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vixstarria · 7 months ago

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Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 5 - Warnings and weddings

Chapter summary: unexpected visitors bring ill tidings and vampire family drama. Also a wedding?! And alright, alright, we're on chapter 5, have a smidgen of smut as well.

Chapter word count: approx. 5,000

Chapter CW: Sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll reckless waltzing, poor babysitting practices, death mention (not related to babysitting)

Previous chapter | Series masterlist | AO3 | Overall masterlist

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut

Rating: Explicit

Asmodea regarded the toddler with caution, the way one might an unpredictable wild animal that wandered, by chance, into a human dwelling, and began creating a chaotic disturbance with its mere presence - the feeling was akin to walking into a kitchen to find a raccoon on the counter.

After some screaming (done by the child), a wooden prop dagger was surrendered to it. The toddler alternated using it as a rattle and a chew toy. Were kids this young supposed to have teeth..? Asmodea wasn’t sure. Then again, she wasn’t great at determining children’s ages. It was somewhere past the ‘potato’ stage, but hadn’t yet reached the ‘persistent yet incoherent chattering’ phase of its development.

Something new must have caught the little girl’s interest, as she dropped the fake knife and began crawling up the sitting room’s wall.

When did they begin doing that? Perhaps at around a year of age..?

Her father, Ivar, had clearly witnessed the stunt before and was unfazed by it.

Astarion, on the other hand, was very much fazed, and regarded the girl with apprehension.

“I can’t sense her,” he remarked, furrowing his brows. “My eyes tell me she’s there, but everything else is telling me my eyes are lying... It’s unnatural!”

“You’re one to speak,” Ivar chuckled at Astarion’s words. “But yes… You get used to it.”

“In all honesty, I’d rather not,” grumbled Astarion.

Ivar had been one of the very last victims delivered to Cazador. Not one of Astarion’s catches - he had actually been mugged, stabbed and left to die in the streets of the city, only to be hauled back to the mansion by Dalyria. For ‘healing’, she told him. A mere few days later, he found himself a free vampire. His wife accepted the unwitting detour as a reasonable explanation for his returning home late. She even joined him in his exodus to the Underdark with the other spawn.

Being among the minority of the spawn that still had full control of their wits on regaining their freedom, and indeed one of those who had tried to help shepherd the more crazed spawn, Ivar quickly secured a spot at the top of the hierarchy in Leon’s coven. He had met with Astarion before leaving, and stayed in sporadic correspondence with him.

To see him hastily fleeing north like some kind of refugee was a surprise. ‘Everything’s going to shit in the Underdark’ was his brief explanation.

Six covens had formed, each run by one of Cazador’s immediate spawn. ‘The Seven’, they were called, albeit Astarion, the seventh, had so far refused to take part. A Council was established, formally, but it did little but serve as a means for the ‘Seven’ to spy on and attempt to manipulate one another.

As for the common, lesser spawn…

Between attacks by the druergar, drow, illithids (as well as anyone else who did not fancy having vampires for neighbours), the food shortages, and the infighting between and within the covens themselves, the Underdark had turned out to be a ruthless dog eat dog world, not the sunless sanctuary they had first envisioned.

Thousands of the lesser spawn had died, Ivar confirmed. Most had already gone incurably mad from the years of starvation and isolation by the time they were freed, and were culled immediately.

The rest were constantly at each other’s throats in a struggle for resources.

Leon’s coven, said Ivar, had tried to establish trade relations with druergar, kept herds of deep rothe for blood supply, and otherwise made attempts to obtain blood without resorting to outright murder. Unfortunately their efforts were largely in vain, as some of the other covens had opted to simply keeping slaves to be used as blood bags. At the end of the day, as far as any mortal denizens of the Underdark were concerned, a vampire was simply a vampire, and no questions were asked about their allegiance or philosophy on blood procurement. Weapons came out on sight of any vampire, most of the time.

Ivar said that more and more vampires had begun fleeing the Underdark, slipping back into onto the surface. Soon they would flood the cities. Baldur’s Gate was the closest port city to the main Underdark vampire settlements, and it was likely that most would end up in the city, at least to pass through, like him. His own plan was to board a ship to Neverwinter with his daughter, and then head further north from there. Someplace with long nights, far from Baldur’s Gate and his wretched extended undead ‘family’.

“And the girl’s mother..?” asked Astarion.

“Ingrid died in childbirth,” answered Ivar. Astarion and Asmodea murmured words of condolences. “Accidents are prone to happen, you know,” he continued, giving Asmodea a look that made her shift uncomfortably. “Especially with one who gorges on this much blood. Look at all this!” he turned to Astarion, pointing at the tankard of heated boar blood he had been provided. “A luxury! And to you it’s nothing!”

“Was Ingrid human?” Astarion ignored Ivar’s outburst.

“Aye,” answered Ivar. “Most dhampirs’ mothers are.”

“There are others?” Astarion asked, surprised.

“Some, and I know a few women were heavy with child when I left.”

“Well…” said Astarion, somewhat taken aback. “Perhaps in another twenty years a generation of dhampir will solve the vampire overpopulation issue,” he offered. “I don’t know who will take care of the dhampir problem. Perhaps gur vampires?” His attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears.

“How do the vampires feel about them?” asked Asmodea.

“The dhampir tots are protected, at least in Leon’s coven,” said Ivar. “I reckon we’re all still amazed any of us can create new life… But their staying in the settlement is discouraged. I only waited until little Helmi was old enough to travel. The Underdark is no place for a child...”

A silence hung in the air briefly.

“But speaking of Leon…” Ivar said, suddenly remembering something. “Before I forget, I’ve a letter from him for you.”

He got up and left the room, leaving his hosts with his daughter.

They silently beheld the dhampir toddler on the ceiling for some moments, before meeting each other’s eyes.

“Do not tell me you want one,” Astarion pointed a cautionary finger at Asmodea.

“No thanks,” she curled her lip, before looking up at the child again. “But can you go get that thing off the ceiling? Or shall I go fetch a broom?”

“Why bother?” said Astarion, stretching his legs. “It seems perfectly happy up there.”

“What if it falls and cracks its head open?” Asmodea said with a frown, crossing her arms. “Your associate wouldn’t be very impressed if his daughter died the moment she was in our care.”

They both gasped in unison and made for the centre of the room - Astarion via the ceiling - as the little girl suddenly got on her feet and wobbled, upside down, towards the chandelier. Astarion got to her before she could damage herself or the candlewheel.

“I still can’t sense her,” he muttered, having come down onto the floor. “It’s uncanny… And gods, is this how cold I feel too?!” He regarded the toddler thoughtfully.

“Aww, she likes you,” Asmodea cooed, tilting her head, as the little girl tried to reach up to grab a handful of Astarion’s hair. He bared his fangs and hissed at her, only to have her chortle and hiss back at him, baring her own little fangs.

“Right, your father’s a vampire, why did I think that would work on you...” Astarion murmured, setting the toddler down.

Asmodea excused herself and returned to the theatre shortly after Ivar returned with Leon’s letter, leaving Astarion alone with Ivar and Helmi.

“So you were truly unable to enter on your own?” Astarion asked. “Interesting. It is a public space.”

“Let me guess,” said Ivar. “Living quarters stretching all across the top floor?”

“And most of the basement,” Astarion nodded, with a hint of a smile.

“Clever,” admitted Ivar. “Will spare you any surprises from the others. But they will show up in Baldur’s Gate sooner or later.”

Astarion only waved his hand dismissively.

“You could take your place on the Council anytime, you know,” Ivar continued. “You killed Cazador. They will always hold a seat for you.”

“Not interested,” murmured Astarion. “And for hells’ sake, why do you even care?! You’re headed north yourself.”

“From what I know, you’re not a bad man, Astarion,” said Ivar. “And that’s more than I can say for many of the others. ‘Not bad’ is far and few. Leon is not a bad man either, and he thinks you can be reasoned with. Think of all you could do for your lesser brothers and sisters.”

“Please…” scoffed Astarion. “Even if I cared about that. I am doing more for vampires here than I ever could beneath the ground. Why, ask anyone who’s attended the theatre. They’ll say: ‘Sure, I’ve met a vampire - a dashing gent dressed in feathers and lace, he had me pissing myself laughing at his salacious jokes - I love vampires!’.” He smirked. “I’m a curiosity, not a threat. And I would very much like to keep it that way.”

“You’re an aberration,” Ivar said, darkly. “Not even hiding you’re a vampire. All the blood you want delivered to your door. They will come, and they will be envious and spiteful. This can’t last forever.”

Astarion did not say anything to that, and taking his silence to be encouragement, Ivan continued.

“The Council will ensure protection is extended to any mortal concubine you wish to keep - take the woman with you. All the better if you have your own blood source.”

Astarion wrinkled his nose in distaste at the implication.

“The answer is still no,” he scowled. “And she’s no concubine.” He took a sip of his wine, before adding with a touch of self-satisfaction: “Oddie and I are married.”

Sometime in the past five years

To say the wedding was rushed would have been a massive understatement.

Asmodea’s dress consisted of a show corset, hastily sewn together with a mass of organza, tulle and scraps of silk, all dyed a deep blood red. The skirt was an enormous, puffy thing that bounced and swayed with every step. It was farcical, ostentatious, garish and undeniably Asmodea. The seamstress, who had been cajoled into abandoning all other requests until this project was complete, could not have been prouder of her work, once she was finally convinced that this was indeed what her client wanted.

Astarion was the one to wear white, opting for a tasteful suit with silver embroidery.

The venue was an inn that was still partially under reconstruction, which hadn’t otherwise been open to the public yet.

The entertainment was provided by their friends and regular acts that appeared at their tavern. They took turns between performing and carousing with the rest of the guests.

The catering, thank the gods, was taken over and arranged by Wyll’s people.

The day began with a rush of people and last minute deliveries and arrangements. Asmodea was trying to direct it all before allowing herself to be whisked away to the wedding venue, where she would finish her preparations.

“This was left outside,” someone handed her a hamper filled with what appeared to be an assortment of edible treats, teas, little packages and a few jars and bottles. “Must be a gift for you, don’t know why they didn’t deliver it properly.”

Asmodea frowned at the hamper. What she first took to be woven willow strands appeared to actually be interwoven roots, and the basket itself seemed to be a peculiarly shaped plant, with leaves sprouting at the top. She wondered if it could be planted or placed into water.

Her eyes grew wider and wider as she regarded the contents of the plant basket.

“What is it, my love?” Astarion approached her.

Asmodea silently handed him a piece of paperbark engraved with sylvan words of felicitations, as she picked up a bottle and swirled it to observe the contents. The liquid inside appeared thicker than regular wine. And did it shimmer..?

Astarion’s own eyebrows had already shot up at the sight of the contents of the basket, by the time she handed him the bottle.

“My espruar is shoddy… Pray tell, what does this label say?”

“‘For the vampling’,” Astarion translated. “Can it… can it do that?! Slip between our plane and the feywild..?”

“I guess so,” Asmodea said with disbelief. She reached for one of the jars and opened it, only to gasp and close it back up. She let out a giggle and handed it to Astarion. “Tell me that is what I think it is.”

Astarion opened the jar and observed the contents.

“That, my dear, is indeed enough feydust to obliterate the mind of a dragon.” He looked at the other items in the basket. “That appears to be halfling weed - nothing special, but can’t go wrong with it either. That,” he continued, peeking into another jar, “is definitely dream flake. Not something I would risk, given my nightmares.”

Asmodea barely suppressed her incredulous laughter as he went on.

“That’s patch.” Astarion met her inquisitive look - clearly that was not something she was familiar with. “It will have you communicating with plants, not that they have anything interesting to say.” He continued to dig through the basket. “Sharpsugar?! That’s even more expensive than the feydust. And that’s…” Astarion suddenly broke off into elaborate elven cursing, dropping the item he had picked up back into the basket. Asmodea picked up the satchel that had upset him so much, and guffawed.

“Aww, they even packed your favourite!” she called out after him, as he retreated back upstairs, indignant. “Catnip!”

Jaheira, stately in an emerald green gown, sipped tea, watching one of Asmodea’s friends - Sarana, an improbable githyanki raised by halflings - fuss over her hair and makeup, applying finishing touches to the bride’s appearance.

“Will anyone be walking you down the aisle?” asked Jaheira.

“I will be walking myself, thank you very much,” Asmodea answered, reaching up to adjust her hair. Sarana silently smacked her hands away from her locs, which had been arranged into a complex crown, and continued adding some delicate touchups to her cheekbones with a brush.

“I was thinking of having Wyll do it, for the sheer grandiosity of it, but he can’t do that and conduct the ceremony.”

“Has Halsin offered?” asked Jaheira.

“Halsin?!” Asmodea laughed. “Having an ex-lover hand me over to my husband-to-be, who is incidentally also his ex-lover. I can’t even tell what all that symbolism would imply, but I think I’ll avoid it, even if he does volunteer.”

“Astarion, are you decent?” he heard Shadowheart’s voice from behind the door.

“What kind of a trick question is that?!” he scoffed, as the door opened to admit the cleric. She looked stunning in a flowing dusky lavender dress.

She took one look at him before recoiling in mock horror.

“Oh! Oh no… No, this won’t do at all.”

“What are you talking about?” Astarion asked, annoyed. “I don’t need a mirror to know I’m immaculate.”

“Exactly,” Shadowheart agreed. “You’re so perfect - it’s painful to look at. She will absolutely hate it. Here, allow me…”

She reached up to loosen his collar and unbutton the top button of his shirt, and did something with his hair, moving some strands around.

“There,” she said, withdrawing to look at her handiwork. “Much better. Not even you are allowed to outshine the bride, you know.” She smiled and stepped back towards him, to draw him into a hug, landing a kiss on his cheek. “Congratulations!”

And with that, she withdrew from the room, leaving Astarion blinking in surprise at the over-familiarity. Had she already gotten into the wine..? No matter. He returned to his preparations, which consisted of pacing around and trying to convince himself he had absolutely no reason to panic. He did not re-button his shirt.

The ceremony took place after sunset.

Their vows were heartfelt but brief. They both dreaded having to make an overt display of sentimentality publicly.

They both only laughed in relief when Minsc briefly stole everyone’s attention by releasing a loud sob when Astarion called Asmodea his sunlight in his speech.

The band was playing some cacophonous waltz, which seemed to be getting progressively faster as time went on, and Astarion was stuck swirling in a ludicrous dance that mostly consisted of spinning at breakneck speed around the dance floor with a partner. Between the ridiculous dance pas and the feywine he had been consuming throughout the evening, even his vampire head was swimming. He’d somehow lost sight of Oddie, as though it should even have been possible to lose sight of a boisterous little red cloud. And, absurdly, he found it simply impossible to leave. Apparently everyone needed to tick “dance with a vampire on their wedding day” off their bucket lists - new partners simply kept appearing in his arms after each turn around the hall.

He found himself leading Katrina, Gale’s date - apparently someone from the college he was teaching in - in yet another sequence. Surprisingly spry in her movements, she did not miss a step as she masterfully diverted an exchange of polite niceties into an interrogation on the topic of the intricacies of vampire digestion. Astarion could not boast the same about his footwork, as he nearly crashed them into another couple, caught off guard by the subject matter of her questions. Luckily they were nearing an end of a round.

“I… I don’t know, I suppose it’s all simply absorbed into the tissue..? Magically? I’m sure that’s a topic you know more about than I do. …I better return you to Gale, I’m sure he’s distraught without your lovely company.”

As they reached Gale, the wizard extended his hand, which Astarion presumed was for Katrina. As he released her, however the hand somehow ended up in Astarion’s, with another around his shoulder, and they were off, as though carried off by sheer momentum.

“Good gods, Gale, not you too!” Astarion groaned. “Alright, fine!”

Between the music, the flickering magelights and the voices all around him, the night starting to seem like a delirious dream he couldn’t wake up from. And where was Oddie..?

As they spun off, Gale whispered conspiratorially to Astarion.

“I have been tasked with delivering an important message.”

“Well?” Astarion sighed. “Out with it!”

“Your blushing bride awaits you. Through the kitchen, and up the service stairs.” Gale chuckled at Astarion’s immediate look of relief and gratitude. “Now go, go!”

He released his hands, leaving the inertia to carry Astarion staggering towards the exit leading into the kitchen, where he swiftly disappeared before anyone could note his absence.

He caught a glimpse of her skirt disappearing around a corner as he reached the top of the stairs. A hand beckoned him coquettishly before disappearing around another, and then there she was, grinning at him from the doorway of one of the inn’s suites. He tried to reach for and embrace her, but she only laughed and dodged him, retreating into the room and keeping a table between them.

“You left me stranded, all alone with those lunatics” Astarion admonished her, walking around the table as she mirrored his steps.

“You were having fun!” she protested

“I detested every second.”

“I saw you laughing so hard you choked,” she teased.

“Minsc insisted I dance with him and his hamster, it was awful,” he said darkly.

“Yes, Boo looked adorable sitting in your hair,” she laughed.

Astarion suddenly changed direction, and so did she, with a titter.

“Are you sure you want to play this game, darling?” he purred. “You know you can’t win it.”

She grinned, but before she could do anything, he simply leapt over the table, catching her in his arms. She gave a gleeful squeal as he spun and lifted her onto the table, wedging his hips between her legs. He planted his arms on the table around her sides, leaning over her.

“Ah-ah!” she warned, as he started to kiss down her neck, grazing it with his fangs. “No fang marks on my neck - we still need to return to the others before the night is over.”

“A vampire biting his bride, what a scandal that would be,” Astarion murmured as he dipped lower, towards her cleavage.

“Definitely not there, either,” she laughed, enjoying his cool breath tickling her skin.

Astarion straightened to simply kiss her, but once again, she held a finger to his lips.

“Sarana insisted on touching up the pastes and powders just earlier, and she will be most displeased if you ruin all her hard work before the night is over. She brought her greatsword to protect her artistry’s honour, you know.”

“And here I thought I wouldn’t need to fear any more githyanki women, with Lae’zel away on the astral plane…” Astarion lamented. “But I’m sure I can find a place no one will see…”

He urged her back until she lay propped up on her elbows, before finding her leg somewhere in the mass of her skirts, and kissing up towards her thigh, starting from her ankle.

“Now why would you wear something so ridiculous and impractical..?” he said between kisses, as he moved further up.

“It’s perfectly practical,” she batted her lashes innocently.

Annoyed with her mass of skirts, he hiked them up, throwing them up over her head. She laughed and tried to get out from under them.

“So it is! You naughty girl…” he purred against her skin, licking and sucking up her thigh. She was wearing nothing underneath the dress.

He sank his fangs into the inside of her thigh, making her gasp. His fingers teased her, sliding between her opening and her clit, grazing it but not quite giving her what she wanted, as he drank from her. His mind cleared, somewhat, as her blood hit his tongue, the effects of the feywine from earlier being replaced by a desire overwhelming all his senses.

He didn’t take much blood from her, instead kissing his way further between her legs, his lips and tongue caressing the soft skin just outside her sex, without going in.

“Please…” she moaned breathlessly.

The blasted skirt started falling over Astarion’s head and getting in his way again, and he growled, tearing at it, as he got up.

“Do not rip it,” Asmodea scolded him, still defiant despite her precarious position. “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, kissing her - Sarana and her wrath be damned - as he impatiently unlaced his pants.

“But you will need to, later - I was sewn into all this,” she whispered in his ear once they’d broken their lips apart from one another’s, nibbling on his earlobe.

They both breathed a sigh of relief as he entered her, as though finding long needed respite. She wrapped her legs around his hips as they ground into each other, trying to alleviate a desperate need.

“Mine,” he gasped, thrusting into her. “All mine… Only mine,” he kept repeating like a prayer.

“Yours…” she gasped. “Forever…”

“I’ve been yours for a long time, you know, this is only a formality,” she said a while later, trying to make herself look presentable before heading back downstairs.

“Oh I know,” he answered, smirking. “But now I have a receipt that confirms it.”

The word ‘forever’ rang a bittersweet bell in his mind, but he brushed it aside. He refused to think about that tonight.

Getting into the carriage Wyll had arranged to take them home was turning out to be quite the challenge for Asmodea, given the voluminous skirt.

“Oh for the love of,” Astarion said, impatiently, before hoisting her up one-handed, and pulling her in after him. She collapsed on him, laughing, as he fell back onto the seat. Someone shut the door behind them, and they were off. The ridiculous skirt with its now crumpled and creased layers of fabric seemed to fill the entire cabin - it was all Astarion could see beyond Asmodea leaning against his chest, beaming down at him.

He reached up to tuck away a lock of her hair that had gotten loose.

“My love…” he whispered, smiling up at her. “Can you believe any of this..?” She peppered his face with kisses, as he continued, incredulously. “What in the heavens did we just do..? What did we do..?”

Present day

“I don’t understand,” Asmodea said as they lay in bed at dawn. It was just the two of them, the bard had been forgotten, at least for the night. “Why did he decide to come here to begin with? Didn’t he violate some vampire etiquette by showing up unannounced at another vampire’s lair?”

Astarion winced at her choice of words to describe their home, but answered.

“No, that was actually a display of perfect civility and decorum. I would have sensed his presence in the city anyway, and felt compelled to investigate. It saved me going down to the docks myself.”

Asmodea contemplated that, lying on his chest.

“I suppose it was better for the child as well…” she added. “Say, and what was in that letter from Leon, anyway?”

“Oh what’s in any of their letters…” sighed Astarion. “Complaints about the others and vague hints of an alliance should I join them.” He traced circles on Asmodea’s back, staring up at the ceiling. “Ivar was adamant that vampires will start flooding Baldur’s Gate soon, to plague the populace. He said it’s a matter of time before an angry mob arrives to drag me out into the light at daytime.”

They had accounted for such possibilities. The walls of the building contained hidden passages, leading down to the basement, which in turn was connected to the sewers. Astarion could cloak himself in invisibility and flee any time of day or night, if it ever came to that.

“We always knew this was temporary, anyway,” he continued. “The city guard will not touch us as long as Wyll is at the helm, but who knows how long that will be? He could remain Grand Duke for the next 50 years, or he could choke on a piece of steak and die next minute. And who knows who will come after him?”

“I’ve thought of all this, but I… I didn’t think it would start unravelling so soon,” Asmodea whispered.

As the sun set, Astarion headed towards the room they had provided Ivar. There was another matter he didn’t get a chance to ask him about. Although the sun still lingered just above the horizon, he found the room empty - the man was already gone.

Astarion swore and raced downstairs.

He caught him just outside the Siren. It was as though he couldn’t get away fast enough. Ivar gave Astarion a careful, apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No disrespect, I was unsure where you were. Left a ‘thank you’ note in the room, but now I need to get on the ship as soon as possible,” he said.

Astarion only shook his head dismissively.

“Before you do that, I just wanted to ask...” Astarion began, nonchalantly. “Has… any new ‘unlife’ appeared in the Underdark? Beyond Cazador’s original spawn and the 7,000 offerings? Let’s not count the dhampir.”

“I don’t know what you’re asking, Astarion.” Ivar sighed, wearily.

“Oh, but I think you know exactly what I’m asking,” Astarion said, piercing Ivar with his eyes.

“Necromancy is forbidden,” he replied. “The law states that all vile acts of necromancy are to be punished, the offenders chained in silver and given to the sun, their abominable creations destroyed. Every coven enforces this. Does that answer your question?” Ivar said, irritated.

“No, it does not. I will speak as plainly as I can.” Astarion looked down at his nails in apparent boredom. “When your wife lay dying, did you try to turn her?”

Ivar regarded Astarion with a darkening expression.

“Have you lost your mind?” he said. “Spawn cannot create new vampires.”

“There are those who believe that spawn become full vampires once their masters perish,” Astarion countered.

“And there are those who need to be reminded that necromancy is forbidden,” Ivar retorted. “Encouraging necromancy and spreading misinformation about it,” he leaned closer to Astarion, lowering his voice, “is also forbidden.”

“Oh don’t give me that shit,” Astarion hissed, dropping any pretence of his nonchalance. “As she lay bleeding, doomed and half dead already, did you try to turn her or not? As a last resort. I know what I would have done. So did you?”

“My wife is dead, Astarion. I buried her,” Ivar said grimly.

“Yes, yes, I heard you and I believe you,” Astarion sighed in exasperation. “So did she claw her way back out of the grave you put her in?”

Before Ivar could answer, his daughter started to cry, and he turned his attention to her, trying to soothe her. He did not turn away and leave, however.

“How old is your little half-elf?” he asked Astarion, finally.

“Around 40.”

“You have plenty of time, then. Find another way. Or better yet, stop playing the fool, bid your farewell, the sooner the better, and then stick to your own kind, in a place where you belong.”

Astarion opened his mouth to speak again, but Ivar cut him off, brusquely, and set out towards the docks.

“Take care, Astarion. You have my gratitude for your hospitality. I wish you well, and I hope we never see one another again.”

Astarion watched, silently, until Ivar disappeared around a corner. The man was gone, but the sense of unease he had brought with him had only grown. Astarion couldn’t shake off the feeling that what he thought had been whole suddenly revealed a multitude of tiny cracks.

Part 6

Thank you for reading! Find the fic on AO3 as well.

Thank you @grandmother-goblin for letting me borrow Sarana the githyanki bimbo for this chapter! 😄 You can find more of Sarana here, under Gale x Tav

Bonus post re the wedding dress

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#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #some smut #some astarion smut #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3weddingseason #bg3 fanfic #astarion x asmodea #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #bloodbang chronicles #asmodea #whatever the fuck the opposite of the dadstarion tag is

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ceridwenofwales · 7 years ago

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Tagging: @oqueequesentes-borboletas, @onjacks-blog, @lostinthoughtsandfeelings, @ivarinleatherpants, @krakasigurdardottir, @whenimaunicorn, @tinymoonshine, @ultra-nina-bella, @readsalot73, @fumblingthroughchaos, @babyjane11, @burntmythroatskullingmytea...

If anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

As much as Ivar wants to show everyone that a noble and fair woman chose him, he asks Sigvard and Ragnhild to keep their agreement in secret for a while. He doesn’t know what is going on in his brothers’ minds and it might work for his advantage if Hvitserk and Ubbe think he has no intention to build a family.

From the top of the tower Ivar sees the Saxon army climbing the crumbling wall to invade York.

He forgets his brothers are standing behind him as Aethelwulf appears on the top of the wall. Ivar mutters under his breath as a curse. As his words alone could condemn Aethelwulf to death, “That's him.”

Hvitserk asks warily, “Who?” Ivar feels his chest swelling with pride. He is the only one Ragnar brought with him to Wessex. With Bjorn away, he is the only one who knows his father’s enemies. The only one who will not stop until everyone that humiliated Ragnar is destroyed.

Ivar, “Aethelwulf. King Ecbert's son.” He takes a deep breath as two young men swift closer to Aethelwulf. One of them must be the young Prince that made him company while King Ecbert was talking to Ragnar, “Oh… and he brought his own sons, like lambs to the slaughter.” Ivar grins, thinking how fulfilling would be to torture and kill Aethelwulf’s sons before him. He feels shivers running through his skin with the thought he won’t be helpless watching Ragnar being beaten anymore. He will make Aethelwulf taste defeat and powerlessness.

Ubbe exclaims, his face twisted in annoyance, “Let’s go!” Ivar knows he is trying to pull Hvitserk to his side and although he hates to admit, he wishes that opposite sides didn’t exist among them. Of course, Ubbe will always brush on Ivar’s face that he is not a warrior. He is not whole. Ubbe doesn’t need to yell as Sigurd did for Ivar to know his brother doesn’t consider him an equal, a companion. They will never fight in the shield wall side by side, guarding each other’s back. This bond he can only have with Hvitserk. Ivar must think about a new way to forge an alliance with Hvitserk.

They leave, and Ivar feels like that child that stayed behind once more. The child that couldn’t run with his brothers. The one that stayed with Aslaug and Sigurd, watching the ship sailing away. He remained indeed. Sigurd’s body is decaying because of his doing. Ivar will never make peace with Sigurd. They will never understand each other. Aslaug will never embrace him again. Killed by the treacherous woman that thinks she can sit on his mother’s throne and claim Aslaug’s deeds as her own. Three years seem so far to punish his mother’s murderer. But this battle right now is not far away. It’s happening before his eyes and he can do something.

Ivar looks at his helmet, a hunger different from Hvitserk’s taking over his senses. He crawls out, being surprised by Ragnhild standing outside the door.

“What are you doing here?” He looks up at her, suddenly embarrassed that he is at her feet. Ragnhild squats to look him in the eye.

“I came to see if you were here.” It’s the first time Ivar registers a trembling in her voice. The first time she allows herself to show fear before him.

Ivar smiles at her, lifting a hand to her cheek, “You will be safe here. Don’t open the door until I’m back.”

“Where are you going?” her eyes widening with the thought Ivar will be in danger.

“I’m going to battle. What kind of leader send his warriors to danger, staying behind with women and old men?” Ivar smirks and Ragnhild feels cold sweat running down her back. A storm is coming, and she wonders if it’s a sign Thor approves Ivar’s decision.

#ivar x ragnhild #ivar x ofc #ivar x original character #ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar Ragnarsson fanfic #ivar x ubbe #ivar x hvitserk #ivar x heahmund #vikings fanfic #Ivar's heathen army #vikings #viking age #fanfic: the promise #the promise fanfic #tw: blood

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moblitsanxiety · 7 years ago

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Equally dirty.

Ivar x OC 4,209 words. *English is not my first language so have that in mind. It may sound like smut but is not, I wanted to but I don’t know how I went on and on and reached so many words. *This OC character presents symptoms of depression, also use of drugs is mentioned and described. *Gif not mine.

I opened my eyes slowly, hoping they would not open. The humidity and light around me was the only thing I felt. Today was one of those days. The days that I felt more cursed than usual. The people outside my tent were already working, walking, talking, training, living another day, but I did not want to get out of my furs. In the air it could feel it was going to rain, even Thor could hit his hammer at night. It was possible that I would not listen to him. Every day is harder to survive, just fear holds me back, I do not want to go to Helheim, it would just be the same thing. Eat, drink, talk, sleep, live, only in another realm.

I stared at the fabric of the tent. My mind was blank.

But then I remembered the wounded, there they need hands to cooperate. I should be there or the others would notice something is going on. After all I am the one in charge of them. Perhaps it would be more merciful to let them die, or give them a quick death. Without suffering.

I sat stretching my legs, they were sore after walking for so many hours yesterday, I took the dress that was on my feet and I put it on, I adjusted the laces in the front and I stood looking for the shoes, one was near the entrance and the other near me. I could feel that my hair was a bird's nest, I tried to untangled it and made a simple braid, to give the illusion that I was not a complete disaster.

I should give Eira the command, if only she were a better healer. Even so, she is the one who comes after me. Both in quality and charge. Also kind of my friend.

One, two, three, mask.

“Good morning Hillevi! Did you hear the good news?” one of the warriors spoke to me from afar, striding forward. His smile was wide shining though his face full of scars.

“Not really, I just left my tent. But please, tell me, if they can put such a smile on your face, it must be something really good.” I said smiling without showing my teeth, I continued walking but now with his company.

“They truly are.” his reddish hair was braided and adorned with pieces of gold and silver, from which came an essence of earth and dried blood, “Tomorrow we sail back home, well, not home but closer to it. We’ll go to King Harald’s kingdom, the rumours say that Ivar and Hvitserk are going to ally with him to take Kattegat. I am anxious to leave this place, and you?” Going back does not encourage me more than stay, although there are my mother and nephew. But he was as happy and excited as a child, I could not turn off his spirit.

“Of course! I cannot wait to go home and reunite with everyone.” Lies. I stopped and turned to face him, looking up to his eyes I put a hand on his forearm, “Thank you very much for telling me, I could not have started the day in a better way.” I smiled softly and went into the kind of tent where the wounded and sick were treated. “Hello everyone.” I said putting on an apron and truly starting my day.

Being surrounded by dying and injured people all day kept me busy, without a second to think about anything other than herbs and ways to alleviate physical pain. Today I did not even stop for lunch, if tomorrow we left we had to take all the sick but it was impossible, so the healthiest would leave and the worst ones would stay in the settlement of York, possibly they would kill them as soon as we leave. Taking care of them is too complicate and takes away too much time. So I had to choose who goes and who stays. With a bit of guilt I must admit that I felt like a Valkyrie, selecting those who will die. When I finished, the sky was already darkening, I took off my apron ready to go but Eira approached me with a sparkle in her eyes.

“I cannot believe you did not stop all day, it was as if the gods had taken your body and started working with the wounded.” She laughed slowly and interlaced our arms giving me a playful squeeze.

“Eira, let them rest, tomorrow will be a long day for everyone and not very pleasant for some.” I said looking at a specially injured shieldmaiden, she will stay. I started walking with Eira beside me.

“Where are you going? I cannot let you go to your tent so soon, it's the last day we have to celebrate a bit, don’t you think? We've worked so hard in this raid.” It is true that this time was especially hard, like me, perhaps I exceeded myself by not letting any of the healers be part of the celebrations, but there was no time to lose.

“I would love to celebrate,” Lie!, “but I have to order my things and I am very exhausted, I need to rest, but you should go Eira, have a good time for the both of us.” I faked a yawn and smiled at her to believe me, but it didn’t work.

“You more than anyone deserves to celebrate, let's eat with others and relax for a while, we will not be young forever Hillevi.” In her youthful face the firelight danced in her soft features and her honey eyes seemed to have a life of their own, “Also, Halstein invited me personally, I cannot miss this opportunity, I'm sure that when we return we'll get married, even you can help me with the dress and the flowers.” He was a great warrior and a handsome young Jarl, one day they would produce strong and healthy children, “Please come with me, you will regret if you don’t go, hm?” although her mouth asked me, her body began to drag me towards the hall, with a groan I nodded and followed her while she continued to day-dream with her wedding.

The ground was wet from the rain that fell during the day, at least I was almost dry from being with the injured under a roof. The mud stuck on the edge of my dress made it heavier than usual, the shoes were full of mud and I could even feel it on my fingers. Drunks were already everywhere, fires surrounded by people drinking, talking loud and laughing, even a couple of fights. Maybe I could get into a fight, hit someone might feel good, powerful, be beaten too, just a litttle.

When we got to the hall I saw how full it was, the tables full of men and women celebrating, the servants from one side to another, and at the end a table higher than the others, where only the leaders and most important warriors can have a place. They were all in their best clothes, or maybe not but for me they were, good leather and fabric. They looked strong and powerful, they also spoke loudly and laughed as everyone, but their food looked better and more of everything, more meat, more mead, more fruit, more power. For some reason the colour blue filled my head and senses. The sky. The sea.

“Finally you arrived Eira, I thought you weren’t going to come.” A voice behind us took us by surprise, we turned and Eira blushed in a delicate and beautiful way, with a smile she looked at the tall blond man in front of us. Halstein, I suppose.

“Oh no, of couse I was going to come, I cannot refuse your invitation.” She made a small bow and he kissed her hand making her blush more, suddenly she remembered that I was by her side and looked at me with wide eyes, “I took the license to bring my friend, she is the one in charge of the wounded and sick, without her I don’t know what we would do, she has been working without rest. I thought it would be a good idea for her to celebrate with us, if it does not bother you” With a smile on her face Eira looked at him with puppie eyes and he just laughed.

“Always so considerate and good friend my dear Eira, of course a woman who is so valuable in the welfare of our people is welcome. Please follow me.” He directed us through the crowd of people, the mass of bodies radiated heat and I could already feel the temperature of my body rising, we came to a table that was just below the main table, he should be more important than what I thought. “Please sit down, you can eat whatever you want.” With a whistle he called a servant who arrived in less than a minute with a large vessel full of mead and two horns.

The noise of the people and the music were overwhelming, I took out a little bit of everything to taste the food, which by the way tastes better than anything I've ever tasted in my life. The blue still filled my head, and a stormy sea was all I could think of. I could hear how Eira and her suitor flirted talking in whispers in their ears. Some of the leaders rose from the table and left the place, the older ones stayed talking about fights from a long time ago, friends already gone and their days of glory. I could hear it was raining again, but stronger than during the day. It made me feel at home, closer to the gods.

Some people danced in the little space that was, making the hall more humid and hot. Everyone was having a good time, saying goodbye to friends who stayed, saying goodbye to this land or just drinking. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and look quickly back, it was the warrior of the morning, we have talked a couple of times but I forgot his name, it would be weird to ask now.

“By the gods, first time I see you around here. I'm glad you came Hillevi.” His beard was oiled with some perfume, the smell made me dizzy but I smiled at him for the effort.

“Yes, it's the first time I've come. It's the last night in this place, and I was hungry so here I am. Feasting with everybody.” He was still standing behind me, I looked towards the bench but there was no more space so I turned to face him. Not even his reddish hair could replace the blue.

“The truth is that I do not speak with many people here and with whom I speak they’re drunk long ago, I was relieved to see you arrive. You look lovely tonight.” Oh no, I know that look and that voice. I do not even know his name and he is somehow interested in me. All for being polite.

“Thank you my friend, you are very kind, but I must leave now, it is late and I am very exhausted.” His face lost the enthusiasm that radiated seconds ago, he moved uncomfortably and looked away.

“You don’t have to leave because of me Hillevi, if my company bothers you, you just have to tell me and I’ll go away.” What an uncomfortable moment. I cannot even handle with my thoughts and now I have to take care of this, “I thought I liked you, you are always so attentive and friendly with me.”

“You're not the reason I'm going to retire, I'm really tired. But it's true, I do not like you that way, I'm friendly with you but I do not want anything else, neither with you nor with anyone.” I stood up and went to Eira's ear to tell her that I was leaving, she just nodded to continue her conversation. “My intention was never to confuse you, I am sorry that you misinterpret my behaviour. Now I will leave.” Looking down, he did not move a bit, stopping me from leaving. “Please, would you allow me?” With a sigh he looked at me angrily.

“Prince Ivar ordered me to stay in the settlement, I wanted to spend tonight with you because maybe we'll never see each other again.” And with that he moved leaving me a small space to pass.

His words made me shiver, I walked as fast as possible to the exit, on my way out I collided with many people leaving short apologies, my feet and legs felt clumsy. Once out of the building I realized the rain had stopped, I started walking fast again, taking advantage of the calm, the night was too dark without the moon and stars, covered with cloud. Suddenly I felt someone following me, stalking in the shadows. I prayed that only Loki was playing with my head, as he always does. But something told me that this time was not the god, I had to be alert to everything around me. When I pass a large tent I saw a bonfire surrounded by men and women, they did not look very drunk so I quickly approached them, I better let a few moments pass here to make sure, I would even spend all night here if necessary.

A woman I knew by sight smiled and greeted me, a healer, she was hugging a slender man that I knew was her husband, and she handed me a horn of saxon wine, I sat next to them and looked at the fire, its hypnotic dance haunted me but I could still feel someone looking at me from afar.

After drinking from the horn I looked up and saw it, the blue that enchanted me was in the eyes of a man. It was so intense that I even forgot that someone was following me a few seconds ago. His eyes were staring at me and I could not do anything but admire them, again the stormy sea, but now locked in him, not in my head.

“Are you a healer?” The blue eyed man’s voice was calm but with an indisputable power, he made the hairs of my neck stand up.

“Yes, she is, she’s the one in charge actually.” The woman next to me said smiling. I could not see his face completely because the fire was between us, but I could see a small grin.

“So you're the one who has not let my warrior's wife rest, not even feast with him.” The couple beside me jumped and looked at me apologizing with their eyes. I cleared my throat and looked straight into his stormy eyes. Maybe I have drunk more than I think.

“That's me. In my hands are the lives of many people and if it is in my power to save them I will do it, if that means ordering the healers to stay longer I will do it. I will not hesitate to do it.” I took a sip of wine, and looked again, his eyes were lit by the fire and there was something else now, “If it bothers you that your warrior's wife could not celebrate, think of all the warriors we saved, do not think I'll apologize for doing my duty.”

“Come here healer” his gaze commanded me more than his actual command, I stood and walk to sit next to him, his broad frame cast a large shadow behind. “That means that you do not hesitate to exercise your power, nor do you consult the others involved in the decisions you make. Do you think it's the right thing?” In his eyes was a brightness full of curiosity, the storm was still there.

“I do not think so. I know that I am the most capable of making decisions, the others first think of their husbands, of enjoying the feasts, of themselves.” I look at the fire again because it seems to be less intense than his gaze, “They know it too, although they do not like what I decide most of the time, deep down they know that I am right, and if they do not know, they obey me all the same. Because they trust me.” He nodded taking the horn from my hands, his fingers brushed mine and I felt his skin hardened by the use of weapons. He took a big sip and grimaced in disgust.

“I prefer mead.” He said and I let out a small laugh, with the corner of my eye I catch him smiling. “I'm glad you think so. I think in a similar way. If I had not done it, the army would not have been so successful.” I looked down and saw his legs covered with metal. He is Ivar. I subtly looked away and started playing with a flower. After a moment of silent he add. “And if they had listened to me even more from the beginning, it would have been better for us.”

“I do not doubt it. We all know that you are a great strategist.” I looked into his eyes and pride emerged strong through his sea.

“Who did you come with? I do not remember you.” We were so close that I could feel his breath of wine and mead brush my cheek.

“I came with Jarl Kjell, with my family we live in his land for as long as I can remember, there I am also a healer, I mainly attend to his family and other nobles, but also the others when I have time.” I lost the notion of time when I started talking with Ivar, the only thing I know is that it's still dark.

“Jarl Kjell is in Valhalla now, I know that your home is near where we will go now, but I have heard that you are very good at what you do, one of the best in Norway at such a young age.” Somehow now I felt him even closer to me, as if he were speaking to me with his thoughts and not his voice. “The gods gave you such a great talent that it cannot be wasted. Come with me to Kattegat, with my army. There you will be much more useful than at your home. The battles will be worse than here, more bloody, we will need you on our side…”

“Hillevi.”

“Hillevi, we’ll need your gift.” In the distance I heard thunder, which means only one thing. I looked straight into his eyes and smiled.

“I cannot contradict the gods, if Thor already answered for me I have nothing left to say.” With that said, we began to talk about the trip and the battles that will come, he told me why he would attack Kattegat and that he would take a christian bishop because he is a great warrior. Every time he spoke of battles his eyes shone with great strength and energy, the storm grew and became braver.

At some point a man gave us "food of the gods" to spend the last hours on this land as it should be. I chewed them up until they were a paste. At first I thought nothing was happening but then I noticed that time had starting moving strangely, I suddenly realized that the rain had returned and the fire had died down. Then there’s a rumble of thunder, and the skies just opened. We’re all screaming and running for cover, I enter a tent with Ivar crawling behind me, just the two of us. Inside my skull it was warm, quiet, still. The usual anxiety and noise were completely gone. I felt happy and relax. The colours seeming brighter through the lightnings, and they seemed to pulse, I heard someone playing music and it sounded incredible. I feel that I could decide to feel everything or simply nothing at all. It was as if I had control over my thoughts and senses. And I look at him like it was the first time that I truly looked at his direction, his blue eyes had these kinds of coloured trails, they give me a sense of complete wellbeing. They weren’t the storm anymore but the clearest sky, peaceful and warm, welcoming. I wanted to feel the earth through my feet so I took off my shoes and I could feel life coming through them. I’d never thought of the world as a beautiful place before, but it looks so beautiful tonight. Just alive with colours and all kinds of prettiness. I felt a sense of wonder over anything: light, colours, music, and taste.

Ivar crawled until he was exposed to the rain that left him wet in a second, with his head he told me to accompany him in the rain and I crawl to his side. With a soft movement he put me on his thighs and I don’t know how long we look into each other's eyes without doing anything else. Until I felt his hand between my leg and the wet fabric of my dress. "So soft.” He said to himself, I watched as his hand stopped at my knee and came down again repeating the movement several times. My hand found its way to his neck drawing with raindrops ancient and almost forgotten runes of the gods, but for my senses it was not enough so with my mouth I began to draw lines and figures on his neck and cheek, on his strong jaw. He moved his head back giving me more space to draw, I started under his ear slowly through the jaw, softly biting here and there, I reached the chin I went down to his neck and when I left a kiss on his knot I felt a sigh escaped his lips. His hands were no longer in my calves, I felt them everywhere, exploring my silhouette, in my ribs his fingers seemed to want to enter my body, pressing and massaging my muscles. It was a glorious feeling.

“Enough.” With his upper body he pushed me into the mud and put himself between my legs with his hands on the sides of my head. The rain did not let me see him completely, I only saw the blue of his eyes wandering in my mouth. I forgot who I was. I felt like the world had a new place for me. Whoever I was. A less miserable place.

I felt tears come down my eyes and Ivar's lips at the same time, I think he was crying too, tasting each other’s tears, my hands went to his hair entangling them in his braids, the wave that runs through me is intoxicating, making my head swim, the kiss was passionate and I felt thirsty for more of him. Kissing Ivar there was a rebellion against the elements. Against the whole world. His lips fought against mine and he pressed his tongue on my bottom lip and, at my grant of access, delved inside my mouth, I felt his energy mixed with mine and my tongue just followed his. I hung my fingers on his waistband, dragging him closer. Our teeth crashed with the force of the movements, the kiss was clumsy and desperate. There was no space left between us and I could feel the beating of his heart against my chest. These raindrops were magical, divine. Each one washed away an unseen pain, a doubt, an angst.

A feeling of despair began to grow in my chest and I realized it was from the lack of air, I separated a bit from his mouth and we were both panting, I rested my forehead against his and gathered some much needed air, he rolled to be next to me in the mud and we started to laugh softly. A kiss like this was just the beginning, and in such a night, a promise of much more to come.

After what seemed forever I looked at him and he was already looking at me with his powerful eyes. We stare at each other, deep into each other's eyes.

“Hillevi.” He whispers slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savour them. “We are soaked.” He said pulling a strand of hair out of my face, and trying to dry me with his hand.

“It is the work of the gods, they are covering us with glory.” For a moment, everything stops. Even the wind holds its breath. And a streak of hot silver splits the sky. “Ivar” He looked at me through his eyelashes and I could feel how the effect of the food of the gods was leaving my body. “We are covered in mud.” And for the first time in the night I saw myself, with a layer of mud all over my body, including our hair and faces.

Without warning, his hand drifted to my hip. It settled there and pulled me closer. I inhaled sharply. He began nuzzling my neck with delicate kisses. “At least we are equally dirty.”

#ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar x oc #Ivar x Original Character #ivar x ofc #vikings #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #vikings imagine #ivar one shot #ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar fanfic #fanfiction #ragnarssons #ivar's heathen army #york #king harald

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thepaperpanda · 3 years ago

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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.

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peaceisadirtyword · 2 years ago

Text

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”

#ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikingsbigbangwinter22 #vikings #vikings imagine #read on ao3 #original female character #ivar imagine

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years ago

Text

When in Bali...

Summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it?

Beginning Notes: I was thinking about @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie’s fic challenge when I came up with this, but Bali sadly wasn’t on the prompt list. Still hoping that this'll do as good as Sandcastles.

Tagged: @bragisrunes @demon-of-the-ancient-world @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @alicedopey @batmandallyboy (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

This summer holiday has been nothing short of awful. First, you catch your partner cheating on you two weeks before you’re supposed to fly, then you find out you can’t get your money back, and then, a wheel broke off of your suitcase. It’s a wonder you even made it to your resort alive.

Now, you’re at the pool, nursing a Mojito in hopes of soothing your heartbreak. There aren’t many people around. Most of them are probably going out. An elderly couple is suntanning across from the pool, there’s two kids throwing a ball in the shallow area and a guy at the bar that looks weirdly familiar. He’s practically devouring his chicken wings and you swear you know him.

The second you start looking away, the two of you make eye contact, and he gives you a bright smile, before returning to his wings.

It happens a few more times in the following days. Each time you see him, there’s this feeling you know him. But from where?

On your fifth day there, you eat dinner at the hotel’s buffet. You haven’t gone out once, either moping at the pool or your room. What’s the point without any company?

You grab this and that off the buffet, only avoiding the shrimps that look a little gray and the chocolate you’re saving for later. At your table, you’re completely alone, and you feel like you’re back in high school.

The stranger walks in, which confuses you, because you’ve seen him leave this hotel with a blond man a bunch of times while you were still lying at the pool. He hasn’t eaten here while you were there, not once.

Every table around you is deserted, and he still makes a beeline for yours. You send a silent curse to any god there might be but put on a friendly smile.

“Hey.” He says. “Saw you sitting all alone, and I thought I’d join you.”

“Hi.” You reply.

“I’m Hvitserk, by the way.” He tells you, holding out his hand. You pause. Hvitserk isn’t a common name, and you’ve only heard it once in your entire life.

You’re sitting on the beach near your parents, trying to save this sad sandcastle when you hear a shriek. Turning around, you see a blond girl your age throwing a crab into the sand after picking it off her leg, before running after a tall boy who’s laughing with sibling-appropriate malice.

“Hvitserk!” she screams. Behind her, a boy with dark hair cackles loudly, before the boy next to him elbows him.

The boy that is being chased runs up to you.

“You have to hide me!” he says, sitting behind you. “My sister is crazy!”

The blond girl that was chasing him isn’t impressed, crossing her arms to show that she can still see him, before she stalks off. You spent the rest of the afternoon ‘hiding’ Hvitserk and building more sandcastles. At some point, the darkhaired boy that was his younger brother crawled over, critizing your castle.

Third-grade you was crushed and immediately entered a sandcastle building contest with him, with Hvitserk as judge. For the rest of your stay in Spain, you and Hvitserk were inseparable.

Quickly, you shake it. “Y/N.” you reply. “Are you from Norway?”

“Yeah, I am actually.” Hvitserk says.

“That’s pretty far.” You comment.

“What about you?” Hvitserk asks.

“I’m studying in Australia, so Bali isn’t too far.”

“You’re really familiar.” Hvitserk blurts out suddenly. You laugh dryly.

“Does that line usually work for you?”

“No, I’m serious.” He insists. “Were you in Spain for summer vacation? Like in elementary school?”

“No fucking way.” You say. “You’re Hvitserk Lothbrok?”

He nods, and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god. I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Fate works in mysterious ways.” He says, making his voice a little too deep to be serious.

“How are Ubbe and Ivar? And Brynhildr and Aslaug?”

“They’re all good.” Hvitserk says. “But Brynhildr is actually called Sigurd. He’s trans.”

“Oh so he’s the blond guy I thought was your boyfriend.” You reply. Hvitserk grimaces.

“Ew, no! He’s my brother.” Then, he smirks. “Wait, have you been stalking me?”

“No.” you protest. “Well, maybe a little bit.”

“Are you saying I’m goodlooking?” Hvitserk asks, casually taking a fry from your plate.

“I’m saying that I’m heartbroken and bored. And yes, you are semi-attractive.”

Hvitserk makes an insulted noise. “All these years of friendship and you call me semi-attractive.”

You laugh, sliding your plate to him, which he happily accepts.

“Fine. Hvitserk, you are so hot and sexy that you’re making me forget why I ever dated my ex in the first place.”

“Good.” Hvitserk says. “What are you doing in Bali anyway?”

“Non-refundable one year anniversary trip.” You grimace.

“Ouch.” Hvitserk nods sympathetically.

“What about you?” you ask. It’s nice catching up with Hvitserk. He’s exactly like you remember. Well, maybe a bit more flirtatious.

“Yearly Aslaugssons trip. Except that Ubbe has a kid on the way and doesn’t want to miss his daughter’s birth.”

“I haven’t seen Ivar around.” You comment.

“He’s kind of turned into an edgelord so he refuses to leave his room to tan. Sigurd’s out with his fiancé today, and I wanted to cheer you up.”

“Did I look that sad?” you ask. After a pause, Hvitserk nods, before you both burst into laughter.

“You should come with us tomorrow. I’ve convinced Ivar to come along for drinks and tacos, and he’s taking his girlfriend. Sigurd’s taking his partner. Why don’t you come as my date, so I’m not alone?”

“I don’t know.” You say. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Ivar and Freydís will be very preoccupied, but Sigurd’s partner is a treasure. They’ll love you; I promise.”

You think about it for a second. It could be fun, and your ex cheated. It’s okay to go as a platonic date for Hvitserk three weeks post-breakup.

“Please?” Hvitserk asks, making puppy eyes at you.

“Fine. But only because you let me win against Ivar when my sandcastle was falling over.”

***

Why are you feeling so nervous? It’s only a night out with an old friend of sorts. You’ve put on the dress that was meant for your anniversary dinner, a long bodycon dress that makes you feel pretty even now, when you’re feeling out of sorts.

You kept your makeup simple because Hvitserk casually forgot to tell you the dresscode, but it doesn’t matter because you managed to tan enough that it made you look just a little bit refreshed.

Hvitserk knocks at your door right on time – which surprises you. You’d think that Ivar would be perfectly punctual, and Hvitserk ten minutes late at the very least, but he’s there, and he’s smiling brightly, just like he did when he was still a kid.

“Hi.” You say, grabbing your purse off the desk and closing the door behind you. “How’s your day?”

“Getting better and better.” Hvitserk jokes, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious, you’re looking good.” He insists.

“I better. Spent at least an hour overthinking this dress when I bought it.”

“Yeah. Would be a pity if the dress went to waste.” Hvitserk murmurs, before he lets you out of the room and leads you to the entrance of the resort. There, Ivar and Freydís are already waiting.

“I thought Hvitserk was talking shit when he said that the Y/N was also in Bali.” Ivar greets you. He’s standing upright now, supported by legbraces and crutches.

“Still salty about my sandcastle being better than yours?” you ask, and he rolls his eyes.

“Mine was clearly better. I’d say the judge was only a bit partial.”

“Freydís.” His girlfriend introduces herself.

“Y/N.” you answer. “Where’s Sigurd?”

“Him and Gale are already there. They said they wanted to enjoy the music a bit before Hvitserk begins ordering the entire menu.” Ivar replies. Hvitserk snorts, absentmindedly grabbing your hand as the four of you start walking. You blush furiously, but don’t let go. Not quite yet.

The restaurant is right at the beach, and a stranger comes bounding up as soon as you cross the threshold.

“You guys are just on time.” They announce. “Sigurd wanted to start ordering appetizers, even though that’s clearly Hvitserk’s assigned job.”

They go around hugging everybody and hug you too. “You must be Y/N.” they say.

“Yeah.” You reply.

“Sigurd told me you gave him your dessert once after Hvitserk ate his while he was in the restroom.”

“That was only because he braided her hair so nicely.” Ivar says sarcastically. So Sigurd and Ivar are still always fighting. You think.

Gale leads you to the table, where Sigurd is talking to a waiter. He hands Hvitserk the menu blindly, whose eyes immediately lights up. Ivar was right – Hvitserk orders six out of the eight appetizers on the menu.

“How are you going to eat all that?” you ask.

“My stomach knows no bounds.” Hvitserk replies. You all sit down, and Sigurd hands you a drink.

“It’s good to see you.” Sigurd greets. “I ordered a Mojito for you. Hvitserk mentioned you were obsessed.”

“Good to see you too.” You reply, before you turn to Hvitserk. “I am not THAT obsessed with Mojitos.”

“Yeah, you only had them each time you ordered from the poolbar.”

“Who’s the stalker now?” you fire back.

Appetizers come and go, as well as the main course, and Hvitserk keeps true to his promise, devouring everything that comes near his plate. At some point, Gale decide that they are full, and Hvitserk happily accepts their plate.

You catch up with Sigurd, since Ivar is making hearteyes at Freydís, who is talking to Gale and Hvitserk. He tells you all about the things you missed since Spain. From Ivar’s braces and his transition to Ubbe and Bjorn setting the BBQ on fire during a family reunion.

At the end of dinner, everyone except Hvitserk is stuffed, and getting ready to head back to the hotel.

“You and Y/N should stay, have dessert and catch up some more.” Freydís suggests, throwing Ivar one of those looks that only your longterm partners or siblings can understand. However, Ivar’s mouth not-so-subtly tugs into a smirk.

Before you can protest, all four of them are gone, Ivar handing Hvitserk some money for the check, who happily accepts while reading through his dessert options.

“Let’s share.” He suggests

“Share food? With you?” you say, only half-joking.

“We shared your fries.” He reminds.

“That wasn’t really decided by me.” You laugh. He hands you the menu, pointing out both options. In the end, you go for lava cake with vanilla ice cream, and Hvitserk scoots closer as the waiter brings a last round of drinks, courtesy of Ivar.

“I’m actually getting hungry for dessert.” You tell Hvitserk. What you don’t tell him is that all those drinks have made you slightly tipsy and Hvitserk is starting to look even better than before.

“And my stomach knows no bounds?” Hvitserk asks. You groan, leaning back against him.

“I think eating even more is a shit idea, but I really love lava cake.” You admit. Hvitserk puts an arm around you, and you don’t mind at all.

“Did you know I had a crush on you in Spain?” Hvitserk suddenly blurts out. You sit back up, staring at him.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s true!” he insists. “Honestly, I can understand younger me perfectly.”

You laugh, but you feel yourself growing nervous – in a good way. For a moment, you think back to your ex, but honestly, the feelings for them haven’t been very strong for a few months already.

“So you’re saying you have a crush on me now?” you ask. Before Hvitserk can answer, the waiter sets down the dessert. You both dig in, and holy fuck – it’s good.

“I take it back, eating this is a great idea.” You say between bites.

“I might have a crush on you now.” Hvitserk says after swallowing his first bite. Surprised, you cough, some of the cake getting stuck in your throat. Hvitserk smacks your back, until you can breathe again.

“Couldn’t that wait until I had swallowed?” you ask, your eyes teary.

“Oh yeah. Sorry about that. Want me to kiss it better?”

You had forgotten how forward Hvitserk was.

“Uhh...” you mumble. “Sure?”

He leans forward, softly kissing you. You almost protest when he pulls back. You finish the dessert in comfortable silence, and on the way home, Hvitserk holds your hand again.

Dutifully, he drops you off at your hotel room, but before he can go, you pull him down to kiss him. After a few seconds, Hvitserk deepens the kiss, and holy fuck, he was an amazing kisser. Out of breath, you break apart.

“I’ll see you at the pool tomorrow?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He says. “I guess I should go to Bali more often, if it turns out like this.”

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the-girl-in-the-box · 2 years ago

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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

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!

#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc #ivar's heathen army #alex hogh andersen #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #not today #chapter forty-two

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serasvictoria · 3 years ago

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@mercurygray was doing her Blind Dates event again this year and since I had so much fun doing it last year, I knew that I had to write something for it again. I used a random name generator and got the name Alexandra Wolff. So here’s my entry that I wrote for the Vikings fandom (which I’ve started camping out in since doing the event last year).

The only downside is that this was supposed to be nothing more than a short intro to introduce an unknown OC and to establish her as the leading character. But by the end of it, I had a full blown fic on my hands for some reason. I’m so sorry, Merc 😅

Title: Cheated Hearts

Pairing: Ivar Lothbrok/Original Female Character

Word Count: 4700 😅

Summary: Alexandra Wolff hates Valentine’s Day with a passion and a messy run-in with a stranger certainly doesn’t make her feel otherwise...

All images from Pinterest

Tagging @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @ritual-unions-gotme @vikingstrash @quantumlocked310 @adrille88 @actual-queen-of-hell @youbloodymadgenius @punkrocknpearls @zuxiezendler @whenimaunicorn @grimeundglow @istorkyou @underragingwaves

*****

If she had to look at another teddy bear with a tiny red sweater that had “I love you beary much” written on it, she was going to scream.

She would. Right in the middle of the goddamn store. Right in front of all the customers that flocked to the counter with all kinds of Valentine’s Day themed shit with the biggest smiles plastered all over their dumb faces.

“This shit, it’s all a lie. Commercial bullshit, all designed to make you spend money for one perfect evening. Then a month, or a year from now if you’re lucky, that same person will tear your heart out of your chest and then they’ll eat it right in front of you making it the last thing you see before you die.”

That’s what she desperately wanted to say. Maybe it would break the spell for one of these saps at least.

Instead, all that Alexandra did was produce her best plastic smile and then told the customer to have a great day. She needed this dumb job to pay the bills, she couldn’t afford to get fired. Not again.

At least the day was almost at an end.

She couldn’t wait to stop at Starbucks on the way home so she could get a frappuccino. Her one indulgence of the day. The rest of the evening would consist of nothing more than curling up on the couch with some leftover mac and cheese while watching Fatal Attraction.

It’s not like she had always been this bitter. From the time that she was old enough to even realise what Valentine’s Day was, she would eagerly wait for the mailman, but apart from two cards from her best friend at the time, there had never been a card from a secret admirer to declare his undying love for her.

Sure, she’d had boyfriends during Valentine’s Day, but none of the guys that she dated had been considerate enough to buy her something. One of them realised halfway through the day what day it was and had opted for a handwritten note with “roses are red” scribbled on it. That had been sweet at least, but afterwards she found out that he’d written similar notes to at least three other girls in school.

That had not been a good day.

Standing in line at Starbucks and seeing a couple of loved up couples in the place made her remember the reason why she had even started to hate this day at all.

Her last boyfriend, he who shall not be named, had been pretty perfect at first. Though she might just have been viewing him through a pair of very rose tinted glasses all along. He had been the one that kept going on about how commercial Valentine’s Day was, even going as far as implying that if it hadn’t been that he would have bought her something.

No, the fact that corporations were telling him that he had to buy his girlfriend something on this specific day, that’s what was the problem.

It wasn’t like he ever bought her anything on his own.

Oh no, wait. He bought her a book once, some dumb romance novel from a writer that she’d never even heard of, and then he actually told her, “You like to read, right?” So it wasn’t like that had been a particularly thoughtful gift. Didn’t help that he mentioned that he’d found it in a bargain bin either.

Yep. Really lucked out with that douchebag.

Her mind had been filled with all the other shitty things her ex had pulled when she walked out of Starbucks and turned the corner. Didn’t help that she hadn’t been looking where she had been going at all.

Nor had the hard body that she suddenly found herself colliding with.

Her caramel frappuccino fell from her hand, landing on the floor with a great big smack, sending the contents flying all over her old white sneakers and white trousers. It also stained the light grey trousers and leather shoes of the guy in front of her.

Usually she’d apologise profusely, but Alexandra’s day had been so shitty that her first reaction wasn’t anything like it normally would be.

“Son of a bitch! Well, that’s just great!”

It wasn’t until she looked up that the rest of her words left her completely. For the blue eyes that were looking straight back at her were the most beautiful eyes that she’d ever seen. There was a whole storm raging inside them and it was sadly directed straight at her, but it did nothing to deter their beauty.

“Are you done?” The anger was dripping from his voice, obviously, but it took her aback nonetheless. “You fucking ruined my trousers.”

“Maybe if you’d been looking where you were going…”

“Me? You’re the one that wasn’t looking!” She’d been so focused on his angelic features, which she’d sadly angered, that she hadn’t even noticed that he had been leaning to the side slightly, one shoulder slanted downward. “It’s not like I could have gotten out of the way.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you could have…“

Her eyes moved downward (over the wide expanse of his chest, which had her clenching her thighs reflexively), and down his legs that she noticed the outline of something underneath the wet fabric that was clinging to them. It was also at that moment that Alexandra noticed the cane.

“Oh.”

She’d walked straight into someone with a leg injury. As if this day couldn't get any worse. She could have seriously injured this guy if she'd walked into him with enough speed and he had taken a fall. Thankfully, all that she had done was soil his trousers.

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What do you want me to say!”

“That you’re sorry? That you'll pay for my dry cleaning bill?”

“Excuse me?” She looked down at his trousers again, they didn’t look particularly special to her. The shoes, now they obviously were expensive, but the trousers? “You can put your Gap trousers in a washing machine. I’m not paying for that.”

“Gap?!” His voice went up a few octaves, obviously insulted that she had implied that his trousers looked cheap. “They’re Armani.”

“Well, congratulations. Good for you,” she bit back, sarcasm lacing her voice now. “I’m still not paying for that. Or is Armani so special that it’ll disintegrate in a washing machine?”

"The fabric needs to be handled with care," he replied with a practised sneer. "Something that you obviously wouldn't know with your bargain bin clothing."

Alexandra's nostrils flared in anger. Sure, her clothes weren't that expensive, and yes, the trousers had been on discount, but that was uncalled for. It wasn't like everybody could drop what she considered to be a small fortune on a pair of trousers.

Her eyes fell on a half full cup on a table, filled with some unidentifiable brown sludge, coffee from the looks of it, and before her brain had the time to register what she was doing, she picked it up. At least she had the common sense to take a step back first before chucking the contents all over his trousers and shoes. There was no need to get herself more dirty than she already was.

"What the fuck!"

Very calmly, Alexandra reached into her bag, dug out her wallet, grabbed a banknote and shoved it against his chest. "Here." She produced another one of those massive plastic smiles, the millionth one of the day. "I'll gladly pay to have that dry cleaned, asshole."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a fish, obviously trying to come up with a response and failing miserably, but she wasn't going to stand around and let him hurl more abuse at her. With the smile still on her face, she walked around him without saying another word and walked back home without a care in the world.

Despite the fact that her trousers were filthy and that her socks and shoes were wet, she barely noticed it. That encounter had left her on a high of epic proportions. The perfect way to unload after a long and exhausting day.

It wouldn't be until much later, when she was sitting on her couch and crying into her ice cream over the sad state of her love life, not even Glenn Close going after Michael Douglas with a knife able to lift her spirits, that she felt horrified over her earlier actions. This wasn't what she was like and knowing that she'd even let her emotions get to her like that… All because everything leading up to Valentine's Day pissed her off to no end.

There was little that she could do about it now though, because it wasn't as if she'd ever see the mystery man again.

*****

Another day, another day closer to Valentine's Day.

There were only a couple of days left and then all this sugary sweet madness would be over.

Alexandra wasn't sure if she could handle any more of this nonsense. Not when her heart had been torn out almost a year ago to the day now, which was why she had come to loathe this day so much to begin with. Seeing hearts all over the place, the myriad of cards with sickly sweet words, signs everywhere urging people to buy even more shit for their sweethearts…

She was pulled out of her thoughts when someone placed a basket on the counter. Peeking inside, she groaned when she saw the contents. She looked up, seconds away from greeting the customer with her customary plastic smile…

"Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh god." Her face fell when she looked at the man in front of the counter, the same guy that she had thrown drinks on yesterday, once accidentally and then deliberately the second time. "Good afternoon, sir," she said through gritted teeth. "How can I help you?"

"This is the gift wrapping counter, isn't it?"

"As you can see." She pointed at the little sign next to her. "Can I see your receipt please?"

It was practically shoved in her face. Fine. She guessed she had that one coming after what she'd done yesterday.

Glancing in the basket once more, she rolled her eyes. How many things were even in there anyway? Must have been six different things. Since he didn't look like the type of guy that would lavish just one girl with such attention, Alexandra immediately assumed that it must have been for several different ladies.

"What was that for?"

"Hm?" She barely looked up from the first item that she had fished out of the basket, a snowglobe with a bear holding a card with a heart inside it. "I didn't do anything."

"You rolled your eyes." She shook her head and wrapped up the present. "Why?"

"No reason," she remarked with a voice completely devoid of emotion. "You bought a lot of stuff."

"Oh, so that's why." He leaned over the counter to look at what she was doing and right when she'd been about to move the first present to the side to start working on the next one, he tapped on the paper. "Not like that. Do it… neater."

"I could always give you some paper so you can do it yourself, you know?"

"And why would I want to do that?" Her growing annoyance only made his wicked grin grow. "This is a nice service that this store offers so I'm going to use it."

The aim of the game was obviously to make her suffer, she had realised that much, and she needed this job. It wasn't like she could refuse to help him, because she just knew that he'd complain to management for the sheer enjoyment of it.

So she gritted her teeth once more, kept her head down and helped the Prince of Darkness to the best of her abilities. He made her redo the wrapping of at least three other presents, but when he noticed that he wasn't getting a rise out of her like he managed to get yesterday, he seemed to drop the matter entirely.

When she finally put the last of the items in a paper bag, she handed it over to him, without the big smile this time, because she had ceased giving a shit, and said, "Have a very pleasant day, sir."

"I'm sure I will. Especially now," he said with a smug smile. She longed to wipe it off of his face, but she could hardly reach over the counter and actually do it. The muscles in her jaw clenched and there was a brief flash of some indescribable emotion on his face, making him pause for a few seconds before finally turning away. "Until next time."

Alexandra watched him hobble out of the store and she hoped to god that this didn't mean that he'd be visiting regularly with the aim of torturing her some more in the future.

*****

"It'll be fun." Sigrid held on to her hand, gripping it like a vice. "You'll see."

"It won't be. I'll be miserable all night."

"You are not going to spend the rest of the evening sitting around at home and being even more miserable. This way you can be drunk and miserable." Before she could open her mouth, Sigrid had turned around and hugged her tightly. "No more thinking about that douchebag, okay?"

"I can't just-" Her friend's arms were so tight around her that it made her wonder if this was what it was like if a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around your body and was busy squeezing the life out of you. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are." When Sigrid pulled away, she flicked Alexandra in the middle of her forehead. "You wouldn't even reply to my texts the last couple of days. You need this."

"I need vodka shots?" She chuckled then, reminded of how Sigrid was practically trying to bang down her door earlier as she threatened to stand there all night if she had to. "Alcohol doesn't solve every problem."

"It will this time." Sigrid flashed her a smile and started tugging her along to the bar again. "Trust me!"

They reached their destination of the evening shortly after and Alexandra was pulled along to an empty table in the corner. Sigrid disappeared to the bar and came back with the first round of shots later.

The next twenty minutes were spent shit talking her former boyfriend and though Alexandra longed to dismiss men altogether, she knew that Sigrid had started dating a new guy about a month ago, so she focused all her negativity solely on her piece of shit ex.

Only one more day to go and then it would be exactly one year-

"Please don't hate me."

Sigrid got up and smoothed out her skirt. Alexandra frowned, not entirely sure why her friend even said that at all. Craning her neck, she saw Sigrid disappear into the crowd and approach a guy who she promptly embraced. And then kissed.

Oh fuck.

The happy couple approached the table and it wasn't until she could see another guy walking right behind them, that she realised that she'd been set up. This wasn't just a drinking session between friends, this was a double date.

"Alex." Sigrid's smile was unbelievably sweet, even when she was being levelled by Alexandra's angry stare. "I want to introduce you to someone."

"Hi." Her new beau seemed unperturbed by the fact that she wasn't hiding the fact that she was incredibly pissed off. "I'm Ubbe." He held his hand out to her which she took, not wanting to be too rude. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Great," she replied with a flat voice. "I'm Alex. Sigrid's clueless friend."

Sigrid didn't look too pleased with her right now, but she didn't care. She was beyond livid at the moment and she would be sure to let her friend know all about it later. Ubbe merely laughed in reply and when he stepped to the side to reveal the guy behind him, Alexandra nearly dislocated her jaw.

"No." She got up and held her hands up. "Nope. Not happening."

"So we meet again.” The guy behind him, or her nemesis as she now liked to call him, pulled a chair back and sat down next to the one that she had vacated. “Not that I was expecting to meet like this, but I’ll take it.”

“Ivar.” When Ubbe said the guy’s name, it sounded like he had uttered it in that way quite often, instantly giving the impression that he had scolded him before. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Like hell you did!” Alexandra pressed her index finger into his chest until he focused those stunning blue eyes on her again. “You are the single most unpleasant person that I have ever met in my entire life.”

“Need I remind you that you threw coffee on me. Twice.”

“Oh fuck. That was you?” Ubbe sounded impressed now, though she wasn’t entirely sure why he would be impressed that she’d almost assaulted his brother. “I apologise for my baby brother,” he sounded genuinely apologetic. “I don’t even want to know what kind of shit he pulled for you to do that.”

“Hey!”

“I know you, Ivar.” Whatever else Ivar was going to say, he was effectively silenced by his brother’s angry stare. “Why don’t I buy the next round, huh?” He pulled Sigrid to the side and spoke to her in a hushed voice. Ivar, meanwhile, was sitting in his chair with his arms folded, looking every inch the petulant child. “I’ll be right back.”

“Alex.” Sigrid tugged on her sleeve to stop her from trying to stare a hole right through Ivar’s chest. “Toilet break.” Alexandra wanted to say something in reply, about how she was leaving, but Sigrid held a finger up to let her know that she wasn’t allowed to say anything. “Now, Alexandra!”

Since Sigrid hardly ever used her full name when addressing her, it was enough to get her to follow her friend meekly.

“Okay, so what’s the problem here?” Sigrid asked as soon as they got to the ladies room.

“That guy is an asshole!”

“So this is the coffee guy, right?” She’d already told Sigrid all about it on the way to the bar of course, and also about what had happened when he came to the store yesterday. Alexandra nodded. “Well, that’s just great.”

“Why‘d you even trick me like this?” Now it was Alexandra’s turn to talk. “You know I don’t like double dates, not after the last disaster.”

“Yeah, I know, but if I’d told you that I’d invited Ubbe and that he was going to bring his brother, you wouldn’t have come.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t have!”

“I just didn’t want you to spend all night wallowing in your own misery, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to-“

“You were. Don’t lie.” No reply came, because Sigrid was able to see straight through her bullshit. “So just hang out for a bit, have a couple of drinks. Not like you have to get off with Ubbe's brother, right?"

"I wasn't planning on it so don't worry about that."

"He sure is cute though."

"His personality isn't," Alexandra replied. "Trust me on that one."

When they rejoined the two guys, Ubbe had gotten the drinks and was talking to Ivar in a hushed voice. Their talk ended abruptly at their arrival and Alexandra sat down in her seat once more. She glanced at Ivar, his expression unreadable. His brother kept grinning at her though and she wasn’t entirely sure why that was happening, but she shook it off.

The conversation flowed easily. Ubbe was a genuinely nice guy and it was plain to see that Sigrid was head over heels in love with him. He displayed a similar level of affection to her, which was nice to see.

Ivar, for his part, kept relatively quiet. Alexandra noticed that he would look at her out of the corner of his eye occasionally, when he thought that she didn’t notice, and she kept waiting for an apology to come, but he never offered one up.

Why he was even here at all was something that she wondered a few times. With all the gifts that he bought at the store, one would be inclined to think that he was too busy to spend the evening before Valentine’s Day in a bar, tagging along with his brother on a double date. Ivar didn’t appear to be getting any messages from his mystery women either. He only glanced at his phone once, only to put it back in his pocket with a slight frown.

But why the hell did she even care anyway? What he did in his spare time was of no concern for her at all. If he kept his foul mood under lock and key, he was probably quite pleasant to be around. Ivar was easy on the eye after all. There was no denying that.

Still, it was nothing that she should even be thinking about. It didn’t matter.

It wasn’t until they had been left to their own devices, with Sigrid and Ubbe a little bit too occupied with each other, in the process of sucking each other’s faces off, that Ivar finally found the courage to talk to her.

“My mother.”

Alexandra looked up and straight into those eyes that had no right being that blue.

“Excuse me?”

“My mother,” Ivar repeated his words. “The stuff I bought yesterday. It was for my mother.”

“As if I’d believe that!”

Ivar pulled his mobile out of his pocket and pulled up a picture before handing her his phone. “Look,” he said simply.

Looking down at the screen, she found herself staring at a picture of an older woman, with a face like she had been a supermodel in a former life, with that hideous pink sweater with the red hearts on it that Ivar had bought yesterday. In her arms were all the other things that he had bought, the big pink bunny plushie right in the middle. It looked like she was in tears from laughing too much and Alexandra couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“That’s my mother,” he repeated one final time before taking the phone from her, his fingers brushing against her hand gently. “I do that every year. Buy her hideous stuff like that for Valentine’s Day just to make her laugh.”

“That’s so sweet,” she blurted out and she instantly cursed herself for even admitting that out loud. The self satisfied smirk on his face made her cringe. A little. “But why?”

“So she won’t be reminded of my father.” He sighed when he saw her questioning look. “He disappeared. Years ago now. We think he’s in England, but we’re not sure. No one’s spoken to him in years.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I know. Their marriage wasn’t great, but we never thought that he’d just leave like that.” There was a deep overwhelming urge to reach out and grab his hand, but she fought it. “I’ve been doing that ever since, because she deserves the attention.”

“That’s a really lovely thing to do.” The urge won out in the end and while she did not grab his hand as intended, she did at least pat the back of it and then let it rest there. It was obvious that he really loved his mother. “Very sweet.”

“So I recognise the pain, you know.” Alexandra frowned at that, not knowing what he meant with those words initially. “In you, I mean.”

“Oh.” She looked down at his hand and how he had turned his own hand upwards to grab hers. “But I’m not… it isn’t…”

“It’s okay.” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Whoever he was, he’s obviously an asshole.”

“Thank you.” Her breathing stuttered, almost choking when he said that. She got up from her seat so quickly that she knocked her chair over. “I-I think I need some air.”

Not thinking of grabbing her coat, she headed straight out into the street and the first thing that hit her was the cold air. There were a few seconds where she contemplated heading back in again, but decided that maybe the difference in temperature would help and clear her head.

When the door opened again and Ivar hobbled out into the street with her coat in his free hand, she almost started crying there and then. Instead, she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes, to stop any potential tears from falling at all.

“You forgot this,” he held it out to her and she put it on quickly. “Want me to stay?”

“It’s a free country,” she said with a nervous laugh, but when he didn’t respond she added a quick, “Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

The silence between them afterwards was pleasant, for want of a better word. Ivar simply stood next to her, leaning against the wall like she was doing. She swore that she almost saw his lips move from the corner of his eye a couple of times, but he must have been as much at a loss as Alexandra was.

Waiting for the questions made her nervous and almost made her blurt out a hasty apology herself, but the words didn't form. It would be too difficult to explain away after all.

For where does one start this sad sob story? The one where she was happy in a relationship, oblivious, but happy, only to find out about her then boyfriend’s betrayal by accidentally walking in on him having sex with someone that she had considered a friend?

It was such a fucking cliche too, like something straight out of the movies, but at least Alexandra could boast that her first reaction to seeing this hadn’t been to run off whilst crying. No, her first instinct had been to grab some hideous ceramic that his mother had gifted them, which he had insisted be placed in the bedroom so she was forced to look at it every morning that she woke up, and she had lobbed it straight at the couple.

It had shattered right on her back, because she hadn’t even bothered getting off of him, and then she’d screamed bloody murder at Alexandra, who had very calmly stood in the doorway and had told both of them to get the fuck out her house. The exact same level of calmness that she had displayed when she had first met Ivar and had thrown that second drink on him.

How does someone even start a story like that? She’d only start rambling incoherently and then he’d obviously be so put off by this display that he’d never want to see her again. And she kinda did want to see him again, didn’t she?

Christ. She was royally fucked.

“So…” She finally opened her mouth, opting instead to blurt out some hasty apology even if she had no idea what to say. “The thing is…”

Ivar had turned to her at the exact same moment that she had, but instead of listening to her lame ass excuse, his free hand moved to the back of her head and he dipped his head down to close the distance, their lips finally meeting.

The kiss was gentle and soft, his lips moving against hers slowly. She kissed him back, of course she did, how could she not. It was slow and sweet, no pressure, but with a hint of more if she so desired. When he broke away, she chased after him, giving him a final quick peck before all contact was broken.

His smile was almost as gentle as the kiss and then he said, “I don’t have to know.” She didn’t know what to say to that, having been successfully stunned into silence. Instead she found herself looking down at the hand that he was offering her now. “You want to come back inside?”

Alexandra took it.

#blind dates prompt #blind dates oc fest #vikings #vikings au #ivar lothbrok #original female character #ivar x ofc #mar writes #mar moodboards #blind dates 22

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