclusions. She's just being helpful to a cripple."

Freya blinked, surprised and frowned. She didn't just try to be kind to a cripple. All she wanted was to get closer to Ivar but apparently he had his own conclusions. She huffed angrily and simply walked away to find herself a free seat at the table.

The queen chuckled, nodding her head. "Of course. Keep thinking that."

Ivar offered his mother a glance.

Soon, Ubbe joined. "Good morning, dear family," he said, finishing braiding his long hair. "Freya," he greeted the girl. "How did you sleep?"

Freya smiled at Ubbed sweetly and nodded. "I slept very well. The bed was so nice and warm until morning. How was your night?"

"Good. As much as it can be when you share a chamber with the younger brother who snores."

Ivar giggled loudly.

"Oh... I am so sorry to hear that. I heard no snoring." Freya giggled, giving Ivar a short look before her attention returned to Ubbe. "So, are there any places I could visit today?"

Aslaug frowned. "Why would you leave the Great Hall? Are you bored with my son already?"

Girl shook her head. "None of that, my queen. I just want to know Kattegat better. After all I will stay here, also I want to do something interesting."

"I can show you our settlement," Ivar offered instantly, throwing cold glances to Ubbe, "If you want, of course. Unless you want to go with my brother. At least no one is going to laugh seeing the two of you."

Ubbe stopped with a chalice raised to his lips, his eyes falling on Ivar's face. He could see the anger in his little brother's eyes. "I can take her for a walk, it's not a problem."

Freya looked at Ubbe and then back at Ivar. Oh, how she wanted to mess with him a little longer. He looked cute when he got mad and probably jealous. But she decided not to tease him for now, there would still be time for this. Her grin was contagious. "I will stay with Ivar.”

Ivar smirked proudly. It cost him a lot to not say anything to Ubbe. The feeling was amazing; he won the small fight and it tasted like ale.

Freya smirked as well, seeing Ivar's happiness. Those blue eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Rest of the morning went quiet. Freya was nice to other brothers and Queen, simply talking with them. After breakfast Freya got up from her seat and walked to him. "Is the walk still a thing or you changed your mind?"

"No. I'll take you on a walk. Just I need to go get something so I need to ask you for a little more patience," Ivar replied.

Hvitserk raised his brows and muttered something to himself.

"What's that?" Ubbe asked, nudging his elbow into Hvitserk's side.

“A girl is dating a cripple."

Sigurd shrugged and said, "She is forced to do it, Hvitserk. Remember, she does it to please our mother and her own father." He predicted, "She will run away as soon as she can.".

Aslaug ignored her older sons, looking too intently at Ivar.

Ivar smiled, and Freya gently kissed his temples. "I'll just sit here with the Queen and wait for you. Take your time."

He nodded in agreement. After slowly getting up, he limped back to his room.

Ubbe glanced at their mother. "Are you happy, mama?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. Of course, I am. Ivar will have this lovely girl as his wife." She nodded. "You three aren't happy for your younger brother?"

The smile on Ubbe's face assured Aslaug that he was happy. He had never shown such politeness before.

Hvitserk, on the other hand, merely shrugged. It didn't matter to me.

Sgurd rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Ivar didn't deserve such a chance. He will hurt her. Just like he did to Margrethe. One of us should marry her. Even Bjørn could."

Freya blinked, staring at them. 'Margrethe? Hurt? Who was she?' She wondered.

Ubbe rolled his eyes as he looked at Sigurd. "Stop it!" He said.

Sigurd said, "You were the first to ridicule him for that. She ought to know what kind of man will be her husband."

Ubbe frowned, encouraging him to tell her. "I bet my right hand Ivar will try to rip off your head."

Sigurd nodded and turned to Freya. "As for someone with such a beautiful name and face you ended up with a boy that can't even..."

"Enough!” Aslaug almost yelled. "The three of you are done eating. So off you go, I bet there are thralls thirsty for your pricks." She growled.

The girl was completely confused as she sat there.

The fuss didn't escape Ivar's attention when he returned from his chamber. Is there anything I missed?" He asked, holding a thick bear fur in his hand.

After giving the other boys one last look, Aslaug shook her head, smiling at Ivar. "Nothing is as critical as you think. Ready for a walk?"

Sigurd was the only one to chuckle at the question.

Ivar's eyes instantly scanned the room and stopped on Sigurd. "Do you have a problem?"

"No, not really. I just feel bad for Freya. The walk with a cripple will be sad and humiliating." Sigurd commented looking at Ivar.

Freya was fed up with this stupid play. She rose from her seat and walked towards Sigurd.

"I am tired of you, I am tired of your comments. I don't know what your problem is. I will be Ivar's wife in the future while you'll keep on fucking random thralls."

As Ivar blinked, he took a seat at the table to process what he had just heard. "Freya, leave him, he won't understand." Ivar said slowly.

Older brother said, "You will have problems with him."

Girl snapped, "I don't care. For now, I only have a problem with you. So go get your prick wet because you apparently need this. Maybe some girl will think you are special thanks to those stupid eyes."

Sigurd frowned. "As you wish. Just don't come to us when he will try to strangle you in your bed." He muttered and left.

Freya let out a deep breath and smoothed her dress before smiling at Ivar. "Are you ready?"

Aslaug was of course taken aback by it all but as a good mother should; she simply observed.

Ivar got up slowly and looked at her. He nodded slowly. "Sure. If you still want."

Ubbe smiled at the girl and his brother and as soon as they left, he looked back at the queen. "I can't believe they're speaking so calmly.”

Aslaug nodded, admitting, "You see? Your youngest brother isn't as bad as you all think, boys. He just needs some love and I am more than sure that Freya will give it to him."

Hvitserk chuckled a little darkly. "But mom, you do realise you'll never have grandchildren if it comes to Ivar?"

"Perhaps the three of you will finally follow your brother's lead and take a step to find a real woman and give me grandchildren." Aslaug snapped and added, "Besides, you never know, he may have more children than all of you combined."

"Surely he will. Did you hear that from the Seer?"

"Just go already. Don't you two have stuff to do? Or fuck?" She asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Of course, ma." Hvitserk replied and got off the table to leave the Great Hall as well.

"Let's just hope Ivar will be good for her and won't hurt her." Aslaug sighed, looking at Ubbe.

"What can I say, mother? You know he's short tempered, just like you," he winked at her. "So, you said that you need some help with planning. What can I do for you?"

In the meantime, Ivar stopped outside the Great Hall and looked at her. "Wait, you can't go like that."

She looked at her dress and blinked as she gazed at him. "Is there something wrong with my dress? Shall I change? Maybe I braided my hair in the wrong way... I can change, no problem."

Ivar gave her a look, cocking his brow. He handled her bear fur in a dark brown colour, saying, "You'll get cold. Put it on."

Freya quickly shook her head. "No, honey. You will get cold... Last thing I want is for you to get sick and suffer more than you already do. I will be fine."

The fur was simply placed on her shoulders as Ivar shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm a warrior, I am never sick or weak."

With a nod of the head, Freya accepted the fur and tucked it properly around her shoulders, nuzzling to it gently. "So? What shall we do first?"

"Follow me," he gestured to her.

While walking down the sandy path, Ivar told her about the buildings they passed by.

As Freya tried to keep up with him, she followed him slowly. Everything he said sounded so interesting.

"Over there," he pointed north, "Is a place where my father fled, leaving us all behind." Ivar said.

Freya blinked, surprised at the sudden information. At this point she wasn't sure what to say. "Oh... How could a father do such a thing?"

"My father might be the most famous viking of them all, but he is nothing but a prick." Ivar told her with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Freya nodded. "My father... Never left me. He always kept a watchful eye on me."

"Lucky you then." Ivar replied with his eyes stopped on the mountain on the horizon.

She gently touched his shoulder. "Let's go, Ivar. I am more than sure you want to show me more."

"Yes. I want you to meet a person who has a very special place in my heart," he informed the girl and gestured for her to follow. "Come on, come on."

Freya of course followed him. Her curiosity was piqued when she heard his words.

Ivar limped down the path.

Prince attracted a lot of attention from people, who stopped whatever they were doing to look at him and the girl by his side.

Upon seeing the couple, a few young girls started giggling and whispering to each other.

Ivar ignored them perfectly.

This didn't escape Freya's attention since it seriously pissed her off. Although Ivar wasn't ordinary, that didn't give anyone a right to laugh at him. Taking a look at the girls, she asked, "Hello! What's going on?".

One of them crossed her hands over her chest while whipping her hair. "Have not seen you before. We," she pointed at the girls gathered around her, "Aren't exactly sure who would accompany Ivar the Boneless. Especially if it's a girl."

Ivar stopped, looking back at you. "Freya. Come."

"At last, you are brave enough to speak openly." Freya frowned, crossing her arms over her chest as she spoke. "My name is Freya and I dare to walk with Ivar. Do you have any problem with that?”

The girl giggled, "I don't think so, but I think you do." She said, "I hope you know what his sweet nickname 'boneless' means."

"I don't really care what it means." Freya simply shrugged. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

Another girl raised her eyebrow, giving Ivar a mean glance. "He will not be able to satisfy you nor give you a child. Pity you, you have a pretty face. You should have gone after one of his brothers instead."

"I'm sure you already have. I wouldn't be surprised at all, since you look like a simple whore who would jump on any cock." Freya said, shrugging and joining Ivar. "Forgive me that I wasted our time on these girls. Let's go now."

Ivar looked at her a little angrily. "I told you to come earlier. Listen to me. And don't engage in unnecessary conversations."

She blinked and frowned. "So you will just let them whisper about you behind your back?!”

The subject was dropped when he said, "I don't want to discuss this." "It's not relevant. Leave it."

She followed him as he wished, rolling her eyes.

Ivar remained silent the entire time.

He stopped and offered her his arm as soon as they left the settlement.

Since Freya was more than certain that he was angry, this gesture surprised her. However, it made her smile because it was a positive sign. The offer was accepted, and Freya took his arm. "I'm scared of where you'll take me." She stated.

He told her, "We're going into the woods, so you'd better make sure you hold my arm." "The last thing we need is for you to fall into a bear nest or something. As a cripple, I wouldn't be able to save your beautiful ass if that happened.".

Holding on to him firmly, she laughed and shook her head. "Throughout my childhood, I spent a lot of time in the forest running around, but as you wish, I will stay close and hold on tight."

It felt comfortable already to feel her hands on him; her grasp was strong yet light.

They walked slowly through the woods, in silence.

Freya remained quiet so as not to disturb the silence. She just kept looking up at the trees and the clear sky above. At some point she wrapped some of the fur she was wearing around Ivar's figure as well, just to be sure he wouldn't get cold.

Ivar looked at her after she wrapped fur around him; in the end he offered her a little nod and a smile.

Her face enlightened by little sun rays falling from thick treetops was like a blessing; her beautiful blue eyes glinting with small sparks of excitement, her round, soft lips parted as she inhaled the cold, fresh air into her lungs, her rosy cheeks from the cold wind on her high cheeks. She looked like a goddess. Ivar began to believe she really was one of Æsir.

Freya placed a gentle kiss on his temple as she continued walking.

In this cold wind, the fur kept them both warm.

Even though there was silence during the walk, Freya really enjoyed it. Just being close to him made her happy. She was a bit confused when Ivar stopped. "What... Where are we?"

Ivar shouted, "You old, stinking brat! Where are you hiding your slimy ass?!"

The more Freya looked at him, the more confused she became

Ivar waited for the response, but there was none. He finally turned to his girl. "Come further."

Freya became concerned that Ivar had lost his mind. The area looked abandoned and he appeared to be acting as if someone was there.

Suddenly, a tall, older man appeared before them. He appeared out of nowhere, letting out a deep laugh. As if a stone had been thrown into a still pond, his laughter made ripples. Why does a cripple with a crooked face like yours hang out with women?

Ivar tilted his head a bit. "Since none of them want to waste their time on you." The young man replied with a mischievous grin on his face.

Freya almost jumped out of her skin when the man suddenly appeared in front of them.

In an instant, she hid behind Ivar and looked at the stranger over his shoulder. Girl didn't like this at all, at least it looked like Ivar knew him.

In the end, the older man offered Ivar a wink as he summarised, "So you found yourself a cute, jumpy creature." "I'd like to see her."

Ivar turned his head a tiny bit to look at her. "Don't worry. He's not dangerous. Not emotionally stable, that's true, but not dangerous in the least."

Freya frowned, looking at Ivar. Even though she wasn't so sure, she did what he asked since she kind of trusted him. The girl sighed and smoothed her dress before walking behind Ivar. "Hello there... Um... My name is Freya."

The older man looked at the girl curiously and said, "With your look, you're very winning. Freya it is." He hummed, smiling brightly at her.

Girl nodded. Her eyes focused on Ivar as she replied, "Yes, that is my name and thank you."

"Floki is my father from another mother, an old, stinky, bald wiseass." Ivar told her openly.

Freya blinked and then gasped loudly. "Floki? You mean that Floki? The finest boatbuilder there ever was?!”

Floki giggled loudly while nodding. "That's me, my beautiful Freya. Am I such a well-known and distinguished boatbuilder that my fame is few steps ahead of me?"

Freya jumped into place, clapping her hands a little in celebration. "Your boats brought Ragnar everywhere!" she said.

Floki glanced at Ivar once in a while while watching the girl. "She's lovely, you should marry her."

After looking at Ivar for a moment, Freye laughed nervously. "Well.... So... I think you will like the news that this will actually happen."

"News?" Floki asked as he sat on a thick branch of a fallen tree.

Freya looked at Ivar. "Are you even here with us?”

Ivar stared at Freya without blinking.

Floki said, "He just zoned out. With such a beautiful woman by his side, it is no surprise that he did that. You know, he is not good with women."

Ivar frowned and walked over to the girl. "You're not particularly adept with women, old fool." He added.

"Don't be so selfish, Ivar!" A spirited woman replied and soon Floki was joined by a blond girl. "How are you, by the way?” She asked and immediately walked to Freya to cup her cheeks. A woman looked at Floki and said, "She is so pretty. Did Ivar really bring her here?"

Freya was giggling uncontrollably.

"He did.” Floki giggled, looking after the woman. "They brought us some news."

As Ivar walked slowly towards Freya, he nodded. "She's going to become my wife."

Woman's gaze fell on Freya as she gasped. "Is that true?”

Freye smiled and nodded. "Y-Yes, that's true. It's our parents' decision but it will certainly happen."

"It's our decision as well," Ivar's hand rubbed small circles on Freya's waist. "And this lovely blonde is Helga, Floki's wife."

Freya raised an eyebrow and looked at Ivar with a soft smile. Then she smiled at Helga. "The following statements are true. Soon we'll be husband and wife." Freya nodded her head as a bright smile appeared on her lips.

Helga giggled and embraced Freya before hugging Ivar. "Look, Floki! We will have a delicious feast to attend soon."

Ivar corrected Helga, "The greatest of them all. You know my mother. She will do anything to make sure this day is remembered and talked about for years." Ivar glanced at his girl. "And this beautiful woman, she has already brightened up the entire settlement. I saw people looking at her, but is it too much to ask? She is like a goddess. It was as if Freya herself chose to honour us with her presence."

Helga said excitedly, "Oh, she'll look even more beautiful at the wedding. I'll help her get ready. Find a gorgeous dress, braid her hair, I'll make her a big flower crown!"

Freye smiled and nodded. "I would love that! Since my mother won't be here, this would be very kind!"

Ivar smiled as he let go of Freya's waist. After letting go, he watched both girls walk away, giggling and talking. Ivar loved that about his soon-to-be wife: she was very kind to everyone and spread a pleasant aura around herself.

The shoulders of Floki wrapped around Ivar. "Are you in love?" Floki asked. "Your face is flushed like that of a young shieldmaiden who has just seen her first real manhood."

The only response Ivar could muster was a roll of the eyes.

Freya walked with Helga, talking and chatting about the wedding and everything that needed to be prepared. It was nice to finally talk with someone who wasn't directly involved in this whole mess.

A man as big as a bear suddenly called out Helga's name. Once again, she hides behind her new friend.

Ivar's smirk was instantly wiped from his face when he saw Bjørn approaching.

"Ivar!" The man shouted, taking only two steps before he was standing in front of a cripple. "I came to find you on behalf of your mother."

Freya was taken back to Ivar and Floki by Helga. "Bjørn! It's good to see you as well." She said cheerfully.

The tall, blond viking man completely captivated Freye's attention. His appearance was the opposite of Ivar's.

Bjørn caught sight of her with the corner of his blue eye, and soon his full attention was drawn to her. "Who are you?"

Freya smoothed her dress nervously and smiled as she cleared her throat. "My name is Freya."

While he didn't try to hide the fact that he was checking her out, his eyes drifted up and down her body, inspecting every curve. "Bjørn Ironside." He introduced himself briefly. "It's my first time seeing you, but you can't possibly be a thrall. What are you doing here?"

Helga announced that Freya would soon be Ivar's wife.

Freye smiled and nodded her head. "That's true, I was brought here to become Ivar's wife. So I am not a thrall, you're more than right."

Bjørn laughed loudly, rolling his head back a bit. "Oh, you poor, helpless thing." He took one step closer to find himself in front of the girl. His palm was immediately placed on her cheek. "Such beauty is going to be wasted."

Freya nuzzled to his hand and sighed, shrugging just a little bit. "Honestly, I wasn't the one who made this decision. Father brought me here and said I should marry him."

A glance from Ivar could freeze everything in a blink of an eye, as he cocked his brows. "Freya, let's get back to the Great Hall." He growled.

Bjørn's thumb gently caressed the girl's cheek. "Look at you, you could have anyone, but you're stuck with the most disagreeable person. What a shame."

Once again, Ivar sounded cold when he repeated her name.

When she heard her name, she turned her attention to Ivar. She purred quietly at other man's touch but her attention quickly shifted to Ivar. Freya bit her lips and even if she didn't want to, she moved away from Bjørn to join Ivar.

Ivar grabbed her hand, thanked Helga and Floki, and started dragging Freya after him.

Bjørn spoke with Floki for a while, watching as his step brother walked away.

I-Ivar! You don't have to pull me! I can walk on my own. I am not a horse you need to lead." Freya said as she whimpered under the strength of his grip.

"What the hell was that, woman?" He yelled loudly as they walked along the path that brought them to Floki in the first place. His grasp never relaxed.

She growled, "What's your problem this time? He was just polite to me!"

"And of course you had to fall for these stupid, silly games. As a wife, you have to behave like one. You think I'm deaf and blind?" Ivar raised his tone.

As Freya struggled to free her hand from his grasp, she said, "He appears to know how to behave around women."

With a low growl, he let go of her hand and turned quickly to her. "Of course! Go to him then! Go on! You're free!"

" I need to remind you there is no one who can free me from this situation! I will remain your wife no matter what." She replied, rubbing her palms together. She could see the bruise forming already.

"It doesn't matter. I knew from the beginning that this idea was absurd. How could you fall for someone like me? Go to him. I'm freeing you from this stupid arrangement that none of us are comfortable with."

"Neither you nor I are making this decision, Ivar." Freya said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You could also be a bit gentler. It wouldn't hurt you."

As he hobbled away, he asked, "What if I don't want to? Don't force me to be someone I am not."

While returning to the settlement, Freya grunted frustratedly and passed him by.

While following the girl, Ivar grunted something under his breath.

Freya went to the settlement, but she wasn't interested in returning to the Great Hall.

She disappeared into the crowd as soon as she crossed the main gates.

__________________________________

The moment Aslaug saw her son walking into the house, she snapped, "Where have you been? The two of you were absent for several hours. It's supposed to be a walk!" She exclaimed. "Where is Freya?"

"I have no idea. I am not her father. She's probably fucking somewhere with some normal man, just like any normal woman would." Ivar replied as he passed Aslaug. "Now, leave me alone."

"What do you mean you have no idea? She is going to be your wife soon, you should keep her safe and close." Aslaug scolded him.

"I'm a cripple. How am I supposed to keep any woman close?! Even our fucking thrall didn't want to be involved with me! I'm nothing. Just like my father."

Sigurd laughed, playing with a wooden cup as he sat in front of a fire. "I'm sure if you act like a man for once, she will stay with you by herself."

Aslaug sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "The two of you were doing so well. She will be your wife. Shouldn't you really try to make it work?"

Ivar growled, throwing his crutch on the floor and crawling throughout the chamber. "I don't need a wife. I think maybe you should start planning Sigurd's life? And not mine!" He screamed.

Sigurd rolled his eyes. "You are always so dramatic. I would have run away too if I were that girl."

"Enough." Aslaug growled at Sigurd who just shrugged his shoulders.

Ivar locked himself in his bedroom.

Though he hated to feel that way, he had a mental pain that was so intense that he almost felt a physical pain in his chest. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he leaned back against the wall.

__________________________________

Freya was hurt and angry as well. His behaviour really pissed her off. She did indeed try her best for him.

The girl found a nice place to sit near the market. She was able to eat an apple in peace. Thankfully, she still had enough coins to purchase one for herself.

Suddenly, a strong hand caressed her neck, caressing the crook of her shoulder. "Our gods will bring us together again, isn't that so?"

Perhaps you just like to follow girls around?” Freya asked and looked up at Bjørn. “Don't you have better things to do?”

"Saw you sitting here, all alone. As for the gentleman I am, I decided to verify if you're fine."

"No, I am not fine at all." She huffed angrily before biting into the apple.

His palm moved to remove a lock of her hair from her cheek as he sat next to her. "What's wrong?"

As she looked at her bruised hand, she muttered, "My soon-to-be husband is wrong. He behaves as he does and he is surprised when I snap back."

"He did this to you?"

"He grabbed me too hard. That's all." She shrugged.

"You should drop this agreement. You're a free woman, until you marry him."

"I am not. Everything is set..." Freya sighed heavily. "My father brought me here when I was a free woman. Now, I will become Ivar the Boneless' wife."

Bjørn was bold with his actions.

He wrapped his arm gently around her waist. He leaned forward a little. "If you want to be saved, just say it." He whispered into her ear, brushing his lips against her earlobe.

It really annoyed Freye to see him so close, so loudly she growled. "Oh, really? And how would you do that?" She asked, frowning.

"A Ragnarsson who is not crippled would be a better match for you." He simply replied after getting up. "Think about it."

Freya watched him with her eyebrow raised. Having another Ragnarsson hope that she will warm his bed was the last thing she wanted right now.

Bjørn left her all alone.

The girl sighed and stood up to return to the Great Hall. She wanted to go to bed, even though it wasn't the middle of the day yet.

__________________________________

Aslaug smiled when she saw Freya entering the Great Hall. As she walked up to the girl she said, "Oh Freya, thank gods. I was growing worried ever since Ivar returned alone."

Freyea smiled a little. "I am alright. Really."

The Queen cupped her cheeks. She said, "Relax now. If you need anything, just let me know."

Freya nodded and decided to join Ubbe at the table. Girl smiled at him, sitting down. "Hello.'

"Hi," Ubbe responded, staring at her intently as he bit into a piece of chicken leg.

She nodded with a soft smile as she said, "Enjoy your meal."

Ubbe moved a plate filled with chicken towards her. "þakka."

Freya blinked and shook her head. Though she appreciated the offer, she was not hungry. "No, no. Thank you, really. Have you seen Ivar? He made it back here, right?"

“As soon as he got back, he headed to his room. He seemed angry."

Freya got up and strolled straight to Ivar's room after nodding her head. She knocked on the door as soon as she found it. door. No response was received. A frown appeared on her face as she entered the room.

Wrapped tightly in furs and cuddling his pillow, Ivar slept peacefully. Dreaming of the only thing he was sure he would never be able to have - fatherhood - he heard the sound of his children's feet, of their laughter.

And he was so handsome as he slept, that steady heart, those steady breaths, more than enough to make everyone fall in love with him all over again.

She watched him for a short moment, then quietly closed the door before walking closer to the bed.

Ivar looked calm and sweet for once. Then she gently stroked his hair as she sat down on the bed. She felt terrible about making things worse.

At first, he didn't react, being fully asleep. But as she continued to stroke him, he rolled his head, leaning into the touch. While Ivar slowly opened his eyes and breathed back, he stared up at her without blinking.

Her hand moved away and she smiled awkwardly. The girl said quietly, "I am sorry... I didn't mean to scare you or wake you up."

"It's fine.” He replied, slowly rolling to his back, hissing a little.

She worriedly asked, "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Should I ask your mother to get someone for you?"

"Easy." He asked her. "It's fine. Nothing happens. Cool down."

Although Freya didn't want to risk it, she bit inside her cheek and nodded. "But... Are you sure? If you are in pain, I can bring someone or something to help you. It won't be a problem."

"It's fine." He assured, turning his head away from her. "What do you want, Freya?"

She quickly explained, "I wanted to see how you're doing, Ivar. Make sure you're fine."

"It's unnecessary, Freya. I'm always fine and good."

"Ivar... I am so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. You've done nothing wrong."

Laying down, she placed her head on his shoulder. I rarely do that. I really shouldn't. I am yours. No one else's. Such a situation should never occur. He wasn't worth my time."

"Just so you know, I don't blame you and I don't have any hard feelings toward you." Ivar assured, cocking his brow slowly when she placed her head on his shoulder. "You are a healthy, young woman. Your purpose is to become a mother one day, to give a life. It's in you, even if you aren't aware of it yet. With me, the grief will be the only experience you will have."

After shaking her head, she nuzzled his neck while cupping his cheek. "No matter what happens, I want to experience it by your side."

"Look at you. You're young and adorable. All men are losing their heads over you. And here I am, a crippled Viking. Do you realise how ridiculous it sounds? A Viking who is a cripple."

She sighed. "None of it matters to me. When you aren't so angry, you are a really nice person and I want to be with someone like that."

The man replied, "But that's not who I am." He said, "I'm vicious. Angry. Raging."

"Oh, Ivar. I know you aren't like this. You are so much more." She looked at him and smiled.

He closed his eyes and replied, "You don't know me.".

As Freya kissed his cheek, she whispered, "So let me get to know you."

He didn't react. But seemingly enjoyed her lips being pressed to his clean shaved cheek.

Freya hummed quietly and continued to kiss his soft skin, soon moving the kisses to his neck.

He turned his head to her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I am kissing your neck. You don't like it?"

"I do.” He replied honestly.

A small giggle was heard from her and she returned to kissing his neck.

He let her go further. "You should marry my brother."

Freya sighed against his neck. "I was brought here to marry you, not anyone else. It was already set in stone. Nothing could change their minds."

His right hand moved to her shoulder and slipped to the back of her neck where he stroked her. "If we protest together, they'll have to change their mind."

"You really don't want me as your wife?" Freya asked.

His fingers danced up and down her neck as he did not reply.

Her smile made him look at her as she cupped his cheek. It took courage for her to touch his lips.

It was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.

Freye soon backed away. As she gently rubbed his chest, she said, "Let's not ruin something we promised. Is that okay with you?"

Ivar ran his hand through his thick, stiff hair. "Yes."

Freya could not contain her laughter. "You are good when it comes to talking with a girl."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not, I must admit. I still have time to learn."

"I will help you." She smiled.

Anxiety thoughts were like a horde of soldiers running through the battlefield, faster and faster. And Ivar felt very anxious at that moment. "We'll see how it ends." He rested his hand on the curve of her hip.

"Ivar, I can feel your heart beating like the heart of a scared rabbit. What's wrong, you can tell me." She whispered into his ear.

"Nothing. I'm not a good man, we both know it and we both are aware where it might lead. I don't want to hurt you, but on the other hand, this is who I am and I can’t just deny it."

"You? Not a good man? Why?" She asked surprised.

"I thought you're aware after today's outburst."

Freya laughed and shook her head. "Ivar. This? Really? You have no idea how many times my father snapped at me. One outburst doesn't make you a bad man."

"You'll realise this one day."

He closed his eyes, enjoying her presence.

"Don't be so sure.” She whispered, kissing his cheek gently.

He opened one of his eyes, glaring up at her face.

Freya looked back at him and simply smiled.

His hand travelled to her cheek, his thumb gently brushed her lower lip. He moved a little, pressing his lips to hers. She tasted like the finest ale.

Freya let out a soft, happy moan and gently kissed him back, wrapping arms around his neck.

Ivar opened his eyes a little to have a brief look at her face.

She looked like an angel. Long lashes, honey hair and honey skin. That girl was sweet from sun-kissed lips to soulful gentleness.

He gently deepened the kiss, trying to not forget what Ubbe had taught him about kissing.

She hummed gladly, accepting the kiss fully. Freya was actually surprised that he was such a good kisser.

When their lips, once connected in a shared, sensual kiss parted, Ivar looked into her eyes. "You're a good kisser."

Freya hummed, nodding her head while biting her lip. "You aren't so bad either."

Ivar's eyes didn't move; they observed you carefully.

Reading a face was using his intuition to see the real person, to allow his longing heart to see below their mask and respond with grace and tact to their real needs.

Freya's face was lightened up with a tiny smile dancing in the corners of her lips. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkling, her little nose twitching a little as a brief laughter escaped her lips.

Ivar chuckled. "I've been practising a lot.” He replied sweetly.

Girl nodded and watched him. Ivar was handsome just the way he was, even if he didn't think so at all. There was more to him than just legs and Freya could see this.

There were still many hours left before the night. As much as Freya wanted they couldn't spend the day in bed. Girl got a nice idea. "Ivar? You know how to use a bow?” she asked curiously.

"Do I know how to use a bow? This is such a random question but yes, I do, why?," Ivar replied, frowning a little.

Freya gasped loudly. "Could you teach me?! I kind of know how to use it but I am not the best at it."

"You want to learn how to use a bow?," He asked. "What for? You're a lady."

She frowned. "Ladies fight as well. I want to be able to fight! How else will I help my husband during a raid?"

He blinked. Ivar was at a loss for words. "You're not only soft-hearted, you're tough enough to stay that way. That takes a kind of bravery that I'm still processing," Ivar replied in the end. "I need to admit that you're a great surprise to me. I'm lucky enough to have a woman with ambitions by my side. Have you ever fought before?"

Freya giggled and shrugged. "I have three older brothers. Life wasn't easy and most of our play time ended with stick fights," she explained. "Once I got older they helped me learn a thing or two. Just to be sure their little sister is safe. I am the youngest child."

The youngest and the cutest at the same time, Ivar thought to himself, but he didn't say it aloud.

He considered her words. "If you want, we can go to the woods to have training."

Freya nodded eagerly. "Yes, pretty please. I would love you to teach me."

She immediately sat up and then got up quickly. "Let's go!" Girl jumped in place.

Ivar blinked once again. "Let me get ready. Wait in the throne chamber."

"No... Can I help you with anything? I... As a good soon to be wife, I should know what my husband's needs are."

"I need to put the braces on," he replied softly.

Freya straightened her back and nodded. "Tell me what to do and I will follow."

"Ahm, Freya, I can do this on my own, don't worry about your little, pretty head."

Freya shook her head and kneeled in front of the bed. "I want to know what my husband needs if I ever have to help him.'

As much as he didn't condone this, with a loud sight he gave her a nod.

Ivar reached to get the braces. "You need to be careful, extremely careful. You need to know that my legs tend to hurt a lot."

Freya bit her lips and nodded, taking the braces from him. After taking a deep breath she started to gently put the braces on.

He sat there stiffened, almost forgetting to breathe; he was mentally ready for the pain wave that would wash all over him if she would not be gentle enough.

Freya worked gently and carefully, making sure to not cause him any pain. This was the last thing she wanted. After a moment she looked up at him. "Everything's fine..?"

He was looking down at her with his eyes wide opened, his breath held back. Ivar nodded, slowly exhaling. "Yes. Yes, you're doing a very good job down there."

She smiled proudly and continued her work to soon put the braces on his other leg as well. Freya honestly felt happy that she didn't hurt him at all.

Ivar reached hand out and put it to her cheek, gently rubbing it with his thumb. "Ágeatavel, þakka.” He said quietly.

It was the very first time when someone was truly kind to him. He wasn't sure how to behave. He wasn't sure what to tell her and how to express his gratitude.

When he made sure his palms were gloved, Ivar got up and offered his hand to Freya. "I can also teach you how to use an axe."

Freya grabbed his hand and happily followed him, smiling at everyone who dared to give them a weird look. She really wanted to build a bond with him and apparently she indeed found a way to do so.

Ivar stopped in the throne chamber to collect his lighter fur. He also attached his favourite axe to a sheath.

Freya grabbed her own fur and then simply watched Ivar getting ready. She was so excited for those lessons. "Can we go?"

"You two are going out again? Will this end up in another fight?” Aslaug asked as soon as she noticed Ivar putting on the fur.

Ivar smiled briefly at his mother. "Hopefully it won't. Don't worry, mother. And don't wait for us. I want to take Freya to the tavern later."

Freya blinked but nodded. "I will make sure we are safe. No need to worry, my queen."

Aslaug sighed and nodded. "Fine then. Just don't get her drunk, Ivar."

"So I can get my ass drunk? Thanks, mother." He teased Aslaug with a little giggle. "Freya, come on."

She nodded and followed him.

Ivar limped slowly through the settlement, leading her to the secret place where he used to train with his brothers. He hoped Sigurd or Hvitserk wouldn't be there.

Girl this time followed him without stopping but she still was giving a mine glances to anyone who dared to giggle or anything.

Of course Sigurd was there. Freye didn't like it because she could already feel the trouble coming. "Oh, Freya! It's so good to see you again!” Sigurd immediately got up from his spot under a huge tree, where he was polishing the blade of his axe. "It's such a shame you have a trail behind you," he added as soon as he spotted his crippled brother.

Ivar didn't reply, instead passed Sigurd by, of course poking him with his shoulder.

Freye huffed and passed by Sigurd as well, trying her best to ignore him.

She was growing tired of his behaviour, all she wanted was to spend some time with Ivar.

She wasn't fast enough; Sigurd caught her by her wrist, pulling her closer, letting his free hand wrap around her waist. "Look at you, such a pretty girl."

"Let me go!" She growled annoyed. "I came here with Ivar. Take your filthy hands off of me!”

"Oh, so resistant.” He chuckled.

His laughter was yet cut off by an axe flying right next to his face, sticking in the branch. It was Ivar's axe.

Freya blinked surprised and looked at Ivar yet she frowned since Sigurd's grip didn't loosen at all. "I warn you, better let me go."

Sigurd was looking hard in her eyes, then let go of her wrist. "So you've chosen. You want to be his cum sack. Fine then but do not come to me if he won't satisfy you."

She finally had enough and simply punched Sigurd in the face, hissing softly as she moved away. "Shut up finally! I have enough of you, by being such a shitty person you will never get any normal girl to like you. Only cheap whores catch an eager cock like you." Freya growled, massaging her palm.

Ivar limped closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "You heard the girl, don't ya?" He asked with eyebrow cocked, looking at Sigurd who fell to the ground.

Other brother got up and spat on the ground right next to Freya's feet. "Whore."

"Say it once more and I'll cut your tongue off.” Ivar informed Sigurd, remaining stoical.

Freya crossed arms over her chest, his words didn't offend her at all. "You better go. Find some woman with no taste who will even want to fuck with you. We are too busy to deal with you, right love?"

"Exactly." Ivar pulled her closer to offer her a lovely kiss.

Sigurd growled loudly. "This is not over yet, Ivar." Then he left the two.

"Like what would he do? Growl at us?" Freya asked, looking at Ivar.

"I have no idea what he meant."

Freya shrugged and clapped her hands. "Who cares. Let's get to what we were planning, I can't wait!"

__________________________________

Ivar showed her many things, from how to use a bow to how to throw an axe.

Freya laughed loudly when the arrow hit the exact spot she was aiming at. She was really mastering her skills. "Did you see that?!”

"Yes, Freya. Good shot." Ivar praised her with a grin on his lips as he sat on a thick branch of a fallen tree.

"Axe probably won't be my best weapon but I am getting good with the bow.” She said proudly. "I will be able to join you during the raids!"

"Join me during raids, you say?" Ivar asked, raising his eyebrow. "You'll never go with me."

Freya looked at him. "What... Why not?”

He measured her features with his glance carefully. "You're too pretty and too precious to be put in such a dangerous situation."

She blushed, hearing his words. Blinking from time to time, she stared at him. "But... I was sure you would love your wife to be with you while raiding distant lands..."

"I'd love my wife to be safe, ruling the kingdom while I'm gone to distant shores, nursing our children.” He said and blushed a little.

Freya blushed a little as well and smiled sweetly. "Oh, really? Nursing our children, you say?" She hummed while walking to him.

"Nursing our children,I say.” Ivar nodded, his face straight as he spoke. "Every marriage has a purpose. It's about giving new life in the end, isn't it, dear Freya?"

She walked to him closer and gently moved hand through his hair. "I think it is. But I was sure you hate me and you don't really want me as your wife or mother for your children."

"I didn't say such a thing.” He shrugged, pretending to not remember about him saying all of the bad stuff.

She hummed and hugged him, stroking his hair lovingly. "In that case... I cannot wait to nurse our children."

He got sad instantly. With a sadness written on his face, Ivar looked up at her. "You do realise I can't give life, right?”

Freya hummed and kissed his head gently. "You don't know that for sure, Ivar."

"Everyone says that.” He reminded her. "Besides, look at me. A crippled viking? I barely can walk. How am I supposed to get you pregnant?"

"Just because people say something doesn't mean it's true. We will see how it is and who knows. Maybe you'll get me pregnant." Freya shrugged a little. "And then I will nurse a lot of our children."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah... Don't you have a feeling you're going to lose all of your best years by the side of the cripple? It must be terrifying."

Freya gently smacked him on the head. "Stop that, I swear to Odin himself.”

__________________________________

He was supposed to be married on that day. He was supposed to be married to the woman his parents had arranged.

But Freya proved to be quite the opposite of the conservative woman he had expected.

He considered Freya to be his soulmate. A partner in crime and his closest friend.

Grabbing Freya's cheeks, Helga exclaimed, "You look so cute!"

As Freya listened to her words, she couldn't help but giggle. Her nerves were frayed. The girl really did fall in love with Ivar, but once that day is over, she will be bound to him until the end; what if he was so kind just up until the wedding? What will happen on the wedding night though?

"Of course she is. After all, Freya is my son's wife." Aslaug smiled, braiding Freya's hair.

In the meantime, Ivar was at the seaside, where the wood altar was built.

In a white silk tunic, matching material pants, and with his hair brushed, Ivar sat on a chair brought to him by Hvitserk.

As Ubbe ruffled Ivar's hair and grinned at him, he said, "Look at you. If I didn't know you, I would call you an angel."

"Stop it.'' The younger brother grunted, pushing Ubbe's hand off his head. "I brushed it. You'll destroy my hairdo."

"You did? It looks as messy as always." Hvitserk giggled. "Freya will run away as soon as she sees this mess. Or you."

Ivar frowned, looking at Hvitserk. Then his eyes moved to Ubbe. "Tell him to stop," he demanded.

Ubbe rolled his eyes and poked Hvitserk's shoulder. "Quit it. Your brother gets married today. Behave."

"Oh you know I am joking but we all know that mother set it up. There is nothing... Real in this relationship," Hvitserk shrugged. "I have no idea why he is so excited about this."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?” Hvitserk asked, looking at his younger brother. "You really think she loves you? Freya was forced to attend this wedding."

Ivar clenched teeth, huffing angrily. "And what do you know about love, dear brother? She loves me and I love her."

Hvitserk summarised, "It's her duty, not her will, Ivar. I doubt you know much about love either. Oh! There she is!"

Ivar turned his head so he could see Freya.

Immediately, his heart beat faster, his blood ran cold through his veins, and the only thing he could do was release a gasp.

As Freya wore a long white dress and had her hair braided neatly, she looked like a goddess.

As a result of instinct, Ivar was compelled to get up from his chair and walk to her. Despite shaking all over his body, he managed to pull himself up, leaning against the back of the chair.

Freye smiled, seeing him. She felt so happy that this day finally came, even if she was really scared Freya couldn't wait. She gasped a little, seeing him standing up proudly.

"Ivar, you shouldn't," Ubbe whispered to his brother quietly. "Sit down, you can't put so much on your legs. Your eyes are blue."

Ivar simply waved his hand at Ubbe. "Don't tell me how to live my life, you ain't my mother, Ubbe."

She took a deep breath, improved her dress and started to walk to finally meet with Ivar at the altar. Girl smiled and cupped his cheek. "You should sit down, love," She whispered, looking at him worriedly. In the past few weeks she learned a lot about Ivar and anything that has to do with his health, including his blue eyes. "You will be in pain later."

With his eyes widening and lips parted, he forgot to breathe; this became a habit of his when he was with her.

Freya blinked and glanced at Ubbe over Ivar's shoulder. "Could you please sit him down?" she asked.

Without saying a word, Ubbe tapped Ivar's shoulder and nodded. It's time to sit.

Ivar obeyed with his eyes glued to his soon-to-be wife.

Freya smiled sweetly at him and gently kissed his forehead. She whispered, "Now... We can bond in front of our Gods.".

Let me take a moment to collect myself. I should stand by your side."

Her hand was raised so she could kiss it gently. "I am so happy."

There were too many emotions accumulating within him, and he was shaking all over.

Freye smiled at him as she asked, "So let's start?"

A tiny smirk danced across the corners of Ivar's lips as he replied, "Yes."

__________________________________

The wedding only lasted a few minutes. During the ceremony, the prophetess who conducted the ceremony exchanged rings, they were united by blood, and she pronounced them husband and wife, for good or for bad.

Once they returned to the settlement, they were greeted by a cheering crowd, led by queen Aslaug. Of course his brothers prepared a feast for them.

Freya was genuinely surprised by the size of the feast. Although she expected a feast, she did not expect it to be so large. Waving to her father and her older brothers, the girl giggled. "This feast is so huge, Ivar! I never expected this!’

She followed her newly married husband, stumbling a bit behind him. My beautiful Freya, I hope you enjoy your day today."

She assured him, "I will certainly do so. A whole feast by my husband's side? This will be better than anything else.".

Ivar waited politely until she sat first when they reached the spots set by thralls.

Freya greeted her older brothers. The men hugged her tightly, giving Ivar a disapproving look. It was good that Freya got married, but why to the cripple?

Prior to joining Ivar, the girl greeted the queen and Helga as well.

After she joined Ivar, she asked softly, "Shall we begin that feast, love?”

He nodded, "I'd like that."

She smiled, taking her horn and raising it up high, "Let's not wait and start the feast, dear friends!"

Seeing her family's glances, Ivar sat slowly. As her husband, he knew they were unhappy. The girl could do better.

As Freya noticed that he was looking at her brothers, she frowned. Touching his shoulder, she asked, "Ivar?".

He turned his head towards her. "Yes?"

When he turned to her, she immediately used the opportunity and pressed her lips to his.

While she was kissing him, Ivar caught himself looking at her face.

Shortly thereafter, he closed his eyes and slipped his tongue past her lips, returning the kiss.

She hummed into the kiss and cupped his cheek. This was to show everyone that she is not ashamed of her husband even in the slightest.

He blinked as their lips parted. "That was something, Freya.."

"Something special, just for my husband." She giggled.

He smiled at her, "It seems that your brothers aren't pleased with me."

"They were not satisfied with anyone who came near me. Honestly? When my father brought me here, I was surprised that they didn't join forces to kick the asses of anyone who wanted to be near me."

"I can fight any of them for you," Ivar said, gesturing at the thrall to pour him more wine.

Freya laughed softly, "You don't have to, love. We don't want any bloodshed or conflict, right?"

“There's something fun about blood spilling on the ground, isn't there?”

"I don't think so, love. Once they get to know you, they will stop." She assured him.

Ivar nodded, "Fine then. We'll spill the blood of our enemies someday."

"You will spill the blood of our enemies and conquer all the distant lands, and I will be here, nursing our children."

"That's my wife." He smiled, trying to cover the blush crawling on his cheeks by raising a chalice with wine up to his lips.

"That should be interesting.” Freya said to Ivar quietly, observing how Hvitserk started to pick on her oldest brother.

Ivar also focused his gaze on Hvitserk. "I bet my bracelet he'll get his ass kicked tonight. Finally."

"Let's watch." She giggled.

Meantime, the man glanced over his shoulder at the stranger that kept bothering him. "And who are you, little boy?"

"Hvitserk Ragnarsson, prince of Kattegat." The young man replied, playing with the knife he held in his hands. "I don't like the way you and your companions are looking at me and my brothers." He pointed to the table where all the Ragnarssons were sitting.

"That's what eyes are for. We look whenever we want." One man said, shrugging, and the others nodded. "This is our first time here, so we are curious."

"I welcome you here, but please stop glaring at us." He gestured towards the sitting man. “Were you taught any manners?"

"Manners have nothing to do with this, little man." The oldest guy replied, his eyes widening as others laughed.

Hvitserk glanced back at his brothers and Sigurd nodded to encourage him to behave properly.

Hvitserk simply pushed the man's shoulder as he said, "I don't like when you stare."

The man stood up right away, he was easily twice the size of Hvitserk. The two others followed. They were not much shorter than their brother. “Then let's resolve this matter as men and women. Because you are the only whiny bitch complaining that we are staring."

Hvitserk reached for the hatchet attached to his belt immediately, being unfazed by the man's height.

With just one gesture, Ivar silenced almost everyone in the chamber. "Enough. Those of you who still have business should go outside, cool down, and only then return."

As Freya nuzzled the shoulder of Ivar, she replied, "Yes, that would be nice. We don't want any fights at our wedding feast."

"We're just fooling around here, my dear sister. We won't ruin your day." The men laughed.

Ivar looked at them with a cold, careful glance. Any trouble would be just the last thing they needed.

Hvitserk nodded at the huge man and patted his shoulder. "I was just messing around with you."

"I like this one!" the tall man laughed and wrapped his arm around Hvitserk. "If everybody is like that, we might even accept Freya's husband."

A nasty smile appeared on Ivar's face in response, after he heard the man's words.

Laughing, Freya watched as her brothers stepped forward and joined Ragnar's sons. "I really expected a fight to happen."

"My troll brother Hvitserk's strange charm attracted them this time, thank goodness."

“I knew they would get along just fine. Just like I did with you." She hummed, resting her head on Ivar's shoulder. "You know what?"

"Hmmm?” He murmured, looking down at the girl.

Her excitement was obvious as she said, "I am glad we are finally together for real!".

He touched her nose. "Surprisingly, I am glad too. I have been stressed for a few days."

"It's funny to think back on how you treated me in the beginning. You threatened to kill any girl that came near you." Freya let out a sharp breath.

"As you can see, I got rid of my stupidity rather quickly." Ivar replied.

She took his hand in hers and said, "I hope you did, my dear husband. I am so lucky to have Ivar the Boneless as my husband."

His blue eyes were open wide, glistening in the light filling the chamber. She could easily conclude he was happy.

His fingers massaged her hand as he squeezed it.

As Freya smiled gently, she nuzzled and kissed him on the cheek, and enjoyed his presence. She stayed at Ivar's side throughout the entire feast. She did not go dancing or chatting with anyone. All she wanted was to be with Ivar.

Toward the evening, Ivar and Freya decided it was time to leave the feast and rest. After leaving the crowd behind, Freya giggled as she flopped on the special bed that was prepared for them. It was filled with soft furs and flower petals.

The man blinked twice as he peeked inside the room before closing the door behind him as he stepped inside. As he slowly limped to the edge of the bed, he commented, "I don't know what you told the thralls, but they did a decent job." Putting his crutches aside, he gazed at the girl. "I'm in awe of your beauty tonight."

A sweet smile spread across Freya's face. "You look so handsome tonight. I am the happiest woman alive." She said and added, "I never imagined I would be that happy."

A smile spread across his face as he undid the stripes of his tunic that had been neatly wrapped around his neck. He removed it slowly, hesitantly.

She climbed up on her knees and moved closer to him so that she could gently help him undress.

When he felt her hands suddenly wandering down his chest, he blushed. "þakka."

Her fingers grazed the strings on the front of her dress as she sat next to him.

"Would you mind helping me take it off?" She asked innocently.

He blinked and felt as if the blood was floating away from his face, leaving him pale. With his eyes fixed on hers, he reached for the strings, untying them quickly. "Very well," he whispered.

"Just take it off." Freya whispered, staring deeply into those stunning blue eyes of his.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat before he asked, "Like, completely?"

He assumed that she would probably have doubts about him and could think negatively of him because of his silliness.

Her eyes widened. "Yes please. It's too beautiful to sleep in, and I don't want to ruin it."

After nodding, he put palms on her shoulders and slipped his fingers under the fabric of the dress, gently pushing it down her shoulders, revealing her chest and belly.

Her breasts caught his attention before he could think. When he realised he was staring, he cleared his throat. "Fyrirgef..."

"It's all yours, Ivar. You can look, touch or whatever else you choose." She took his hand and placed it on her breast as she spoke. "You don't have to be sorry." She laughed. "It's all yours."

His eyes widened and he forgot to breathe once more. "Freya..." He whispered in the end, taking back his hand. "I don't want to disgrace you in any way."

"You do not disgrace me, love. You are my husband now. You have the right to watch me and touch me like this." She said softly.

His eyes wandered again down her body as he asked, "Can I kiss you...?"

"No need to ask. Those lips are yours now. You can do anything you want." She hummed.

In a tender kiss, he slipped his tongue past her lips as he put his palms to her cheeks.

Feya moaned into the kiss and returned it eagerly.

He hummed softly in the kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, moving closer to him.

He left her lips and moved his kisses to her neck, gently trailing the tip of his tongue down her pulse point.

Then he moved his kisses down her neck, tracing the tip of his tongue down her pulse point.

"Oh, Ivar..." Freya rubbed her hands into his hair and moaned before biting her lip.

The man cupped her breast in one hand while his other rested on her hip. The man moved his lips down her neck to touch her clavicle while exclaiming, "You're so gorgeous."

She agreed with him wholeheartedly. "Gorgeous and only yours. Your touch feels so good. I love you."

He paused and looked her in the eye. "All mine."

The promise I made in front of the gods is true, Ivar. I'm yours."

Ivar smiled at her. "I'm tired. Aren't you, love?"

She placed herself on his lap and rolled her hips a bit as she frowned. As she gently pushed his chest to make him lie down, she stated, "I am not tired. My husband just got me all hot and bothered. Do you really expect me to go to sleep now?"

Her push made him blink. Still, he put his hands on her hips, gazing at her breasts while stroking her thighs. "Woah, Freya!" He replied, licking his lips. "You're stunning."

She moved towards his neck and began kissing him. Soon she was kissing his chest. "I already heard that, love." She laughed.

"Someone's pretty eager here.” He teased.

She whispered, kissing his belly, "Thank you for making me. Thanks for your touch, your words..."

A sharp intake of breath accompanied him as he tilted his head back, resting his head on the bed. "Freya... maybe we should not do this... I'm not skilled."

"Neither am I..." She confessed, nibbling on the skin of his abdomen.

His lips curled into a smile. "You are such a she-wolf, aren't you!?" He chuckled, slipping his hands into her hair. "You may not be skilled, but you act bravely."

Freya shrugged. “Often, I watched my brothers and their lovers.”

Ivar cocked his brow and propped himself up with his elbows.

Freya frownd. "What?"

"What did you mean by that?"

“Is it so hard to understand? You never pampered your brother to watch him play around with girls?” Asked Freya, raising her eyebrows.

He felt blush hitting his cheeks. "I actually did..."

She sighed, "This is how I... Learned stuff... I never had anyone explain it to me..."

"Yeah, I understand. I heard filthy stories from my brothers or I saw them in action," he smiled. "I'll even be honest now. My brothers arranged for me to meet Margarethe, one of our thralls. They just took me to this hidden place that they prepared for us. They wanted to make me a man," he chuckled at the memory, but his smile quickly disappeared. "I've always joked that no girl would want me because of these," he pointed at his legs. “I don't think my manhood works as it should... Because, you know…”

Freya listened to him, resting her head gently against his legs. Nodding her head she looked at him. "Did you... Love that girl?"

"No." He replied simply, shaking his head a bit, "But you know, they all had her. I didn't want to make myself look foolish. I wanted to challenge myself. It didn't work."

"You can't really challenge yourself when it comes to love. Maybe that's why it didn't work," She whispered as she gently touched his leg. "How do you feel about me?"

He stared down at her. "Good. Comfortable. Relaxed."

"Maybe it will work this time." She smiled at him.

While humming, Freya slowly undid his pants. "Let your wife work, you just need to relax."

"Honey... No, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to look at them." He replied, shaking all over his body.

Freya hushed him. As she smiled, she pushed his pants enough to release his cock. "I know you don't want me to see your legs, but trust me and let me do this."

His head rolled back as he inhaled deeply. "I don't want to disappoint my beautiful wife."

"You would let me down if you pushed me away tonight." She whispered and wrapped her hand around his member. I was surprised at how hard it became. "Would you look at that?"

As soon as he felt something, he opened his eyes wide and realised that it was her delicate hand wrapped around his manhood. Ivar propped himself up on elbows again, looking at her with wide eyes once again. "Impossible..."

Freya looked up and chuckled as her thumb played with his tip. "You see, love? Maybe you just married a woman who is a goddess in a human disguise." She teased and then licked a long strip from the base to the tip of his cock.

As he gasped loudly, he rolled his head back, almost moaning at the intensity of her touch.

As Freya hummed, she remembered what she saw in the past and tried to imitate it here.

Her lips encircled his tip, sucking it gently.

He undid her braids with his hands slipping into her hair. "Freya." He mumbled quietly, looking up at the ceiling, enjoying the pleasant sensation he was experiencing. "This is impossible... You must be a goddess."

"Maybe I indeed am, who knows, love." She whispered, looking up at him before swallowing his member at once.

"Freya." Ivar whispered in a tiny voice, just like a kitten. "You spin my head round."

While Freya purred around his cock, she continued her work on him.

"Leave it." He whispered. "Please. I want you here. I need you here, by my side."

With a loud pop, she pulled him out of her mouth and smiled, licking her lips. The girl moved up, kissing every inch of his body until she reached his lips.

As he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, he kissed her desperately, pulling her as close as he could. His palms stroked over the soft curves hidden beneath her dress, which hadn't been completely removed yet.

Freya returned the kiss eagerly but soon backed away. He was now fully straddled, and she took her dress off with a sweet smile.

"Oh, my Gods!" Ivar whispered quietly, barely moving his lips as he did so; his hands found their way instantly to her round hips, which he grabbed firmly, enjoying how perfectly they fit in his hands.

Freya giggled and reached up to scratch the skin on his chest with her fingertips. "I feel someone is happy." She claimed.

While he admired her body, he was trying to catch his breath.

She smiled, cupping his cheeks. "Are you alive?" She asked, "Or did I kill my husband on a wedding night?"

"I've never felt so alive." He said, slipping his hand between her thighs.

She teased, "Oh, really? You overall seem a little lifeless."

He cocked his brow. His hand found a sweet, hot spot on her while he murmured, "I am not as skilled as you are."

She reminded him, "I did not do this, just watched." I am not skilled either, she told him.

As his thumb gently rubbed her clitoris, Ivar said, "But your confidence lends you some credibility. Do you like it?"

Freya moaned quietly and bit her lip, nodding her head eagerly.

He cleared his throat, whispering, "I have never been so close to a woman before. You'll have to guide me." Meanwhile, he used his index finger to gently spread her pussy lips and tease her entrance.

She smiled. "Yet... somehow you know where to put your fingers. I am sure you know what to do. Just don't stop yourself, my dear husband."

His other hand caressed the beautiful smoothness of her chest, moving up and down it. Meanwhile, one of his fingers slipped into her wet core, teasing it further.

Then, Freya began slowly riding his fingers, moving her hips as Ivar's hand was caressing her chest.

"So eager, aren't you?" He asked with a raspy voice.

He pulled his fingers out, covering her pussy in her own wetness. Shortly after, he took his manhood and lined it up with her entrance.

"So eager, aren't you, dear husband?” She teased him, using his own words against him.

Freya gently grasped his manhood and slid down it, moaning quietly at the strain. "Fuck..."

His eyes were fixed on her beautiful face covered in blush as he parted his lips.

Freya gasped and bit her lips hard, trying to take in the pain. Slowly, she moved up and down his shaft.

He whispered, "Hey, take it easy," as he scanned the exposed features of her body with a smirk. "You feel so good..."

Despite the pain, Freya moved her hips faster as she whispered, "But I want to please my husband."

As Ivar tightened his grip on her hips, he pressed her harder against his legs, making her unable to move. She tried to buck her hips as he said, "Wait. Wait. It's not about me, it's about us." He told her, cocking his brow. "As much as I would like to satisfy myself, I also want you to feel satisfied. Don't want you to feel pain."

When he pressed her down, Freya whimpered loudly. She could feel him deep inside.

As she looked down at him, she said, "I heard it was always painful, love, for the first time. I promise, it will pass soon. I just need to adjust." Freya assured him.

"I was told that, too." He added.

In order to give her some sensation, he gently rubbed circles on her clitoris. "You're so tight that I can't think straight."

Again, Freya moved up and down his manhood. She let out a soft sigh and smiled at him, feeling her walls gently relax around him. It became easier for her to move. "You are so big..."

Her warmness and wetness around his cock were enjoyed while he traced his hands along her waist. Ivar couldn't take his eyes off her. "I'm yours."

Freya gave him a soft smile, her hands touched his chest. "Look at you... You don't have any problems with your beautiful cock. You just needed the right person." She whispered.

"I needed a goddess, and Gods provided me with one in the human body."

"Yes... Yes!” Freya moaned, moving a bit faster. She could feel herself getting closer to her high. "Oh, my Gods...."

"Wait, love!" He again pulled on her hips a little, pressing her pussy to his crotch. "Let me do it properly. Let me try."

Freya bit her lip hard and nodded. "Of course, love."

She laid comfortably on Ivar's bed after being gently pushed off of him. After he slowly rolled on top of her, he pinned her down with his weight. He kissed her hungrily, helping Freya to wrap her legs around his waist. Her arms were pinned above her head by him after he detached his mouth from hers. Suddenly Ivar caught one of her nipples in his mouth, encircling it in warmth as his tongue flicked across it and then he bit down on it tenderly. Soon, he removed his mouth from Freya's breast and looked at her with lust clouding his eyes. He reached down towards his dick and placed it against her entrance. Ivar entered her roughly.

It now seemed as though Freya was praying, wailing praises for Ivar in a way that resembled a moan. Her fingers ran through his hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Ivar grunted as he continued thrusting into Freya. He slammed into her roughly with his hands gripping her waist. "You're so hot, my beautiful wife." He grunted out.

A smile spread across his face as her nails raked over his back. "I'm going to make everyone within the Great Hall know to whom you belong."

Freya gave him a mischievous smile. "I BELONG TO IVAR THE BONELESS! THE GREATEST VIKING THERE IS!" She moaned as loudly as she could.

"That's my girl." Ivar praised as his eyes grew darker and he wasted no time in pulling her closer to him, smashing his full lips against hers as one of his palms slipped between their connected bodies to rub circles on her clitoris. "Cum for me, Freya." Ivar whispered as his thrusts became sloppy.

Frey smiled against his lips and kissed him deeply again. She could feel her walls tightening around him and soon she whimpered his name loudly, cumming all over his prick.

Freya rumbled with pleasure as Ivar held her tightly. He stiffened and buried his head in her shoulder. Ivar's thrusts became sloppier and he slammed into her three more times before he moaned and groaned loudly in pleasure while he milked her pussy with his warm seed. As he breathed heavily, Ivar whispered, "I love you very much." He held her against him and kissed her neck. Slowly, Ivar began to pull away from her.

Gasping and nuzzling him, she purred out of happiness. "I love you too... And who knows. Maybe soon there will be three of us..." Freya whispered.

He nodded with a smile, settling down by her side, lying comfortably on his back. "You think there is a chance? I was told all my life that a cripple cannot have children."

"They also said you can't fuck or be truly loved." Freya looked at him and giggled. "Just look at the mess you left between my legs."

Looking curiously between her legs, he propped himself on his elbows. "I must say I love this view."

She laughed and nodded. "Oh, I hope you do. It was our first time but it won't be our last."

He smirked proudly. "So you'll want to have sex with me more than once?"

A soft frown appeared on her face as she looked at him. "Why not?" She asked, confused.

"I am a disgusting cripple because of my legs."

"Ivar!" She sighed. "If I hear that again, I promise I will punch you."

As he sat up to find his pants, he joked, "You are threatening a cripple."

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him back down. "Let's just sleep." Freya smiled, pulling the fur to cover both of them.

Smiling at Freya, Ivar nodded. "Good." He let her place her head to his chest as his arm wrapped around her figure.

[peaceisadirtyword]

Brísingamen (Ivar/OFC)

moodboard by @nothingtolosebutweight

Summary: Freya spent her life searching for the kind of love her parents shared. The kind of love that makes them go crazy, the kind that burns in their chests, when they are sure they would rather die than lose each other. And she found it in Kjartan, her future husband and an ambitious man who vows not to marry until he is king. After years of trying and failing to conquer Kattegat, Kjartan seems to accept that he cannot defeat the king of Kattegat in battle, but he still has a plan to sit on the throne, and for that Ivar Ragnarsson must die. And Freya, the loyal, sweet, innocent Freya, who would do anything for him, could be the key to achieve this. Someone that can sneak into Kattegat and reach the king’s chambers in the middle of the night to bury a knife in his chest. But Freya will soon learn that no one should underestimate Ivar the Boneless.

A/N: This is my new fic for the @vikingsbigbang​💙 Hope you like it! Thank you to the amazing @nothingtolosebutweight for creating the artwork for this fic, you’re amazing. Check her blog because it’s great❤️ I couldn’t choose just one because I loved all of them.

Check the artwork♡

Read the story on Ao3.

“Shield up!” Ingrid’s yelling only made Freya scoff and roll her eyes. The shieldmaiden she was fighting took advantage of the momentary distraction and her dullen blade hit her leather vest, making Freya lose her balance and end up on the floor, frowning at both women.

“You always forget the defence when you’re fighting” Ingrid looked at her with a stern glance while she got up “You attack and fight well but you must remember to defend yourself too, it’s stupid not to do so” she shook her head, turning to correct the other girl Freya was figthing.

She only threw the sword and the shield to the ground and walked over to where the jar of water and the cups were, feeling her legs tremble when she was walking. Training since before sunrise only made her body ache before lunch, and as she was still half asleep when she started, the first hour was always terrible.

In any case, she wouldn’t even think of attending the training later, Ingrid was always there before her, no matter when she arrived at the training field. Sometimes, Freya wondered whether Ingrid ever slept or ate, she seemed to be always training, constantly with her sword and shield in hand, almost like they were part of her.

That was probably why she was the best shieldmaiden she had ever known.

Freya didn’t even bother to take her shield and sword and just walked away from the training group, ignoring the other women calling her or even Ingrid’s stern voice telling her to go back. She knew she was probably acting childish and it wasn’t even a big deal. Ingrid corrected everyone, but she always did it with a smile and soft words… Except for Freya, whenever she had to talk to her she did it with her lips pressed together, a frown and harsh words.

A part of her always wished to impress Ingrid, to make her smile and nod with pride filling her eyes. But never, not once had she accomplished that, and that was killing her.

Freya entered the Great Hall, still mumbling in rage and not even looking at anyone she walked by. When she reached the main table she drank directly from a pitch that had some fresh water, thirsty, and didn’t stop until a voice interrupted her, finally shaking her out of her spiral of anger and tiredness.

“That was mine”

Kjartan sat on the throne. His grey, cold eyes were fixed on her and his tone was stern, even when the slight curve of his lips gave him away.

“I’m sorry” Freya left the now almost empty pitch back on the table just when one of the thralls rushed to grab it and take it back for a refill “Your sister is driving me insane”

“Yes, she tends to do that” Kjartan chuckled “Is she being too hard on you?”

“When is she not?” she replied, rolling her eyes with a scoff “She talks to me with such a condescending tone it’s driving me crazy”

Freya approached Kjartan. His smirk grew as she got closer.

“Is there any chance that you will let me train with the men?” she pouted, and Kjartan raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t uncommon to have men and women train together, but he insisted on the fact that women didn’t have the same strength as men did, and even if his own sister could defeat half of his men within mere minutes, he still didn’t believe they were equal on the battlefield. That’s why he always used the shieldmaidens for his own guard, and sent the men to battle.

“You know what I think about that” he reached to put a strand of her hair behind her ear. Freya sighed in defeat, closing her eyes when his thumb caressed her cheek softly “Is my sister no rival to you?”

She is, that’s the problem. Freya shook her head and put his hand away, even though she held onto it, intertwining their fingers.

“She’s too hard on me, she hates me” Freya complained but it almost sounded like a whine. Kjartan didn’t stop smiling, her rivalry with his sister amused him to the point of entertaining that animosity for his own enjoyment. Sometimes it looked like their true intention while fighting was to catch his attention, and if there was anything Kjartan loved was being the centre of attention.

“She wants you to be strong enough to be queen by my side” he shrugged “But ignore her, when you’re my queen you will have all the protection you need and won’t need to know how to fight” he said, leaning in to kiss her temple.

“But I want to learn” she whined again and Kjartan rolled his eyes with a small smirk “Besides, when you finally make me your queen I shall be the finest shieldmaiden on Midgard”

“That’s ambitious, my love” he chuckled again “You know what I think, ambition is for men, the ambition corrupts women’s thoughts and poison them, you women are soft and have a pure heart, you don’t need ambition” he said softly, making her raise her eyebrow “Leave the ambition for me”

Scoffing, Freya moved around the table to pick up the pitcher again, Kjartan looked at her while she drank again. When she was done she turned around to look at him again, and there was a hint of reproach when she opened her mouth again.

“For being such an ambitious man, you move forward very slowly in your plan of becoming king” Freya tilted her head “And marrying me”

Kjartan looked angry for a second, but then his expression calmed down so quickly Freya thought she had imagined it.

“You know what I think, my love” he repeated. Kjartan always repeated that phrase almost like it was meant to make people eager to please him, to agree with him “I swore over my sacred ring not to marry you until I’m king, and until I’ve avenged my family and freed the people that suffer under their leader’s tyranny” he approached her. Freya stood in her place, with her head high and her eyes fixed on his. She knew that oath, he had repeated it to her every single day since he kissed her for the first time. It didn’t make it any easier “When I accomplish that, I know the Gods will see me as the rightful leader”

“You’ve tried to conquer Kattegat already” she said “And you failed, don’t you think that if the Gods wanted you to succeed they would have granted you the victory already?” she touched his face softly, a small, kind smile on her lips “I don’t want to marry you for your power, your position or for being a favourite of the Gods, I want to marry you because I love you” she muttered, reaching to caress his hair “And I want to wake up with you, carry your children and be by your side every single day for the rest of my life”

Kjartan smiled then, and it looked like a genuine smile on Freya’s eyes.

“Don’t you wish to free the people of Kattegat? Don’t you wish to make the Ragnarssons pay for everything they’ve done to my family and to the people?”

“Yes, but…”

“People’s freedom and wellbeing is more important than a woman’s desires and love” he said sternly “It’s selfish to think otherwise, Freya, remember that” he scolded her softly. When she looked down, disappointed, he made her look at him again with his fingers on her chin.

“You were touched by Freyja” he smiled then “Our goddess of love, battle and death blessed you and crafted you for me, I know I would be insulting her if I married you before winning that battle”

Kjartan’s eyes fixed on hers then. There were unique eyes everywhere in Scandinavia, eyes green like the emeralds the dwarfs crafted in Svartalfheim, blue like the sea that both rewarded and punished whoever was brave enough to adventure in it, brown like the earth the Gods blessed every year to give them food or the leaves that fell from the trees when summer ended. Freya’s eyes were still different, and it was that unique colour that resembled the amber with which the four dwarves crafted the beautiful necklace that rested around the goddess Freyja’s neck.

“I’m sure she would feel more insulted if you rejected her gift” she whispered, her eyes widened in a silent plea.

Kjartan leant in, and his lips almost brushed hers when he whispered:

“First, Ivar the Boneless, king of Kattegat, must die” Freya nodded slowly, closing her eyes and admitting the defeat once again “And you must kill him”

______________________________________________

Ivar almost groaned in desperation when the next couple of farmers stepped forward. Another complaint about lands, property and rights, the most boring thing in the world, which made him almost give up his throne and crown to the first idiot that walked by more than once. Usually, it was his older brother Ubbe who dealt with those complaints “at the end of the day, you’re one of them, aren’t you? You understand them better than I do” he had said, with widened eyes and a small smile, feigning innocence and referring to the comfy lifestyle he had chosen in a farm on the outskirts of Kattegat with his wife and children. Ubbe had agreed, but still insisted that he listened to some of them “the farmers need to see you care for them too, it’s your duty”.

Even though he’d rather jump off a cliff than listen to another two men argue because some dog ate one of the chickens.

Ivar tried his best to listen to them while they bickered, fighting the urge of closing his eyelids that now felt heavier than ever. He hadn’t slept well that night, the summer was coming to an end and the nights got colder and colder. He already dreaded the dark winter that would make his legs cold and achy for days no matter how many furs he piled over his body at night.

Luckily, none of the men that came to him that day concerning their farms and rights had the real will to fight their neighbours, so their intervention was short and soon the Great Hall was empty again, and Ivar found himself sitting at the table, with a well deserved ale and the opportunity to close his eyes for a while.

Well, not a long while because his brothers wouldn’t shut their mouths.

“I’ve been hearing things, Ivar” Ubbe couldn’t care less for his brother’s wishes to sleep, even if he was also the king “People wonder why the throne next to you is still empty”

“What a subtle way of implying I should have sex, Ubbe” he sighed tiredly and reached for the ale again.

“He’s right, though” Hvitserk had his feet up on the table and ate some chicken he had stolen from the kitchen as soon as he was back from training “You need a queen, Ivar”

“The weight of the crown is too heavy for only one pair of shoulders, brother” Ubbe smiled softly.

“I had a queen already” he clenched his jaw “Is that not enough?”

“Freydis is dead” said Hvitserk, making Ivar flinch “You know that better than anyone, you had time to mourn, now you must move on and find a woman, Ivar, you need heirs”

“I have you” he shrugged.

“Without heirs your claim is weakened” Hvitserk ignored him. He had seen enough of what power did to people, to his father and to his brother and had no desire of being heir of anything “And you know that”

“I am a son of Ragnar”

“Ragnar is not here anymore, Ivar” Ubbe sighed “And everyday more and more people set their eyes on Kattegat, wishing to conquer it, the people of Kattegat are restless, they fear the uncertainty that comes with instability and it’s your duty as their ruler to ease their minds” he reached to put a hand on his shoulder “Say you want a wife, let the Earls and Kings bring their daughters and choose the one you like the most, marry, have a child or two, and then you can rule in peace knowing your claim is strong”

“I can’t have children, Ubbe” he gripped his cup so tight Hvitserk feared he would break it.

“Try” his brother shook his head “If you try and you can’t, we’ll see what we can do but in the meantime… Do your part, Ivar”

Ivar reached for the ale again, only to realise there was nothing left inside the pitcher with a groan.

“Shouldn’t I marry someone that gives me political advantage? The daughter of another king?” he rolled his eyes “So I can have some benefit out of it”

“You marry whoever you want, but there’s only one person that has more power than you around here and that’s Harald Finehair… He only has a son, I don’t think you’re into that, brother”

Ivar shrugged, ignoring Hvitserk’s giggle.

“Try me”

“In any case, before considering marrying little Halfdan, you should maybe meet some of the Earls’ daughters”

“I’m sure they are thrilled to meet the crippled king” he scoffed.

“Ivar…” Ubbe sighed.

“Fine” he raised his voice, already tired of the conversation “Call them, tell them to come here and I will meet them, I have nothing better to do until next spring, anyway” he rolled his eyes “Now, where are those fucking thralls when you need them?”

____________________________________________

“Kjartan, I don’t think…”

“This morning you told me you wanted to marry me, have you changed your mind since then?” he frowned, and Freya was startled by the disappointment in his eyes.

“No, I…”

“Then do as I ask” he grabbed both her hands, sighing “Let’s end this for once and be happy”

She hesitated then, ever since those words had left his mouth, she had refused. Kill Ivar the Boneless? The son of Ragnar, the man that had defeated countless men, who was feared by all of Scandinavia and England? Many men, stronger and cleverer than her, had tried and failed before.

“But I can’t do it” Freya almost sobbed then, widening her eyes “I can’t… Kill Ivar, he’s the king, he will have guards and he won’t let me near him”

“That’s why you need to gain his trust” Kjartan raised his eyebrow “You’re a great shieldmaiden, go to Kattegat and ask to be part of his personal guard, get closer to him, make him trust you and when he doesn’t expect it, you bury that dagger in his heart”

Freya’s eyes looked at the dagger Kjartan had left on the wooden table. It was a fine weapon, with runes engraved on the blade, and it was sharp and light. A murderer’s weapon.

“Ivar Ragnarsson is one of the smartest people alive” she said, lowering her voice “He will discover me”

“Then you have to be smarter” Kjartan insisted “I’ve fought him many times, and I never was able to win, I can’t win like that, but if you kill him, I can take Kattegat next spring, and I will be king” his expression softened, and Freya sighed knowing what came after “And you will be my queen”

“The assassin queen” she muttered, her heart still pounding against her ribcage when she thought about it “Why not send one of your men?”

“Because no one would ever suspect you” he chuckled, almost like it was something obvious but that only he saw “You look innocent”

“Because I’m a woman? Why not send Ingrid then? She’s your best fighter”

“My sister is a good fighter, yes, but you’re better with people” Kjartan caressed her cheek with his thumb “People trust you, and you’re a good fighter too”

The tears threatened to fall down Freya’s cheeks when she gulped loudly, trying to hide the absolute fear that shook her.

“You hate the Ragnarssons too, right? They killed my brother” he frowned “They have killed so many people, and so many are suffering under their rule… And you wouldn’t do all the work, I will have to kill Hvitserk and Ubbe afterwards, they’re the difficult ones… Ivar is just a cripple, Freya” he smiled shaking his head “A violent one, but still a cripple, he’s no real threat, my love”

She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling sick and looking down at the table where he had left the dagger she was supposed to take with her. The dagger that was supposed to end through Ivar the Boneless’ heart. And then she tried to imagine her life as queen next to Kjartan, with small children running around, with Ingrid finally being forced to bow respectfully to her, being able to share a bed with the man she loved without being judged and stared at the morning after, growing old with him.

But, for some reason, or maybe because the Gods refused to show her, she couldn’t imagine it. It almost seemed like something that was too far away to even start to imagine it.

“So?” Kjartan’s voice startled her, and she raised her head to meet his eager eyes again.

Freya didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to go far away without him for the Gods know how much time. She didn’t want to die away from him.

“I will do it” she whispered, surprising herself as her mouth spoke the words before she could even think of them “I’ll kill Ivar the Boneless… For you”

“I knew you would” Kjartan finally leant in to kiss her lips softly “I knew you wouldn’t let me down”

[mighty-ragnarssons]

Knocked Up | Modern Vikings AU | Chapter II

Relationships | Modern Ivar x OC Warnings | some smut, a little angst, violence, harassement, teenage pregnancy

Keep up with the previous chapter here [chapter 1]

First of all let me thank you for the amazing support. You guys are the best! I hope you enjoy this one as well :)

You can read in AO3 as well (click here).

Chapter 2

Days passed and still no text. Ivar was tempted to drive by the apartment he’d left them at, but that would be crazy, right?  He should’ve never told her to use his number in case of emergency. What if that was why she didn’t contact him? Instead he tried to let it go although it wasn’t easy. He’d go to class in university, he’d party with his brothers, he’d smoke some things to keep his mind away, but nothing really worked. Once he was obsessed with something, that was it. 

It didn’t help at all when Hvitserk came home one day saying he’d seen Ivar’s girl.  

“What do you mean?”

“That girl from the other night. The one you’re so hung up on. The pretty blonde” Ivar had to stop himself from growling. Why couldn’t his brother just tell him already? Hvitserk was clearly amused at the whole situation. “I left the gym and went to try that new coffee shop downtown, know which one? Well, she’s an attendant there. And you know what, she looks really cute in an apron” Hvisterk teased, seeing how Ivar’s teeth clenched slightly. “Cute and nice. She offered me a coffee and a muffin, saying it was to thank me for the help. Damn fine muffins. I might have to go there again for one of those sweet things.” 

While Hvitserk daydreamed of muffins, Ivar was thinking about having them as an excuse to pass by the coffee shop. He couldn’t stay away and this was the perfect excuse.

“Did she tell you to visit again?” Ivar asked, taken aback for a moment. His older brother, much like the others, was the town’s heart breakers. Hvitserk’s pretty looks and dazzling smile could get him anyone he wanted. Perhaps he’d already bewitched the girl. 

“I guess so. She works there, isn’t she supposed to say that? ‘Have a nice day. Come again!’ I’m pretty sure she says it to everyone. But if what you are asking me is that I got her number or anything, the answer is no. I actually asked her out again but she didn’t take me seriously” Pretending to be hurt, he put his hand over his heart. “Perhaps she is not into Ragnarssons. Interesting, uh? There’s always a first”

Stupid Hvits, Ivar wanted to say. How could his brother go after the girl he clearly had staked a claim on? 

“Did she tell you her name?” This little detail was something he couldn’t stop wondering about.

“Now that I think about it, no, I don’t think so. I was too distracted by her pretty smile to ask about that” Well, now Hvisterk was really just trying to mess with his brothers “Tell me, little brother, will you crawl into that coffee shop right now?” he joked “Take my advice: lose the puppy face before going.”

“So funny I forgot I to laugh”

Hvitserk was wrong. Ivar didn’t crawl to the coffee shop right away that day, although he wanted to. Instead, trying to be rational, he waited a couple of days and decided to drop by after his classes in university. He could always pretend he went there to study, although that was something he rarely did. He just really wanted to see the girl again. She hadn’t left his thoughts since that night.

However, to his dismay, she wasn’t there. There were only two attendants and none were his  nameless girl. His heart sunk a little,  but disappointment was something he was used to. It no longer left a bitter taste to this mouth. He stayed, nevertheless. After a couple of hours working in his computer in the company of a whipped cream coffee and one of the famous muffins - his brother was right, they were a delicacy, he was finally willing to admit defeat. It’s not like he could even ask about her, not really given how her name was something he didn’t know yet. so, the afternoon definitely didn’t go as he had expected. 

Frustrated, he put his computer back in the bag and left the payment on the table. With the help of his crutches, Ivar stood and was on the way out, almost making it past the door but stopped seconds before the door opened, almost hitting him.

He would’ve been mad, but it was her coming in. 

“It’s like we can’t stop meeting like this” he chuckled. 

The blonde girl looked surprised. “I’m sorry. It seems I have a bad habit of bumping into you” 

Because there were clients trying to go through said door as well, both Ivar and the girl stepped outside. 

“You’re leaving?”

“And you’re just getting here  now?”

“I guess your brother told you I worked here”

“Well, yes. But I was just passing by. My university is just a couple of blocks away. I’ve been meaning to try out this since it opened and I needed to study” 

He regretted saying this almost immediately. Would she get the idea that he  was not interested in seeing her again? 

“I only work here after classes” she informed, while  mindlessly flipping her hair away from the side of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Ivar didn’t miss a single movement of hers, wishing he’d been the one doing that for her. 

What the fuck, Ivar? Focus, he was trying to tell himself. 

“It was nice to see you, Ivar. I don’t think I thank you enough the other night. You really helped us out. Not many would have done that” She smiled a little “I gotta go in or else I’ll be late for my shift” She moved closer to the coffee shop’s door. 

He didn’t want to see her go, though “Maybe we can meet one of these days?”

Looking conflicted, she bit her lip “Perhaps we'd better not" she said “It’s like I told your brother… I have a lot going on, with school and work and.. well, I’m sure you’re busy too” 

Ivar was shocked. Was she really dismissing him that quickly? He wasn’t one to take ‘no’ for an answer. “There’s always time if the company is good”

“You’re Ivar Lothbrok. One of the Ragnarssons”

That settled it. The first time he heard her saying his name, it sounded so good. This time? She was not as impressed, it seemed.  

“And so what? What stories have you heard that led you to believe I won’t be any good company?” his voice was raised and succeeded in making her feel uncomfortable. 

She shot him an apologetic look. “It doesn’t matter, Ivar. I’m sorry, I really have to go inside. Please, do know that I’m grateful for your help and I wished things were different”

“You just don’t want to hang out with a Ragnarsson, I get it” his accusatory tone made her flinch. Although his expression was carefully controlled, she saw in his eyes that her rejection stung. “Before you go, allow me at least to say a proper goodbye. I don’t know your name yet”

For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to tell him anyways. All of this was going terribly. But then she surprised him “My name is Eva.  Eva Jørgensen”

Bitterly, and before walking away, he proceeded  “Then I guess this is goodbye,  Eva Jørgensen. Have a nice life.” 

“Goodbye, Ivar Lothbrok”

Her rejection stung far more than he wanted to admit. It felt worse than his previous rejections, not just because of the blow to his ego, but more because he cared a little for her, had since the night he helped her in the club, and somewhat he’d been expecting things to go differently. How stupid he was feeling. 

It didn’t take long for his ill temper to grow as he drove back home. Finding out that a party was taking place in the Lothbrok home didn't improve much of his mood, either. Moving through the crowd of people into the living room, he saw Sigurd playing DJ in a corner, looking high as fuck by the looks of his attempted dance moves. Not far from him was Hvitserk surrounded by a bunch of ladies. Ivar recognised many of the faces among the more than a hundred people. 

“Brother” Ubbe showed up behind him. He was still in his business attire, looking completely out of place from the rave “Sigurd claimed we need to make use of the house before our father comes back. Texted everyone we knew.” he explained, opening a beer can. Only then he noticed his little brother’s somber expression. “What’s eating you? You look like you could use a drink”

“I sure do. Actually… You wouldn’t happen to have any pills with you? In your personal stash”

“Ivar… I’m not sure that’s a good idea”

“C’mon, don’t be a killjoy” 

“Is it for the pain?” Ubbe asked, but reckoning it wouldn’t be. Ivar’s eyes were not the strongest shade of blue like they used to be when he’s suffering more than usual. 

“Ubbe, will you fucking give me some or not?” he snarled.

“Look, I don’t have any at the moment. Maybe Hvitty does, but he looks like he’s already under the influence of them. Why don’t you just come out to the terrace, drink something and chill? I’m sure your shitty day will get better if you stop being so grumpy” 

“Spare me the bullshit. I’m out of here” 

Holding tight to his crutches, Ivar went to his room. It was the only room on the ground floor so the blasting music could still be heard from it. In need of releasing some steam, he took the matters to the gym they had on the basement floor, also known as the man cave. Getting one beer from the bar they kept down there, he decided to throw punches on the boxing bag, which he could only do from a seating position. When beers were no longer satisfying him, he took it to the bottle of vodka. Ivar just wanted to have his mind distracted from the beautiful Eva.

At some point, when his sight was already blurry and he had collapsed on a red couch, he thought he was imagining things for he’d swear there was a girl who was making her way to him. He tried to blink but his vision wouldn't get any better (no doubt too much alcohol and physical pain had taken over him). The world slightly dark around him, Ivar felt a set of hands pulling his t-shirt, then pressing onto his sweaty torso first, then down towards his pants.  The next thing he feels is his lower lip being bitten. At the metallic taste of blood, he regained consciousness just a bit, but enough to discern the blonde girl who now had her hand inside his pants. 

“Margrethe, don’t fucking play games with me” he said dangerously. 

Margrethe only continued to look mockingly into his blue eyes. “So vulnerable and at my mercy, Ivar. Still, you don’t get it up, do you? Why do I even bother?” A mean laugh rose from her throat “Ubbe said you need some cheering. I guess I felt sorry for the poor little Boneless”

Something snapped in him.  His ungovernable temper got the best of him. With the accumulated irritation of the day upon him, he suddenly grabbed her arm and forced it off of him. Muttering between his teeth, he warned “We 'll see about who’s at mercy here”. He could be a crippled, but he was not weak by any means. His hand was not on her neck so hard that Margrethe fell back against the couch, and stayed there with her hands spread out against him, trying to get off his grip. 

“IVAR! What the fuck are you doing?” 

Suddenly Hvitserk was pulling him away, making Ivar collapse on the floor. Margrethe jumped to the blonde brother’s arms in no time. 

"He's crazy. He’s absolutely mad!”  She whined, burying her face in Hvitserk’s chest. “Take me out of here” 

To complete the party, the rest of the brothers showed up as well, all of them taking Hvitserk’s side and looking down on their cripledl brother. Their looks were one that Ivar had spent his whole life loathing: one of pity and superiority. 

“You’re drunk, man. Crawl back to your room, cripple” 

It was Sigurd speaking, of course. Margrethe was his favorite. Ubbe simply shot him a disappointed stare before the four of them returned to the party.  

Ivar stood on the floor laughing hysterically until he realized what he had done. It didn’t matter that Margrethe was not a saint. She loved to miserly tease him just so she could humiliate him next. It still didn’t give him the right to go against a woman, though.  Shame poured over him.

Alone on the cold floor of the basement, a single tear ran down his cheek. What a fucking miserable day.

The following days were no better. His brothers were giving him a silent treatment since the party. Sigurd could barely look at him without snorting. And without his brothers Ivar really didn’t have anyone close, not really caring for his colleagues at university. 

There was one person. Floki, the oldest friend of his father Ragnar and Ivar’s mentor. 

Ivar dropped by the bay where Floki had his workshop, where he worked on the sailing boats that had coined him the best boat builder in all of Norway. He now ran a successful company called North Sails. Usually Ivar would go spend his afternoons there and would even help a bit, but his mind wasn’t in the right place at the time and Floki kindly dismissed him after Ivar almost ruined a custom-made pine wood deck by spraying the wrong product. 

For the most part of the week he had been lonely, which wasn’t something new, but it still bothered him. To pass the time, he worked out more and even went to all his classes and not skip some as usual, but none of that really helped. So that late October afternoon he had resigned to spend it indoors, playing playstation, which was something he usually delighted in beating his brother at, but not this time as he was by himself.

Until his phone beeped. At first, Ivar didn’t pay much attention, but then another text message flashed his screen and a word caught his eyes. Eva. 

He immediately grabbed the phone, sliding into the messages from the unknown number which read: 

‘Sorry to bother, but I don’t know who else to ask for help. Can you come to the coffee shop? Asap’

‘It’s Eva’

Less than fifteen minutes and many crossed red lights later, Ivar parked his SUV right in front of the coffee shop, not minding it was a forbidden parking area. Although it was past the normal closing time, the lights were on, yet the door was closed. On a normal week night, the street wasn’t as busy as during the day, and but a couple of guys in a corner, it was all empty. 

Ivar first tried to look inside, then knocked. He was worried, wondering what help Eva needed. Was she in trouble? Was she hurt? Ivar surprised himself by figuring out that all the grudge he was holding against her was gone, completely replaced with worry.

He let out a  sigh of relief when she came up from behind the counter and came to open the door, allowing him inside. The look of relief in her face did not escape him. “Thank you for coming, especially after the last time we..uh...met”

“What’s going on? What’s the matter?”

“This might be silly, and I’m sorry for making you come all the way here, you did tell me to contact in case of an emergency and this might not be one and I’m sorry  -” 

He cut off her nervous rambling “Eva, just tell me” 

“My stupid boss went to watch a football game and left me the keys to close up the space, even if it was not on my schedule. Some guys dropped by. It was really difficult to get them to pay and leave. But they're not gone. When I tried to step outside and wait at the bus stop, they started coming my way and calling out. I rushed back here and locked myself. I was so nervous I texted you. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking”

“Don’t apologize.” His jaw clenched. His face hardened, and he started to rise with a hint of violence “Stay here” He commanded before turning his back on her and walking out of the coffee shop.

“Ivar, what are you going to do!”

“Damn, Eva, stay inside”

But she wouldn’t and followed him into the alley. Ivar actually recognised the four guys propped against the wall, acting all tough. The Ragarnasson stood his ground, not feeling nor looking the least intimidated for being outnumbered. 

“Nothing to do tonight, boys? You can always go home and catch up with the last episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians instead of creeping out here” he gritted through his teeth.

“Who do you think you are?” one of them stood to face Ivar. 

“Oh, the brave one of the group, no? Get your asses out of here before I make you regret coming” Ivar warned seriously. 

“You think I’m afraid of you, cripple?”

Don’t say I didn’t tell you so, Ivar thought before head-butting the guy in the nose. The scumbag immediately fell to the ground, dazed. Ivar stomped his crutch over his chest.

“If you ever come near her or the coffee shop again, I'm going to break the rest of your face. And after I do that, I promise I'll break every bone in your body, one by one. Trust me, I know how much it hurts to have your bones broken. You don’t want that happening” He lifted his foot a fraction and the guy whimpered “You know who I am. I am Ivar Lothbrok. I might break a bone, but I can never break a promise. Do you follow me?” 

After Ivar let him, the guy rolled over. He seemed scared enough, his hands covering the bloody nose. The guys were looking at Ivar like he was mad and that scared them enough to leave as soon as they helped their friend get up. 

When they were finally alone, Ivar turned back to face Eva, thinking he probably scared her off as well. Yet there she was and the next second he knew, Eva launched herself at him, giving him an unexpected firm hug. He definitely hadn't seen that coming. 

“Thank you” As she stepped back, she looked a little embarrassed as if realising a boundary had been crossed “I’m sorry.”

“You apologize a lot” She blushed. “I’m glad you texted me”

“I didn't know who else to text… I don’t know many people in this city yet.”

“Do these guys hang around here much?”

“Sometimes” she bit her lip nervously. “Tonight was the first time they tried  to come for me. I usually don’t do night shifts alone” 

For a moment he wondered what could’ve happened. Anger build up within him, making him wish he’d beat the crap out of those stupid guys. 

“I don’t think they’ll try again. If they do, they’ll have to do deal with me”

“Again,  I really do not know how to thank you enough, Ivar”

“It was no trouble” he replied, with a smile that made him look more handsome than ever, or so she thought. 

“It was trouble. Are you hurt?” Again, without thinking, she came closer to him inspecting concernedly “Are you hurt? You head butted that guy strong” 

“I’m fine, don’t worry”

“Well, I am worried. Let me at least give you some ice”

He followed her inside and sat waiting for her to return with a bag of ice. The inside of the coffee shop was welcomingly warm in sharp contrast to how cold he didn’t realize was outside. “Lean back” she instructed and he followed suit, putting his head back. Eva had to stand so close to him that her body touched his as she placed the ice bag gently on the swelling of his chin. She bent over him, her lips puckered in serious concentration as she tried not to hurt him. Other than his mother, no one had ever been so gentle with him before. Gradually as he takes in her closeness, he smells her perfume, surprised that it is  something spicy, sweet and lovely altogether. 

“I’m sorry you got hurt. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen” 

“This is nothing. I grew up the youngest of many brothers. Can you imagine how many times we wrestled while growing up?” 

She smiled, causing him to do so as well. After how he treated her the last time they met, he thought she wouldn’t feel comfortable with him again, but it didn’t feel that way. He felt...at ease with her. Just like he did when they had first met. 

Eventually, as Eva released the ice bag, their distance grew a bit. Ivar had to keep himself from growling in disappointment. 

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed after looking at the time and jumping to grab her things “The last bus just went by. Fuck!” 

“Let me drive you home. There’s no way I was going to let you wait for another bus anyways”

“I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore. You already had quite a share”

“Don’t be silly. I won’t take no for an answer”

Driving her home took longer than he imagined. She lived almost out of town, which made him figure it would be around forty minutes by bus. Driving took a little less time. Time which they did mostly in silence, although it looked as both wanted to start a conversation without really knowing how. 

“You can drop me off here”

“Are you sure?”  There didn't seem to be many houses there, mostly warehouses and shops. 

“Yes, I live nearby.”

“I can drop you off at your doorstep”  She seemed troubled which made him guess “You don’t want to be seen with me”

“It’s complicated, Ivar”

“You said that last time” he snorted, disappointed once again.

“You’re right. I did.”

“You have a look on your face that tells me you’re about to say sorry again”

“Well, I was. I am.” How had he read her so easily? “I wish I could explain it better. I can get in trouble if my family realizes something happened and that I took your ride. That is all. Ivar, I really owe you thanks for your help” her hand reached his instinctively. Eva looked up at him with a thankful gaze before getting out of the car. 

He watched as she disappeared in the distance and drove off afterwards, not knowing how to feel about all of this. He had wanted to talk to her, learn more about her, ask her what was going on and on what terms they were on. He wanted to ask her if she’d text him again. 

He wanted to tell her he wanted her to.

To his amazement, she did. Text him, that is. He was already in bed when his phone bipped. 

‘I really thank you, especially for helping me out twice already. I promise trouble doesn’t usually follow me so often… I also want to apologize for the way I approached you at the beginning. I'm sorry about that. Let me know how I can make it up to you. Good dreams, Ivar.’

That night he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Tags: @adrille88 @istorkyou @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius​

 If you’d like to be addded or removed from the tag list at any given time, please, message me to let me know*

[littlemoonchildbear]

I think no one will pay attention to this, but I have nothing do to now so...

Some while ago I wrote this imagine with Hvitserk (Imagine) and thought about making a part 2 and 3, but I'm not sure anymore...

What you guys think? Should I do it?

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (IVAR THE BONELESS)

Sound of war

Synopsis: Vanya comes to a realisation and challages Lagertha (again), while the Ragnarssons make plan for revenge. 

Warnings: theorizing, poisons, badass Vanya, mentions of violence

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @queenbeeta @thereareendlessopportunities @chynagirl13 @astridbaby @heavenly1927 @buckysjuicyplums @youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff  @xvxcarolinexvx @justbecausewecan @lovemesomevesey

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

"I love your father with all my heart, Aros," Vanya whispered to the young Ivarsson in her arms. The toddler giggled at her tired tone and drolled over his fist. "But he can be tiring at times."

Aros giggled once more as his mother marched away from the hut where Sigurd and Ivar were fighting once again. The Ragnarssons were getting stir crazy, and if they don't stop, she might just go grey. What a joke that would be? Grey before twenty.

"I could hit them over the head. Knock them out and enjoy the quiet." Hoenir's gruff voice spoke from behind her as he grumpily glared at the ground. The princes fights keep interrupting him in his much-needed naps to gain back strength.

Vanya snorted and looked at him over her shoulder. "Don't tempt me, Hoenir." The tall Seer chuckled at her halfhearted response.

The plan for today was pretty easy. Gather resources and give them to the people. "Lagertha might see as a threat."

"She sees threats everywhere. I am helping hard-working people in a way that I am more skilled in. I never held a shovel."

"What do you royals do the whole day?"

Vanya smirked and looked at him innocently. "Drink and gossip, of course. Sometimes people get poisoned at dinner."

Hoenir shook his head and looked down at the smaller female. It was cowardly to hide behind poison, especially for a man. Poisons and herbs were woman's work. Speaking of... "Do you know how to poison someone?"

The ginger shook her head and fixed her hold on the giggling toddler. "I would never. It's not a pretty sight to see. I was taught how to do it, but..."

She let the words hang in the air. Not every poison was messy; some were more subtle and untraceable. Sometimes it looked like the person died in their sleep. Like Osmond did... Vanya froze in her step at the realization.

Osmond died after suffering for a long time. Some poisons can have the same effect... But who would do that? Mother? Silas? No, he wouldn't stoop so low. Waiting was more of his thing; without Stithulf, he wouldn't have even gone against Vanya.

But Siflæd was a cunning and ambitious woman. And the years she spent neglected by Osmond made her bolder. After he died, she was allowed to be somewhat happy. In the end, she got everything she wanted from his death. Expect a good new king. Instead, she got Silas.

But would she go that far and poison her own husband? After all, Siflead was schooled in poisons just like Vanya was...

"Are you alright?" Hoenir asked once again, shaking Vanya from her spiral.

She shook her head and smiled at the Seer. "Yeah... I just got lost in my thoughts. Let's got find Brynja and the thralls. We've got work to do."

Vanya walked among the people digging trenches, distributing food from a wooden basket. Hoenir and Brynja walked behind her, the older redhead holding Aros in her arms. Her red curls made him squeal in delight as he tugged at them, to Brynja's great displeasure.

"Here, have some bread." She smiled at the villager who took the loaf with a smile and split it with the woman digging next to him. She was pregnant and looked exhausted. "Hallr!"

The male thrall walked up next to her, ready to do as she asked. "Dig in the woman's place or a while. She looks like she is in desperate need of a break.

"No, Princess!"

"Nonsense! You are pregnant. The baby will thank you." She smiled and watched the man help her sit down to regain some strength, Hallr digging in her place.

Vanya continued, that's till she saw Ubbe in front of her. He was talking to Lagertha. The redhead carried on handing out bread and water till she reached the new Queen that watched Ubbe with hard eyes. Astrid and Torvi stiffened when they saw Hoenir approach behind her.

"Vanya." Lagertha smiled, making the girl's skin crawl. The fake niceness made her wary of the shieldmaiden.

"Bread and water to help you all in your efforts to protect Kattegat." Vanya ignored the greeting and handed her the bread.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Vanya. No wonder I only heard good things about you. It was hard to believe when we got off on the wrong foot."

Vanya laughed the jab off and shook her head, the smile on her lips fake and bittersweet. "I heard great things about you once upon a time too. No matter what kind of person you are, this is a good idea. The walls, I mean."

Lagertha smiled proudly, her back straightening at the praise. "It is nice, we agree. I wish we could better our relationship. If you need help with your son." Her blue eyes trailed to the happy toddler in the back. "I would be happy to give you advice."

Vanya smiled broadly at the Queen, putting her at ease for a moment or two. "I can assure you I learned a lot from Aslaug." The smile turned sour as she glared at Lagertha. "Before you murdered her in cold blood."

Vanya turned on her heel and slammed the wooden basket against Ubbe's chest. "I suppose you are done with her too. Come." She marched off, leaving the three shieldmaidens behind. Torvi tried to stop her and frowned.

"Vanya, please."

The princess shook her head and motioned towards Hoenir, who already had his sword ready. "I hope Asa and Hali are alright and healthy." With that, she marched off.

After a nice relaxing bath, Vanya planned to visit Ivar in the forge and spend some time with him while Aros slept. Hoenir, of course, followed her around like a tall, brooding shadow.

One would think that Vanya would have gotten used to the brother's bickering and fights over the year of marriage. What wishful thinking that was.  

Ivar glared at Sigurd; his axe stopped mid hack by the blacksmith. "What in Odin's name are you two doing?!" She hissed, drawing the axe from her husband's hands.

"Talking," Ivar replied coldly, watching his wife frown at him in dissapointment. And here, she thought she would be the only one to commit fratricide. At this rate, there would be only four Ragnarssons.

"Whoever would have thought that you two were brothers?" The blacksmith's words snapped the brothers from their trance. Sigurd marched off while Ivar sat there brooding and sulking at the same time.

Vanya sighed at their antics and turned on her heel to follow the angry Sigurd. "I do not need a scolding, Vanya! Control your husband."

The redhead huffed and tugged on Sigurd's wrist. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown as she glared him down. "I shall put a leash on the both of you! Why can't you just get along for once? Especially now. I know you care for him."

The Ragnarsson rolled his eyes and huffed in his dramatic way. Hoenir stayed behind with Ivar, figuring that Vanya would return when she was finished with Sigurd.

The taller male looked down at Vanya and saw the axe still in her hand. With a tired sigh, he reached towards the weapon to take it away from her. But Vanya pulled her hand back and huffed in frustration.

"Tell me." She insisted.

"I tried to be civil. But Ivar wouldn't take no for an answer. So I lashed out." Gods, why must men be so feral? Why can't they just give each other the cold shoulder and be done with it?

"What did he say?"

"Shouldn't you be more interested in what I said? Protecting your husband's honor and all? You have been doing that a lot lately. Playing guard dog doesn't suit you, Sister."

Vanya rolled her eyes at his harsh remark. "Ivar's honor doesn't need protecting. He is capable of doing that himself, obviously. What I want to do is defuse the situation before we have to bury you too."

"It was about Mother." Aaah. Well, that explains it. "He doesn't like that don't mourn her. She ignored all of us. She raised Ubbe and Hvitserk just fine, giving them happy childhoods. All I had was a year with her and Father. And then Ivar came along. And that cripple was all she cared about. Ubbe raised me more than she did."

Vanya's eyes softened, and she released her grip on his wrist. "I get why you are angry. And why revenge doesn't interest you-"

"Why should it?! Father abandoned us all. The people and his family. All Mother had was the memory of Harbard, duties, alcohol, and Ivar. I don't see the need to avenge either of them. You and Ivar both see her as some perfect image. Even Ubbe thinks her a mediocre mother. I am the only one not blinded by lies!"

He seethed, the snake eye looking like it was pulsating. The redhead watched him with sad eyes. "Just because I loved Aslaug as a mother doesn't mean that I don't get what you are feeling."

Their eyes met, and Sigurd shook his head, a confused look on his face. "You mourn her. You want revenge for her."

"For Aslaug, yes. Because she was nice to me. But if it were my mother..." She let the words hang in the air, Sigurd understanding what she wanted to say. "But this isn't just about revenge or parents. I worry for you."

"I am fine."

Vanya scoffed and pointed the axe at him. "Because the blacksmith stopped the axe from slicing your throat! What if he wasn't there? You two fight like dogs, and how long before one of you dies, and we have to bury another family member?"

"Stop worrying, Vanya."

"NO!" The musician stared at her wide-eyed. "You, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar and Aros are all I have. You are my family, and I don't know what I would do without any of you. Especially you."

He swallowed and tried to calm her down. "Vanya..."

"We may butt heads because of Ivar. But I care for you. You have a gentle soul."

"Vikings don't have souls."

"A gentle heart then! And a brilliant mind! What a waste it would be if you died so young. Only because you keep egging him on. I can try to keep him calm, but I won't be there all the time. And I worry that one day I will get the news that one of you died."

Sigurd sighed and pulled his sister-in-law into a hug. "I will try. But I make no promises." She chuckled at his humor and sent him off.

When she returned to their hut, Ivar was sitting on the bed, sulking. Vanya sighed and sat down next to him, but he refused to acknowledge her. She understood his jealousy, but it was unnecessary.

She loved Ivar, not Sigurd, and Aros was the proof of that. Never before was Ivar bothered by her relationship with his older brother. After all, since the wedding, they were her brothers as well. She saw them as nothing more, and yet, Ivar decided to act out now and ignore her.

Was it the fact that she ran after Sigurd, or that she looked disappointed before she did it? What was she supposed to do? Look proud that he nearly murdered his brother? After all the times she stood up to the snake-eyed Viking, Ivar had the nerve to get jealous! The insecurities were there before, but normally it led to talks, not to brooding.

Some reasons were the fact that Sigurd liked to mock his ability to walk or his temper. Another reason was the fact that Sigurd was originally supposed to be her husband. If it wasn't for Ivar's disability, that is. Silas saw potential in Sigurd's eye being seen as a symbol of the devil. And any child born with that eye would be a devil spawn and rejected to the crown. But Ivar's condition was a better choice, and so Silas chose him.

As if Vanya had no choice in staying with Ivar. She could have divorced him and married Sigurd instead. But Vanya didn't love Sigurd. Instead, she chose Ivar despite all his faults. They were lovable to her, but at times like these, she questioned her patience.

"You have no reason to be angry with me."

"I am not angry." Right, and the cold shoulder and pout were a sign of utter adoration and attention.

Vanya rolled her eyes and laid Aros down in his bed. "I am not angry either. A little bit disappointed but not shocked. I expected it, but I still hate that it nearly happened."

Ivar sighed and turned to watch her bent over their son's crib. "Sigurd brings out the worst in me."

"I can see that. But you could try to restrain yourself from time to time. He is your brother, and he isn't Silas. Your feud with him is different from mine with Silas. That doesn't make it less important, but you shouldn't let yourself be controlled by anger. There are consequences for murdering someone!"

"Yes, banishment. I know."

"And guilt. You two can claim that you hate each other, but I see the love there. I see that some parts of you worry for each other. Don't throw that away just because you both act like children."

She stood up and walked towards him. Sitting down in his lap, Vanya smiled at him softly. "If not for yourself, then do it for me and my gentle heart."

"There is nothing fragile or gentle about you, Min dyrebare (My precious). You have a kind heart, but you also have a strong spirit." Vanya smiled so brightly like the sun that it made Ivar freeze. Never was her smile so happy and breathtaking.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Ivar." She teased, swaying her hips over his lap. Well, so much to that. Flipping them both over, Ivar got to kissing a trail down her neck. The fire in the fireplace cracked soundly as the room filled with noises of pleasure.

Vanya laid under Ivar, panting as she watched his dark blue eyes stare down at her with the usual shine to it. His eyes were always her favorite part of him, so deep, mysterious, and powerful. The sweat on her skin felt uncomfortable, but his sweet sounds and gentle touches put her at her ease.

The gods gave her many challenges in her path, Ivar being one of them. But if he wasn't her favorite challenge. "Faster!"

[kaynothanks]

MASTERLIST

my wattpad: kaynothanks (Stories in English and German)

MARVEL

Every Time I Close My Eyes

Homeless and alone, Carter fought to stay alive on the streets of New York City, merely fiery hatred keeping her warm at night. Her state of living, the death of her family⏤it all was their fault. And Carter would make sure to get her revenge. (Steve Rogers x female!OC) Available only on Wattpad

Sucker-Punch

You hated him, that patriotic idiot that seemingly never stopped spewing around his righteous crap. And he hated you, too and trusted you even less than he liked you⏤how could he not? Fury had hired you the second you had turned your back on HYDRA. (Steve Rogers x Reader) Word-Count: 6k

On His Collar

You hadn't meant to fall for your brother's friend. After the Blip, after you had returned, and after everything had changed, he had been there for you. You liked him⏤a lot⏤only your brother could never find out. (Bucky Barnes x Wilson!Reader) Word-Count: 12k

Shiver Me Timbers

Your life had always been quiet, calm, structured and you liked it that way. When Sarah Wilson, the mother of two of your students, invited you to a family barbecue, you found yourself stepping out of your comfort zone, not knowing it would send you straight into his path. (Bucky Barnes x teacher!Reader) coming soon

Grimwick Island

The government had exiled all power-wielding criminals and their families to a massive man-made island cut off from the country. After a decade, a new law has been passed, allowing the non-wielding children of certain non-violent criminals back onto the mainland⏤putting you under the firm supervision of Sergeant Barnes. (AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader) coming soon

The Bargain Store*

You were a goddess who had made a home of earth. For centuries you lived a secluded life, running your little shop in a quiet part of the city until the bell chimed and an unexpected visitor came to stand before you⏤someone who had sworn to kill you eons ago. Yet again, he was never one to keep his word. (Loki x goddess!Reader) Word-Count: 6.5k

VIKINGS

Deprived 

As King and Queen of Kattegat, most of your days were now spent trying to please your people, listening to their issues, trying to lead them the way they deserved. Though there was one problem on the matter, Ivar hated not having your attention (Ivar the Boneless x Reader) Word-Count: 2k

Dark Souls And Red Magic (Part One)

After the Englishmen slaughtered your sisters, you fled your home country, seeking safety in York, until Vikings came to raid the city. Vikings were a greedy breed. Strength, land, gold, silver, women. They wanted it all. Only what happened if they got their hands on the wrong woman? (Ivar the Boneless x witch!Reader) Word-Count: 13.1k

Blue Blood And Hollow Bones (Part Two)

With Ivar enchanted by your all, you try learning more about the cunning Viking leader, just how he was trying to gather as much about you as you would allow him to. Yet, he didn't even know your name. (Ivar the Boneless x witch!Reader) Word-Count: 16.2k

Green Ash and Dauntless Doves (Part Three) coming soon!

OUTER BANKS

A Crack in the Glass (Part One)

Sarah asked you to meet her new boyfriend, John B, at a kegger-party on the other side of the island, but your not-so-social self quickly flees the scene, only to catch the attention of a certain blonde Pogue. (JJ Maybank x Reader) Word-Count: 8k

A Rift in the Clouds (Part Two)

Sneaking around with a boy was one thing, sneaking around with a Pogue was another. Wanting to keep your relationship a secret and your head on your shoulders, you lied to your mother. A little white lie that had you sitting at the Cameron's dinner table and across from Rafe, the boy you had, in panic, told your mother you were dating. (JJ Maybank x Reader) coming soon

Bright Blue Converse

You had known JJ Maybank was trouble, from the first time you had laid eyes on him visiting your aunt over the summer. He was cheeky, carefree, and all you found yourself wanting. (JJ Maybank x Reader) coming soon

THE HUNGER GAMES

Behind The Sun

When your brother was chosen as a male tribute, you volunteered, swearing to yourself you would get him out of there alive even if it ultimately meant your own death. Hoping anything would change was a stupid thing, just like allowing yourself to feel anything for the male volunteer of District Four⏤you would be forced to kill each other in little under a week, after all. (Finnick Odair x Reader) Word-Count: 20k

STRANGER THINGS

Tape From Hell*

You didn't know how you had even ended up in such a situation, though in the end, you had only yourself to blame. It was an idiotic thing, dating Billy Hargrove. You knew what he was like, which is why you shouldn't even have been surprised to find him flirting with Mrs. Wheeler. Driving home at the end of the day, you ran over something, getting out to check, until that something pulled you into the depth of Brimborn factory. (Billy Hargrove x mindflayed!Reader) Word-Count: 14k

Romeo Died*

It was true what most of the girls whispered about him, he was mean and hot and just as hot-headed. Still, you thought he might be just a little nice too, with him having given you a ride home. You would never have called Billy Hargrove a friend⏤but misery sure does love company. (Billy Hargrove x Reader) Word-Count: 26k and no he doesn't die in this!

Theater Of Denial

Having spent most of your life caged like an animal in a place seperating you from normalcy, you weren't all that much customary to standard human interactions. Put in a place where nothing stood out more than abnormalities⏤high school⏤you find yourself intrigued by the tempestuous aura of none other than Billy Hargrove and well, he just found you odd. (Billy Hargrove x Subject!Reader) coming soon

Stairway Chase

You had always been a good girl, followed the rules⏤even went to church with your parents each Sunday no matter how little you truly cared for the sermons⏤since it was expected of you. Life in Hawkins had always been slow, perhaps even kind of dull, until it suddenly wasn't anymore. (Billy Hargrove x Reader) coming soon

Mr. Brightside*

Billy was your lab partner and he wasn't very nice. He was blunt and grumpy and mean. You tried terribly hard to not let it get to your head until he cussed you out in front of the whole school, that is. Angered, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine, making it your mission to turn the rest of the school year into his own personal hell. (Billy Hargrove x Reader) coming soon

Killer Queen

Before Billy came along, it had been you that had held a particular reputation among your fellow students. It was all bullshit rumors that had somehow kicked you to the top of the popularity pyramid. And if Billy liked one thing, it was a challenge. (Billy Hargrove x Reader) coming soon

Creepshow

Alcohol was, as you had noticed, perhaps not always the best thing for you. It had all been fun and games with loud music and lots of people⏤a party for the books as the host had oh so gleefully cheered. Until you had ended up drunk on the dance floor and where the hell was your shirt? Your boyfriend wasn't too pleased when he came to pick you up. (Eddie Munson x Reader) coming soon

Amityville

You and Eddie Munson had never exactly gotten along. Perhaps it was his relentless need to push your buttons or the fact that you had once spilled your milkshake over his head and he had hated you ever since. When you find yourself forced to tutor him, the milkshake is bound to make a comeback. (Eddie Munson x Reader) coming soon

THE WALKING DEAD

Walk By Daylight

With you forced to watch the most infuriating prisoner known to what was left of mankind, Negan, you try persuading your boyfriend to end your misery⏤in other words, trip and accidentally shoot the bat-swinging bastard. (Daryl Dixon x Reader) Word-Count: 1k

Menaces And Monsters

It was early on when you found that being cooped up in a settlement was more horror for you than the horror that was awaiting you outside the high walls. So, you packed your bags and got on the road, only to find yourself stuck on a roof in a small town with a rugged stranger and a herd of hungry dead below. (Daryl Dixon x Reader) Word-Count: 21k

Menaces and Monsters (Rewritten) only on Wattpad with 30k words!

Hypocrite

When you went out hunting the last thing you expected was to stumble upon a half-dead male, wounded and bleeding. Almost leaving him to his fate, you decide to believe in the last remnants of good in humanity and bring him with you to your home, nursing him back to health. (Daryl Dixon x Reader) coming soon

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

Basket Case

Exiled from your coven, your family, they had made you do this⏤killing every last one of them and stealing their powers, just like they had stolen yours. The night they had betrayed you, a promise of the fate waiting for them had been sealed. When another coven in the area stumbles upon what you had done, they imprison you to an endless life by your lonesome. That is, until the world shifts. (Kai Parker x witch!Reader) coming soon

[ivarisms]

A SCAR THAT LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU

Title: A SCAR THAT LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU

Summary: You and your work colleague have travelled to Norway to to write a piece for an online article about the history of Vikings, and your travels have led you to a town where the locals talk about an abandoned castle deep in the mountains where Ivar the Boneless still lives as a thousand-year-old vampire. You don’t believe such nonsense, but are curious to see what artifacts this mysterious castle holds within its walls.

Paring: Vampire!Ivar x Female OC

Warnings: Blood, violence, death, non-con aspects, NSFW for sexual content.

                         “Baby, you’re cruel to me but you see I love it when you make me bleed. I want a scar that looks just like you, till then I gotta learn to be a wiser fool. ” ---- Vampire Smile, Kyla La Grange

                                               CHAPTER ONE

The treacherous winding path that spiralled up into the deepest and most isolated parts of the mountains was endless, or so it seemed after hours of non-stop walking. You were exhausted, and to make things worse the first droplets of snow began to trickle down from the sky above. “You said we would reach this castle an hour ago, and yet I still see no sign of it.”

“Patience, sweet cheeks.” Your work partner and terrible tour-guide Lawrence teased, a wrinkled map in his gloved hands as he turned to grin at you. “Always complaining, it’s not always about the destination but about the journey too. I find hiking in these mountains therapeutic…”

You rolled your eyes at that one, there was nothing therapeutic about this and you really wished you would have said no to this adventure. You weren’t even convinced that there was a castle, especially one that harboured a thousand-year-old vampire inside. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” You pressed on, frowning at the feel of wet inside your ‘waterproof’ boots. Great, you thought. All I need when hiking up a goddamn mountain. “I’m starting to think the locals swindled us here, I bet they’re all down in their local pub laughing about how stupid the latest tourists are in falling for this ridiculous ghost story.”

“It’s not a ghost story, it’s a vampire story – like Dracula.” Lawrence countered, a few steps ahead of you on the trail that became much steeper. “And yeah, it’s probably a crock of shit but hey, we’ll have the castle to ourselves and you know what that means.” Turning to waggle his brow at you, he winked and chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, shelter – and hopefully some firewood.” You grumbled, not even entertaining his attempts at flirting with you. He had tried time and time again to get into your pants, but just couldn’t get the hint.

“I don’t think there’s many trees up this high for firewood, but you never know… might be able to find a couple of ‘em and make a stake out of a branch as a weapon.” He joked. “They said this Ivar is terrifying, I hope I get to kill him. Imagine that on the front of the newspaper, I can see it now. ‘Handsome muscly man kills a thousand-year-old vampire Viking with ease… or Viking vampire’ which one sounds better?”

“None of them.” You smirked. “If he’s a vampire and a Viking, you really think you stand a chance?”

“Hey, I got some moves – I can show you them if you like.” He teased.

“No thanks…”

Walking up the steepest part of the isolated trail, you winced and tugged at the hood of your thick yellow coat as harsh icy winds hurtled towards you. They were powerful, nearly knocking you from your feet as you struggled to maintain your balance.

“There it is.” Lawrence pointed in front of him, and you stumbled forward a few steps to join him to see what he was looking at.

“Oh, wow.” You whispered, seeing for the first time the huge black winding castle in the near distance. It was hidden between two mountain peaks, so no wonder it took so long to find. The locals weren’t lying about one thing, but there was no way in hell a vampire lived within its walls. “The snow is getting heavier, let’s go as quick as we can.”

“Yes, lady boss.” Lawrence scoffed, his tone laced with sarcasm as he led the way.

Half an hour of struggling through near enough knee-deep snow led you and your colleague to the castle grounds. The great heaving stone structure was more than impressive to gaze up at, though the many windows that were draped in darkness made you feel uneasy. Its black towers and stone battlements were still very much intact, withstanding the test of time and the test of such harsh elements in the isolated area of Norway. It had clearly been abandoned centuries before now, yet still radiated a millennium of history you would never get to experience. You wondered what it would have been like back then, when Vikings were in their prime of greatness. Terrifying, you assumed.

Ivar the Boneless was known especially to be cruel and inhumane, the history books wrote him to be a tyrant and monster who killed all that apposed him. It was that wicked reputation that kept his memory alive a thousand years later, proven by how scared the local men and women were to even mention his name. You were intelligent enough to know that vampires didn’t exist, but if by chance they did, then you decided that Ivar would be the worst kind of vampire to bump into.

“Wanna go inside?” Lawrence broke through your train of thought and you looked at him as he pulled free his camera from the pocket of his padded blue jacket.

“Absolutely.” You agreed, deciding it was for the best to push fairy-tales aside and explore further.

Following Lawrence through the first set of steel gates, you were now in the courtyard. This area would have been used to make speeches to the people, used as entertainment and no doubt used for training how to fight. You could almost picture the Vikings now, swinging swords and axes at each other without a care in the world. Reaching into your own pocket to pull free your phone, you swiped at the screen.

No signal, low battery. Fantastic.

Your phone wouldn’t have enough power to last the night, but you had enough to snap a few pictures.

“I’m gonna explore the barracks, are you coming with or doing your own thing?” Lawrence asked.

“I’m…” You breathed, your eyes drawn towards the main doors that would no doubt lead into the very heart of the castle. “I’m going inside, I want to get a few photos before this thing dies on me.”

“Alright, I’ll come find you in a bit.”

Please take your time, you thought. “Okay.”

And with that you both went your separate ways.

 Pushing on the great wooden door that was stiff as a board, you clinched your jaw and rammed your weight into your shoulder with a grunt to try and budge it. One, two, three attempts before the frozen wood gave way. Shoving it open with a deep squeal that echoed loudly throughout the innards of the castle, you peered inside curiously. An icy breeze from within hit your face, and as you swept your gaze around the darkness you realised you were staring down into a great long hall that seemed to travel endlessly into the abyss.

Shrugging your backpack from your shoulders, you delved your hand inside and fiddled around until you grabbed hold of the flashlight you had brought along with you. Flicking the switch, a faint yellow glow lit the way as you moved forward. The old wooden floors creaked beneath the weight of your snow laden boots as you took your first few steps inside, allowing the heavy door to swing back shut with a loud thud. Wincing at the sound, you felt your heart thump nervously and felt a sudden pang of regret wash over you, almost as if you felt like you were trespassing. You can still leave.

“Stop overthinking.” You chastised yourself, knowing you were being irrational now. Ghosts did not exist and neither did vampires, it was all in your head.

Treading carefully, you made your way down the hall that had great long wooden tables lining each side with wax candles sat atop them, the table tops themselves had markings engraved within them and as you dragged your fingers along the symbols, you decided they were probably Old Norse. A language that had been dead for many years. Lifting your had, you rubbed at the thick layer of dust that had settled upon your fingertips. This place definitely hadn’t been touched in a long time, and for a moment you wondered if you and Lawrence were the first tourists to investigate in years. It seemed like it.

Unlocking your phone, you decided to take a few pictures of the beautiful furniture for your records before moving on. This would make for a good article on your blog – frozen in time, a look inside the world of Vikings. You wondered if you could steal something small and tuck it into your bag as a souvenir of sorts. Looking ahead, you noticed a stone fireplace in the centre at the back of the hall and as you strolled over towards it with your phone in hand to take another picture, something else caught your attention from the corner of your eye. Turning, you audibly gasped.

Two beautiful wooden thrones sat untouched at the furthest point of the great hall, sat atop a wooden platform. They looked over the entire hall, above the rest of the tables and you knew then that this was once where the King and Queen probably dined with their people.

“Wow.” You whispered, approaching the rare find. The floorboards creaked with each slow step and as you got closer, your eyes widened and twinkled in the dark as you absorbed the intricate detail of both beautiful chairs.

You walked up onto the platform and reached out to touch the main throne, the one you could only assume belonged to a line of great Kings starting with Ragnar Lothbrok. Dragging your fingers along the twisted branches and steel that bound them together, you smiled and took the opportunity to sit in the throne.

It wasn’t the most comfortable seat, but you definitely felt like royalty as you leaned back and closed your eyes. Just for a moment you pretended it was a different time, that you were a Queen of a Viking army. Breathing in a slow breath, you opened your eyes again and gazed down the hallway you had walked up.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness as the flashlight rested in your lap, and as you blinked you were certain there was a shape of a figure standing by the main door you had entered through. Lawrence?

“You took your time, come see what I’ve found.” You called out, crossing one leg over the other casually with a coy smile. “I can’t be sure, but I think this throne once belonged to Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons. It’s beautiful…” You drummed your fingers against the arm rest.

No response. The silence was deafening, and you felt a deep fluttering within your belly as you snatched your flashlight and shone it down where the figure stood. But the light didn’t reach that far, and so you leaped from the throne anxiously.

“Lawrence?” You called nervously this time, your eyes narrowing as you kept them on the figure who stood in the shadows, unmoving. “This is not funny; I’m not playing your stupid games idiot.”

Once again there was nothing and you panicked, the stories that had been told to you from the locals playing in the forefront of your mind.

‘Ivar the Boneless died in battle, yes – but he was revived and cursed with immortality. The stories say his brother Hvitserk accompanied him back to the castle where he lives till this very day, surviving on the blood of those who dare enter his lair.’

‘Hvitserk too?’

‘Perhaps, though there have been no witnesses to survive that could tell us what they have seen. All we know is that those who travel up the mountains don’t travel back down, so in all probability they have been killed.’

“Ivar?” You breathed, the flashlight in your hand trembling.

“Hello, Y/N.”

The voice echoed through the hall and your breath caught in your throat, fear bleeding into every fibre of your being as you jumped from the throne platform and sprinted towards a side-door that led into the bowels of the castle. The last thing you wanted was to travel deeper inside, but you had no other choice. Gasping for breaths in the darkness, you tried to hold the flashlight steady and peered down at your phone in the other hand.

No signal.

1% battery life.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You hissed, not having a clue what door led to which room or if there was any other exit that you could escape from. You just ran forward with no sense of direction, and eventually came face to face with a staircase. You couldn’t go back now, what if he was right behind you?

The thought alone made you squeal as you scrambled up the stone steps, tripping over your boot at one point and dropping your useless phone that tumbled all the way back down to the bottom. You wouldn’t be going back for it now. Reaching the upper floors of the bitterly cold castle, your flickering flashlight was threatening to give up on you as you desperately searched for a hiding spot. Bolting to the end of the corridor, you ran into one of the rooms and as quietly as you could, closed the door behind you.

Backing up until your thighs hit the wooden frame of a bed in the centre of the room, you felt tears well in your eyes. You were terrified.

“Y/N, it was a joke!” Lawrence shouted out from outside in the corridor. “It’s me, I was only teasing.”

Anger. You saw red and felt humiliated as your colleague shoved the bedroom door open and grinned back at you, holding his camera in your face and your phone in his other hand. You couldn’t believe it.

“HA!” He laughed loudly when he saw the look on your face, pointing at you as he filmed your reaction. “You ran like a shot, Jesus…”

“Get out.” You growled, storming forward to shove his chest. “It’s not fucking funny, stop filming me.”

“Hey, c’mon – it’s hilarious!” He laughed. “Ivar?” Mocking the way you had called out the Viking’s name, he shook his head and bent forward to slap his knee with amusement. “I thought you didn’t believe in vampires!”

“I said get out!” Slapping the camera from his hands, you scowled up at him as it tumbled and crashed to the floor with a thud.

“Hey, what the fuck!” He glared back at you and snatched the front of your jacket, clinching his jaw as if he was debating on whether to hit you or not. But he decided against it, shoving you instead and watching you fall to the bed as he leaned down to pick up his prized possession. “It was a damn joke, get over yourself.”

“No, you’re trying to use me for your stupid videos and it’s not happening. Whatever footage you’ve got of me on there, delete it.” You warned him.

“Hell no, this is going up on my blog first thing when we get back to town. You’ll see how funny it is when you’ve calmed down. Pretty girl gets spooked by Ivar the Boneless, idiots on the internet eat that shit up.”

That was enough. Lunging forward, you snatched the camera from his grasp and turned around, throwing it as hard as you could against the stone wall opposite the bed. You watched as it smashed, bits of plastic bursting out into shards across the floor and instant regret flooded you.

Not about smashing it, because he deserved that to happen – but because you knew the fact he wouldn’t get views online from his snot-nosed followers would infuriate him.

“Y/N!” He shouted, his voice echoing through the halls as he grabbed the back of your hood and yanked you back towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, that’s my life’s work you dumb bitch!”

Wincing as he flung you against the wall by the door, you kicked your boot at his shin and threw a punch that connected with his shoulder.

“Let me go!” You growled, struggling against him as he swung his arm back and swung it forward again, slapping you against the face. A sharp sting radiated through your cheek, and you closed your eyes and lifted your hands to defend yourself from the assault you thought was about to come your way.

But nothing happened.

Instead, you heard gargling.

Snapping your eyes open again, you felt your entire body weaken in terror as Lawrence stood in front of you grasping at his throat. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose as he stumbled back, staring back at you with fear and desperation. You were speechless, frozen stiff in place as he collapsed to his knees and bled out at your feet. Behind him had been standing a tall, broad man with the bluest eyes you think you had ever seen. His hand was coated in blood, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as he gazed back at you in the dark.

“I heard a struggle; it seems you needed some help from this boy.” He mumbled in a deep Nordic accent and stepped over Lawrence’s dying body, towering over you in the confined space. “Are you hurt?”

You stood perfectly still and parted your lips, trying to speak but the sounds of Lawrence’s gargled breaths distracted you. Never had you witnessed someone dying before and as much as you hated him, you felt sick and faint.

“You called my name earlier; it woke me from a deep sleep…” He continued, his blood-stained lips curling into a smirk as he reached his clean hand up to stroke your reddened cheek that would soon bruise from the slap.

A breath hitched in your throat at how cold he was, the gentle stroke of his fingers sending a shiver to ripple up the length of your spine.

“You… you are Ivar the Boneless.” You whispered fearfully, glancing down to the floor to see blood pooling around your boots.

“Yes.” He affirmed. “And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Mm, and what are you and this…” He peered down at the body that had stopped struggling and sighed. “…moron doing creeping around my home, huh?”

“I’m sorry, we came here to see…”

“Go on.” Ivar pressed you impatiently.

“To see if you were real, to see if this place really existed.” You told him. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” You took a step forward and slid past him, your body grazing against his as you tried to head for the door but he grabbed your hand.

“Ah, ah.” He tutted, shaking his head of dark braids. “That is not how it works, you see – as soon as you stepped through that door you became mine.”

You felt your belly flutter and shrank into yourself as he took a step in towards you again, leaning forward to breathe in your hair.

“Yours?” You whispered in confusion.

“Yes, mine.” He told you. “Everything in this castle is my property, that now includes you and this sack of shit on my floor.” Pointing to Lawrence’s body, Ivar sucked in a breath. “Unfortunately, my anger got the best of me when it came to him, I should have kept him alive for his blood. I haven’t fed in a long time.”

He looked you over when he said that, his blue eyes darkening with a hunger that made you want to run. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I don’t want to.” He explained and ran his hands up over your shoulders, pulling you against him and holding you tight. “But I am hungry, and your blood sings to me my sweet girl. This won’t hurt for long, I promise.”

“No, no!” You gasped, your struggling useless as he dragged his soft lips down the column of your neck. Licking his tongue out against the beating vein that called to him, a deep growl rose from his throat and he sank his teeth into you with a savage bite that made you scream. “Ivar, please!”

Your legs gave way but it didn’t matter, he was unnaturally strong – clutching you to him like a bear would with its prey. Warmth spilled down your collarbone and you whimpered as he drank you, low groans escaping him. Digging your fingernails into his black armour, your eyes rolled as you became weaker in his arms.

Thump. Thump.

Thump…… Thump.

Thump.

Your heartbeat slowed and you huffed out a weak breath when he suddenly pulled his head back, snarling out an animalistic growl. His white teeth and long fangs were coated in blood, a trickle of it spilling down his chiselled chin as you sank against his chest.

“Fuck.” He groaned, eyes almost translucent they were that blue as he gazed down at your pretty face. “Good girl. Come, let’s get you settled.”

Lifting you up into his arms with ease, Ivar carried you from the room in what seemed like a blur as your eyes rolled shut.

“Are you going to kill me?” You whispered.

“Not yet.” He told you, his voice a low seductive growl. “I’m going to drink you and I’m going to fuck you and then I’m going to make you like me and the rest of my family who live in the shadows.”

The rest? You thought, slipping into unconsciousness as Ivar the Vampire stole you away deep into the confines of his castle.

 Starting awake, you sat up in the darkness and reached your hands out to feel soft silk sheets surrounding you. Looking around and down at yourself, you frowned as you noticed your boots, winter trousers and jacket had been removed, replaced with a white cotton dress that barely covered your thighs.

“You are beautiful, y/n.” Ivar mumbled from the shadows, approaching you slowly as you crawled up towards the headboard and away from him.

“What is this place?” You asked, looking around the large room that had been lit with candles. “What did you do to me?”

Turning your gaze back onto him, you felt something flutter deep within you as he stood shirtless. Viking tribal tattoos littered his strong defined chest, and as you dragged your eyes lower you noted his defined abs.

“These are my private quarters, the part of the castle you didn’t get the chance to intrude on.” He raised a brow at you, a dangerous glint within his eye. “But now, here you are with me. I fully intend on creating a bond with you, one where you will be my progeny and I your master.”

You felt your stomach leap as he crawled up onto the bed after you, his piercing eyes never leaving your face as he reached out and grabbed your ankles. Yanking you down the mattress, he smirked sadistically as you yelped in surprise.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Of course, I am.” You whispered, though it was not only fear that you felt as you looked into his eyes but a strange lust. Something was terribly wrong with you to be attracted to this creature but he was so beautiful, almost god-like that it seemed impossible not to.

“It’s good to be afraid, fear makes you more aware of what’s happening.” He leaned forward and kissed your thigh, his cool lips lingering against your skin. “I want you to know that I have waited for you for a long time, and now that I have you, I cannot let you go.”

He spread your thighs then and nuzzled his nose between them, eliciting a gasp from your throat and forcing you to arch your back. Reaching down to twist your fingers into his dark braids, your legs trembled as he breathed in your scent.

“Oh.” You sank your teeth into your bottom lip when he finally pressed a kiss against your mound, a jolt of pleasure radiating through you at the feeling.

You wondered if this was all a dream, a terrifyingly beautiful dream that you soon would wake from. Using his palms to pin you down, Ivar lapped at your tender wet cunt until he had you crying out his name.

You came.

Then you came again. Hard.

Feeling spasms ripple through your entire body, you moaned and spread your legs further as he dragged himself up and over you. Strong arms settled at either side of your head and he dipped his hips between your thighs, the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your soaked centre making you buck your hips in response.

“Do you want to be mine?” He asked, grabbing your throat and grazing his thumb against the bite mark he had left in your throat. “Will you give yourself to me completely, my love?”

You felt compelled to say “Yes.”

It was if he was inside your head, making you say and feel these things for him and yet you gladly accepted your fate.

“Good girl.” He growled and thrust inside of you in one hard stroke, splitting you open with a delicious burn that forced a cry from your lips.

You snatched your arms around his broad defined shoulders, digging your nails into his smooth skin as he began an unrelenting rhythm. You moaned and screamed and shuddered beneath him as he fucked you deep, his controlled movements driving you insane with lust.

“Ivar!” You cried as his girth stretched you painfully, the feeling of being unbelievably full of him almost too much. But he held you down, you weren’t getting away from him as he possessed you. “Oh my god!”

He grunted, a low growl rumbling deep within his chest as he took what belonged to him. Pressing kisses against your collarbone and then down to your breasts, your eyes rolled as he sucked one nipple into his mouth and then the other, paying them equal attention.

Your grip on his braids tightened and he licked a trail up your chest, kissing up your throat and chin until his lips found yours. The Viking vampire’s mouth was soft as he licked his tongue into your mouth when you gasped from one particularly deep thrust of his hips, and you could taste a mix of him and you that made you moan into him.

Sliding one calloused hand down to grab your knee, he lifted your leg and forced it up to rest over his shoulder. Arching against him, you whined at the change of position that dug deeper still and brushed against that spongey piece of heaven tucked up inside of you.

“Ah!” You whimpered, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“That’s it, y/n.” He growled lowly, smirking against your mouth as he stared into the depths of your eyes. Knocking his forehead against yours gently, he watched you as he fucked you hard. Skin smacked against skin, the wet sounds of him taking you filling the room and you stiffened.

Hissing, Ivar snatched a handful of your hair and tugged your head to one side as you came around him. Your pussy spasmed, clutching onto his cock tightly, milking him for everything he had and as he was on the verge of his own release he knew it was time.

Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he sank his fangs into the artery he had torn open earlier and began to drink. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with so much arousal that you weren’t aware of his deadly love bite. He continued to fuck you, his pace slowing just a little as he drank your hot blood down in large greedy gulps.

Soon, you realised that something was wrong. You felt it. Whimpering in a mixture of pleasure and pain now, you pushed at his arms to try and get him to stop but he didn’t plan on it. He drank you deeply, the addicting taste of your life blood filling the void within him.

“Ivar…” You moaned, frowning in discomfort.

He used his free hand to stroke your face gently as if he were reassuring you all would be okay. Blood spilled into the sheets of the mattress and into your hair in a pool and your heart began to stutter, its strong beat fading.

You gasped for a breath and just before you fell into a fatal sleep, Ivar pulled back with a sputtered growl and sank his fangs into his wrist, tearing open his own flesh before pressing the bleeding wound to your lips.

“Drink!” He demanded of you, and with weak gulps you did.

As his cold blood spilled down your throat, he howled out and came inside you in a deep thrust. He grunted and growled at the pleasure of you.

“That’s it.” He hissed, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth as you slurped at him until you fell asleep.

Your head rolled back against the mattress and you were dead to the world, the human version of yourself dying with laboured breaths as Ivar’s blood worked its way through your body keeping you from slipping away completely.

Pulling out of you, he slid an arm under your neck and lifted your frail frame up into his embrace. The sheets were stained red, it looked like a murder scene and he supposed it was for he had killed you and birthed you a new life that soon would come to be.

“There we go, my sweet girl.” He whispered, kissing the side of your face as he stood from the bed and carried you from the bedroom. “No more pain.”

Strolling through the castle, he smirked a bloody smile when he caught sight of his brothers Hvitserk and Ubbe exiting a room down the corridor.

“We heard everything, you know.” Hvitserk eyed the girl in his brother’s arms curiously, a hunger darkening in his features at the sight of you.

“She’s beautiful.” Ubbe murmured.

“I wanted you to hear.” Ivar muttered arrogantly, kissing the corner of your lips as he said so. “She will soon be one of us, I still need to bury her and by tomorrow she will rise.”

“I want one.” Hvitserk grumbled.

“Me too.” Ubbe glanced at his brother and then back to Ivar. “I think we need to venture into town and find more girls, take them back here and turn them.”

“I think that would be good.” Ivar nodded. “Now, I need one of you to bury us.”

“I’ll do it.” Hvitserk volunteered.

“I’ll watch.” Ubbe smirked.

Heading down the staircase with you safely tucked into his arms, Ivar moved with a blur that no ordinary human would be able to see and took you out into the snowy courtyard.

Setting you down on the snow, he dug a grave big enough for two and set you down inside before he turned to glare at his brothers who watched on curiously.

“Okay…” He nodded and lowered himself down to join you, spooning you from behind and tucking his face into your hair.

Hvitserk grabbed a shovel and scooped a large amount of snow and piled it inside the grave. It wasn’t long before the both of you were buried six feet below the earth.

Soon you would rise with your master by your side, forever bonded by blood and death.

tag list:  @punkrocknpearls  @youbloodymadgenius @strayrockette @tgrrose @ISTORKYOU @ivarhoegh @adrille88 @jadelynlace @readsalot73​

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XLI

A/N: Hello again! It's been a while, but I'm finally back with a new chapter! My laptop almost went out this week which set me back on finishing this, not to mention travelling as well. However, I am finally ready to present this hot off the press! We're about to begin the final arc of this story, and I'm so excited to press on! I hope you are as well, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Skål!

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

Masterlist

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Quite frankly, the amount of celebration in the halls of Vestfold felt inappropriate to Asta. The Rus were thrilled with their victory, and understandably so, but with all the death that had bought that victory, including that of Björn Ironside, she found it to be in very poor taste. Ivar, who was sitting beside her, seemed… not necessarily like he was in agreement with her, like he felt the same way, but he seemed more underwhelmed than anything else. But Oleg was far from reflecting either of their moods, enthusiastic and excited about their prospects, the odds of them going on to be successful in their future campaigns.

Through the scattered conversation, Oleg called out a toast. “Here’s to victory, my friends!” he announced, and a round of cheers went up. The lack of a shouted Skål! being sent up unsettled Asta, only serving to remind her of the fact that these people were not their friends, whatever Oleg claimed.

Ivar’s dissatisfaction was proven not a moment later, as he shook his head just slightly and reminded Oleg, “The battle of Norway is not over yet. They have only retreated, and probably back to their fortress at Kattegat.”

Oleg was not dissuaded by this. “But probably without their talisman,” he countered. “Their hero. Their leader.” He stood from his seat in the throne at the head of the room and walked to Ivar, upon whose shoulder he laid his hand. “They say you killed him yourself.”

You certainly didn’t, Asta thought, glaring up at Oleg. She barely stopped herself from speaking the words.

“Mmm,” Ivar hummed. “I cannot be completely sure that Björn was dead.”

Oleg opened his mouth to argue, but Hvitserk cut him off before he could. “It’s not possible to kill Björn,” he said. Oleg went and sat in front of him, prompting him to elaborate. Hvitserk did so. “I saw him, getting carried off the battlefield with my own eyes.”

Asta could easily see that this had concerned Oleg, and a part of her wanted to enjoy that concern from him. She knew Björn was dead, had seen him fade from her sight, but if Oleg was uneasy, she’d be happy for him to believe Björn Ironside yet lived. He was looking for any sort of comfort in his uncertainty, and so even asked Hvitserk, “But you cannot say that he was still alive?”

“Uh… no,” Hvitserk replied with a slight shake of his head. “No, I cannot.”

Oleg nodded a little at that, and Ivar gave an irritated little huff, not wanting to focus on this any longer. “So,” he interrupted. “When do we leave for Kattegat?”

“As soon as we have repaired our ships,” Oleg answered, standing and starting to walk away. “This business must be finished. I confess, we lost more warriors in the battle than I had intended.” He sat on the throne once again. “You Vikings fight hard.”

Before Oleg could continue this train of thought, the doors to the Great Hall were opened, quite loudly, and two men were brought in who Asta didn’t recognize. Both were in chains, though one was dragged forward while the other was able to walk. Whoever they were, both Ivar and Hvitserk were stunned to see them, though the latter seemed quite a bit worried, too. 

“Who are these prisoners?” Oleg demanded of the guards who had brought them in. They didn’t get a chance to answer, as Hvitserk stood and approached them.

“This is King Olaf, once the ruler here,” Hvitserk announced, referring to the older, balder of the two. To Asta, he seemed the sort of old man one might find would be rather wise. She had a distinctly good feeling about him. “And this,” Hvitserk began, continuing to the other, “is King Harald, King of all Norway!”

Harald Finehair. Asta’s eyes narrowed and she stood, walking over to join Hvitserk as Oleg asked if this were all true. He seemed thrilled, but not her. She found herself glaring, angry and grieving again at the memory of a close friend who had died because this man wanted to raid her home. This was the man she held responsible for the death of the bishop, Heahmund.

King Harald was panting as he listened to Oleg, and in an exhausted, worn down answer, he said, “Yes. Alas to say. You cast your net… and when you hauled it in, you found that you have caught both the King and the Joker.” 

She could tell he thought himself clever, and bit out, “Or perhaps the Joker and a fool.”

Hvitserk gave something of a bitter chuckle, and then said, “King Olaf’s jokes were never… never my taste.”

King Olaf seemed quite hurt by this, his face falling. “Oh, I thought we got along famously, Hvitserk, son of Ragnar,” he replied.

Ivar stood and walked over to the group, and Asta glanced over at him as he came to stand beside her. “Well, do you remember me?” he asked. “I too am Ragnar’s son.” He lifted his cup to his lips and drank some from it.

“Oh, I know who you are,” said King Olaf. His voice turned mocking as he announced, “Ivar… the Boneless,” which earned a disparaging chuckle from the famed warrior. “From the sewers of York to the Silk Roads, your… your name is legendary. And you… his prophet.” His eyes turned to Asta, and she offered him no more than a bitter smile, before Oleg was cutting in.

“The question is… what to do with you both,” he said. “In what ways can you possibly… be useful to me?” He crouched down to get more level with King Harald.

Harald looked at him with a hardened gaze, and answered, “I have no intention of being useful to you. I won’t bargain for my life. For a Viking, that would be demeaning. To us, death is bliss… and I rush to bleed.”

“And what about you?” Oleg asked Olaf.

“Oh, I, uh… I’m not in a rush,” he said.

Oleg pressed his lips together, almost seeming to smile, before he waved a hand and they were taken away. “What interesting prisoners,” he commented, but Ivar noticed Asta’s disinterest, the way she still glared after Harald’s path. 

“Asta?” he prompted. “What’s the matter with you, huh? This is good.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Perhaps we can take King Harald’s head to Kattegat. He should be there when we take it back.”

She didn’t speak another word before brushing past everyone and almost storming out of the Hall into the cold air, and Hvitserk swallowed. He followed her.

“Princess?” he questioned, walking along in her wake as she continued angrily on. He decided to try again. “Princess, what is it?”

Asta suddenly turned on her heel, whipping around to face him. “I despise him,” she hissed. “King Harald attacked my home, and my family. He tried to kill my brothers, he would have killed my mother, and my friends.” She paused to swallow. “He did kill my friend.”

Hvitserk frowned and tilted his head, confused. “Who?” he asked.

“Heahmund.”

“Heahmund?” Hvitserk asked. “The Bishop?”

“Yes,” she answered. “If you must know, he helped train me, and then Harald Finehair attacked Wessex, and Heahmund died. I can’t say who took his life on the battlefield, but I know Harald is the one he went to battle against. I consider all the blood spilt that day to be on his hands.”

Hvitserk chuckled in such a way she couldn’t tell if it was sad or bitter. “If that is so, then anyone who attacks anyone has those warriors’ blood on their hands. Hmm?”

Asta nodded affirmingly. “For that reason, I have blood on my own hands,” she said. “We attacked Vestfold, and the blood of every warrior who died that day is on my hands, too. As is the blood of the man I killed to protect mine and Ivar’s identities. I hate it, but I realized in Kattegat that I wouldn’t return to Wessex with clean hands.”

Hvitserk sighed and stepped toward her. “I’m sorry that happened, Princess,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She offered him a sad smile.

“I think that’s the first time I haven’t hated that title since Björn Ironside laid siege to Kattegat,” she told him. “Thank you, Hvitserk.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckled. “I think I have an idea that might help you.”

“Is that so?” she questioned curiously. He gave a small hum and nodded.

“Come with me,” he instructed. “But be quiet and careful. We can’t be caught.”

Asta nodded slightly and began to follow him, wondering what he might have in store. He eventually led her down to the part of town where the prisons were erected, and had her pause, watching until they saw Ivar and Oleg leave. Then, when it was clear, he waved a hand for her to go inside. Though she did give an unsure frown, she went on as instructed.

Hvitserk did not follow her there, but rather waited outside to be sure no one tried to interrupt her while she was inside. A guard met her there, and while he initially seemed loath to allow her to pass, a few moments staring her down, being stared down by her in return, convinced him to do so. She stepped into a small, dark room, and there she found the Kings Harald and Olaf themselves, tied up and chained down so they couldn’t escape. Her gaze hardened exponentially at the sight of the former.

Harald looked up when the door opened, and at the sight of her walking in, he leaned his head back and chuckled darkly. “Ivar’s ‘Prophet’,” he said, drawing out the words. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“There is no pleasure in this,” Asta said. He lifted his head once more to look her in the eye.

“You are English,” he noted. “I thought so when we spoke in my Hall, but I could not be sure until I heard you again. So tell me… what is an English woman doing so far from home?” Something about the way he asked that question sent a shiver down her spine.

“Ask yourself, Finehair,” she nearly snarled. “Or have you already forgotten how you attacked Wessex, and stirred the King to call out his warriors, so that my friend and confidant was killed. I knew when I left that I would never see him again, but it’s you I blame for it.”

Harald tilted his head and leaned it back a bit, regarding her with a curious gaze. “The Princess,” he realized. “Björn Ironside spoke of you when he came to York. He told me about your mission to see Ivar. They couldn’t find you after we took Kattegat.”

“Then Björn didn’t trust you with the truth,” she mused. “He knew I was leaving with Ivar, so did Hvitserk. I suppose I should feel good about the fact he decided to protect me as opposed to telling you everything.”

“And you betrayed him,” Harald chuckled. “He led me to believe Ivar had killed you, before he disappeared, and the topic became one that wasn’t discussed in Kattegat. No one speaks of Ivar’s rule anymore. How does it feel to know you were a part of his-?” 

Asta suddenly knelt down to get in his face. “You watch your mouth,” she hissed. “I don’t know what plans Oleg has for you, but I assure you, they won’t interfere with my own desires.”

“He has decided I am going to live,” Harald practically gloated. “Ivar says he’d have made a different call.”

“As would I,” Asta agreed. “Perhaps I still will.”

Harald chuckled. “I told Ivar he didn’t have the power here,” he said. “Do you?”

“I have it,” she growled. “Oleg may have decided to spare you, but I have not. You should pray that Ivar will change my mind.”

“And who should he pray to?” a voice interrupted. Asta turned to see it was Olaf asking, and she gave a wry smile. 

“His gods, of course. I’m curious if they would choose to spare him.”

“Then you are still a Christian,” Harald almost huffed. “How does Ivar of all people tolerate that?”

“The same way Ragnar Lothbrok tolerated my father, I suspect,” she replied shortly. “That, or perhaps it is the fact I am Ivar’s wife that makes the difference.”

“His wife?” Olaf repeated. “I thought he was married to a… another woman?”

“Freydís,” Asta supplied, her eyes falling. “He was. She did not survive the siege on Kattegat, and I regret it every day.” 

Harald chuckled a little. “So tell me, how did a Christian woman leave Wessex and become the wife of a Heathen king?” he questioned. She rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps I’ll tell you one day, if you survive this,” she said. “For now, I will let you wonder. But know this-” She paused to crouch down in front of him. “-if you speak a word of what I have said here, of my being here at all, I will come to you in the night and cut your throat open. I’ve done it before. I fought at the Siege of Kattegat, defended Ivar with my own life, and sacrificed the lives of others for his. If you think I would flinch at spilling your blood, you fool yourself. The only reason I don’t do so now, in recompense for the life of my friend, is so Oleg has no reason to distrust me. Do I make myself clear?”

“As ice,” Harald replied with a chuckle. His amusement further angered her, and she stood with a huff.

“I’m going now,” she said. “I look forward to seeing you rot.” With that, she turned away, and started for the door.

But, it was then that Olaf spoke up again, and the sound of his voice made her pause. “There is pain in you, child,” he said. “So much pain… and it shows itself in your anger.”

“What do you know of my pain?” Asta hissed, turning her head back just slightly over her shoulder- not really looking at him, but directing her voice in his direction.

“Oh, I know nothing of your pain, not unless you tell me,” Olaf conceded without hesitation. “So why don’t you tell me? I am going to die after all. Who could I tell?”

“I won’t air my dirty laundry out in front of him, I don’t think. He isn’t going to die, not so far as Oleg is concerned. I don’t want a reason to have to kill him,” she countered.

“Not even if he had to face the full of what he had done to you? Or if it meant he would have to live with knowing that?” Olaf pointed out. She began to consider.

What was, truly, the worst that could happen? When Olaf died, Harald would be the only one in that room who heard what she confessed, and it would be his word against hers, Ivar’s, and Hvitserk’s, as she knew they would never give her away. But what good was it to tell Olaf anyway? To get another opinion? To talk it out and understand it better for herself? She wasn’t sure, and yet her mouth opened anyway, and she spoke. 

“My family are dead,” she said. “My mother, my father, the father whose blood runs through my veins, my brother, even some of those friends I consider just as close as brothers and sisters. Björn Ironside is dead. Lagertha is dead. I haven’t heard about Ubbe or Torvi since I left Wessex so long ago. Heahmund, the warrior bishop? Dead. I don’t know if my brother Alfred still lives, because he doesn’t know where I am to reach me. And Freydís, the woman I have loved more than any in this world, is dead. So shall we do a little head count of who I do still have? I have Hvitserk, who is now as much a brother to me as any brother I have ever known, and I have Ivar, who has been the cause of much of this pain, and yet who I still will never sacrifice. I don’t count anyone else in this place to be someone I truly have, because I know one day I will leave it behind. But Hvitserk and Ivar? Lord, I could never. So there it is, and still, you do not know my pain; you haven’t been the one to bear it.”

“It’s no wonder you are so angry,” Olaf said. “Your life is… changed, in ways you never could have imagined it would. But you have strong faith, to still walk this path. Faith in what?” 

Asta finally looked at him, turning her body so that she was facing him fully once more. “In God,” she replied. The words almost shook her to her core, as if waking some long quieted part of her being. For so long now she had pretended to be Viking, to follow their gods, that to confess this to someone aloud… she almost feared the consequences. 

Olaf smiled at her. “Then you must trust Him,” he said. “You have not suffered for no reason, Princess. For He knows the plans He has for you.”

She felt stunned, blinking a few times as she registered Olaf’s words, and then she began to back away just slightly. “I should go,” she said. “I need to be alone.”

Asta gave Olaf no further opportunity to reply, nor did she say a word to Harald, before she was almost rushing out of the room, where she found Hvitserk still waiting for her. “Princess?” he greeted. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I need to think on some things.”

Hvitserk nodded slowly, though he had to walk quickly if he wanted to keep up with her. “What things?” he asked her. She stopped suddenly to look up at him, and the anxiety he saw reflected in her eyes gave him pause. He didn’t know the last time he had seen her look like this, which shook him up quite a bit. “Princess?” he prompted again.

“I don’t think I can keep the lies up for any longer,” she confessed.

Hvitserk swallowed hard. “We need to see Ivar,” he replied, letting out a long, slow breath. He waited on her to give a little nod, anything to confirm she was alright with that, and then wrapped an arm around her to support her as he started to walk them back to his brother. He would know what to do. When did he not?

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[lisinfleur]

Villimaður

The request:

Author’s Notes | I'm truly trying to overcome my fear of writing POC characters. So, as you described a half-African character, I decided to go with a WOC character, solving some heterochromia the blue eye you wanted, but keeping a black eye and features that are natural to people of color. I didn't want to turn her into a blue-eyed or European character and I hope you can forgive me for changing that trait in your request, ok? I really want to win this block and I hope I'm doing it right. If you see something wrong, please call me!

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Ivar x WOC OC

Info | Requested by @sincerelysinister for 5CW, posted for HTGI Event | Villimaður means Savage in Icelandic, such as Beinlaust is Boneless and Miskunnarlaust is the word for Ruthless. Her true name means “Return of Happiness” according to THIS source.

Words | 2245

⁑ Warnings: I may be wrong with the use of some words, my usual insecurity while writing POC characters. If you see something wrong, please tell me ok?

Although his main nickname was Beinlaust, he used to be called Miskunnarlaust. The boneless, the ruthless... Both would define him well.

So when his servants warned him that Villimaður was docking on their lands, he thought he would receive someone who fit the sobriquet.

The bodyguard who entered his salon facing White Hair with fierceness in the eye he had left on his face almost caught his attention until a hiss of her delicate lips was enough to erase the ferocity from his face.

Ivar's eyebrows almost met in the middle of his wrinkled forehead. That tiny woman?

The little woman... Ivar smiled.

If anyone was The Savage among all those men entering his hall, it was that tiny woman standing like a statue carved out of chunks of dark wood his brothers had shown him from their trips to uncharted lands. She was exuding authority...

Her dark hair was curly, growing like a natural crown for a natural queen. And she looked him in the eye, unafraid, as if the heterochromia of her eyes wasn't enough to impress anyone looking at the orbs on her face: one of them, icy blue, like the surface of a frozen fjord; the other, dark black, like the depths of the unknown waters.

Even the air around the two of them grew heavier as his eyes met hers. Ivar couldn't quite explain the feeling of that second in time, but it was like a shiver. A cold shiver running through the small strands of hair on the back of his neck, bristling them with excitement.

If there had ever been a female of his kind, she was standing in front of him now. Two predators of the same type. He could see death and wildness dancing in her uneven eyes.

And it got him fascinated.

The entire intent of that meeting was changed in Ivar's mind. At first, his previous interest was to meet the brute who was crossing the lands near his border. To intimidate him, maybe even kill the bastard before he could find interest in breaking the line and encroaching on his lands.

But now?

Now, he couldn't say he wouldn't gladly open the doors of Kattegat for her to enter.

"You're taller than I thought a boneless man could be," she spat out her surprise, making him laugh.

"I could tell you're smaller than the savage I was hoping to see, but that wouldn't do justice to the size of your presence," Ivar replied, rising from his throne to walk towards her.

His braces and crutch catching her eye.

"Made of metal, my own creation. Boneless, as you can see," he joked about her shameless way of staring at his spindly legs.

"The fame of your stories doesn't lie about your mind, Ruthless," she replied, ignoring his preoccupation with the illness. "But what is the real reason for your invitation? I hardly doubt you called me out of interest in knowing my figure or showing me your brilliancy."

He laughed again, this time pulling away from her, clearly expecting the woman to follow his slow pace.

"You're right," his voice echoed as he walked towards a second room where a table was set for a feast. "My true intentions weren't the best. But I expected to receive something completely different from what the gods led to my hall today."

He took his place at the head of the table, offering her the place beside him.

The place a queen should be occupying...

She sat up with doubt in her eyes. A part of her mind was already catching the ideas floating in Ivar's. She had seen desire and fascination in the eyes of many men before.

Several of them were decapitated by their own blades.

"I expected a rival," confessed Ivar. "Not a possible ally."

Of course, she heard about his fame. Whoever in the world had never heard of Ivar the Boneless either lived in unknown lands - beyond the reach of men - or was born deaf.

He was a man of many achievements. But he was never said as a man of many women.

The fate of his only wife might be reason enough to drive the suitors away, but she had always understood that fateful episode as nothing more than fair punishment: if she were the betrayed wife, it wouldn't be too different.

However, the idea of replacing the strangled woman he'd left behind until now wasn't even close to her plans. At least not just for his beauty.

Ivar was a handsome man - prettier than the stories ever told about his looks. But a little casual sex could resolve that craving and ease the fire he'd been able to ignite between her legs. And that was it.

Marriage was something else.

Something she was sure would end up between the proposals for that said allegiance.

"We know each other's fame. I know your name merely because of your ancestry. Too early to say we couldn't be rivals after all," she put in, causing Ivar's smile to take on a slightly mischievous tone.

"That's why I said ‘possible’."

She smiled, sniffing closer to the cup poured for her, ensuring the mead was pure before tasting it. Good mead, sweet, full-bodied. She was sure it was his best mead served on that table.

It was true: he was much richer than she was. His lands were far better, and though she was like a queen to her people, her men were no more than nuisance flies to his armies. His fleet was far from anything she could muster. But her success with far less than he could offer was proof enough of her talent as a leader.

Enough to get his eyes interested in her.

Perhaps, this could be an opportunity.

"So tell me, Villmaður," he said, calling her by her nickname.

Causing a smile to form at the corner of her mouth at the sound of that word in his voice.

"What are your men doing on the borders of my lands?" he asked, making her smile.

After all, he was a king.

Kings would be kings, she thought, looking at him.

"What do you do in English lands, Miskunnarlaust?" she asked, calling him by names too, almost as a way to bring smiles to his lips. "We are raiding. I inherited my father's lands and men after he was taken by the gods, but our lands are not enough to keep my people. You have far more resources, king. The lands beyond the sea are accessible to your hands, Odin's grandson. The children of men attack where their swords can reach.” she scoffed.

Reminding Ivar of the old-fashioned myths about his father and his own deity further abandoned in his mind along with the memory of the late Freydis and her useless faith

"I hear you're a growing force of nature. One that ended up causing my lands to expand a little more due to desperate earls begging for protection from your blades. I had additions eager to pay the highest taxes to keep your swords away from their lands. I could make good use of a force like this,” he said from behind his cup, looking at her with veiled desire.

She knew he wasn't talking about her men or her power only. There was more in the dark bottom of his blue eyes. He liked her.

And she liked the idea of a powerful man like him wanting her so much.

"I could make the lands beyond the sea accessible to your swords, child of men," he said, almost sounding arrogant just to fit in with her little joke.

"Gods never help men at no cost," she said, looking up at him with that fierce glare that was making Ivar all the more excited.

She was fearless like him, fierce like him, intense like him... And gorgeous.

Gods, that dark-skinned woman was absolutely stunning!

And he wanted her...

What strong children would they produce together?

Now he knew he could do it. He knew he could go all the way and please a woman... How good would he feel pleasing a woman like her?

"You're right," he said, looking at her. "But I'm not god, woman. I fell for this pantomime once, but never again. I'm a man," he spoke in a serious tone. "One who cannot deny his desire for what he sees."

Straight, like an arrow in the eye.

She couldn't deny a smile for such a direct display of interest. But Ivar continued and she kept silent, wanting to hear his proposal.

"You changed my mind as soon as your footsteps crossed my hall. And I believe it wouldn't be such a high cost to stay by my side for the facilities I can offer your people, would it?"

He was negotiating. Clearly, an unbelieving man when it comes to love or any sentimental matter, she thought.

"You would make my men rich and my people well fed. In return, I will bear your children. It feels like a marriage to me. And where I come from, marriages are made for love," she said, looking him in the eye. "I barely know you, Boneless."

He chuckled.

A giggle she was starting to find charming.

"A common mistake," he said of her concept, surprising her. "Confusing love... With passion," he continued. “Unless your people are used to marrying couples who have lived a lifetime together before deciding they should be husband and wife, your people marry out of passion, not love. I got married out of passion once…” he spoke.

So safe...

Surprising her with such acknowledgement of a matter she thought a man like him would be completely inexperienced with.

"Oh, she was fire," he continued, picking at the ribs in his plate, almost ignoring the surprise in her eyes. “She could make me smile and brought nothing but joy to my days. Anything else. But what her betrayal took from me was so much more than her presence was able to build in my life. Because of her, I've lost everything. Passion fades, my dear. Fire dies. And what's left but ashes after a great fire?"

His wisdom was something unexpected.

She couldn't deny that this attracted her more than anything in that hall since she'd arrived.

"Ashes, Villimaður, from where I had to rebuild myself as the man I am now. Love, if it exists for men and not just for the gods, is something to be built. Achieved. And before that, there is friendship, companionship ... Loyalty. And the convenience, of course."

Bitter words that not all people would want to hear on the subject.

But what truth was not bitter to be heard?

"And I think we can start with that," he offered. "I can see the convenience of my proposal for your people and interests. And I'm sure you can see my intentions beyond the words I've said."

"You want me," she put in, directly. "I can see it in your eyes."

Stopping the bullshit and getting a smile on his lips.

"You are more than a beautiful woman," he completed, looking at her. “You are a strong and intelligent commander. A natural leader... You've gone far with nothing. What can you do with my resources? What lands could you conquer? Where can your name grow alongside mine? You see, my dear, I'm a curious man just like my father was before me. And you provoke this curiosity, Villimaður. " he said.

"Ayodele," she said, drawing his attention. "My name is Ayodele, King Ivar. And I have no intention of selling my presence as payment for the welfare of my people." she started.

Giving Ivar the bad feeling that maybe this wouldn't turn out as well as he wanted.

She was a natural wonder. He didn't want to have to be the one to destroy it.

"However…" She continued, drinking from her cup, drawing Ivar's attention to what could be a counterproposal of his interest. “What you said is true. Love is something deeper. And desire is something shared between us, king. So I will stay. And you offer me your best hospitality. And we'll see if our desire will not turn to ashes after this fire is extinguished, and our minds calm down again."

Ivar smiled.

Rational and balanced. Fierce and beautiful.

Unless she didn't want him, she would be the perfect queen beside him.

"Sounds like a good deal to me, Ayodele," he said, raising his cup. "You stay for this season. I guarantee your men will be well received and accommodated. And for you, a place with my best accommodations."

Or an open path to his own chambers, if that was of her will. Something he was almost sure of with the glints he could see in her eyes.

"At the end of this season, let's get back to this matter and decide the fate of our world. Because something tells me that if you agree to become my wife, Miðgarður will tremble under our strength. Skål!" he toasted.

Ayodele lifted her cup, touching his.

"Aweh," she said, drinking from her cup.

Only then, being followed by her men who didn't touch the feast until she seemed to agree with the local king.

Her power was attractive, Ivar could not deny it. But there was so much more in this woman that he wanted to find out.

He could only wait to see what the season would bring them both.

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[thepaperpanda]

Arranged Marriage || Part I || Ivar x Female!OC

Part II

Summary: Freya, the youngest daughter of Earl from far away northern land, is about to marry the youngest son of Ragnar, Ivar the Boneless. At the beginning, they're not content with the circumstances. The situation changes radically when they discover that they're attracted to each other.

Warnings: None.

Words: 3448

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

For almost all Vikings the family was the most important social unit.

Marriage was virtually universal, divorce rare, and virtually every marriage produced children. Almost all marriages were arranged by family elders based on caste, degree of consanguinity, economic status, and many more. Vikings' marriage was essentially a business contract between two families and it was arranged in two stages: the betrothal and the wedding.

The initiative had to come from the man or his father, who would propose marriage to the woman's father or guardian. If the latter was agreeable, the groom promised to pay the bride price which was called mundr.

In return, the bride's father promised to hand over her dowry at the wedding. Both the bride price and the dowry remained the property of the bride after the wedding. The two men shook hands on the agreement in front of witnesses and agreed on a date for the wedding, usually within a year.

The long table in the throne chamber had seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times, when the only sound was contented enjoyment, to the rage that bursts out in the hard times.

That day was one of the second options.

"Why have you done this?," Ivar growled, looking directly at queen Aslaug who sat on the opposite side of the table.

Ivar, when he was feeling triggered, didn't care about loving bonds that were becoming inaccessible. In this mode, he had to take great care not to hurt anyone nor to destroy something in his vicinity. Anger, pain, sadness were so intertwined that perhaps their names sought to be tweaked to reflect the true origins of those emotions. His palm curled in a fist smashed against the tabletop. "No one has asked you for any kind of help, mother."

"That's because we all know she would never ask for help," Aslaug sighed deeply, sipping on her beloved wine. "And it's not only about you, Ivar. We planned to place Ubbe in your place because he is the oldest, but since he is so popular among women, there is no point in hurting the girl," she explained and got up to walk closer to him. After cupping his cheek, Aslaug smiled. "You should be glad, love. You will have a wife."

“Like I would need one,” Ivar barked back but placed his palm on top of hers, caressing still smooth skin. “It’s good as it is now, mother. I already have a woman nestled within my heart though.”

Aslaug frowned a little, looking at him. "Who? That thrall? The one that is fucking around like a common whore? I am more than sure she fucked with all three of her brothers, if not with the whole Kattegat."

Ivar let out a loud snort. “It’s you, mother. You’re the most important woman in my life. I don’t need anyone else.”

"One day I will be gone. Someone needs to take care of you once it happens, love," the queen sighed, stroking his cheek.

Ivar got up slowly, looking hard into her eyes. “Just so she would be aware: if any woman appears here, I’ll snap her neck.”

After these words he slowly limped back to his chamber, cursing under his breath at the strong pain within his legs.

Aslaug simply rolled her eyes at Ivar's behaviour.

__________________________________

She bit her lips crossing the gate of Kattegat.

She should be happy! She's going to marry one of Ragnar's sons, it's a great opportunity for her and her family. Yet she was scared and mad. How could someone have decided about her own life and heart?!

So there she was, standing in front of queen Aslaug and her sons while her father told the woman whatever she wanted to know. This was uncomfortable.

Ivar refused to leave his chamber; he still didn’t sign the truce with the idea of his mother. The very last thing he needed or wanted was a random girl lurking through his chambers, wanting nothing but new dresses and demanding attention. And he wanted to raid! With his brothers and father.

The girl went red as her father tried his best to present her in the best way possible. "Queen? If I may... When will I meet my... Future husband? I honestly can't wait," she lied with a perfectly faked smile, looking at the queen's sons. If one of them was going to be her husband, it could be nice.

Aslaug smiled softly and sighed deeply. "Sadly, I have no idea when this will happen. My son decided to be stubborn today."

The girl blinked, shocked.

Hvitserk pushed Ubbe’s side with his elbow, leaning closer to his older brother. “She’s not bad. Looking good, redhead, sweet babyface. Would certainly check what she’s hiding beneath that dress.”

Ubbe couldn’t stop himself from giggling. “You know it’s possible, right? If our brother will be cold towards her, we’re going to warm her bed in the process.”

Suddenly everyone gathered in the throne chamber could hear a steady sound of crutches hitting the wooden floor. Soon, Ivar, all dressed in black, entered the chamber.

She frowned a little looking at the young man.

Of course, she heard about Ragnar's youngest son, the cripple, but she hoped for one of the older boys. Maybe Ubbe, hell, she would even take Bjørn Ironside himself, but the cripple?!

"Queen Aslaug? I was sure we talked about her oldest son," her father said.

"That's true, but the decision changed. It doesn't matter which of my sons she will marry. The arrangement stays the same," the queen replied rather coldly.

"What?! Is this some kind of a joke?!,” the young girl whimpered loudly, getting everyone's attention. "I won't marry a cripple! How am I supposed to have children with him?!”

Ivar stopped for a brief second, listening to her whining. “Here we go then!” He offered her a cold grin. “Believe me,” he said, checking her from the bottom to the top, “If I knew they wanted me to marry such a thrall, I’d have never agreed on that. Just look at her. You look like a beggar. I told you it’s not a good idea, mother,” Ivar walked closer to the queen. “She is here for a few moments and she’s already whining like a drowned kitten.”

"And you aren't better," Sigurd muttered, looking away.

Girl blinked. "A thrall?! How dare she, cripple! I am Earl's daughter. You're not only a cripple, you're also blind."

Aslaug sighed deeply, massaging her temple. "I do not care if she agrees or not, Ivar. You will marry her whether you like it or not," the woman growled slightly, tired of Ivar's behavior. "She will stay here so she two can get to know each other a little. Better be nice.”

“I’ll try to not kill her,” Ivar promised sweetly, at the same moment throwing a cold glance to the girl.

Ubbe stopped his youngest brother by catching his shoulder. “Behave. She’s very pretty and comes from a wealthy family.”

“If you want to have her dick wet with her juices, she can have her, brother,” Ivar snapped back, leaving the Great Hall.

The girl rolled her eyes. You were sure that this relationship would be hard and pointless but she still expected more.

When Ivar was gone, she was left alone since her father wanted to finish everything with the queen and return home.

She decided to take a look around, just to know where she will be living from now on.

After an hour or two she returned to the Great Hall and there she was caught by Ubbe who wanted to talk with her. He was nice, for sure nicer than her soon-to-be husband.

She talked with him for a moment until she noticed Ivar returning to the Great Hall.

“... remember, anytime,” Ubbe smiled at her, winking a little after giving her a piece of advice.

Ivar grunted under his breath; even from a distance, he could see the girl that was supposed to become his wife flirting with his older brother. “Fucking love birds,” he mumbled to himself, slowly limping toward his home.

“Oh, Ivar, there you are!,” Ubbe was the first one to walk closer to his brother. “Where have you been? We got worried.”

“Worried? About who? Your crippled brother? There’s no need to be worried about me, dear brother, I grew bigger balls than hers, and trust me, nobody in their right mind would want to mess with me.”

The girl scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. He was so rude and full of himself that it was simply annoying "Well, somehow there are people who care about her. For some odd reason,” she shrugged.

Ivar frowned, looking at her. “Ubbe, dear brother? Would she be so kind to make this bitch stop barking with that tiny, annoying voice of hers? It irritates my ears.”

Ubbe aimed a blow in the back of Ivar’s head. “Apologise.”

“Who? Her? Never.”

“Apologise,” Ubbe replied. “Or I am going to tell mother and she won’t be impressed.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “Sorry but next time do not speak without being allowed.”

"I will speak when I desire to. You won't keep me silent,” she growled back. "The only dog here is you. Trying to walk around and growling, trying to show how scary you are. Just so you know, it doesn't impress me in any way."

Ivar chuckled and looked at her with pity. “As I would care, woman. Better get used to my way of living because our parents are not keen on breaking this ridiculous agreement.” Ivar slowly limped back to the Great Hall, not looking back at her and Ubbe.

She groaned and rubbed her face. "You think Gods will hate me if I throw myself off the cliff or if I drown myself? Gods save me somehow!," She said to Ubbe.

He laughed shortly, darkly. “Don’t be such a pessimist. You need to have faith. Ivar is problematic and very hard to deal with but he has bright sides and deep inside he craves to be loved, with all of his flaws.”

"It doesn't look like it. Ever since he saw me he has called me names,” she sighed deeply. "Maybe I should just return home."

“Give him a chance. You’ll see that he is not that bad. Of course, it will take time to develop any feelings but do not give up on him and the relationship so easily,” he replied.

"It would be easier if he wouldn't act like a mad dog trying to bite right into my throat,” she said softly. "I honestly hoped for one of you to be my husband... But Gods hate me."

__________________________________

One sleepless night was fine, Ivar would rather be dreaming of course, yet this night became one extended moment of ponderance. He embraced it. He felt all the reasons why his soul was so perturbed and asked how he may navigate better. There was yet no response to the questions he had been asking for years.

Ivar felt a very unpleasant tingling within his abdomen; he knew it was caused by his cruelty towards that girl he was supposed to marry soon.

One part of him wanted to search for her and apologise while the other ignored her existence.

Ivar had been torn apart for years. But now his insecurities started escalating.

After rolling all over his bed for some more time, he let out a loud grunt and sat up, looking for the crutches. He realised then that probably one of his thralls moved them aside so they would not fall on the floor, waking him up.

Ivar reached for a black, wool sweatshirt laying at the wooden nightstand and he put it on. After that, he crawled out of his bed and crossed the room to reach the door.

She received her room, which was nice. The whole day she dreamed about a soft bed and some rest, especially after meeting her future husband. He was already so annoying, how was she supposed to spend the rest of her life with him?! Would Gods forgive a murder? Or any other mischievous act that would help her get rid of him quicker? Maybe he could die soon? He was a cripple in the end.

She pushed these thoughts aside and nuzzled to the pillow, covering herself with thick fur. It was time to get some sleep, maybe tomorrow would be better? For sure not, but maybe, so long as she’s got hope, there is always a chance for a better future.

It was hard to fall asleep. When she did fall asleep, she was awake again, it was getting annoying.

At some point, she heard an odd sound and then noticed the door opening.

That was it, her punishment was coming.

It wasn't the punishment though, but it was Ivar himself, crawling into her room. In the first moment, it took her off guard that she almost fell off her bed.

Ivar crawled to her bed, and using his strong arms, he got on it. “Why are you not sleeping?”

"Because someone is crawling into my bed like a snake?” She asked, frowning. "What is it? Did you come here to stab me? Or maybe to strangle me?"

He frowned a little as his hand travelled through his thick hair. “None of these. I came to you because I have rethought my previous outbursts and I have wanted to tell her that I don’t mind you being a girl and speaking your mind but you should rather think twice before you pass judgement.”

The girl listened to him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you don’t mind me being a girl? Oh, thanks Gods because I was scared my soon-to-be husband prefers men," she rolled her eyes.

He cocked his brow, looking at her with pity. “Can you quit being so offended? Believe me, you’re not the only one hurt in this situation.”

Ivar looked at her with his steel-blue eyes. “And if you keep on with being so negative, I can assure you it is not going to work. I like tough girls.”

She blinked surprised by his words. "Me offended? You didn't even come to greet me and once she did, she insulted me, for no reason. I think I have the right to be offended or negative."

“Whatever you say,” Ivar replied and simply reached his hand out to put it to her cheek. “You know, you’re very pretty.”

The girl growled quickly. Honestly, she wanted to bite him in the hand but the kind word surprised her. Smiling a little, she nodded. "Thank you.."

“Would she remind me of her name? I’m afraid that in this entire mess I have lost it somehow.”

"You haven't even heard it once," she reminded him with a smile. "My name is Freya."

Ivar nodded, acknowledging your name. “Suits you very well. You’re the only woman who is more beautiful than the goddess herself.”

She couldn't help but laugh at his words. As nice as they were, it was silly of him to think she was more beautiful than Freya. "Ivar. I wish to be more beautiful than the goddess herself but I am not that beautiful. But…," Freya hummed and gently touched his cheek. "I can honestly say, you are handsome. You have beautiful eyes."

Ivar’s blushing was a kind of flowering, the sort of pink that brings champagne roses to the imagination. The colour-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile and his steel eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. “Þakka,” Ivar replied shortly, his eyes never left hers.

Freya giggled and gently caressed his cheek. "Maybe... Would you like to stay here? Talk a little or just get used to each other?” She suggested with a little shrug.

He considered her offer for a long moment, looking up at the ceiling. He knew he had never been good in conversations, especially with women but since the girl was about to become his wife one day, he decided to agree. “If you don’t mind.”

Freya nodded and moved the thick fur aside, letting him join. Once he did, the girl smiled and wrapped the fur around him.

“Thanks,” Ivar replied, laying down on his back. He tried to avoid her glance so he glared up at the ceiling.

She took a deep breath and got comfortable next to him, also looking at the ceiling. "So... Soon we will spend every night like this. Together."

“Apparently,” Ivar replied quietly.

"I never wanted to do this…,” she said quietly. "My father told me about the wedding on our way here. I wanted to run away."

“I bet it would have been even more awful when you realised your future husband is a cripple. It can be seen, today, that your misgivings were justified,” he raised corners of his lips in a sad grin. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first one. Most people here are either afraid of me or take me for a freak.”

"I... I didn't mean to, Ivar. Just…," Freya sighed and shook her head. "Forgive me. I was just scared and surprised. I was brought here without my consent. You may not care because after the wedding you will probably just take care of your stuff. I will be here alone. I am still scared."

He grunted deeply in acknowledgment. “I have nothing to forgive, it’s natural to be afraid of things we do not know,” Ivar slipped a hand under his head to find a more comfortable position. “I understand your concern. But from the moment you were brought here, you’ve gained some new family members. As I saw, you connected well with Ubbe already,” Ivar added nonchalantly. “Don’t be scared. I am aware I have made a very bad first impression though… And I’m sorry for that. It was not my intention to scare you or treat you the way I did, but just as you, I have my concerns, as well.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Once I was told that a real king treats his woman like a queen, one who makes her a "peasant" is a poor imitation of a man. I certainly want to be the first one.”

"Whoever said it was a very smart person and Ubbe… He is nice but that's all," the girl nodded and looked at him. "What concerns do you have?”

“I tend to let people down, not to mention everyone hates me,” Ivar replied openly but frowned shortly after. “I have no idea why I am even speaking about this. “I’m full of rage, you need to be aware of that though,” the man added quickly. “Never be afraid of the rage that is fire, for my fire burns hot and dies very fast. After such an inferno you will be able to walk over the cold ashes to my side and I will be nothing but cooling water for your soul. Should you ever find my rage cold, a frozen fury that burns. So, my dear Freya, be schooled by the flame so that you never know the torment of the ice…”

Freya watched him while listening to his every word carefully. Was she scared? Maybe a little but she could be difficult sometimes too. So maybe they did have something in common, after all.

The girl slowly moved her hand under the furs and then she took his palm gently.

Her action made him turn his head to face her beautiful face. His eyes glistened with little sparkles of reconciliation.

"Let's... Let's just make it work…," she requested quietly. "It's already set in stone for us by our parents. Even if you will never love me…. Let's try at least...," Freya whispered. "Maybe something will change one day. What do you think?”

The switch from reaction to reflection, to arrive at a good response, was signalled by the deep sigh Ivar let through his parted lips. “The only thing that stands between true love and debacle is our capacities for empathy and creative perspective taking,” Ivar replied. “As long as you want to put all of you in this, I’m going to do the very same. I can't guarantee it'll work though but there’s no way to know for sure without trying, right?”

Freya nodded, squeezing his hands. "I promise to put all of me into this, it's not like I have anything else left."

Ivar nodded slowly. "Good. I think we have a deal."

She couldn't help but giggle. "We do. And let's hope it will work just as we want it to work."

[mighty-ragnarssons]

Knocked Up | Modern Vikings AU | Chapter I

Relationships | Modern Ivar x OC Summary | Ivar always thought he'd be one of those people that never find the love of their lives. But then he found her - or, as the story goes, she bumped into him. He never saw it coming. Then he had to deal with it, and all the consequences that came along. Warnings | some smut, a little angst, harassement, teenage pregnancy

You can read in AO3 as well (click here). 

Chapter 1

There was no one in town that didn’t know about the Ragnarssons, the children of the famous Ragnar Lothbrok. They were fearless, they were reckless, and they were dangerous, just like their father. That’s what everybody said.

Bjorn was the eldest, the first-born of Ragnar’s first marriage with Lagertha. There had been a daughter too, Gyda, but she had passed away terribly young. After that, Ragnar had only sons born from his second marriage, this time with Aslaug. First came Ubbe, then Hvitserk and Sigurd. All of them perfectly healthy and strong boys that, much like Bjorn and to Ragnar’s amusement, took after their father in several ways. Unexpectedly and accidentally, however, there was a fifth child, the last son of Ragnar, Ivar. 

Ivar was very different from his brothers.

Born with a bone condition, he was crippled from the start. It was not just his legs that wouldn’t allow him to ever walk on his own, but a whole lot more pain coming from his frail bones that were never to be trusted. No wonder he grew up as a vulnerable, angry, and sad kid, despite being his mother’s favorite and most protected son. And now, as he was becoming a man, people called him mad and a drunk, a wild card with whom everyone rather stay away from. Ivar didn’t mind, he preferred to be tamed than to be pitied after a lifetime of being looked down on. In fact, he would do everything in his power to remain like this. It was the only way to prove himself and stay out of his brothers’ shadow and, most importantly, his father’s to who Ivar was the least favored son, something which hurt the boy more deeply than his constant physical pain.

“Hurry up, Ivar. Crawl faster, or else when we get to the club Ubbe and Hvitserk will have gotten all the best girls” Sigurd’s voice echoed loudly through the house. 

Ivar was there a second later clearly annoyed at his brother’s mocking tone. “Last time I checked, dear brother, you need me to drive you. So shut up. Let’s go.” 

Sigurd couldn’t argue back. He did need Ivar to drive them to the club. He kept failing at taking his driver’s license. It was humiliating to have to need his crippled brother to drive him, but Ubbe and Hvistserk, the bastards, hadn’t been home. Minutes afterward Ivar was behind the wheel of his accessible SUV and off they were.

Thirty minutes later they were skipping the line to get into the club. The Ragnarssons had their ways.  If there was one circuit in which their name was known by everyone, it was the nightlife one. No party would ever start without one of them being there. Ivar and Sigurd joined Ubbe and Hvisterk in the VIP area. As usual, Ivar took a corner where he knew he’d spend the next few hours drinking, smoking, and glaring at the dancing crowd. Perhaps if someone caught his eye he’d make a move, but usually, it was more like his brothers to do that.  

“There you go” Hvitzerk handed him a joint “Don’t look so serious, Ivar. The night is young. Enjoy!” By the looks of it, it was clear that he was already a bit high. But again it was Hvitserk and unusual would be to find him sober. “A lot of pretty ladies out there. Want me to pick one for you?” 

Ivar knew Hivtserk was only joking, but he still didn’t like it. His brother, ignoring Ivar’s cold glare and much to his annoyance, started pointing out to random girls who were dancing. “Oh, look at that one. C’mon Ivar, ain’t she a treat to stare at?”  

Thankfully, Hivtserk stopped his stupid game once their oldest brother Bjorn joined them, bringing shots to everyone with the help of his wife, Torvi.

“Brother, to what do we owe the honor?” Ivar said, throwing one of his ironic smirks. 

“I bring good news. Father is going to be released from jail sooner than expected. In three months to be exact! I had to pull some strings but it’s settled”

The news was received with different reactions. Sigurd didn’t seem that happy, while Ivar was the opposite. Ubbe was the first one to hold one of the shot glasses and started the toast “To Father! To Ragnar!”

Ragnar had been in prison for almost three years due to white-collar crimes, having been convicted of corporate fraud and money laundering. His sentence would’ve been of more than ten years, but Ragnar had his ways and was able to cut a deal for five years. And now, apparently, he would only serve almost four. Throughout this time it had been Bjorn taking over the leadership of the family’s successful business, Northmen Ventures, of which all of Ragnar’s sons had become the sole shareholders just before he was imprisoned. This explained why they were one of the richest families in their Norwegian city of Bergen. 

Bjorn,  now age 30, had been the natural successor of Ragnar. Not only because he was the oldest and perhaps the favorite son of Ragnar, but also because at the time he was the only one with a university degree, having just graduated from Law School. Yet, all of Ragnar’s sons were meant to get involved with the business. At least that was their father’s wish. Ubbe, now 24, had just graduated from Architecture School but had recently joined Bjorn on the company’s executive board.  Ivar wasn’t given the opportunity to help out, something which he grudged his older brothers - for dismissing him for his age, despite the fact that he’d watch and learned as much from his father as possible since an early age. Now 19 he was a freshman in college taking Business Administration. Then there were Hvitserk, 23, and Sigurd, 21,  the ones more adamant about following in their father’s footsteps. Hvitserk was using the money they were all getting to sustain his pricy bachelor lifestyle, and so was Sigurd who dedicated most of his time to art and music. Neither tried to pursue a higher education degree. 

“Don’t get too excited. Father will be back and then what? It’s not like he cares about us.” Sigurd, the mood killer, chugged his beer aggressively “He didn’t let us visit him in prison not even once. Not even Mother was allowed to. He didn’t even care for sending a postcard for Christmas!”

“He must have had his reasons.”

“And he left us the company”

“And so what? He just wanted to prevent it from ending up in the hands of the government.  Fuck him! You might all want to play the role of doting sons, but I’m not gonna tag along” After this Sigurd stormed off.

The remaining brothers looked at one another. A little bit of what Sigurd had just said resounsed with them, but at the same time they were excited to welcome back their father. Things would be very different with him around. 

“I say we celebrate.” Ivar said, not minding Sigurd. He couldn’t wait for his father to be back so that he could prove himself once and for all. He was no longer the defenseless crippled child he was when Ragnar went away. 

Despite the good mood he was in about Bjorn’s good news, Ivar wasn’t vibing with the club’s atmosphere that night. Hvitserk and Ubbe were making out with some random girls, Sigurd was nowhere to be seen and Torvi and Bjorn had left already. Instead, he was craving for some adrenaline and he knew just the way to get it. Texting his dealer, he left the club with the help of his crutches.

Nothing was to stop him except that on the way out someone bumped into him almost causing him to lose his fragile balance. Fury grew on Ivar who was about to yell at whoever made the mistake of infuriating him that night, but that’s when her face lost the blurriness of a few seconds ago and Ivar lost his balance again but for a completely different reason.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to...shit” 

“Bitch, get back! For the hundredth time, you’re not getting in!” 

The girl’s expression quickly turned one of desperation. “I told you I have to. My cousin needs help! Don’t stop me, please” Her words were towards the bouncer that was now pulling her back, but her pleading eyes were on Ivar as if asking for help.  

“Hey, let her go!”  Ivar didn’t know why, but his rage got up to new levels when he saw the bouncer getting his filthy hands on her. “I said back off. Take your fucking hands off of her.”

At Ivar’s command the bouncer let her go. It didn’t matter that he was a big muscle guy, Ivar took a step towards him and faced him with a cold death stare. 

“She’s coming in with me, do you understand?”

“Ragnarsson, she is a minor. I can’t let her in.”

“I’m not asking.” 

His tone set it. He nodded so that the girl got in the club ahead of him. She didn’t even say a word, going immediately in. Ivar had to hurry himself inside to catch up. 

“Fuck, there’s so many people” she noticed looking absolutely lost.

“Let me help you.” he offered. 

“The bathrooms. My cousin... she called me, she didn’t sound fine… I’m worried something’s happened... She said she couldn’t move” she was trembling as she spoke. Ivar reached her hand with his. 

“If she is here we are going to find her.” he assured her “Follow me” 

It was not typical of Ivar to help a lady in distress but as he was guiding this girl through the crowd of drunk dancing people he couldn’t understand the need he was abruptly feeling for shielding her and, worst of all, to comfort her. These feelings left him uneased, but he was not going to dwell into that right now. If his suspicions were right and her cousin was somewhere in the club, then she was probably drugged to the point of unconsciousness and in a position to be taken advantage of. 

They swiped all the bathrooms at the club until at last they burst into one where a girl was noticeably knocked down in a corner.

“Cathrine!” the girl immediately crouched down on her cousin. “Cathrine, can you hear me?” 

“All of you, get out” Ivar demanded the girls who were inside. Some tried to complain, after all he was the guy in a female bathroom. These same girls that had paid no attention, or they just didn’t care, to the other girl on the floor. He then went outside as fast as he could and got a water bottle.

“She’s awake, but barely. Says she 's dizzy. She’s not talking right” 

“She was likely drugged” It wouldn’t be a first in that club “Make her sip some water” he threw the water bottle at them. He really wanted to level down to them, but with his crutches and all it just wouldn’t go well. “I’m gonna find help.”

 He ‘raced’ to the VIP area. Only Hivtserk was there with a girl on top of him. What was wrong with his brothers for acting as if their corner was a place of public foreplay display?

“Hvitserk, I need your help!”

“Go away Ivar” he grumbled and continued to suggestively run his hands on the brunette over his lap.

Ivar had to take the matter into his hands. The first thing he found was a leftover cocktail on the table which he threw at the girl. Her immediate squeak was so high and audible despite the deafening music. She practically jumped from on top of his brother.

“You crazy motherfucker!”

“What the fuck Ivar?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Come with me. I need your help.” 

Usually he didn't have much faith in his brothers - after all they were a pain in his ass most of the time - but this time he was really hoping to call on Hvitserk’s good senses. Fortunately his prayers were answered and his older brother followed him back to the bathroom

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a passed out girl. We need to get her out of here.”

“Would you go so far as in to get laid, little brother? Oh, you sicko” 

“This is not the time for jokes, asshole. You’re the sicko for even suggesting that”

Ivar was almost regretting getting Hvitserk to help, but the truth was that he alone wouldn’t be able to carry the girl out from the bathroom. The moment they got in there Hvitserk got a bit more serious and kneeled next to the two girls. 

“Let’s get her out of here” 

Together with Hvitserk, the girl helped raise her semi-unconscious cousin. People inside the club were so fucked up that they didn’t drop one second to look at them leaving. 

“Take her to my car” Ivar indicated and so they did. He unlocked his metallic grey SUV from afar and went on to open the backdoors where they laid the girl. “Let her get some fresh hair. It will do her good.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?” Hvitserk suggested.

A loud “No!” came from the inside of the car.

“She can’t. It will be too complicated” said the other girl but not without hinting her dissatisfaction.

Ivar finally took a moment to fully look at her. Dressed  in just a pair of jeans and a warm sweatshirt, she was lean and tall, but at least a good ten centimeters shorter than himself. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun with some strands falling down on her face. He had to hold the instinct to gently brush those aside. And her eyes… They were a very greyish blue color like he had never seen before. They were mirroring worry and nervousness. 

“I’m calling a cab. Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you” she said facing Ivar and Ivar only. 

“I can drive you.” he offered without thinking.

“We already bothered you enough -”

Ivar cut her off “Nonsense. I’m going to drive you” he declares in a way that offered no other option.

Relief poured from her gaze “Thank you”

It was quite the drive, further out of Bergen’s city center. By the time they got there the passed out girl - Cathrine - had regained consciousness, albeit feeling nauseous and dizzy. Hvitserk carried her alone in his arms to the inside of the house and further into her bed. It was time enough for her to fall asleep like a rock.

“She seems just to need some rest. Keep her hydrated when she wakes up.”

“If she was drugged then it should wear off her system soon”

“Noted. I don’t know how to thank you both” 

“You could go on a date with one of us, how does that sound?”

“Hvitserk!” Ivar admonished in reaction to the girl’s shocked expression “Please, ignore my brother. He, too, has drugs that need to wear off his system”

“You’re no fun, Ivar” Hvitserk couldn’t argue back on the drugs part. “A pleasure to help, milady. Until next time” He did a silly bow and left the apartment back to the car. 

“Is he always like that?” 

 “Most of the time, yeah.” Ivar shrugged his shoulders “Hand me your phone” Because she did without complaining, he got it and put his number in there “I’m Ivar Lothbrook. Whenever you need help.”

What he really wanted to say was ‘text me’. He didn’t have the nerve for that, tho.

For the first time that night she finally showed a glimpse of a smile “Honestly, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help, Ivar Lothbrok” 

Her hand was touching his and for a moment everything seemed to stop. The way his name sounded on her lips… A shiver went down his spine. He wanted to hear it again, but most importantly he wanted to know her name.

But in that exact moment a horn yelled. Goddamned Hvitserk. He was going to wake up the whole street, which was the opposite of what the girls had asked. “I better go drive him home now or else he’ll wake up the whole neighborhood” 

Yet Ivar was finding it difficult to leave. To leave her. Another honk made him take the necessary steps.

“I mean it when I say for you to use my number whenever. Stay safe”

He finally closed the door behind him and walked back to the car, but not before looking over his shoulder. There she was, by the window, waving goodbye with a shy smile on her face.

He needed to see her again.

The next morning Ivar woke up rather hopeful of seeing a text message. Seeing there was none, his day didn’t kick off exactly on the right terms. Throughout the day he checked his phone more times than he cared to admit and each time he grew impatient and irritated. What was it about that girl to make him like this? It’s not like he usually gave a crap about whoever he met.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve got a right cob-on” his older brother Ubbe asked later that day when they were all chilling by the firepit  in the backyard of the Lothbrook’s home.

Although in Norway it was uncommon for people their age to still be living at home, in their case that’s how things were and worked out great most days. Usually it was just the four brothers and the house was  big enough for them not to be in each other’s ways.. Their mother, Aslaug Lothbrok, ran one the country’s finest art galleries. After her husband’s arrest she had moved her gallery to the capital city, Oslo, instead of their home city. Lately she spent most of her time there rather than at home. 

“It’s nothing. Leave me alone” 

“He’s hung up” teased Hvitserk “Still thinking about the pretty blondie from last night, brother?”

Right that moment Ivar wished he could smack the mocking smiles out of his brother’s faces. 

“Well, well, well Ivar. Didn’t know you had company last night.”

“He didn’t.  Not exactly. None of us did” Hvitserk proceed to put Ubbe on the loop in regards to their little episode last night. “Instead of asking her for her number, our little brother gave her his. Wrong move, dude.” Ivar immediately regretted telling this to Hvitserk. “Don’t be so bummed out, Ivar. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Speaking of…”

A blonde Ivar doesn’t care much about exits their home in Sigurd’s company, both appearing content which can only mean one thing. Margrethe is a constant guest at the Lothbrok’s and probably the only female with the fame of being acquainted with all of the brothers’ rooms. Although a favorite among the Ragnarssons, to Ivar she’s nothing but an unpleasant company he is forced to tolerate after they fall out months ago. 

“If that’s the fish you’re hinting at, I’d rather go vegan” Ivar mumbled under his breath.

I hope you liked it! It’s my first Vikings fic :) Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language. At least five more chapters will be on the way.

[lettersofwrittencollective]

I am now only accepting requests if submitted to my ask box.  

I am willing to push the limits in just about anything but I will not write about anything that has to do with bodily fluid/ excrement as a kink (no scat play, no golden showers etc)  and absolutely no Pedophilia.

If you want smut, I need you to tell me what kinks are a no no for you.

If you ask me to write for a character that is underage, there will be no smut unless they are aged up.  (My big one is Teen Wolf, as you see there is no real smut for the in cannon times but I will definitely write smut for the characters)

If it’s on my Masterlist I will most likely write for it - some of these state that  there are characters I won’t work with however. I also have a list of Characters below that I will for sure write for if you wanna ask about a specific fandom or character feel free to :)  

Unless otherwise stated, I will work under female reader requests. You want gender neutral or male!reader please clarify that- I can also do cannon ships but those don’t seem as popular here.

If you want an OC - I am going to need details (name, nicknames, general personality, hair length, eye color, etc) this can be sent in more than one ask if you are Anon or if you request from your own Tumblr, we can chat

What kind of ending do you want?

Please give me a little bit to work with - if it’s something like “Stiles x Reader, friends to lovers trope” this can be interpreted in lot of ways… try something like “Stiles x reader, Friends to lovers  where the two have been friends since they were children and after seeing her at homecoming, Stiles manages to confess his feelings- happy ending”  If you don’t know what you want, feel free to send that too but I will take full creative license. with it.

Book Series: 

ACOTAR (Sarah J. Maas)

Grishaverse (Leigh Bardugo)

 Dark Hunter Series (Sherrilyn Kenyon)

House of Night (P.C. Cast)

Twilight (Stephanie Meyer)

Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins)

Criminal Minds

David Rossi

Derek Morgan

Dr. Spencer Reid

Jennifer “JJ” Jareau

Luke Alvez

William LaMontagne Jr.

Dylan O’Brien Characters

Caleb Holloway

Mitch Rapp

Sam taylor

Stiles Stilinski

Stuart Twombly

Thomas (Maze Runner) 

Game of Thrones

Daenerys Targeryan

Dario Naharis

Gendry

Robb Stark

Harry Potter

Bellatrix Lestrange

Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Newt Sacamander

Regulus Black

Severus Snape

Sirius Black

Tom Riddle

Weasley Boys

The Last Kingdom 

Aethelflaed

Aldhelm

Erik

Finan

Osferth

Sihtric

Young Ragnar

Uthred 

Law & Order: SVU

Chester Lake

Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr.

Nick Amaro

Peter Stone

Rafael Barba

Mike Dodds

John Munch

Marvel & DC

Aquaman

Constantine

Harley Quinn

Leonard Snart/ Captain Cold

Nyssa Al Ghula/ Nyssa Raatko

Oliver Queen

Robin

Roy Harper

Thea Queen

Steve Trevor

Wonder Woman

Maze Runner

Gally

Newt

Thomas

Medici

Francesco de’Pazzi

Giuliano de’Medici

Lorenzo de’Medici

Peaky Blinders

Arthur Shelby

John Shelby

John Shelby

Michael Gray

Thomas Shelby

Supernatural

Castiel

Charlie Bradbury

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Teen Wolf

Derek Hale

Isaac Lahey

Jordan Parrish

Lydia Martin

Theo Raeken

Void!Stiles

Vampire Diaries (Including The Originals and Legacies)

Damon Salvatore

Elijah Mikaelson

Enzo

Hope Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Landon Kirby

Niklaus Mikaelson

Stevan Salvatore

Tyler Lockwood

Vikings

Bishop Heahmund

Floki

Halfdan the Black

Ivar the Boneless

King Harald Finehari

Ragnar

Ubbe Thomas

[conaionaru]

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless/Hvitserk)

The other shoe drops

Synopsis: Ivar leaves and Skuld is in mortal danger

Warnings: violence, slow descent into insanity, angst

The next morning, Skuld woke up early to buy wood ash soap while Ivar got ready for his departure. "Skuld!"

Queen Aslaug stood behind her and stared her down like a predator stalking its prey. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Let's take a walk." She took the earl's daughter by the hand and led her away from the common folk to the Great Hall's steps. "Tell me what you think you are doing?"

"I am buying wood ash soap. I want to bleach my hair. I am sure it would drive Mother mad when she returns. And I think I would make a pretty blonde." Skuld teased charmingly, trying to ease the tension around them.

Aslaug scoffed and clenched Skuld's hand tighter. To the eyes of the other's, they might have seemed like two bonding women instead of rivals. "That is not what I mean, and you know it. I can see when a person is smarter than they pretend to be. You, for instance, are far more intelligent than you let on."

"Is this about Ivar, My Queen?" She fluttered her eyelashes innocently, a mischievous spark hidden in her eyes.

"Of course, it is." They continued their walk inside, Aslaug sitting down on her throne to seem more powerful. It was just like Ylva scolding her children while sharpening her weapons, a power move. "What are your intentions?"

"I assure you, I mean no harm to Ivar."

"Then why are the thralls walking around town talking of what you two do in bed? Margrethe is buying moon tea for you, and everyone signs your praise. They think him a monster."

"They gossip as women tend to do when bored. I ordered Margrethe to do a task for me; what she did after is not my fault. I am as angry as you are. No one should know what happens in anyone's bed. That is between the lovers themselves."

Aslaug scoffed and leaned closer to seize Skuld up. "So you and Ivar are really lovers... It is not just a rumor?"

Skuld strode up the steps, smiling at Aslaug reassuringly. "I swear I mean no harm to Ivar. He intrigued me with his sharp mind and tongue. I enjoy his company, any form he is willing to offer me. Everything I did was out of curiosity and affection. I can't claim to love him yet, but I care for him and his happiness - his wellbeing."

Kneeling at Aslaug's side, she took her hand in hers and looked up with vulnerable eyes. Whispering the secret, she wanted none to hear. "It is like he bewitched me. I can't sleep without him near, and every time I hear him laugh or see him smile... It's as if I finally found meaning for what I am meant to be."

Aslaug nodded and smiled at her. "That is good; Ivar deserves a nice woman. After what lies Margrethe spread before..."

"If I could do anything to make those rumors stop..."

"Leave that to me. Go along now. You have hair to bleach." She sent her off with a smile. Skuld walked away and sighed in satisfaction. The whole Aslaug is a threat thing was solved easily. Margrethe did as she was bid, thinking she was saving her own skin, only to help Skuld.

When Ivar arrived at the docks to depart, he looked at her strangely. "What happened to your hair?"

"Don't you like my hair, Ivar? Don't you think I am pretty anymore?" She teased; the blush on his cheeks was proof enough of the answer. He liked it but was too prideful to admit it, especially in front of his brothers and father. "I wish you good fortune on your journey. May you come back victorious and well."

"So you will not forget about me while I am away?" The truth was, she would probably sleep with somebody in secret, but he doesn't need to know that. She was a woman with needs, and gods know when he will return.

"Oh Ivar, how could I ever forget a man like you? You gave me many things to remember you by. And when they fade... I will pray for your return day and night." He smirked at the answer and turned to leave, the new crutches making him taller. It was strange to look into his eyes without having to crouch or kneel.

He fell soon after but crawled on, not showing a hint of pain or humiliation. Cripple or not, the man was truly remarkable. When he departed, Skuld pretended to watch him leave like a lovesick girl.

Flocking people at her side wasn't so hard. She complimented the merchants at the stand and bought gifts for people. Smiling at children and helping older people carry things was another approach she used. Within a week, she was loved by the people. Her room was always full of young girls that complimented her and played dress-up with her.

They plaided flowers in their hair and gossiped of the boys they liked. Whenever they asked her of Ivar, she pretended to tear up or just gave them minimal information. How good of a lover he is, how he may seem evil or rude but is very affectionate when alone with her. Some things were true; others were complete lies. After all, she couldn't say that he choked her in bed and she liked it.

They walked through the town, hands full of expensive fabrics to have dresses made from. Giggling with every step, Skuld looked back at the girls behind her and smiled. "Imagine all the fabrics and gold from the new land Bjorn wants to explore. All those pretty things and alcohol they might bring back."

"And all the pretty male thralls!" They laughed out in glee. Skuld looked back in front of her so she won't trip but was met with a shieldmaiden with a strange shield.

"Come with me." The tall brunette ordered, glaring at her with a harsh tone.

"And why would I do that? I don't even know you. Who asks for me?"

"The Queen does."

Skuld looked at the shield and shook her head. "That is not the seal of Ragnar Lothbrok."

"It's Lagertha's!" One of the girls that followed her called out in realization. Before Skuld could process the information, the shieldmaiden snatched her by the arm and dragged her away.

As Skuld was thrown over the woman's shoulder and carried off, she could see people fighting. Lagertha infiltrated the city to take over as Queen. Maybe Gunne was right, and she really needed the dagger after all.

So she pulled in out from her cleavage and slit the shieldmaiden's throat. The dead woman fell to the ground, and Skuld climbed off her to run to safety. Someone grabbed her from behind and tried to wrench the weapon from her hands.

The girl slammed her head against the attacker's face a few times till the grip loosened. She slipped free and stabbed the warrior in the chest. With a grunt, she pulled the dagger out. Someone hit her over the head with a shield, and she hit the floor, groaning. It wasn't enough to knock her out, but enough to make her stop fighting.

They dragged her to an empty house and threw her in like a dirty rag. "Stay here and wait!" Skuld sprung from the ground and glared at them, seething. She ran for the door but was pushed back easily.

"You will pay in blood for this! You and your stupid Queen!" They slammed the door in her face and left her in the darkness.

Skuld marched up and down the hut, cursing under her breath. "They left me here, and now look what happened. I will gouge out her eyes and make her stupid lover watch."

She repeated the last sentence, like a mantra and prayed to the gods for guidance and strength. Walking holes into the floor proved futile, so she sat down with her back against the wall and glaring at the door. "They will probably try to punish me for killing those shieldmaidens. Let them try."

The hut was small, one-room max with no furniture or window, obviously meant as a prison cell. She could feel hay under her ass and the cold bite of winter on her cheeks. Her eyes never left the door, the deafening silence around her suffocating. Twisting the ring on her finger, Skuld stared the door down with determination.

"All this time buttering up Aslaug and Ivar, and in the end, it was Ragnar Lothbrok's ex-wife that got to me. Hjordis would laugh at my foolishness." She chuckled and leaned her head against the cold hardwood. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths to calm her anger. Lashing out now would do Skuld no good; she needs to save her energy so she can fight back when they open that door.

Her eyes snap open, and she smirks in glee. Pulling herself up on all four and search the ground for something. "Weapooon, where are youu?" Other than a pair of chains in the opposite corner, Skuld found nothing. Even those were useless; strangling someone with them would require her, pulling them closer to the bolts. Too much work and doing that would mean a struggle.

The blonde sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. She let her head fall into her hands and tapped her foot against the floor. The flow of time was hard to keep up with in here. She could be in here for an hour or maybe only half. There was no way to tell. So she tried counting instead.

"One, two, three, four, five..."

Drawing was fun when she was small and the coal from England new, when all she could do was doodle runes and flowers, now when she was thirteen, it wasn't so exciting. But the boys were training in the yard, and she didn't want to be a shieldmaiden.

She liked herself more like this; in her family, everyone was a fighter covered in dirt with bad manners. Despite being an Earl, even her mother didn't spend time on her looks until it was really necessary. So Skuld did her best to look as good as possible.

Mother had no problem buying her anything she wanted, what she wanted that she got. A smile here, a whine there, hug, fake tears, and she had the prettiest dresses within a week. Egil always complained that she was a spoiled little brat, but Skuld was more of a princess. Earl's daughter or not, she was made for royalty and ruling.

All the women told her that she was beautiful and graceful. She deserved to be pampered and complimented. Who else out there was as perfect as her? Beauty was her dagger to wield, less messy than the real thing. A courteous smile and sweet words, and everyone ate out of her hand.

The other girls in Yugar flocked around her like meek little sheep, trying to gain her attention and friendship. You say they look pretty or that you like them, and like naive children, they believe every word. Mother always said it was dangerous to live in a perfect world; it was a nasty place filled with greedy and stupid people. It's your decision on which side you want to be on.

Her brothers were the stupid ones, running after girls, fighting, burping, and farting to make themselves laugh. Their mother, on the other hand, was smart, which meant she was greedy. After all, she was an Earl and ruled the people easily. Skuld was greedy, too; she wanted to hold power as well. So ambition would be her other dagger, this one sharper and more fatal.

"Skuld! Come watch Egil make a fool of himself!" With glee, the girl shot from her spot on her mother's throne and run outside to watch Egil fail at flirting.

"Five hundred and thirty-eighth, five hundred and thirty-nine..."

She sighed and banged her head against the wall once. Daggers... That's what she needed, real daggers to carve out the shieldmaiden's hearts. Beauty and ambition would do her naught now. What would she do? Try to seduce the forty-year-old mother or her loyal lover? Maybe some of her shieldmaidens. Undressing always made people speechless, mostly because they didn't expect it. But women still fared better. It was the man that lost all common sense when their cocks got hard.

Women just crossed their legs, scowled, and talked. That's when sweet-talking came in handy, and by morning they were laying naked beside her. But that wouldn't work on the usurpers. Real weapons would serve better.

Again she hit her head against the wall and watched the ceiling. If there was some light in here, she could at least watch the shadows there. But the room was one huge shadow on itself. All she could see was darkness and her own bright dress and hair.

Her hand throbbed as she picked at the fresh scabs of her bloody knuckles. Skuld had hit the door in her rage as if she could beat it down. It didn't work; all it did was make her angrier and tired. Oh, so tired. She could sleep and hope to wake up in her own bed at home, instead of a small dark cell. The more time passed, the smaller the room seemed to her. With one last bang against the wall, she slumped down to sleep, bored of the world around her.

In her dreams, she was back at home, five or four, sitting in her father's lap as he sat on his high seat, ordering people around. Mother always said he was soft, which made him stupid and unjust. He got swayed easily, but on the battlefield, he was invincible. Well, he used to be. Until he got beheaded in Frankia,  he got no burial, the boat they burned was empty, maybe he was in Valhalla, perhaps not.

She could care less, barely remembering his face or voice. Sometimes, in her dreams or memories, Skuld sad his fair hair and a small beard. Othertimes he had no face, just a blank head. She never looked above his neck. Why should she? The sigh of the kneeling people in front of him was prettier. She imagined herself in his place, what she would have done. But never came up with an answer. What was the point anyway?

The dead were dead, and she was alive for now. The past was an anchor tying you to the realm of reality so that you wouldn't get lost in the clouds. But right now, she wanted to fly the highest she had ever been. Far away from all this bullshit. The furthest distance away from this hut that probably had spiders and rats hidden inside. Away from the shrinking walls and haunting darkness. She was Skuld Ylvasdottir. The only daughter of Ylva the Brave, Earl of Yugar, the Lioness.

Skuld was a lion as well, a cub, but a lion nonetheless. She wouldn't beg them to let her out. Instead, she would scream her throat hoarse and spit blood on them if needed. Lions aren't afraid of anything, not the dark or death itself. "When I get out, they will no longer call me a naive child or lion cub. I am a woman, vengeful, and ambitious.

[odins-missing-eye]

So as i’m working on my (what is to be my) main fanfiction called Spoons to Swords i’ve also been working on a side story that will be shorter and only have a couple parts. this is the intro to that side story. (my gods i feel like ragnar with somethin’ on the side...)

PAIRINGS: MAIN- Eikhríð x Sigurd SIDE- Asta Bergljot x Ivar Title: Moving a Tree (in a Storm) Summery: How one takes grief varies on the person but you must keep moving. In a land where she was born an outsider Eikhríð will gain a family and maybe make one of her own. Slave to free women she will learn that her actions as one may allow for her to grow as the other, Eikhríð owes nothing to her mistress yet she stays loyal not out of pity or fear but out of love and need. Her mistress’s future is blessed by the gods yet hers, hers in unknown.

Asta Bergljot (blond) is based on my bestie @imaginesparadise  this story is dedicated to them.

story rated: 18+ This story will include: SLOW BUILD, swearing, mentions of rape, attempted rape, blood, smut, graphic gore, and a lot of other stuff though warnings will be on each chapter.

tagging: @imaginesparadise @ivars-pet @cherrytrinkets  (let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part)

Moving a Tree (in a Storm) - INTRO

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

The strange dragon ships came one day in the fog. By then they needed no cover of night as rumors across the shores had already started to travel and take root in this once quiet town as more and more accounts of blood shed and fear made its way down the coast.

Chaos, that's what this was. No organization. Exit plans? What exit plans, it was pure mayhem. Women, children executed by family members so the 'heathens' wouldn't do it, or worse. Churches boarded up in haste as if pieces of wood would keep them out. They knew wood, their boats perfectly crafted and unlike any others. And the fire, the blaze of the end times surely. Buildings, people, the fire cleansed all who it touched. Fire didn't pick and choose, it took. If their was one element in this world those northmen could be described as, it was fire. They took, burned, and took more. Their was no recess. But just like a fire some things Hardy make it. She was such a thing. She was the type to endure but this was ridiculous! If you thought when a raid happened you only had to watch out for the raiders you would be wrong. It seemed her people in panic went insane. Slaying their own. She not only had to watch out for the new comers but her own neighbors as well. She was never really lucky however and this day was no different, but it seemed she wasn't down right UN-lucky either. She was taken last, found among the crates and stalls at the markets, the ropes cutting into her hands on her end, the other end was in the hands of a large heathen of a man but was snagged by a young women quickly after. words were exchanged quickly between the two. Consintrating on who’s hand now owned her leash gave her enough distraction to what was going on around. The young women had blond hair blazed red and orange, golden even when the fires around them both hit it just right it was tied back in long braids and her grey eyes didn't look at her but they were fierce and glared at others of her people as she passed. She didn't speak much but seemed to growl in announce to her kin when she needed to. This was someone in charge if people leaving no sooner then her words were spit had anything to go by. The young women wasn't very tall though a couple inches more so then she, a small waist and curvy hips she was dirty with Ash, dirt and blood and smelled of all three. Her leather clothing..or was it armor were fitted to her and she wore pants of all things! women here didn't wear them except in the winter if it was cold enough but even then that was under a dress still. These men and women cleared out as quickly as they came. They did not linger and when all was loaded including her she was in the middle of the water looking at endless waves. Her own black hair kept getting blown in her face. She would need to braid it when she could use her hands again. You would think she would be afraid, among strangers, tied to a pole under the ship, she wasn't, she was far to curious. Everything had happened so fast she was alert looking over everything she could, the others captured like her didn't even look at her, that was no surprise considering she was an outsider to them all. Her green eyes took in who had been spared and she recognized some young women and stronger men. No children or elderly. That meant her father had not made it. Her father, a great healer, was one of them but her mother, a witch of a healer, came from another land. She had her mother's looks mostly, some were unique to herself, all she had been given by her father was her striking  eyes, identical to his. Black hair, palest of skin almond shaped eyes and high cheek bones. Skinny and short with a small chest she got these things from her mother but she also had birthing hips or so she had been told her thighs were a bit on the bigger scale and her butt wasn't flat like her mothers these were the parts of her her father said came from his mother. Green, not to bright like emeralds but more like the Jade her mother had favored from her home land, her eyes stood out just more so then her fathers seemed to as his features didn't seem too make them exotic. on her they seemed foreign, not right. In the darkness like now under the main deck Her eyes seemed black. Her father had been the main healer for their rich small area and was so good others from other areas around contacted him. Even Kings and royalty had called for him. After Her mother had died it was just him and her, she learned everything he would teach her and as he got older she was thankful she did get to travel with him. In fact they had both just gotten back from the royal castle in the east, they had delivered a child of the young queen. She had gone to the markets to get some supplies as three weeks of being gone had their store room needing fresh food. She let herself shed a couple tears in his memory before wiping them away. The Northwomen came back looking far better and less agitated then before, her hair down now and clothes a little cleaner. she untied her and pulled out some bread and water both from the land they had just left. She almost choked on both when the young women opened her mouth and spoke her language. You may think how she spoke wasn't the best but besides a light accent proving she wasn't a native you couldn't tell. So they talked and they learned each other's names, the Northwomen was called Asta Bergljot, Asta by her mother but called Bergljot by her men and her brothers. Asta was the name her mother wished for her to have and the other the name her father called her. It seemed her people called her Asta as a title almost rather then a name but it was shorter and easy to say.Her own name wasn't impressive but she shared it anyway and when the women had trouble she told her how her name meant treestorm so the lady Asta called her Eikhríð eik meant tree, hríð meant storm It was harsher then her own language but she liked it. It was different like she.They talked about that to, about her parents and Asta was impressed with her abilities as a healer she even offered condolences when she talked about her father. Eikhríð knew she shouldn't be spilling so much but she was never good at stopping once she started something. She had never connected with anyone before. Her father's people hated her and no one opened up to her. Asta did. The whole journey to Asta's land was filled with conversation and lessons about their ways. Asta opened about her people about her brothers two older and one younger and a sister as well. Her father was a Jarl in their land and that made Asta a princess of sorts. they talked about many things for many days, above deck and below. Asta seemed to enjoy her company, one of her older brothers was in change of this raid and didn't even seem to mind them both gossiping like kitchen slaves in a palace.

By the time they got off the ship Eikhríð had gained a lot of knowledge she no longer had to be led around like her kin though Asta did tie her hands and hold on to her just for show as she was still a slave. 

Life moved on, Asta's family treated her well. Eikhríð was Asta's personal handmaid but only acted like it when they were in front of others. two years past this way, Eikhríð learned their language, how they fought, how they lived. 

Though she was a slave she had earned the title 'The Wagging' due to always having information to give. she didn't give the information freely, secrets were kept but it wasn't a secret that she knew enough to bury most people. She looked so foreign she could play the part of new slave well to over hear things. most in their land knew not she could speak their language as well as she could.  

Asta thought of Eikhríð more of a sister as her own was older and had been married off. They were close so when Asta went raiding Eikhríð went too. When the sons of Ragnar called upon an army news spread. Asta's father didn't like Ragnar, he wouldn't let his sons go. Asta grew angry at her fathers decisions and left a little farther north to see her uncle who always favored her. Her uncle had raided with Ragnar before he was already packing to answer the call so it wasn't to hard for both women to slip in among his ranks. Her father would no doubt be furious but both women knew he wouldn't send anyone after her.

Eikhríð knew to stay close when they reached Kattegat, the town was bigger then what both were used to, it was new, exciting and Eikhríð thought dangerous. Eikhríð herself tied a rope to one of her wrists and the other end to Asta's, she wouldn't be getting lost or taken off to who knows where. As a friend, a sister and a slave Eikhríð knew Asta would do great things. she could listen to her talk all day of plans for the future, where she wanted to go, things she wanted to do. heading to the great hall Asta walked proud next to her uncle and behind her Eikhríð quickened her steps as not to have the rope pull her along, eyes scanning everything, she wanted no surprises. all three stopped once in the threshold to take it in.

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leaving it here as this is only the intro <3