#Ivarr the Boneless x Reader

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter four

Masterlist

/!\ Miscarriage/!\

You came back to the longhouse, but you were strange. He knew what you went through was traumatic, but there was something else. You hid your body, covering your loosest clothes, you hid the right side of your face. You refused to look at him and you avoided him. You were hiding from Ivarr. You were hiding something from him and it was starting to annoy him. Ivarr tried to give you space and time, as Ubba and Halfdan advised him to do. They thought that with time to yourself, you would get better, but you still refused to talk to him.

You had refused to speak to him for four moons now.

Four moons since you refused to sleep with him.

You've been avoiding him for four moons.

You had completed several tasks that allowed you to move as much as possible. By Odin, you even agreed to work in the stables as long as you stayed away from Ivarr.

This time he had had enough. Their brothers could go to Helheim with their council. Ivarr was tired of seeing his wife drift away from him and become nothing more than a shadow of herself. Ivarr would go deep into the forest to find you, training you in archery. You drew the string of your bow, letting go of the string to see your arrow go into the ground, far from your target. At the end of your nerves, you threw your bow on the ground. Now that you had lost the use of your right eye, you could no longer aim properly. You had shot around twenty arrows, none of which had touched your target. You drew your axe, throwing it at the target, but like your arrows, it fell on the dead leaves.

“Shit!” you cried, running your hands over your face. "I'm tired of it!”

Ivarr leaned against the tree, watching you pick up your arrows and axe. When you turned towards him, you froze when you saw your companion. You sighed, putting your arrows back in your quiver.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, hanging your axe on your belt.

"I was looking for you. Is that bad?"

“I would have thought you would have gone to fight Bretons or Saxons.”

"The Bretons ran off with the pig's wife and apparently we can't go after the Saxons because of that idiot Bishop and Ceolbert," Ivarr growled.

“Normally, that doesn’t stop you,” you said, turning your back on him to detach your target. “What’s stopping you?”

“My wife stops me.”

You froze when you heard him say that. Was Ivarr worried about you? It was new. You turned to Ivarr. The Boneless looked at you with his gaze that seemed to penetrate your entire being. You swallowed, clutching the target to your chest. Gods, you didn't like it when he looked at you like he did. It always made you lose your means, but with their marks King Rhodri had left you.

You hated them.

You hated your body.

You had several other marks of war, but these showed your helplessness. So you made the decision to hide them. You hid your bruised eye and scars under layers of bandages and hid your body under thick furs. Ivarr lifted himself from the tree, moving closer to you. Your grip tightened, even more, on your target.

"There's something you're not telling me, woman," he said darkly. "What did Rhodri do to you? Did he make you do-"

"No! No, he didn't do anything like that."

"So what happened? What else did he do, (Y/N)?"

What else did Rhodri do?

You didn't want to think about it anymore, that's why you were always moving. You didn't want to think about this event anymore. You looked at Ivarr out of the corner of your eye. Should you tell him? Ivarr growled, spreading his arms, waiting for your response. You bit your lip. You tried to find your words. How could you tell him something like that? Ivarr was a drengr. This sort of thing was not important to a drengr. To die with dignity in combat is the goal of a drengr. Ivarr's objective. He always shouted it loud and clear. He always told you that you would be together in Valhalla, that you would both fight and drink and fuck in the great hall. Maybe you should have focused on that goal.

Maybe... you should have joined Valhalle sooner.

Maybe.

"We are drengr. Our role is to fight and reach Valhalla. That's why we are born. That's why we die. We live for nothing else, " you said, turning to Ivarr. "I repeat that to myself. Day after day. I focus on the most menial tasks to keep my mind occupied and not think about that day and what he did. I...he trampled on him like if he was just a common insect."

“Who did Rhodri step on (Y/N)?”

"Our baby... he... he trampled on him..."

Ivarr looked at you without knowing what to say or what to think. A baby? It was impossible. You never had the build of a pregnant woman. You continued your training as always. You fought against Saxons. You got punched in the stomach. Ivarr ran his hands over his face, pacing as he digested this news.

"How...? When...? You... you weren't pregnant when you were..."

"I was, but I didn't know it. He... he wasn't bigger than that," you said, pointing to the space with your thumb and index finger. "He looked like a larva... but... he was our baby... Rhodri had hit me so hard in the stomach. It hurt so much, but I... I didn't expect to see it. I tried to hide it. I hid it in a piece of cloth. I wanted to bury it. But... Rhodri saw it. He snatched it from me and... he trampled on him like he was crushing a common insect. I... I couldn't do anything. I... I could just watch him trample on him again and again... he didn't care. Nothing was left."

You could no longer hold back your tears as you thought about this scene. You saw again this little thing in your underwear that you hid a piece of fabric. You saw again Rhodri snatching it from your hands to throw it on the ground and stomping on it with rage. You screamed and cried for this child you couldn't bury. You cursed Rhodri for doing what he did.

You were surprised to see Ivarr turn on his heel and walk away from you. Where was he going? Why did he leave you alone?

"Ivarr?! Where are you going?! Ivarr!!"

Ivarr ignored your request. He continued to walk away until he disappeared from your field of vision. You had just lost your husband. Why did you speak? Why did you have to listen to Bishop Deorlaf? You should have kept it all to yourself. You fell to your knees, letting the target fall to the ground. You had nothing left. Were you alone? Not impossible. You must have had a bad dream, didn't you? Yes, that was the only explanation. You manage to get up, picking up your target to return to your tent. You put away your weapons and your target before lying down on your makeshift bed. Exhaustion overwhelmed you, you fell asleep. You didn't have any dreams. No nightmares. But there was nothing restful about this sleep. You didn't know how long you had slept, but you had to wake up to the feeling of someone shaking you and calling your name. You opened your eyes. Your gaze met Ivarr’s. You stood up, looking at your surprised husband. Ivarr had returned.

"Get ready, let's go," he said, standing up.

"Where?" you asked as you stood up, running your hands through your tangled hair. "

At Rhodri's tomb," Ivarr replied grimly.

[sonnefuchs]

Repton

Pairing: Ivarr x Reader

Warning:  Torture, violence, sexy Ivarr

Preamble:  Some weird shit that’s been sitting in my drafts, waiting to be deleted, haha.  It just basically turned into how much I like him half naked.  Let me tell you about those muscles....

Eivor jumped off her horse and waived at you to follow.  You dismounted, weaving through people to catch up to her.

“Sigurd said he would be here.”  Eivor’s brow furrowed, looking around the town.

They heard the screams of pain coming from a Saxon church.

The sight was extraordinary.  Eivor walked in seeing a man tied up upside down, screaming in agony as another, blindfolded, held a hot metal sword. A man bare from the waist down had his back to them, shouting at the two he was torturing.

Turning, you were entranced by his eyes.  A stormy grey blue of the ocean.

“Who stands before Ivarr Ragnarsson!  Are you Sigurd’s Drengr...Aygor!”

“Eivor.  If you keep that up, you’ll stain the floors.”  Eivor said, eyeing the grisly scene in front of her.

“Eh, The place could use some color.”

You drank in the sight before you.  His bare chest and arms were tattooed.  Your eyes drifted from the black lines on his arms over to the Yggdrasil, Sleipnir, and Raven tattoos peeking out from the chest hair over his muscular torso and down to the runes just right above his belt.  He was a very fit man and you wished to see him use those muscles in battle.  At least battle for now.

“Heh...Who are they?”  Eivor asked.  You tried to listen as you watched his muscles flex as he moved.

“All spies.  Dressed to look the part of a peasant.  Got feisty.”  He wiggled his hands grinning maniacally.  “Pitchfork, from this rabid little one.”  He nodded, grinning wider.

He pulled the blindfolded man closer, ”Was a time when you met and slew your enemy on the field before they could even dream of things like SENDING SPIES!”

He smacked the man’s ass, forcing him to stab the other one with the hot metal.  For some reason, you couldn’t help but think about his hands smacking your ass.  Shaking your head, you brought your thoughts back to the present.

“And now we shake hands and make deals.” said Eivor.

“Not my thing.”  Ivarr held his finger up.

“I figured.”  She replied.

“I love them whipped, weeping, and reeking of piss.”

Ivarr turned back to Eivor, feeling a pair of eyes burning into him. He finally noticed you standing behind Eivor, staring openly.  His eyes flicked from you to Eivor’s.  He tilted his head questioningly.

“This is Y/N.  My companion.”  Eivor said.

“Ahhhh...I see.”  He turned back to the blinded man.

Finishing his torture for now, he walked back to the man hanging upside down.

“You’re free, Saxon piggy.  To run amok through the Mercian fields.”

Walking slowly over to the rope, he grabbed his axe and swung forcefully down on it.  A short scream and the man landed on the floor.

You twitched slightly shocked.  Eivor’s eyes widened.

“I would have let him down easy.”  Eivor said.

Ivarr turned, finishing putting his shirt on, with a look of confusion in his eyes.”

“Huh...  Follow me, I’ll give you the tour.”

He strode out of the church leaving Eivor and you to follow.

“What do you call this place?”

“I call it the Shithole.  To the Mercians it is Repton.”

[spookieloop]

WHAT THE DEAD MEN SAY

Chapter One:

Pairing: Ivarr Ragnarsson(AC Valhalla)/Female!Reader

Premise: You are an archeologist/linguist in the Victorian era, and your world is turned upside down when a certain Viking Warlord returns to life before your eyes.

Rating: Explicit(there is a bit of NSFT at the end, and there will be more in later chapters)

In truth, you hadn’t wanted to attend this party. The museum was...nice, but you were quite familiar with most of the exhibits. Your presence had been politely mandated by the foundation that pays your bills, if only on account of your relative fluency in a number of dead languages and scripts. Not that you were given the proper respect for your achievements. “Greatest Female Mind of the 19th Century,” to distinguish you from the men, who won far greater respect for far less work. You weren’t sure how many more questions about your ‘spinsterhood’ you could withstand; as though none of your accomplishments held weight without a ring on a finger or a child on your hip. The other scientists were the worst of course; they had seen you work, knew your intelligence, yet it served their egos to pretend as though you were lesser.

It is far too much frustration, with far too little alcohol. Perhaps wine, yes; a quick trip to the cellars to clear your head ought to do you some good. You excuse yourself, your colleagues all too willing to believe you some dithering lady with need to retire for a bit; as though they hadn’t seen you trek through hot sun and freezing rains.

You roll your eyes as you turn away, your heels tip tapping against the marble floors as you make your escape.

It is however, a large building, and the lower floors are beginning to feel more like a labyrinth than a basement. At this point, you are more interested in finding your way out than you are in seeking out more wine.

The further you go into the basement, the less light there is, fortunately, you come prepared. You rummage through your satchel for your candles and matches, shedding some light on your surroundings.

The breath is stolen from your lungs and you all but shriek at the sight before you, a wide skeletal grin seeming to stare down at you. You calm down quickly however, realizing that this must be where the museum keeps its new exhibits before they go on display. Holding the candle closer to the skeleton’s glass case, you see evidence of water damage, as though it had been found at the bottom of a lake after centuries of rest...you frown as your flame illuminates the brass plaque.

Ivarr Ragnarsson

Of course, this must be from the recent Viking Age find. You had been requested for this project, but you refused. Normally, you were a go-to for Viking cultural finds, but this...The Foundation had decided to dredge the lake in search of high-profile remains. You were sickened by the idea, it felt as though your colleagues were disturbing the extensive rituals of the honored dead. You loved history, but this...felt wrong.

Wrong could not even begin to cover what you were about to witness.

You watch in awe as the bone seems to rejuvenate from its formally eroded state; awe giving way to horror as blood and flesh materializes seemingly from nowhere, knitting together to reform the man from the inside out. His face wears a blank expression, not quite alive, as the scars tear across his flesh, ink bubbling up to the surface to reform his tattoos. Your fingertips ghost against the glass inquisitively, your fears all but forgotten as you marvel at his form. Until now, you could only guess at what the people of the distant past truly looked like; and now here he is, standing before you just as he was the day he died.

Suddenly his eyes open, and you recoil with renewed urgency, only barely keeping your grip on your candle. He hadn’t just regained his form, the man is alive. Your brain fires off quickly, desperately seeking some explanation for this...perhaps a gas leak? No, your candle would have had you up in flames.

His head tilts in confusion as he eyes you, blinking abscently as though he had woken from a long slumber. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but a look of animal panic flashes through his eyes when he realizes there is no air in this glass box.

You realize it too, instinctually rushing to his aid, moving to unlatch the glass box...too slowly. As you reach for his prison, he is already smashing his head through the glass like a battering ram, littering the floor with the glittering shards. In your surprise, you drop your candle; the light still glowing weakly against the marble floor.

Barely illuminated, the man-Ivarr, is a thing of terror; rage and confusion etched into his face. You scramble backward, pressing your back tightly to the wall as he fixes you with his murderous gaze.

“What, THE FUCK, is this?” he growls in thickly accented Old Norse.

You struggle a bit to understand him, you were much more accustomed to reading Old Norse than hearing it. His displeasure though, is obvious. He lets out a pained grunt as he steps down into the broken glass with his bare feet, quickly closing the distance between you.

“I don’t know!” You manage to stammer out in his own language, shrinking away from him as his nostrils flare with rage.

“I was in Valhalla,” he booms. “Fighting beside my family for endless days.” He looks around, even as he struggles to see in the darkness, he can tell how deeply unfamiliar this world is. “Now I am...where am I?” He growls, caging you against the wall with his hands on either side of your head.

You quake in your boots; even naked and unarmed, you know he could kill you-with ease if he wanted…and he certainly looks like he’s got murder on his mind.

“London,” you force yourself to answer.

He doesn’t let you elaborate before he resumes his barking, unsatisfied. “I have been to Lundon, they had nothing like this,” he says, gesturing to what little you can see of the modern furnishings.

“It is London,” you insist, earning a rough hand around your neck before you can finish your sentence.

“You lie,” he snarls, squeezing harder as you claw at his hand desperately.

“Please,” you urge, struggling to choke the words out. “You’ve been dead for a thousand years.”

You gasp deeply when he releases you, staring up at him as you scramble for breath. He looks confused, but not so shocked as he should be; you can only hope that he believes you.

“A thousand years?” He whispers, looking around abscently in consideration. He looks down at you as you sink against the wall. “What sort of magic calls me back to this world after so long?”

You shake your head, trying to regain your composure, eyes fixed firmly on his. “I’m as shocked as you; skeletons don’t exactly have a habit of coming back to life.”

He sighs deeply, shaking his head before he looks at you, much more calmly than he had a moment ago. “So I live again��” he runs a hand through his hair, eyes miles away before returning his gaze to you. “What happens now?”

Fear dissipating, you cautiously rise to your feet; he’s staring at you expectantly, as though somehow you are supposed to have an answer for him. “I-I don’t, wait,” you cut yourself short, pacing quickly to retrieve your fallen candle. He looks at you curiously as you return, holding the candle up between your faces. “This is an extraordinary opportunity!” You gasp, any lingering expression of your previous trepidation evaporating in the heat of your excitement.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, grinning wildly. “So much history from your time is lost to us, or tainted by cultural bias,” you explain with a fevered sort of enthusiasm. Your free hand slides along his bicep, getting a closer look at the intricate tattoo stylings. “My God, you are incredible. Think of what can be learned.”

He eyes you with a grin, clearly amused with your sudden zeal in contrast to just a moment ago, when he had you cowering against the wall. “You are an odd woman,” he says, lifting his arm so you can get a better look at his tattoos.

“What?” You look up at him, breaking your intense focus, if only for a moment. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He shakes his head, looking down at you. Already your attention returns to his tattoos. A deep chuckle escapes his throat as you kneel to trace the runes etched into the skin of his abdomen; translating them in your head. He takes you by the chin, just a tad too roughly to be tender. He grins down at you, satisfied that he’s got your full attention.

“I said, you are an odd woman.”

There is a certain growl to his voice that sends a warmth through your spine; you feel yourself blush as you realize just how much of this man’s personal space you’ve invaded.

You rise quickly to your feet, turning away from him in a failed effort to hide your embarrassment. “Sweet Mercy,” you whisper in your own tongue. “I am so sorry.”

He laughs, deep and loud from the pit of his stomach. “Sorry?” He steps closer, into the light of your candle, on full display. “There is no shame in liking what you see.”

Your free hand covers your face in scandal. Your profession affords you much less prudery than your contemporaries, but it is difficult to shake the Victorian Sensibilities with which you were raised.

He grins playfully as he approaches, his hand brushing yours as he takes the candle from you. “Look at you,” he beams, thoroughly delighted by your obvious discomfort. “You shook less when I was going to kill you.” He snatches your hand from your face, leaning into your comfort zone, but awaiting your response.

You bite your lip, focused on the hunger in his eyes. That is part of what you love so much about history, is it not? The Passion. Rarely in these modern days do you see such an unashamed lust for life. This man lived and died in a culture of unrestrained freedoms, unabashed pleasures. You gaze back deeply into his eyes; perhaps you’d like some of that pleasure for yourself.

You lean into him, pressing your lips against his, and he pushes you up against the wall. His teeth scrape your bottom lip as he tries to push your skirts up, but he quickly becomes frustrated with the sheer amount of layers you’re wearing. He sets the candle aside.

“Too many fucking clothes,” he growls in your ear, his hands sliding up to rip your dress open.

You gasp, ready to protest the destruction of your most expensive dress, when you notice him eyeing your corset with a frustrated sneer.

“Fuck, are you wearing armor?”

You fail to hold back your laughter as he pouts, like a dog denied his treat. Your eyes widen when he grips your corset, however and you quickly snatch his hands.

“This one is my favorite, don’t you dare-”

You hardly get the words out before he’s grinning like a madman, and you know he took it as a challenge.

“Wait, I can take it off-” You shout, but not quickly enough.

You cringe at the sound of the busk popping open. You open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind, but a pleasured squeal forces it’s way out instead as his teeth sieze the sensitive bud of your breast.

“Fuck,” You moan, your arms draped lazily around his shoulders.

He releases your breast with an obscene pop, pressing firm kisses from your chest up to your neck, before biting down on your soft skin with a lustful growl. You gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as pain meets pleasure. You feel him start to move away, as though he’s concerned that he hurt you, and you whine.

“Do it again,” you beg, pressing your body against his with urgency.

He grins, toothy and feral, before pushing you a bit more roughly against the wall, teeth biting down on your neck. He takes your hand, guiding it to his waist. You know what he wants, and you are happy to oblige; your fingers sliding down to wrap delicately around his length.

You make long languid strokes, savoring the weight of him in your hand. You desperately want to feel him inside of you.

He groans in protest as your hand leaves him, and you laugh softly, your hands working to undo your skirts.

Your attention is so utterly consumed by him, that you hardly notice the room flood with light, until Ivarr’s attention leaves you.

“Unhand her!”

You blush furiously, shifting to move between Ivarr and your bosses, the Board of the Foundation.

Taglist: @youre-my-boshaw-baby

[redskull199987]

Early Mornings

Ivar the Boneless x female!reader

Word count:1.1k

Warnings:a little bit steamy

Summary: You find yourself in a delightful situation after waking up, but are suddenly interrupted by an unexpected visitor...

Gif by @underragingwaves

Masterlist

Part II

I slowly tried to open my eyes. But it seemed so hard. I was too lazy and the bed too warm.

Finally, my eyes flutterd open and I tried to sit up, but a pair of strong arms encircled my waist. I looked up and smiled.

He seemed so calm. Ivar the Boneless, a man who was almost never calm.

I quietly turned around in his arms and admired his face. The eyes which were usually shining bright blue were now closed. His mouth slightly ajar and his chest rose and fell as he breathed.

Carefully, I let my fingers dance across his jawline. A soft stubble scratched my fingertips.

"I love you", I mumbled, "Ivar the Boneless"

"I love you too, my dear"

That caught me of guard. I tried to pull away, but Ivar was faster. He grabbed my hand, and put it back on top of his cheek.

A smile crept onto his face, as he grabbed my other arm and pulled me even closer to him.

"Ivar-", I protested, but before I could say anything more, his soft lips collided with mine and I let any protests slip past me.

I sighed against Ivar's lips and we parted slightly. I could feel his warm breath on my skin and his blue eyes gazed into mine.

"Ivar", I mouthed against his lips.

He lifted his hand and softly brushed away my hair:"My Y/N"

Ivar slowly put his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. He sighed softly, before looking at me again.

"My Y/N", he whispered again.

I smiled at him and reconnected our lips. I felt Ivar's hands wander to my waist and he pulled me on top of him, while he sat up himself.

I felt Ivar's back hit the headboard, while he pulled me closer to his chest.

"Ivar", I signed against his lips, "Please"

"So needy, huh", he chuckled.

I only looked into his eyes and nodded. A grin graced his lips and in a matter of seconds, Ivar had switched our places and he was suddenly hovering above me.

His lips attacked my neck and a moan escaped my mouth.

"Shh", Ivar whisperd, "We don't want others to hear these beautiful sounds"

I nodded and tried to keep silent while he continued to kiss across my neck.

"Those noises are only for me to hear", Ivar mumbled. His voice was stern,"Only for me"

I only nodded at his words again, not able to form a coherent sentence.

A yelp escaped my lips, as Ivar's cold hands slipped under my robe. He only chuckled and continued to lift it over my head.

He just looked at me for a second, like I was the most precious thing that he has ever seen.

"Ivar",I mumbled and pulled him towards my lips again.

Another moan escaped my lips, I felt how his frigid fingers touched my skin. Ivar grasped one of my breasts, before starting to kiss down my sternum.

I felt his other hand slip behind my back and puling my Body closer to him. His lips covered my hips in kisses.

I desperately rubbed my thighs together, to conjure some friction, as Ivar was taking his time to cover my skin in hickeys.

"Oh dear", he mumbled and I felt his hands push my legs apart. I gasped, as I felt his lips on my inner thigh.

"Fuck", I mumbled and brushed my hand through his hair. A groan left Ivar's lips.

"Ivar!!"

I have never seen a man, who couldn't walk, get up so fast and covering himself and someone else. Because the Person screaming his name, was not me, but his brother.

Ubbe. He only looked at the two of us and grinned. Our relationship was no secret to them, nor to anybody else, but still they liked to make fun of us or tease Ivar for always being so protective of me.

"You're late", he said sharply, before turnung around to leave.

"Oh, and Y/N?", he asked again.

"Yes?", I sighed and shyly peeked out from behind Ivar's back.

"Our mother is searching you", Ubbe stated before leaving.

"Shit!", I got up as fast as possible, looking for my clothes.

"Where do you think, are you going?", Ivar asked perplexed and even though he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, he managed to pull me back into his lap again.

"Ivar", I giggled. His pouting face was too cute, "I promised your mother to help her with embroidering"

"Why can't you stay?", Ivar wined, running his hands up my back.

"Because your mother is the queen of Kattegat and she will personally kill me if I am late", I chuckled and pecked his nose, before getting up.

"I'd never let her do that", Ivar mumbled.

"I know, Ivar", I smiled and grasped his cheek, "I know"

"I love you", he mumbled while I put on my dress.

"Would you help me with the Corset, love?", I asked and turned my back on him, so that he could could tie the knots.

"All done", Ivar smiled after a minute. I turned around and kissed his forehead:"Thank you"

I quickly grabbed a comb and brushed through my hair. I was about to tie it together to, but Ivar stopped me.

"Leave it", he said. I turned towards him and smiled, before dropping my hair. It fell down my shoulder, before Ivar slowly reached out for it. He grabbed a lose Strand and quietly examined it.

"I have to go now", I murmured.

Ivar nodded, before grabbing his crutches. He struggled a bit to get up, but I only watched him. Even though, I wanted to help him, I knew how stubborn Ivar was. He would never admit, that he needed help.

After a minute, he was standing in front of me. Only in his pants and his hair still slightly messed.

I chuckled at his sight.

"What!?", Ivar smiled,"Don't you like, what you're seeing?

"Oh I do", I answered, "In fact, I even love what I'm seeing"

Ivar smirked before giving me one last kiss. It wasn't as passionate as the others, but still tender and full of love.

"I love you", he mouthed against my lips.

"I love you too, Ivar the Boneless"

[underscorewriting]

Destiny | Part two

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: heated make out, fluff

Part One

1076 Words

The woods were quiet. Peaceful. They hid their beauty between the tall trees. Her breath was going fast, her smile still on her face, she doesn't think it even left, ever since she saw Ivar. The time went by, waiting for him she begun to feel a worry settle in her stomach. What if he wouldn't show up? She'd look like the biggest fool. 

Hearing the leaves rustle around her she released a breath she didn't know she held. As she looked at the prince she saw him walking with his crutch. A frown was on her face, thinking about how uncomfortable it must be for him to walk with it in the woods. "Good morning, my prince." With a smile she bowed her head down slightly. 

Ivar chuckled softly shaking his head. "Even though I do love how it sounds, coming out of your mouth. Just call me Ivar." A blush crept onto her cheeks as she nodded. "I'll remember that, Ivar." She smiled at how his name left her lips. A small smirk was on his face as he watched her reaction to saying his name. 

"So, why the woods?" As they started walking, her nerves came to an ease. "It's quiet. Not many people come out here and if they do then they don't stare." The lines on his forehead told her that he got stared at a lot. "I wouldn't stare..." She whispered quietly lowering her eyes to the ground. The prince shook his head softly. "But you did, back in the great hall before we talked. You stared at me." 

A deep blush made it's way onto her face. "You saw that?" He nodded slightly, watching her carefully. "I apologize deeply, but it wasn't what you think it was." Ivar was confused. Why should her staring be different, everyone tried to talk themselves out of it, but he was ready to listen to it this time, because it was her trying to talk herself out of it. "I didn't stare, not out of pity, I mean. I thought you were quiet attractive." 

His eyebrows shot up. This changed the situation a lot. A smirk found it's way onto his face as he watched her even more careful this time. "I didn't have any bad intentions or thoughts behind it, I promise." She gave him an apologetic smile. 

Without knowing it she pushed his ego more than what was healthy. "So you thought I was attractive, huh?" The smirk didn't seem to leave her face, holding his head high. The girl lowered her head, secretly liking the teasing tone of his voice. "I did, my prince. After talking with you the feeling deepened." It was her turn to tease him. A soft innocent smile on her face as she stopped to lean against a tree, watching Ivar closely. 

The boy turned to her, looking her up and down. "You're quite the tease, aren't you?" His thoughts of the night before coming back into his mind. "Honestly? No, but I'm happy it's working." She giggled shyly. "It's working wonders..." He whispered walking closer. His eyes not once leaving hers. Again, she felt like she was drowning in his eyes. Drowning in the ocean behind them. His free hand was on her hip as he pushed her up against the tree. A quiet gasp escaping her, only encouraging him to continue. 

The smirk just wouldn't leave his face as he looked down at her. "I'll be sure to tell your brother how I had to look up to you..." Not knowing what to say in the situation the girl thought back to how Sigurd interrupted them the night before. The prince chuckled softly, leaning his forehead against hers. "You're too precious for your own good, love." He kissed her cheek softly. She could feel a burning sensation the moment his lips met her cheek, almost letting another gasp escape her. 

"I should let you go, protect you from myself and save you from being so perfectly ruined by me." He squeezed his eyes shut, almost like he was in pain, his forehead back against hers, letting a sigh escape him. "But I can't. I want to be selfish, have you all to myself." Her hand found his cheek. "Ivar, you can have me." Her voice was sincere, he never felt like he did right now. His heart was beating out of his chest. "No, not that." His face twisted in disgust for a second. "Oh..." She was about to pull her hand back. 

He was quicker, grabbing her wrist and placing a kiss on her palm, placing it back onto his cheek. "I didn't mean it like that. Well, maybe that too, I wouldn't mind laying with you, pretty girl. But I mean being with you. I want to have you in any way." His eyes opened again, looking at her with an intensity, that if she wouldn't have been pushed against the tree, she would've got weak knees. 

His mouth placed kisses everywhere, her neck, her cheek, her forehead, but they wouldn't go near her lips. "I need your answer." His voice was husky as he was torturing her with kiss. "Please, Ivar.." A whimper left her lips and he chuckled darkly shaking his head. "Keep those words for later, just tell me, can I have you in any way I want?" His hand wandered up to her chin, making her look up at him. His thumb pulling her lip down slightly. 

She was trembling at that point, trying to stay strong, so she could tease the young prince, but her self control was getting weak. "Yes! Yes, Ivar, I'll let you have me in any way you want to. Just please-" A loud gasps escaped her, but it barely left her before Ivar kissed her hard, pulling her closer, caressing her cheek. His crutch long forgotten on the floor. His hand grabbing her hip, pushing himself up against the tree in secret as well. As they both needed to breath, he pulled away, keeping his forehead against hers. 

A smirk was on Ivars face as he mentally pictured how shocked Sigurd will be, when he walks into the great hall with his newly found woman by his side. He would marry her, he knew it. That's what he meant with having her in anyway he wants. 

He could already picture them dining with the gods in Valhalla. Gods, how he couldn't wait. 

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

Hey there :) are you currently accepting writing requests and if you are, can we request any Valhalla character 💙

Hello there! Yes I am open for requests - tho my writing speed won't be super fast in the upcoming two month (in december but mostly in january).

Pairing: Ivarr × f!reader

Words: ~ 1400

Genre: angst, fluff

Wanrings: an itty-bitty tiny smut, mention of violence, angst mostly? Idk what i did here honestly

Summary: You and Ivarr are preparing for an upcoming battle.

Notes: it's a bit short, I only had time to write this between my exams sorry⚰️✌️

Your heart sank deeper, pulling it tighter and tighter with the cold strings of the uncertain future, as the more horrific images floated before your eyes every time you dared to close them.

The camp around you was preparing unusually quietly, nowhere to be found the previous night's amusement, drinking and singing, which made the forest roar with life.

The army of thousands of troops that the Ragnarssons had was preparing for the upcoming battle in deathly silence. Grim men were putting their helmets on, sharpening their blades - sparks flaring up now and then, lighting up their dread faces. Staring in front of themselves - they did their work rotely — that either saved them on the battlefield, or betrayed them, finally being able to rest in the halls of Valhalla at the end of their long journey.

You weren’t much different from the men around you. You had the same flesh, the same warm blood flowed in your veins as your fellow warriors. Your bone breaks the same way and your blood spills when the blade strikes. The light in your eyes can die out just as for the other person beside you.

Maybe this will be the last morning you see. The last breath of fresh air you have taken into your lungs, the last birdsong that has accompanied you in preparation until now.

Placing your sword on your knees, you stopped for a moment to gaze at the silver gleam of iron once more, the runes carved along its sheet.

“Courage. Luck. Protection.” Ivarr’s familiar voice came from behind.Taking a deep breath, you staightened in your seat, looking over your shoulder into his eyes.

His gaze was distant, dark orbs flashing from behind his black face paint. Ivarr was already flaunting his full armor, axes neatly tucked into the belt on his hips.

“Do you really believe your runes will help?” He raised an eyebrow, one hand gesturing to the steel in your lap, holding a clay bowl in his right palm.

You answered with a half smile, turning back in front of you, continuing your work. Without further critical notes Ivarr the Boneless circled you, sitting down into the green before you, firmly grabbing your knee.

“Come closer Little Lamb.” With a sigh he waved to you, like an old man, preparing to recite long sagas to the children by the gentle warmth of the fireplace on a cold winter night.

Gently caressing your thighs, Ivarr withdrew his warm touch too soon only to your knees, tracing small circles into your skin with his thumb over the harsh fabric of your breeches.

Your hand stopped in the monotonous movements, you looked up at him curiously.

Inteas of the usual edge, determination and darkness, Ivarr’s deep brown eyes softly fixated on your form. The corner of his eyes relaxed, a warming tenderness emanating from his gaze as he looked up at you.

It was rare when you got to see Ivarr’s softer side; when he showed you his vulnerable side in public. These looks were meant just for you, only for the two of you — when the whole world ceased to exist, and only he mattered to you, and only you to Ivarr.

The dreaded Ivarr the Boneless, leader of grand armies, the demise of kings, the boldest berzerker who ever lived — yet his touch was tender, his gaze full of devotion. love and care as he embraced you, pulled you into his lap and sought your favors.

Your heart stirred, as you looked down at the man in front of you.

Maybe it will be the last time you can see the love in his eyes, the softness of his face — that he can be just as caring as anyone else contrary to the tales.

Your mouth trembled, lips bent into a sour smile, fearful tears will fall at any moment. With a sniff you leant down to him; Ivarr’s strong scent of iron, furr and smoke hitting your nose.

Not long ago you felt his scent just as strongly- it went into your head as you could taste it on your lips, smoother it into your own skin.

It was a dangerous occupation of yours, berzerkers and Jomsvikings life. Placing your very own soul on an unknown stake, against a foreign opponent, in the unpredictable maelstrom of fates.

You had to live in the present for your future has not yet been set in stone, the weavers of fate have not woven the next part of your song.

“There is no tomorrow. Only today what matters. What you do, what you say, what you think.” Ivarr whispered in your ear last night as he guided you onto his bed, spreading your thighs apart with his knees.

“If we want to enter the Gates of the Forever Halls without regret, we must act upon what our heart dictates.” He murmured sweetly, bowing down; soft lips smoothing over your warm skin, teeth nipping into the flesh.

It was rare when he dared to show such vulnerability to you, acting upon his better self; heart wanting nothing more but gentleness and love. It was rare when Ivarr the Boneless wanted to savor his moments with you rather than devouring you whole like a starved beast - now wanting to memorize every curve, every inch of your body, how it moved beneath him, how it felt against his feverish skin, how it tasted in his mouth.

He wanted his last image to be your moans, whispering his name, your mindless pants; cunt wrapped around his aching cock so perfectly, so deliciously for him, only to him.

“Only today is ipmortant.''You repeated. recalling his words to you with a nod. “Just focus on what’s in front of you.” It sounded like you were bagging, as if you tried to warn him.

Your finger slid up on his neck, grazing over his nervously twitching tendons. Running your fingers over his profile under his chin, palms finally came to rest on his stubbled cheeks, cradling his face.

Eyes darting between his chestnut orbs, the well-known mischief glinting in his ireses; liveliness and clarity reflected back at you.

He smiled slyly, sending you a wink; his own hand grabbing your wrist holding his face.

“I always focus on that.” He replied- tone deep and mysterious as he dropped your hands from his face. “And now you are who’s in front of me.” Ivarr stated, bringing up the bowl into your vision, that he held until now.

A dark juice swirled in the small bowl, gray as mud, but the smell reminded you of strong spices and herbs. Ivarr gestured with his chin for you to lift your face, pulling you closer and pressing his waist between your spreaded knees.

Ivarr pressed his index and middle finger into the paint, and holding up your chin with his thumb he placed his painted, cold fingers under your eyes, slowly drawing them down until your jawline, attentive eyes never leaving your own the whole time. You barely took any breath while he repeated the motion on the other side, then making a half circle on your chin. The tip of his nails pressed gently into your nose as he moved his fingers over your lips, as if to silence you for a moment. He connected the lines with the semicircle, turning his attention to your forehead now, beginning to draw more symbols on you.

Not a single word was spoken between you two; yet thousands of feelings raced through your eyes, as you watched silently Ivarr. You wanted to capture his features in your memory as throughly as it was possible — one last time to etch every single wrinkle, scard, and line that dotted his handsome face.

When he was done, Ivarr wiped the remaining paint onto his breeches, leaning back to you, sneaking his palm over your nape.

For a moment your gaze fluttered;the movements sending a chill down your spine, and at the same time filling you with immense calmness. Ivarr was there, by your side, breathing and fighting until he had breathed the last shed of his soul. And that was all that mattered to you. Knowing that your love will be there, by your side. That you will both be there for each other, doing everything in your power to fight and survive.

“Do not leave me.” You wrapped your fingers around Ivarrs wrist, gently tracing his battle scars as you searched for his gaze.

Love, devotion, longing and the thrill of the battle burned in Ivarr.

“Never, my Little Lamb.” He gave a crooked smile. “Not even the Gods can keep me away from you.” He promised.

[the-historywhore]

The chronicles of Æthelstan, and his fiery wife.

Chapter 1: Married life.

Warnings: mentions of discrimination, mentions of violence.

———————

“Frida?” Æthelstan called, he had returned from his work with Ragnar in Kattegat hoping to be greeted by his wife. However, it was not that simple.

Æthelstan was a Christian, and his wife was a Pagan - a Norse woman. She was fair and beautiful, but fiery and short-tempered. He peered around the corners of the hut, hoping to find her but he found that he was alone. The Saxon huffed, all he wanted was for some comfort.

His day working with Ragnar, had also given him grief. Although Ragnar would not do such a thing, many others found themselves taunting Æthelstan. He was mocked for his faith, the butt of many jokes and taunts. It was tiresome for him.

“Husband?” He heard her call.

Frida found her husband sat upon their bed, fiddling with his hands in his lap. He seemed lost in the days thoughts. She set down the basket of fish she had collected down by the fjord and walked over to him. Her heart did swell when he looked up to her, she smiled at him and he did to her. Frida sat down beside him, her husband leant his head on her shoulder.

“What troubles you, my dear?” She asked.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, love” He replied, brushing his emotions off. Although, with his love beside him, his troubles did not seem so great after all.

“The other men have been calling you names again, they’ve been taunting you for your faith?” She deduced. Æthelstan avoided his wife’s gaze, she was right. And she knew it. “Tell me their names.”

“No, Frida. You don’t-“

“I wasn’t asking” Frida growled. “Tell me their names, I won’t have them speak to you like that!”

Æthelstan was the only one who could silence his wife’s rampages, he softly cradled her jaw to press his lips to hers. Affectionately rubbing the skin of her cheek with his thumb.

There were many times like this, where he would quell Frida’s rage and bloodlust. When she’d had a bad hunt, or torn her clothing just after she’d mended it.

“You can’t hurt everyone who makes jokes about me, just sit here with me for a while.” He explained.

“Fine,” She huffed. “I won’t hurt anyone, but I will be asking Ragnar to put a word out” She wagged her finger in his face, showing that she meant business.

Frida was small, and often described as ‘cute’. This meant that many people never took her seriously, but Æthelstan always took her seriously. He had seen what she was capable of, heard the way her anger twisted her voice to sound vicious and malevolent, she was a true force to be reckoned with. On one occasion, whilst sleeping, an enemy of Æthelstan’s had broken in while they were asleep and Frida had taken them down all on her own. In fact, Æthelstan woke up to see his wife seething with anger, hatchet in hand and blood splattered all over her face, straddling the waist of an unidentifiable man that had clearly had his face caved in with the harsh kiss of his hatchet.

She was condescending and sarcastic, and her blood-lust never seemed to end - but by Odin’s beard did Æthelstan love Frida, with all his heart.

—————

Sorry this is so short! The next one will be longer, I promise <3 let me know what you’d like to see Æthelstan and Frida face next :)

[tttbdl]

🍵👕

T-Shirt (READERxALEX)

warning: english isn’t my mother language so please forgive me if you find grammar problems. fluffy fluff.

pov >> You are dating Alex, he’s lately obsessed with teas and your obsessed with his couch

You step inside his apartment and you’re jaw drops. Alex immediately starts laughing.

“Do i see clearly?” you say shocked as he grabs your jacket. “did you really cleaned up?” you ask and he nods

“Just for you.” for some reason you’re heart just melts like some delicious chocolate. You took off your shoes then you run into the living room taking your favorite spot. “You really love my couch huh?” he raise his eyebrows

“such a comfortable couch” you answer “His name should be George” you smile at Alex then you look at the couch and you feel your body getting even heavyer.

“Woah! how do you know that my couch is a he?” he asks standing in front of you whit his baby blue eyes.

“We hang out a lot” you say

“really? without me?” he places his hand on his heart “are you cheating me with my couch Y/N?” he tries to say it with a serious face but next to you he can’t even act, he ends up laughing with you.

When the two of you stops whit the laughter you guys just stare into each other’s eyes. Alex’s eyes are so blue you can feel your body getting loosen up and getting tense at the same time. There’s just something in the way he looks at you. The way he is.

“I could never cheat on you” you whispered without thinking but you don’t regret it because it’s the truth.

“good.” he whisperers back “I could never ever ever ever ever cheat on you or even think of someone other than you” he says whit a smile then finally comes closer to you giving you a sweet kiss filled whit love.

You’re hands moving up to his face then to the back of his head, playing whit his cute hair. You feel his big arms at your back giving you warmth then one of his hands comes up to your face. he stops whit the kisses. He smiles, gives you one more quick kiss then heads to the kitchen.

“Alex Høgh Andersen, that was not nice” you yell.

you stand up and go after Alex,see what he’s doing and checking if he heard what you just said.

“what was not so nice, love?” Alex is making tea facing his huge, wide,muscular, perfect back.

You feel your legs getting weak. Even the sound of him saying ”love” just makes you feel a tsunami of butterflies. You are so into this man, you can’t even hide it. He looks at you for a second then turns back to his tea whit a big smirk.

“That you left me there” you finally say something.

Alex turns around, giving you some tea with his smirk. He has been so obsessed with teas lately you don’t know why or where did it came from. Frank Ocean must dropped a new song called “tea” or something like that. He grabs his hot drink and with his fast moves he spills a bit on himself.

“fanden! (fuck) great, now my favorite T-shirt is ruined.” he gives you a fake smile then drops it and waits for you to say something “why are you laughing?” he asks

“because now it’s a ...”

“oh god no, don’t” he shakes his head.

“a tea shirt” you continue with laughing

Alex chuckles then gives you a long kiss that you really needed by now then you pull away and you run back to the living room quickly because you can hear him running after you.

“Take off your tea shirt!” you yell and he does it with pressure.

[ao3feed-vikings]

I won't hurt you

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2oFHP51

by Nejijjeoro

Ivar and his wife argue over their feelings, but especially their resentments and their son.

Words: 1508, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Vikings - Fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Ivar, Ivar Ragnarsson, Ivar The Boneless, Ivarr in Beinlausi

Relationships: Ivar x Reader/Wife

Additional Tags: Vikings, Vikings imagines, some vulgar language, Fast mention of sex, But a lot of love and hate, Cute Children

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2oFHP51

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter Three

Masterlist

Two moons had just passed since your return.

Ivarr had been torturing Rhodri for two moons. He had asked his best blacksmith to build a cage in the pig pen. A solid cage in which Rhodri was rotting away with his peers. Everyone could see him and humiliate him. Halfdan had the idea of confiscating his clothes. Ivarr was purposely keeping him alive until you got better. He wanted you to witness what he planned to do to him.

A sigh escaped your lips as you sat on the edge of your bed. You felt better, even though your right eye still hurt when you exposed it. The nuns warned you that you would no longer see anything out of that eye. You thought you could get used to it, but you thought about all his battles and the hunting trips. How were you going to do it? You were still aiming with your right eye. You removed the bandages from your face, taking your sword to see your reflection. The threads were starting to fall off, the flesh was closing. It was starting to heal properly. But because of that, you found yourself hideous. Your once (Y/E/C) right eye had turned milky, your wounds were just starting to turn white. How could Ivarr still look at you? You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard the door open. Your attention was on your companion. He closed the door behind him, moving closer to you as you put the sword away.

"Halfdan, Sigurd and Eivor are still here? Maybe you should allow them to torture Rhodri," you said, getting out of your bed to pour yourself a glass of water.

"They do. Like everyone else in Sciropescire," he said, moving closer to you. “You’re the only one who still hasn’t gone to see him.”

You had a hard time swallowing your mouthful of water when you heard him. Yes, all of Scriropescire was able to humiliate and attack the Breton king. You were the only one who refused to see him. You didn't want to see him anymore. You had hoped Ivarr would kill him so you wouldn't see his face again. Ivarr could see that you had changed. You stayed cloistered in your room, in this damn Christian Church. You saw too much of Bishop Deorlaf for his liking. Ivarr had tried to get the bishop to talk, but he replied that what you had told him remained between you and him.

“Do you plan to stay hidden in this room for the rest of your days?” he asked, looking at you severely. “In this Christian Church?”

“I have the right to stay here as long as I want, Ivarr,” you said, slamming your glass down on the table. “Leave.”

“(Y/N).”

“Leave me alone!” you shouted, banging your fists on the table.

Ivarr gave an angry growl as he left the room, slamming the door. You bit your lip, no longer able to hold back your tears. You fell to your knees, hitting the ground while screaming in rage. You felt your fingers crack, it was painful, but you didn't care. You were so angry, so sad that you didn't care that your hands were bloody and that you broke your fingers. You stopped hitting the ground when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped, suddenly turning around to see Bishop Deorlaf. He watched you struggle with your condition.

"(Y/N). This can't go on any longer, you have to share your pain with Ivarr," he said, stepping back.

"How?" you asked, getting up. "How could I tell him that? He's a Drengr! That sort of thing matters very little, Deorlaf. For me too. I was born only to fight and die with dignity to reach Valhalla! That's the only reason I came into this world! I... this kind of thing... it shouldn't affect me... but..."

"(Y/N)... you are a warrior, but you are still a human being. What you have experienced, our Lord will condemn. You have the right to be sad. You have the right to be angry. Ivarr also has the right to know."

"For what?" you asked, turning to the bishop. “It’s gone, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

"It's important. Even if you think otherwise, you might be surprised by Ivarr's reaction if you explain to him what's tormenting you."

Deorlaf left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed, settling into your bed. You had no desire to tell Ivarr what King Rhodri had done to you. What's the point? You always hoped Ivarr would kill Rhodri so you could move on and forget. It was better this way. You were a Drengr. You shouldn't think about it anymore. You just had to focus on the future, the battles, the conquest of England, training Ceolbert. There were plenty of things to do, so you'd be able to keep your mind occupied.

Yes, you had a lot to do.

You shouldn't think about it anymore.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter Two

Masterlist

"As soon as I get back, we're going back to Ravensthorpe. Stay here and rest."

After making sure you were well settled, Eivor leaves Tamworth to go find Sigurd and Ubba to find Burgred's wife. According to Ceolbert, she was still in Templebrough and was the only one who knew where her husband was hiding. He left almost two days ago. You stayed in hiding, ashamed of your behavior. Ivarr's words were spinning in your head. A frightened little mouse. Ivarr was right. It was what you were everyday. The night was the worst time of the day. At nightfall, the slightest noise made you jump, you slept badly and were prey to his nightmares. What could you do to fight them? You had tried so many times, without results. You were too weak.

"You don't have to fight (Y/N). Sigurd and I fight for you."

Yes, Sigurd and Eivor have always fought for you. They had always fought for you. Everyone who hurt you had to face your brothers, never you. You had asked them to train you, but they still refused to harm you. No one in Ravensthorpe wanted to hurt you. Everyone knew your tragic and horrible story. Everyone was taking tweezers with you. You had gotten too used to it, you had become weak. You were brought back to reality by hearing a woman vociferate. You saw Ubba and Sigurd enter the barn with a group of four women. Three servants and a noble lady. Probably Burgred's wife. Ceolbert explained to you that he heard Leofrith dispatching soldiers to protect Aethelswith. Obviously, that didn't stop your brothers and Ubba from capturing her.

"Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?" Sigurd asked, coming closer to you.

You nodded slightly, following Sigurd out of the barn, allowing Ubba to question Aethelswith. He took you to a quiet corner, where he was sure no one could hear your talk.

"Eivor explained your situation to me. What happened with Ivarr? Did he hurt you?"

"No. No, he didn't," you say, fiddling with your fingers nervously. "He just said one thing to me that makes me realize that some things aren't going as well as I thought."

"What do you mean? You're doing a great job."

"Stop it Sigurd. It's not true! I'm useless on a battlefield! The only thing I can do is surprise the enemy and then... I just know how to stay back and hope that the battle is over as quickly as possible," you said, looking upset at him. "And you say I'm doing a good job? If one of your drengrs acted like I do, you would have kicked them out without even giving one another chance. Am I wrong?"

Sigurd was speechless hearing your tirade. He took a deep breath before shaking his head, agreeing with you. If one of his drengers acted like you did. Sigurd would have banished him immediately, but he couldn't banish you. You were his beloved little sister. He loved spoiling you, more than Randvi. He had been away for two winters, leaving behind a young girl and on returning home he had found a young woman. But right now it was a broken, exhausted young woman in front of him. Sigurd sighed, putting his arm around you, pulling you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

"We'll find a solution," he said, hugging you. "I promise you we'll find a solution."

You nodded your head slightly. You didn't seem convinced by Sigurd's words. You pulled away from your brother's embrace, smiling at him and telling him you were feeling better. Lie, but at least that reassured Sigurd. He placed a last kiss on your forehead before returning to Ubba. You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall, sliding down it, sitting down on the muddy floor. What could you do? What were you supposed to do?

"You can hide here like a coward if you want little mús. You seem to be good at it. After all, we each have our fights and it looks like you haven't won yours. As long as you refuse to win, you'll stay a scared little mouse."

Win? How could you win against a monster? Just thinking about him, you became again this terrified little girl hiding in a trunk, watching helplessly the people who are dear to you being massacred. You got up, brushing the mud from your pants before finding Ubba and the Ragnarssons brothers. Eivor came out of the barn, announcing that he knew where Burgred was. All they had to do was go find him and capture him. Ubba asked you to watch Lady Aethelswith and make sure she or her servants do not run away. Aethelswith was giving you a dirty look as you leaned against the wall, staring at them.

"And you, who are you?" Lady Aethelswith asked bitterly, crossing her arms across her chest, looking like a stern grandmother.

"The sister of those who captured you," you say in the same tone.

"I see. You are the whore who killed men of God."

"If your husband had been braver, his men would still be alive. The only one to blame is the cowardice of the king who did not hesitate to abandon his men and his wife. What kind of faithful and caring husband, a king, can abandon his wife, his queen, to her fate?" you asked, arching an eyebrow. "Whatever, you don't look better, you used your servant, much braver than you who was ready to sacrifice herself for her queen who took to her heels at the first opportunity."

You could see in her eyes that Aethelswith had a mad desire to kill you. You sat with the group of Saxon women praying to their God to help them through this ordeal. You couldn't help thinking that their God was cruel to them. How cruel your gods have been to you. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you saw your brothers and the Ragnarssons brothers return with none other than Burgred. Aethelswith quickly passed you, calling for her dear and tender, who quickly came to meet her.

"My lady! Are you injured? Did they hurt you?" he asked, glaring at you.

"Nice to see you again," you say as you move closer to the couple.

"No, no. I'm fine," reassured his wife.

"Move along, lord. Your king awaits," Eivor said, showing Burgred the way.

"Your death will come. Your end was write the moment you wame for me. I have made damned on that!" the king swore, turning to Eivor.

"The Zealos will know your names soon enough. No matter where you are, or how far you travel, they will hunt you down!"

"Enough of that, you squeaking sparrow," Sigurd ordered, glaring at the former king sternly before punching him.

Burgred fell unconscious, under the bewildered gaze of Aethelswith. Sigurd slung Burgred over his shoulder, leading him to the barn. There was still some time until Ceolwulf's coronation. Eivor and Ivarr went their separate ways, leaving you alone. You walked around Tamworth, watching the people celebrating. News of Burgred's capture had gone around. The drengrs drank, sang and danced. Everyone seemed so happy. A sigh escaped your lips as you finally found a quiet corner. Gods you hated all that noise. You lit a fire, settling on the ground. You were sure and certain that Eivor or Sigurd would join you. They always managed to find you.

You jumped when you heard a branch snap. A man who must have been in his fifties came up to the side, asking if he could sit by the fire. You nodded slightly, allowing him to settle down. The man had two mugs of mead. He handed you the full tankard, saying that everyone should celebrate the coronation of the new king. You glared at the man, telling him you didn't drink mead. A lie, but you didn't trust people you didn't know. You didn't care if it was a drengr of Ubba and Ivarr. It was one of yours who had killed your parents and orphaned them. You ignored the man who was trying to strike up a conversation with you, letting him know you had no intention of befriending or having a conversation. Night was beginning to fall when Eivor arrived near you, completely drunk. You saw the man wince when you saw your brother lying down beside you. The drengr rested his head on your lap, wondering why you hadn't come to get drunk with him. The man got up and walked away from the fire, not without glaring at the Wolf-kissed. This guy was really weird.

"Are you doing well?" Eivor asked, waving his hand in front of your face, catching your attention.

"The man that was sitting there. He was really weird," you say running your hand through his hair.

"He hurt you?"

"No, he made me feel uncomfortable and... he gave you a funny look."

"Probably a guy I had to punch in the face," he said, starting to fall asleep. "I'll talk to this guy... tomorrow..."

Eivor fell asleep like a rock, snoring so loudly he could wake Thor himself. You leaned back better against the tree trunk putting you to sleep in turn. You were awakened the next day by Eivor for the coronation. You hurried to reach the longhouse. Fortunately, you had arrived in time.

"Where were you two?" Sigurd asked sternly.

"He kept me awake because of his snoring and he used me as a pillow," you say looking at Eivor.

"You're our hangover cure," the concern said with a sneer.

"That's right," Sigurd replied.

You nudged your giggling Jarl in the stomach. Ivarr and Ubba arrived, escorting the fallen king to Ceolwulf. Burgred gazed intently at his old friend who was seated on his throne, surrounded by pagans. Like the others, you observed the interaction of the two men. Burgred was determined to retain his title. Burgred approached Ceolwulf when he recognized her, commenting that the goshawks of justice did not suit him. You leaned towards Sigurd, asking if the coronation was going to be okay on Burgred went on like this. Sigurd put his arm around your shoulders, telling you that everything was going to be fine.

"You stand before us to accept this witan's unanimous decision," said the Anglo-Saxon man. "That you are unfit to rule and are hereby deposited. We demand the abdiction of your kingdom and your crown to Thegn Ceolwulf."

All eyes fell on Ceolwulf. The Thegn rose from his throne, telling his former king that Mercia had spoken. He held out his hand to Burgred, ordering him to hand over his crown. Burgred eyed Ceolwulf intently, pretending to recognize him before apologizing. He approached his new king, telling him that the trappings of justice did not suit him and that if heaven no longer wanted him for you, let him be forgiven for his blindness. He asked for his crown which the Anglo-Saxon man brought to him. Burgred picked up the crown, eyeing it intently. The former king sneered, again asking forgiveness for his temper. He stood there, straight, for he had never learned to kneel in the ground. Burgred approached Ceolwulf handing him the crown before kneeling before him commenting that it was finally easy to kneel without fear or feeling. Burgred laughed at him. Ivarr shouted that he deserved the death penalty for that. According to the laws of your people, it was true. Anyone who mocked a king deserved to die. But obviously, Burgred was trying to use what little power he had left to impose his conditions before giving up his crown. He was brought back to reality by receiving a slap from Ceolwulf.

"You fool! Look around you. You have no leverage here. Plead for your life, for it's the only thing these men will grant you."

Burgred looked around to see that no one was supporting him. Your brothers approached him, as did the Ragnarssons sons.

"Yes... yes. Forgive le, I... do not harm me, I beg of you. Please. I'll go anywhere. here!" he said, handing the crown to Ceolwulf. "I resign it! here!"

Ceolwulf took the crown that was rightfully his, turning his back on the fallen king. His first order was to send Burgred and his wife to Rome, banishing them forever. A man carried the fallen king out of the house. Ceolwulf put the crown on his head. The witan announced to recognize Ceolwulf second of the name as king of Mercia. A just king. A king of mercy. The people acclaimed their new king. But you were still puzzled. Will Ceolwulf be up to it?

The joy was short-lived, as a northern woman quickly entered the longhouse, announcing that Mercian soldiers were marching on Repton. Ubba spoke of Leofrith, to which Ivarr commented that this dog was faithful unto death. Eivor approached the brothers, telling them to round up their men and divide them between the North and South gates. It should divide the enemy forces. Sigurd put your hand on your shoulder, telling you to stay here until he comes back and you're safe. Your brothers and the Ragnarssons brothers quickly left the longhouse, leaving you alone with Ceolwulf in a panic.

"Ceolbert is there," he said before turning to you. "(Y/N), you must save my son."

"Me?" you asked surprised. "I... I don't know. I... I can catch Eivor and..."

"(Y/N), it's an order. Save my son."

You nodded slightly before leaving the longhouse to fetch a horse. Why did he have to ask you to save Ceolbert? No, you shouldn't have thought of it like that. You were going to bring a son back to his father, you didn't need to shed blood. You mounted your horse, setting off for Repton. When you arrived there, the city had become a real battlefield. Everything was on fire, the drengrs and the soldiers were killing each other. You got off your horse, looking for Ceolbert. You quickly crossed the battlefield, firing your arrows as a croak reached your ears. You rolled your eyes to see Synin. The crow flew in a circle, above you before flying away. She wanted you to follow her. She had never failed you. You followed the crow, crossing the battlefield, shooting arrows, eliminating those who tried to stop you. You had to cross the river to find Ceolbert standing in front of Leofrith.

"Please. You do not want to do this," Ceolbert begged as he stepped back, tightening his grip on his sword.

Leofrith drew his sword, he had nothing to do with Ceolbert's words. You nocked one of your arrows, aiming between Burgred's hound's feet before firing. Leofrith and Ceolbert froze before turning to you. You put yourself between the two men.

"Let him walk, Leofrith," you say as you pick up another arrow. "You answer to me."

"I answer to my king," he said, glaring at you sternly. "I silence Danes... with this."

Leofrith held up his sword, letting you know he had no intention of talking quietly. You put away your arrow and bow, turning to Ceolbert to take his sword and tell him to back off. The young man nodded slightly before stepping back.

"Lay it by, Leofrith. There's nothing left to fight for," you say, getting into a fighting stance. "My brothers and the Ragnarssons stormed Repton. Only a matter of time."

"I cannot do that."

Leofrith rushed towards you, bringing his sword down on you. You manage to parry the attack with your sword. Attacking yourself. Why did this man have to fight for a man who didn't care about him? Why did you have to fight him? Leofrith threw dirt in your face, blinding you and making you cough. Burgred's right-hand man swung his sword down on you, slicing you from your right shoulder to your left hip. Ceolbert screamed your name as he saw you fall to your knees and saw all the blood escaping from your wound.

"You're weak," Leofrith commented as he kicked your stomach, knocking you to the ground. "And pathetic. You're not worthy of being considered a real fight."

Weak? Yes. Pathetic? No, that was out of the question. Your grip tightened on the sleeve of your sword. You quickly rose to your feet, bringing your sword down on Leofrith. The man was surprised to see you get up and be so upset. You landed sword blow after sword blow. Leofrith tried to parry your attacks, but to no effect. You kicked him in the face, knocking him to the ground. The man was dumbfounded. You got on top of him, stabbing the sword into his arm, making him scream in pain. Ceolbert watched you shock. You had never been so pissed off. You released the sword from Leofrith's arm, pointing it at his face.

"Weak? Yes, I grant you that. I am," you say between your teeth. "Pathetic? Never in the Nine Realms, I wouldn't make anyone feel that way."

"Go on then," he said between two breaths. "End it."

"No appeal to your God? Or your king?"

"I swore an oath to serve Burgred to the death. I fought. I lost. We both know how this goes."

You didn't understand him. How could he continue to serve Burgred? Why was he willing to die for such a man? Now you had his life in his hands. Your attention fell on Ceolbert who was begging you with his eyes not to shed any more blood. You sighed heavily, lowering the sword you dropped to the ground. Leofrith looked at you puzzled as you held out your hand.

"Stand, Leofrith. You're not going to die today."

"What?" he asked, accepting your help.

"It would be unfair of me to kill you without you knowing the truth. Your loyalty to Burgred is not a loyalty returned," you say, tearing off a piece of your tunic to wrap it around his injured arm. "He resigned the crown and fled to Rome. He's gone."

"You lie," he said stepping back, not wanting to believe your words.

"Lie to a man seconds from death? What would I gain?" eyeing Leofrith who seemed resigned. "He saved himself and left you to dia. All this fighting, it's for nothing. For no one. To betray one so trusted, so close... it's a dishonor worth a thousand deaths."

Leofrith nodded slightly, considering your words. Ceolbert moved closer to you, thanking you with a slight nod for letting the man live. Burgred's former right-hand man moved closer to the water, reflecting on the aftermath of his events.

"(Y/N)... you have show me a great kindness," he said turning to you. "It... it is only fitting that I do the same. At Venonis, there is a statue with a scroll laid in a small bowl. Eivor must burn it."

"A Scroll?"

"Eivor's name is on this scroll. At Burgred's request, I put it there. When it is found, the Zealots who read it will hunt him."

"Who are they?" you asked perplexed.

"It doesn't matter now, you haven't much time. Burn the scroll. Or they will never stop hunting him."

"Where will you go now?"

"Rome," he replied sternly.

Leofrith's gaze fell on Ceolbert, he put his hand on his shoulder, smiling at him before leaving. Leaving behind him, the young man and the Dane. A groan of pain escaped your lips as you put your hand on your wound. Ceolbert seemed to remember you were hurt. He asked you if you were okay. You had to cling to him, asking him to take you to your brothers. You needed to be treated as soon as possible. Ceolbert put your arm around his shoulders, he wrapped his arm around your waist, apologizing for the inappropriate closeness, leading you away from the battlefield. You pointed out to the king's son that he was wounded. He reassured you, telling you that it was only a few bruises and gashes from the fight. You considered him lucky, because his wounds will heal quickly. Ceolbert sighed, explaining to you that he had thrown himself on Leofrith, but this one was happy to play with him. Leofrit knew he couldn't do anything against him.

"You should have stayed hidden, Ceolbert," you say between your teeth. "This wasn't your fight."

"That wasn't your fight either," he said as he crossed the stream. "Why did you come?"

"Order from your father. The new king of Mercia. Congratulations, you are a young odlingr or aetheling. Whichever you prefer."

"(Y/N)... thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome."

The duo arrived at the gates of Repton. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Eivor and Sigurd. Your brothers were talking to the Ragnarsson brothers. Their gaze fell on you and the young aetheling who let go of you, being sure that you were steady on your feet. You thanked him with a nod, allowing him to move closer to Ivarr who didn't hesitate to tell him that he was delighted to see him covered in blood and glory. If he continued like this, he would end up as a clan leader. Eivor and Sigurd weren't so thrilled when they saw your sorry state.

"Sister. What happened to you? Why didn't you stay with King Ceolwulf?" Sigurd asked, checking your wound.

"Order from the king to go save his son's ass," you said as you clung to Eivor. "I am fine. It will heal."

"You fought Leofrith alone?" Eivor asked looking at you surprised.

"Surprise?" you asked, grimacing when Sigurd lifted your top to check the depth of the wound.

"It needs to be stitched up as soon as possible." he said straightening up.

"There's a woman who can help him with that. She found herself a few steps from here in a blue tent," Ubba said. "Her name is Kyssa. Go see her quickly."

Sigurd thanked Ubba with a nod, leading you to the tent. Eivor followed suit. The famous Kyssa didn't seem at all surprised to see you so banged. She made a sign for you to sit on the table, the time she prepares the necessary to heal you before telling your two brothers to get out of the tent. You stopped Eivor explaining to him what Leofrit had explained to you with the scroll containing his first name hiding in a statue holding a small bowl to Venonis and that he had to hurry to burn it. Eivor nodded slightly, saying he was going right away. He left the tent, leaving you with Sigurd who left the tent in turn, explaining that he had to speak to the Ragnarsson brothers. You were now alone with Kyssa. This helps you remove your top, revealing your wound.

"Well, you did great," she said, dabbing a water-soaked cloth on your wound. "From your right shoulder to your left hip, I've never seen such a gash before."

"I've always done it big for the first time."

"Was this your first battle?" she asked, putting the rag on the table to take a needle which she passed through the flame of her candle.

"Yes."

"Well, now you're going to taste the joy of being stitched up. Lay down. It won't be long."

You lay back on the table, watching Kyssa thread the thread through the needle before getting to work. You gritted your teeth as you felt her make the first stitch, pulling your ripped flesh together. Kyssa observed your body. She noticed that you had no scars.

"You did great for that first injury," she said, continuing her points.

"Yeah, it's always been that way with me," you say through gritted teeth.

"Was that your first fight?"

"You could say that. I've seen fights. I've been through battlefields, but fighting myself... it never happened."

"Why is that? You seem like a good warrior," she said as she dabbed at the blood.

"My brothers have always fought in my place."

"I see. Brothers a bit overprotective? Hm! Mine was the same. Always taking the ax" out of my hands so I wouldn't hurt myself," she smiled. "That idiot even tried to convince Ubba not to put me on the raids. He was too scared for his darling little sister."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Don't worry, they'll leave you alone when you prove your worth to them. Which you've probably done, sweetling," she said, cutting the thread with her teeth. "There you are, you're good as new. You just have to wait for the wires to fall before you return to the battlefield. And no training. You have to rest."

"Thank you Kyssa."

"You're welcome sweetling. Can you just tell me your name?"

"(Y/N)."

"Enchant (Y/N)," she said, wrapping bandages around your torso, covering your wound. "You are more docile than the others."

"You have finished?" asked Sigurd.

"Yes, you can come in."

Sigurd entered the tent again, thanking Kyssa for healing you. She helped you put your top back on before she let you go. Sigurd asked you to follow him to a place quite isolated and where he was sure that no one could hear your conversation. Your brother helped you sit up, asking if you weren't in too much pain. You smiled at him, telling him that you were fine and that your wound will heal quickly. Your Jarl nodded, seeming reassured by your words. Silence fell between you two. A restful silence. Despite the battle there was, Repton was calm. As if nothing had happened. It was quite strange. You never stayed at the end of a battle. Every time Sigurd called you, you did what you had to do and then Eivor brought you home, safe and sound. It has always been like this.

"(Y/N) I... I thought about what you said to me when you came back Ledecestre. You're right about one thing. If any of my drengrs acted like you do, I banished him without giving one a second chance," he said, rubbing his hands nervously.

"I know."

"But! That doesn't mean you're useless," he said taking your hand in his. "You are strong sister. You are the bravest and strongest person in his Nine Realms. Yes, Eivor and I fight for you, as you do for us, but I believe... that we a... too much fight for you to avoid making you suffer. I think that after what happened when you were a child, we wanted to avoid that the least evil happens to you. We wanted to give you an easy life without you need to fight whatever. It was a mistake. Not to protect yourself, of course, but..."

"It was a mistake to protect me too much."

"Yes," he said with a sigh. "Eivor and I will never be able to train you as we would like. We always see you as our little sister who we don't want to hurt. So I asked Ubba and Ivarr to train you. welcome to them when you are healed. They are the best able to provide you with a training worthy of the name."

"So... we're going to be separated."

"Only for a while. But it's for a good reason and it's a good reason. I promise you'll be fine."

"I know. What do we do now?"

"I'll take you back to Ravensthorpe with Ceolbert. You'll rest and when the young aetheling receives a letter that he can return to his father, you'll come back with him. You'll probably be well by now."

"Ceolbert must leave Mercia?"

"Yes, there are still Burgred's soldiers lurking around. The king has asked for him to be safe while things calm down," he explained as he stood up. "We'll be on our way. I have to get to the Oxenefordscire quickly."

You nodded, accepting Sigurd's help to get up. He led you to the waiting horses. Ceolbert was in the company of his father, Ubba and Ivarr. The attention of the group arose his tone to arrive and that of your brother. He helped you get on your horse, telling you to tell him if you feel any discomfort during the trip. Ceolbert mounted his mount, asking you if you were all right. You nodded slightly, telling him that Kyssa had you back on your feet in minutes. Ivarr sneered, commenting that you had better be on your feet, as he would personally take care of your training when you return to Mercia. Your gaze rested on Ubba who apologized in advance. Sigurd announced that it was time to go. You followed your brother and Ceolbert, taking one last look at Repton to see that Ivarr was watching you intently. You stared ahead, feeling your heart race. It was really strange.

"I know that look," Ubba said looking down at Ivarr. "Whatever you plan to do against (Y/N), nor think not. She's an ally and sister to a Jarl."

"You forget, Ubba, that I am the one who will be in charge of her training when she comes back here with the twig that clutches the king's offspring."

Ivarr turned his back on his brother and walked away to return to his tent. He put his axe on the table before undressing and lying down on his bed. He stared at the ceiling of his tent, his thoughts directed towards you. A little mús that was full of surprises. To see you covered in blood, dirt and sweat. It had excited him. And now Sigurd had just asked him to train you. A cowardly little mús who returned her meal at the slightest drop of blood and who didn't know how to fight. He was going to be able to play with an innocent little mouse. Fresh and tender flesh. It had been a long time since he had had one in his mouth. He couldn't help but snicker, licking his lips.

"I will devour you."

[hereforreadandwrite]

Prologue

Masterlist

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the furniture, everything was covered in your parents' blood. You could only helplessly witness the macabre scene unfolding before your eyes. Your father was lying on the floor, the back of his head was sunken, his left eye was literally sticking out of its socket, your poor mother was being beaten up, the mad man was screaming incomprehensible words. You closed your eyes, covering your ears as you begged the gods for someone to help you. You couldn't prevent a little cry of terror from escaping your lips when you heard the man turn over the whole house, destroying the furniture and objects that came to hand. The man kept breaking everything and knocking it over. He seemed to be searching for something. What was he looking for? You stayed hidden in the closet, waiting for the crazy man to give up and decide to leave. You stayed in the closet until sunrise.

You woke up with a start when you heard someone banging on your bedroom door. You heard Randvi's muffled voice, telling you that it was time for you to get up and that Eivor was back before returning to his activities. You had no choice but to leave your warm bed to get dressed for this new day. You put on your warmest clothes before leaving your room to greet your adoptive father, King Styrbjorn, but when you arrive in the hall, you surprise him chatting with Guthorm The Wise. This man was the sage and uncle of King Harald. What was he doing here?

"Sister."

You turned to Eivor, the Drengr was smiling at you and wasted no time in hugging you. Your smile quickly faded seeing his coquard and his split lip. He patted your shoulder, letting you know he was fine. Guthorm The Wise left the longhouse, passing you and Eivor.

"Eivor, come forward. And explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands," Styrbjorn ordered as he sat down on his throne. "Do you mock me?"

"I do not mock you, king. I mean to embolden you… Against your enemies. And your own poor judgment," Eivor replied nonchalantly.

"You know nothing af my judgment. You know nothing of my plans and strategies."

"Sigurd and (Y/N) would agree with me."

"I am," you say, glaring at Styrbjorn.

"(Y/N) silence! My son might agree with you, but he would obey me. He knows his place."

"Not as well as he knows his father."

"Imagine you are harassed by an enemy with warriors that vastly outnumber you own. What profit does open war bring?" asked the king, eyeing his adopted son. "Would it no be better to work quietly, through diplomacy, gaining alliances? Waiting until the day our numbers outweigh our enemies' and our victory is guaranteed?"

"Do we have any allies to speak of? Or is that your excuse to do nothing?" Eivor asked, clenching his fists.

"You confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight, Eivor," King Styrbjorn said, rising from his seat. "Day and night I toil to forge ties with clans to the north. Very soon you will see the fruits of my efforts. Only then will you understand."

You rolled your eyes when you heard that. It sounded like a stupid excuse to avoid fighting. Your adoptive father's behavior was suspicious. Why had he invited Guthorm here? This man's nephew was a king. What does he intend to do with a king from another land? You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the bugle sound. What was happening? Randvi quickly entered the longhouse, announcing Sigurd's boat had arrived at the docks. After two years of absence, he was finally back. You didn't have time to head for the door when Eivor lifted you off the ground, throwing you on his shoulder and starting to run towards the docks. Some people gave you a puzzled or stern look when they saw the king's adopted son running towards the docks with you, perched on his shoulder, like a vulgar potato sack. Sigurd was doing the same with you. It was a habit your brothers had picked up. As soon as they wanted to show you something or run away, they would throw you over their shoulder. Their excuse?

"You are light as a feather, sister."

"We're going to have to make you eat more."

Wolf-Kissed set you free once you got to the dock. You glared at him as your foster brother kissed your cheek apologetically. You just rolled your eyes when your attention fell on Sigurd's boat. He was unloading the treasures and memories he had brought back from his trip around the world. You were approaching the ship when you saw two people dressed in white clothes. Who were his men? Why had Sigurd brought them here? You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Sigurd calling you and Eivor. Your brother hurried down from his ship, nudging one of his men, who had had the misfortune to get in his way, to hug Eivor.

"Oh, look at you, blood-soaked drengr. Have you been warring without me?"

"Ah, and you, salt-cured vikingr. I smell the stink of a kingdoms in your beard," Eivor replied, returning the hug to his adopted brother.

"It's just the start," Sigurd replied letting go of Eivor to turn to you. "Eivor, who is this sublime woman?"

"I told you he took too many blows to the head," you said, glaring at Eivor who was watching you having fun.

"It can't be you (Y/N). You were just a little girl when I left."

"A lot of things change in two winters," Eivor commented as he put his arm around your shoulders. "Isn't it, sister?"

"Unfortunately," you said pulling Eivor's arm away to hug Sigurd. "Welcome back, Sigurd."

Sigurd let go of you to greet Randvi, his dearest wife, telling her that her husband had returned with gifts and riches. Randvi added that he also brought new friends with him. Sigurd turned to the men in question who were approaching. Your brother introduced them: Basil and Hytham. They had met them at Mikligard. The so-called Basim spoke up, saying that he and his apprentice were grateful to Sigurd for his invitation and were eager to pay their respects to the king. Eivor explained that his brother took care of the people around him, if they were standing and safe near him, that must mean he liked them. Sigurd laughed, telling his brother to wait until they were full for introductions. He put his arm around Eivor and Randvi's shoulders. The Wolf-Kissed put his arm around your shoulders, taking you with them. Sigurd wasted no time in saying that they had bartered a ship and told them that Eivor, the Wolf-Kissed, had been captured by Kjotve's men. To which Eivor replied that that wasn't the whole story, he explained that he killed his guardians and freed his crew. Which earned him the reproaches of King Styrbjorn. Sigurd knew his brother's opinion: only war can drive Kjotve from their lands. You nodded, telling Sigurd that you had overheard his father talking with Guthorm The Wise. Your adopted brother looked at you surprised by what you had just said. He nodded slightly, saying that things were going to change today, that by the end of winter, only goons and drunks would still utter the name Kjotve the Cruel. The group arrived at the longhouse, Styrbjorn coming out to welcome his son with open arms.

"My son. Welcome home," he said, hugging Sigurd.

"Ah, Father."

"Tonight we feast and celebrate your return, Sigurd. The tables are laid with barley and lamb, bread and mead-"

"And no more," Sigurd cut in. "I want nothing you would not serve a thrall. Let me be the one to honor you. I bring gifts and tales from faraway lands. After two winters away, I am full up with both."

"Very well, very well. Come inside," Styrbjorn prompted as he walked towards the door of the longhouse.

"And when are fat and satisfied, Father, we will talk of Kjotve and his clan," Sigurd said, causing his father to stop. "And how we may end their terror, once and for all. He has dogged us too long. Shamed us for too many seasons. I know this. (Y/N) knows this. Eivor knows this. It ends now."

Styrbjorn looked sternly at his son following this tirade.

"Yes, of course," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Where the time is right."

You rolled your eyes, this guy had no sense of priorities. You decide to go back to your room, you hated this kind of gathering. Sigurd and Eivor knew it, they never forced you to participate in their events. You knew that Sigurd would take the time to tell you all about the adventure he had during his two winters. You traded your skills for the tunic you stole from Eivor. A sigh escaped your lips as you settled down at your desk, starting to write in your diary, describing your dreams, the course of your day, Sigurd's return, and the fact that King Styrbjorn was up to something. . You put down your quill, pinching the bridge of your nose. You were tired of Norway and this adoptive father who did nothing to ensure the safety of his family. It was his fault that Kjotve had attacked eighteen years ago. It was also his fault if your family… No, you shouldn't have thought about that. You shook your head pushing his thoughts out of your mind. You didn't have to think about that night anymore, you had to forget. You closed your diary, deciding it was time for you to go to bed. You put out the candles and got into bed for the night. The music and the voices were muffled by the walls and the door, but strangely, it reassured you. You fell asleep, exhausted by this eventful day.

"His parents didn't survive. He slaughtered them," Varin said as he tossed the last rags into the fire. "Oddmund and Alvheid are unrecognizable. Their daughter saw it all, my King. She saw her parents being slaughtered!"

"Have you found this man?" asked Styrbjorn.

"No, he managed to escape. We're still looking for him."

You were sitting on the edge of Eivor's bed, staring at a fixed point. Why did such a thing have to happen? Why did your parents have to die this way? Because of the mad man, your parents couldn't join Valhalla. Why did this man decide to kill your parents?

"(Y/N), you're hungry?" Eivor asked as he entered the room with a bowl of stew. "Mother made stew with deer meat."

"I'm not hungry," you say, lowering your head.

Eivor came to sit next to you, holding the bowl on his lap. The boy didn't know what to tell you. Your parents were given a funeral worthy of a Viking. Rosta tried to reassure you, telling you that Odin will undoubtedly have accepted your parents in Valhalla despite their death. You knew it was impossible. They had not had their ax in their hand. But there was one thing you couldn't understand.

"Why did they die? Why did the guy decide to kill them? Why?"

"I don't know," Eivor replied. "Father and some other men are looking for him. He can't be far away and he's going to pay for what he did!"

You turned to Eivor, your friend smiling at you as he handed you the bowl of stew. You picked up the bowl, starting to eat a few spoonfuls. Eivor reassured you, saying that he had overheard a conversation between his parents who had discussed adopting you.

Your dream dissipated in a black mist, your eyelids opened when you heard someone knocking at your door. You sat down, letting the covers fall over your lap. You left your warm bed to go about your routine, swapping your tunic for your warmest clothes before leaving your room to find Randvi. You were surprised to find that Eivor and Sigurd were absent.

"Where are Eivor and Sigurd?" you asked taking bread.

"They've gone to Nottfall. Kjotve sent men to kill us while we slept. Eivor is to take care of them. Now his head will fall off," she said, smiling at you.

"Finally, we're going to be freed from a burden," you say, giving the king a stern look. "

It took until Sigurd's return for things to finally move. Kjotve had been a problem for too long. Once rid of him, Scandinavia will be better off. You noticed that King Styrbjorn seemed nervous. You decided to ignore him, preferring to focus on your day. You went to the stables to take care of your horse: Dǫglingr. This horse was one of a kind. He was a wild horse that many men tried to ride him, but each time he reared, knocking out those who tried to ride him. You were the only one Dǫglingr allowed to ride him. You loved this horse, you decided to build it Dǫglingr because of its attitude. You put the saddle on his back, prepared his harnesses before mounting him and leaving the village to go to the heights of Sjaleng. You had to talk to the völva. You got along well Valka as well as his mother: Svala. When you were a child, you often went to see Svala and Valka to tell them about your nightmares and tell them about your questions about that night and the mad man. You arrived in front of the cabin, you climbed down from Dǫglingr's back, tying him to a post before going to see your friend. You entered the cabin, finding Valka trying to communicate with the Gods. You saw Svala, sitting on a bench, seeming lost in thought.

"(Y/N). It's been a long time my friend," Valka greeted, stepping closer to you.

"Valka. How is Svala?" you asked, turning your attention to your friend's mother.

"Her mind is a jumbke. She speaks to spirits. I fear her final winter has come. But she has me. Now let us speak to your needs, (Y/N). Why did you come to see me?"

"For the past few days, I've been seeing the day the mad man killed my parents. I'm seeing Varin and Rosta again. I thought it was the stress, King Styrbjorn getting weirder and weirder, the return of Sigurd, The fact that Eivor went to challenge Kjotve, but…I'm afraid his memories are an omen."

"How long has it been since you had his memories?"

"When Sigurd decided to go traveling."

"I see," Valka replied as she walked over to the table. "You have always carried the murder of your parents and those of Eivor on your shoulders. Are you worried that this mad man is coming back?"

"Every night."

"Dreams can say express a lot of things. Your doubts, your fears, your guilt. You had to experience the loss of your parents and Eivor's parents. Maybe his dreams are telling you that it's time for you to fly away from here."

"Fly away?" you asked, laughing a little.

"Yes, I often dream of you, watching a white snowy owl flying in the distance. You seem to be far from Scandinavia. Where you are, there is no snow."

Far from Scandinavia, was that even possible? You had heard that Ragnar and his sons had gone to conquer England, but even if you hated Rygjafylke, were you ready to leave the place where you were born? You thanked Valka for giving you time and for her help. Your friend replied that her door was always open to you if you had any other questions. You saluted Svala, leaving the hut to return to the longhouse. Two days passed before Sigurd returned to tell you the good news, Kjotve the Cruel had just joined the Kingdom of Helheim. You had never been so relieved. Norway was finally rid of a nuisance. Sigurd offered you to come with them to the althing organized by King Harald to celebrate this victory, a proposal you refused. You were going to be able to sleep peacefully tonight. For once, you had a pleasant dream.

You were playing with Eivor and Sigurd building a cairn stone. You laid the pebbles on top of each other, being careful not to topple the tower. You heard Sigurd moan in frustration as he lay down on the floor.

"I've had enough! How can you like that?" Sigurd exclaimed.

"Mother loved doing her tricks," Eivor replied. "She said it gave her time to think."

"Do you want me to help you?" you asked, placing the last pebble on your tower. "I'm done."

"What?"

Sigurd sat up to see your cairn stones which held perfectly in balance. Your brother was sighing loudly as he motioned for you to join him. You went to sit on Sigurd's lap, helping him stack the pebbles on top of each other. Sigurd was surprised to see your patience and dexterity. The cairn he had started was finished in minutes. Eivor approached the pair, watching you build a third cairn stone.

"You're really good, sister," Eivor commented smiling at you.

You dream was brutally interrupted by a knock on your door. You hid your head under your pillow, but Sigurd ordered you out of bed, because he had something important to tell you. You let out an annoyed sigh, leaving your cozy bed to open the door. Unsurprisingly, Sigurd was accompanied by Eivor. The drengr followed his brother like his shadow. You returned to sit on your bed, allowing them to take their place. Given their expression, the King's Althing must not have gone as they would have hoped.

"So? Why are you waking me up so early?" you asked looking out the window. "The Sun hasn't even risen yet."

"Sorry, (Y/N). But we have something important to tell you," Eivor said as he settled down next to you.

"The Althing didn't go well?" you asked, glaring at Eivor.

"King Harald has decided to unite all of Norway, making the whole Kingdom his subjects. My father dared to kneel before him and swear allegiance to him, depriving me of my birthright! I cannot accept!" Sigurd exclaimed, heading for the window.

"What's going to happen? We're going to have to serve the king?" you asked worried.

"No, sister. Sigurd has a plan."

"Yes, we cannot stay in Norway, not under Harald's boot, not without fueling war. So we push forward. To newer lands. To England! And there make a new home. A kingdom of our own."

"England?" you asked perplexed. "That's where Ragnar Lothbrok's sons are. They've been there for eight winters, haven't they? Is there any land left?"

"Yes, by and large, sister. There are four kingdoms in England, last I heard only one is truly pacified. I know you don't like such a sudden change (Y/N). This all can be scary, and it is, but believe me, England is our best option."

"We won't be the only people leaving Norway, sister," Eivor continued. "Randvi, Dag and many others want to leave Fornberg. We will build a new home together."

Leave Fornberg? Leaving your native country for an unknown land? It made you sad, but you refused to be under King Harald's yoke. You didn't want to see Styrbjorn anymore. You remembered Valka's words. Of his dream. You nodded slightly, telling your brothers you were following them to England. Eivor and Sigurd were relieved to hear your response. The future Jarl told you to get ready as soon as possible and to take only the essentials, nothing superfluous. Sigurd was the first to leave the room. Eivor put his hand on your shoulder, telling you he was glad to know you were following them, before leaving the room, leaving you alone. You hurriedly got dressed and took the things you deemed necessary. You took a doll, it was an old toy your brothers gave you for your eighth birthday, and your warmest blankets for traveling. You found the group that was about to go to sea. You found Sigurd and Eivor, the two men were checking the food for the trip. Randvi came to meet you, telling you that she was delighted to know that you were going with them. His gaze rested on your doll: Skuldalið.

"Do you take it with you?" she asked, glaring at you severely.

"Why should I leave Skuldalið in Norway?"

"Don't you think it's time for you to get rid of her? You're a young lady now."

"For you Skuldalið is only a doll, Randvi. But for me, it is an object of great value. She comes with me."

"Leave (Y/N) alone Randvi," Sigurd growled as he moved closer to his wife. "We all have a very valuable item. If (Y/N) wants to take Skuldalið with her, she has every right to do so."

"Brother," Eivor said, nodding towards Styrbjorn who was arriving with two guards.

"Sigurd, what is this assembly? What are you planning?" asks his father, stopping near his son who turns to him.

"An exile, Father. As graceful as I can? For it I cannot be king in the land of my borth, I will start a new saga. In England."

"Nonsense. Your place is here, Son. At my side. There will be other victories soon, other glories."

"My choice is made, Father. Do not hope otherwise," Sigurd replied sternly, turning his back on his father to check the supplies.

"It is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. Do not let false victories blind you to what is true."

"You talk of false victories to me, old man?" Sigurd asked sarcastically, turning to his father. "A sad old bear who destroyed his honor with one bent knee? The further I sail from this place, the louder I will sing."

Sigurd picked up a crate of supplies, telling you to get into the boat. You followed the others to board the ship, waiting for your brothers to finish their discussion with the former king. Your attention was drawn to Valka. Your friend was near the platform, a slight smile on her lips. You waved your arm, greeting your friend who waved back. You knew it was just goodbye and you would see her again soon. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. You turned to Eivor and Sigurd.

"Ready to go, sister?" Eivor asked smiling at you.

"Yes," you replied, smiling at him.

"So here we go," Sigurd announced.

"The time for tears is over, you weeping sacks of wool!" Dag shouted to the crew. "Put some muscle into those sweaters!"

"Ration your strength, Dag. We have an ocean to cross," Bragi joked as he started rowing.

"All right, you lazy bacraut. Sigurd, what's our course?" Dag asked, glaring at Sigurd.

"The Sons of Ragnar established a settlement near the coast. We sail for that," the new Jarl explained. "Bragi! Sing a song to lift our hugr!"

"To rouse the Gods! Inspire a mighty fart from Thor to speed us on our way!"

You took your place next to Eivor, draping your fur over your shoulders. It was strange. You would have thought that leaving Norway would have been easy. Since the death of your parents and Eivor's parents, you had always wanted to leave forever this cold country which held bad memories. Yet, in this moment, you saw all your moments with Eivor, Sigurd, Valka and all the others.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" Eivor asked, putting his arm around your shoulders.

"Yes, it's just that… I never thought I would be so sad to leave Norway."

"Norway will always be where it was born. You have the right to be sad," Eivor reassured, hugging you.

"An ocean lies before us, Eivor, (Y/N). And on its far side, a new kingdam awaits."

"You know England well from your travels?" you asked, staring at a puzzled Sigurd.

"I spent a season in then Kingdom of Mercia. A temperate land. Lush and wild. By now, the Sons of Ragnar will have claimed its heart."

"Do we mean to join their army?" asked Eivor equally perplexed.

"They will join ours! In time, all of England will know of Raven Clan and the glory we brought to that fractured land. So to England, glory and destiny!"

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter One

/!\ mutilation, torture, nudity /!\

Masterlist

It was so cold, so damp and so dark. You were lying in the fetal position in the corner of the room. The smell of mold was unbearable. How long have you been locked in this room? There was no window. You have been a prisoner of King Rhodri for several days. He had been torturing you for several days. He wanted you to tell him everything you knew about Ivarr and Ubba's fighting tactics. You held on. You refused to tell him anything. For Ivarr, for Ubba, for all your Viking brothers and sisters. If you had to die and rot in Helheim to protect your loved ones, you were prepared to suffer this dishonour. You jumped when you heard the door to the room open. The king had arrived for your daily torture. You watched him walk around the room, hanging his torch on the wall before approaching the table where several tools were waiting for him.

"So pagan, you still haven't decided to reveal what you know about your people? No one will come to save you. You know it. So why do you keep protecting them?" Rhodri asked, taking a knife before turning to the cage.

"Never… better die…," you say between two breaths.

"That's what will happen to you, heathen. But not before you suffer as God wills to atone for your peach trees."

"He might not see the end of it," you say, chuckling. "Your stupid God… how can he find the time to judge all these people?"

"Little bitch!" he cried, shoving the knife into the table.

Rhodri opened the cage door wide, grabbing a handful of your hair to drag you out of the cage. You grabbed his wrist, trying to scratch him and get him to let go, to no avail. You were weak. Rhodri could do whatever he wanted with you. The king took off your clothes before forcing you to sit on a chair with many iron spikes that dug into your skin. You bit your lip as hard as you could, stifling a cry of pain as it bound your wrists and thighs, forcing you to sink deeper into that seat. It was like that every day, he had the imagination to make you suffer the worst pain.

"So? Do you like this new seat? I got some new toys. And God forgive me for that, but I can't wait to use them against you," he said, gesturing to one of his men. to return so that he brings the toys in question. "It's going to be painful, but our Lord is merciful."

"Fuck you asshole! Ivarr will get your head! Like all the other kings he killed!" you exclaimed before spitting a mollard at Rhodri's feet.

"Ivarr? Hm! Who do you think gave him that scar?" he asked, chuckling. "If I understood correctly, you are close to him? In that case, I will bind you forever."

Rhodri returned to the table, picking up his knife before moving closer to you. You swallowed hard, realizing what he was planning to do. You began to resist a prayer to Frigg's glory, begging her to give you strength to get through this ordeal. Rhodri grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back. You glared at the Breton as he placed the blade of his knife on the top of your forehead. He pressed just enough, he wanted to make sure his marks would stay on his face for life. You couldn't suppress a cry of pain escaping your lips as you felt the blade rip through your flesh and your right eye. He lowered the blade down your chin. He took a step back, admiring his masterpiece before shaking his head.

"It's not okay, we need more," he said, moving closer to you. "Ivarr will be able to contemplate another failure."

Rhodri went back to work, inflicting three more wounds on you. He had amused himself by mutilating your body for an entire week and now he was attacking your face. You were praying to Thor to give Ivarr the strength to slaughter that guy. After completing his artwork, Rhodri was laughing and clapping. Proud of what he had done. You struggled to stay conscious. The pain was unbearable.

Your first thought was to wonder if Ivarr was going to continue to find you attractive with all the scars you were going to carry for life. You were disfigured for life, this damn seat was going to mark your back, your arms and your legs for life. How would he react seeing you in this state? What was he going to think? You were looking at Rhodri with your one good eye. You could vaguely see him returning to the table, checking his other toys when the sound of the horn echoed through the castle. A soldier quickly entered the room, announcing to Rhodri that the Ragnarsson and their armer were at the gates of the castle. The king chuckled as he approached you. He leaned into your ear, his hot, repulsive breath caressing your skin, making you want to vomit.

"Looks like your bastard lover is on my doorstep. I'll give him a warm welcome, then I'll take care of you."

Rhodri let go of you and moved closer to the soldier, ordering him to make sure no one enters this room. The smell of blood made you nauseous. You felt weak and your wounds continued to bleed, knocking you unconscious.

The party was in full swing in Repton, people were celebrating the rise of their new king. But you were in the huge tent, looking at maps of England, thinking of new places to explore or plunder. You folded the map, putting it away with the others before taking your notebook to write down the places and places that could be looted and the resources Repton needed.

"What are you doing here, woman?"

You turned towards the entrance of the tent to see that it was none other than Ivarr. Your lover took care to close the opening of the tent, giving you some privacy. You showed him your notebook and the notes you were taking. Ivarr sighed dramatically as he moved closer to you.

"Don't you think it's a bit late for work?" he asked, sitting down on the table.

"So what? We have to think about what's next. There are other places to go pillars and places to explore," you say, going to get a new map. "I even found some kings you could kill and inflate your royal kill number."

"That's generous of you," he said, stepping down from the table to get closer to you. "Very generous indeed."

Ivarr put his hands on your hips, pressing his body against yours. He brushed your hair from your neck to lay his lips there, nibbling at your tender skin.

"Ivarr… I still have work to do," you say, unsticking yourself from your lover to bring the card to the table.

Ivarr followed you without saying anything. Which was rare. You settled back at the table, unfolding the map, placing miniatures on it. The drengr moved behind you, placing his hands on either side of your body, trapping you between him and the table. You tried to ignore him, continuing to place figures and take notes. He pulled your hair from your neck, once again placing his lips there. You were trying to resist the temptation, but this guy knew what to do to crack you up. He had you trapped. It was impossible for you to run away. You melted into the arms of the drengr. Ivarr turned you to him so he could ravish your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. You felt him smile against your lips. You backed away, running your hand over his gash. You were the only person in his nine realms to have the privilege of touching his scar. You were surprised to feel your right eye become sore. You put your hand over your sore eye, moaning in pain. Ivarr was stepping back, looking at you puzzled. You pulled your hand away, noticing that it was covered in blood. What was happening?

You woke up with a start when you heard the door to the room slam against the wall. You vaguely heard someone say, "I found her." You tried to raise your head, without success. You were trying to make out the face of the person who came to save you. He removed your restraints, making you leave this chair. A moan of pain escaped your lips as your savior ran his hand through your blood-soaked, greasy hair. You tried to make out your savior's face, but your vision was too blurry for you to make out anything.

"(Y/N). (Y/N), can you hear me?" asked the person rocking you.

You couldn't help smiling when you recognized your savior's voice. It was none other than Ivarr the Boneless. He had come to get you.

"You came…," you said weakly. "I knew you would come… I always knew."

"Hush, woman," he said, tugging on a sheet, knocking the items off the table.

Ivarr draped the sheet over your bruised body before lifting you off the ground, carrying you away from this torture chamber.

Rhodri was kneeling before Ubba, Halfdan, Sigurd and Eivor. The king glared at the Boneless when he saw it return with your semi-conscious form. This one had to use all that willpower to resist the urge to massacre him on the spot. Seeing your condition, Ubba told his brother to look as soon as possible to Bishop Deorlaf, he will know how to heal your wounds. Ivarr gave Rhodri one last look, telling his brothers and allies to keep him alive, that he would take his case personally. Ivarr left the castle, hurrying on his horse to reach the Bishop's Church as quickly as possible. You had trouble staying conscious. You pressed your cheek, unhurt, against his chest.

"He was saying… you let me down. He was trying to convince me to…to tell him about your plans to arm," you said, clinging to him. "I didn't tell him…"

"I know, dýrr. You held on," he said, hugging you. "You are a warrior."

You nodded slightly, falling asleep against your mate's chest.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter two

Masterlist

One week.

That was the time it took to find you. Ivarr was angry with himself, with his brothers, with Eivor and Sigurd, with the Nine Kingdoms for taking so long to find you. A week that Rhodri tortured and humiliated you. Bishop Deorlaf's nuns were looking after you, healing you as best they could. Ivarr entered the room, startling the nuns who rushed to cover you when they saw him.

"Why are you taking so long to heal her?" Ivarr growled as he moved closer to the leader of the group. "It should be over!"

"Her body is covered in wounds, which means it will take longer. We're taking care of the most serious thing, which is her eye."

You were lying on your stomach. The nuns had taken off your underwear so they could clean and dress your wounds. You hadn't woken up since your return. Which was worrying. Ivarr approached the leader of the group, telling him that she had better keep you alive if her Church did not want to see Ivarr the Boneless. The woman replied that she would do what she could and that the rest was up to you. Ivarr left the room, not without slamming the door of the room, startling the Christians present in the Church. Bishop Deorlaf approached the enraged drengr.

"This nuns are the best in the convent. (Y/N) is in good hands."

"No need to try to reassure me, Christian," he said, heading for the exit of the Elgise.

The fresh air didn't do him any good. He continued to pace in front of the building. His brothers, Eivor, Sigurd and Ceolbert arrived.

"Where's that mangy dog?" he asked between his teeth.

"Lock in a cage too small for him," Halfdan replied. "How is she?"

"They are still treating her."

"(Y/N) is a fighter. She'll get through this," Eivor said.

"What was Rhodri trying to get from her?" asked Sigurd.

"Information about our armies," he said between his teeth. "But he got nothing. (Y/N) didn't tell him. She assured me."

"We know that," Ubba said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "(Y/N) is the strongest drengr we've ever had in our ranks."

Ivarr freed his hand from his shoulder as the head nun stepped outside, looking around for the Boneless. He turned to the woman who told him that they had finished treating you. You were alive, but unconscious. She also explained that they had done everything they could, but they had failed to save your right eye. Ivarr walked past the nun, heading back to your room. You were covered in bandages, from head to toe. The nuns put you on your stomach to relieve your back. The bandages were already stained with blood. You had been wounded in battles. You had broken bones. You had bled. But you've never been so close to death. Like him before. Ivarr turned back to Ubba and Halfdan. His brothers understood what he wanted when they saw the glint in his eyes: he wanted blood.

"Where is he?" he asked between his teeth.

Halfdan motioned for Ivarr to follow him. Ceolbert approached Eivor and Ubba, asking King Rhodri what he planned to do. Ubba sighed as Eivor put his hand on his shoulder, telling him he didn't want to know. With what the Breton had done to you, he wasn't going to make it out alive. Halfdan entered the longhouse where the cage was. Rhodri was locked up there. All eyes were on him. Everyone knew what he had done. Everyone wanted his head. Halfdan ordered the crowd to leave the room, leaving the two men between them. Halfdan announced that he was waiting outside and told him to call him if he needed help settling his account with the Breton king. Ragnar's eldest son left the longhouse, carefully closing the door behind him. Ivarr circled the cage, glaring at Rhodri.

"Coward until the end, don't you? Rhodri," he said between his teeth. "Taking on someone else for pissing me off. You did it. You really pissed me off!"

Ivarr kicked the cage with his foot, causing Rhodri to fall to the side of the cage.

"You want to pretend you're a man?! You want to pretend you can beat me?!" Ivarr shouted, unhooking his axe and bringing it down on the cage. "You know what? I have a great idea."

Ivarr left the longhouse, motioning for Halfdan to follow him to talk with Ubba. He had a clear idea of what he was going to do to the king of the Bretons.

(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)

You didn't know what hurt you more, your eye or the rest of your body. You moaned in pain, opening your left eye. You had to blink several times adapting your vision. Your eye swept around when your attention rested on Ceolbert. The young man was sitting next to you playing nervously with his hands.

"Please tell me you're not praying to your God," you muttered.

"(Y/N)! You're finally awake," he said moving closer to your bed. "How are you feeling? Sorry, forget it's a stupid question."

"Don't worry. It's nice to see you again. Was I unconscious long?"

"About three days, we were all worried about you."

"Sorry. Where's Ivarr?"

"Out with his brothers, Eivor and Sigurd," he said, standing up. "I'll get him. I'll be right back."

Ceolbert left the room, leaving you alone. You groaned in pain as you felt the scabs crack when you had the supergrained idea of moving. It was the first time in your life that you were in so much pain. It was this pain that Ivarr had felt? Or was it worse? You closed your eye, concentrating on your breathing. The door to your room swings open, revealing Ivarr the Boneless. This one approached quickly your bed, passing its hand on your cheek.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with your one eye.

"I should be asking you that question," he said, pulling up the stool, settling down next to you.

"It's ugly, isn't it?" you asked with a sigh. "I didn't find myself attractive enough and now it's worse."

"Don't talk nonsense. You're a drengr! And his wounds prove it," he said, brushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

You smiled at your companion, thanking him for his words when a wave of pain washed over you. Ivarr ran his hand through your hair, saying the pain would ease, the wounds would heal and leave an indelible mark on your body. You took his hand in yours, daring to ask him what had happened to King Rhodri. Had he become a number of your lover's royal murders? It was everything you hoped for. Ivarr's gaze darkened upon hearing that name. He replied that you had nothing to worry about, that he was taking care of his case. He was taking care of his case? Does that mean he hadn't killed him yet? Why was he keeping him alive? It was rare for Ivarr to do such a thing. You didn't have time to ask him the question when you were getting tired. He passed his hand over your cheek, telling you to rest. You fell asleep, reassured to know you are safe. Ivarr left his seat, settling on the floor, leaning his back against the bed. The Boneless began to sharpen the blade of his axe, thinking of all the things he was going to do to the Breton king. Maybe he was going to cut off his fingers and toes first, then his limbs. Pieces by pieces. With what he was about to do to him, any Bretons would flee the country. No, any Breton wouldn't dare approach you, or even look at you. He swore it.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter One

Masterlist

Little mús = Little mouse

The journey to England was long and arduous. You had never been confronted with the whims of the ocean and bad weather. The clan had to endure the rain, the icy wind, the storm and the raging ocean. For a first trip, it was hectic, but feeling the water and the wind warming up. When you first saw the lands of England, you were amazed. There was no nose, but plains of greenery as far as the eye could see. Dag was quick to make his voice heard, commenting that it was strange that Christians worship the cross that killed their Christ. For him, it was as if the Danes decided to worship the wolf who killed Odin. You shook your head slightly, deciding to ignore that idiot Dag, concentrating on all his new landscapes passing by until the ship arrived safely: Ragnarssons Encampment. But something was strange, the camp was strangely quiet and the few men there were dirty, badly dressed and they weren't from the North. Sigurd ordered to stop the boat, he wanted to continue on foot and present himself to them to verify if they were their friends or enemies that they were going to fight together. Well, not all of them, Sigurd ordered you to stay in the boat while they check and clean up the area. You obeyed and hid in the boat, watching your brothers and the crew alight to report to the Saxons. Unsurprisingly, the Saxons attacked the clan, which was forced to retaliate. The clearing of the camp was quick, the Saxons were no match for warriors from the North. Eivor came for you once the camp was cleared of any unwanted Saxons. The other two ships arrived in turn. With their arrival, the clan immediately got to work. Repairing the longhouse, removing the brigands' tents to prepare theirs. Weeks passed quickly, a new moon had arrived, before their new home was repaired and ready to welcome them. Your brothers had taken the time to build you a cabin, near the longhouse. Your new home was big enough for you. You had thanked them warmly, even though you had told them of your worries about living alone. It was stupid, you weren't a kid anymore, but you couldn't help but be scared. All of his changes made you dizzy. Sigurd and Eivor reassured you, saying that you could come and see them at any time of the day or night. A new life was beginning in Ravensthorpe. But things weren't that simple. A few days after the clan was installed, Sigurd and Eivor had to leave, each on their own, to forge alliances with other clans. Sigurd had left to join the Ragnarssons brothers and Eivor had gone to see the clan of a Jarl named Soma.

Eivor returned to Ravensthorpe for several weeks with the bracelet Soma had given him in appreciation for helping him. Apparently, he had helped the Jarl to return to his city and make a hard choice. He had just brought the good news. Now he had to go to Ledecestrescire, but he needed you. Sigurd had sent a letter, asking that you accompany Eivor, as he needed your archery skills. You were thrilled to join your brothers on this adventure.

"So sister? Do you like England?" asked Eivor as he rode his horse galloping through the fields of England.

"Yes, it's so different from Norway. The air is different, it's so warm, the landscape is so beautiful and colorful. There's so much to see. I wish Dǫglingr was here to see that. "

"I know (Y/N). I promise you that one day we will manage to bring him here."

"I hope."

The journey to Ledecestrescire was smooth until you and your brother arrived at a town called Repton. You left the horses in front of a church from which cries escaped. It was not reassuring. You looked at Eivor puzzled. The drengr tells you to stay behind him and let him talk. You were following Eivor in the Church which has been converted into a torture chamber. Lifeless bodies of Saxons hung above your heads, a man with a blindfold, soaked in blood, heated a sword, another was screaming, squirming, as he was in being lifted off the ground, feet up, head down. A third man was pulling a pulley to which the hanging Saxon was attached. The third man stopped, turning to the two newcomers.

"Who stands before Ivarr Ragnarsson? Are you Sigurd's drengr?" Ivarr asked, glaring at Eivor. "Aygor?"

"Eivor," Eivor replied, putting you behind him. "If you keep that up, you'll stain the floors."

"Eh! The place could use some color."

You couldn't help but wince when you saw all the blood. They were everywhere, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Like your home, like tonight. You shook your head slightly, pushing his thoughts out of your mind. You didn't have to think about it. You were concentrating on Ivarr, studying his physique a little better. Half of his head was shaved, revealing his scar that crossed the left side of his face from the top of his head to his chin. Where had he got that scar? How did he get it?

"Who are they?" Eivor asked bringing you out of your thoughts.

"All spies," Ivarr replied, moving closer to the blind man to push him to the hanging Saxon. "Dressed to look the part of a peasant. Got feisty. Pitchfork. Form this rabid little one."

You felt your stomach turn as Ivarr guided him to point the sword at him begging.

"Was a time when you met and slew your enemy on the field before they could dream of things like sending spies."

Suddenly, Ivarr kicked the blind man's buttocks, startling him. In his surprise, he thrust the sword into the hanging man's side. You looked away from that scene. The man's cry echoed off the walls of the Church, the smell of blood made you want to vomit. It was horrible. But Sigurd would tell you that these were the consequences of the war.

"And now we shake hands and make deals," Eivor commented.

"Not my thing," Ivarr replied, stepping closer to the pleader.

"I figured."

"I love the whipped, weeping and reeking of piss."

Ivarr turned to the blind man, who was leading the pleader away. He shouted a "hey" startling the blind Saxon. You and Eivor watched the Ragnarsson move closer to his prisoner, grabbing his hand to put a coin in before gently patting his head, congratulating him on being a good boy. He then turned to beg him, telling him he was free and he could return to wreak havoc in the fields of Mercian. Ivarr moved closer to the pulley, grabbing his axe to slam him down on the rope. When she was cut off, the Saxon crashed hard to the ground. You were sure you heard his bones making a strange noise.

"I would have let him down easy," Eivor commented, looking at the inert Saxon.

"Hm," Ivarr breathes as he finishes getting dressed. "Follow me, I'll give you the tour."

Ivarr walked towards the exit of the Church, Eivor and you followed him through the small town.

"What do you call this place?" Eivor asked.

"I call it The Shithole. To the Mercians, it is Repton. Their most revered kings are buried below the church. Imagine their weeping when we drove them out!"

"You plunged your knife deep into the heart of this kingdom," you commented looking around.

"Hey, you have a language, little mús*. What's your name?"

"(Y/N)."

"Well (Y/N), you're right. We've got a number of Saxon nobles lined up with their lips puckered, ready to kiss or asses. The only holdout is King Burgred and his war-thegn, Leofrith. But my brother is brewing a plan to deal with them."

"I take it that's where we'll find our brother," Eivor said.

"Right. Talkers they are, Ubba and Sigurd. Might want to dig the wax from your ears."

The trio arrived in front of a tent from which a disgruntled voice was heard. What was happening? Ivarr mumbled something about a boring mercenary as he hurried into the tent. The dissatisfied person kills himself before leaving the situation visibly upset. Eivor nodded to you, urging you to follow him and stay close to him. He was the first to enter the tent, you followed him closely, hiding behind him. You were always uncomfortable around people you didn't know. You were relieved to see Sigurd and find that he was fine.

"Haggling over silver is a bad look for the son of Ragnar Lothbrok," Sigurd commented, glaring at Ubba. "But worry not, Ubba, I have the warriors you need."

"If this is one of them, my worries have vanished," Ubba commented before turning his attention back to you. "Who is this woman hiding behind your drengr?"

"Our sister, (Y/N)" Sigurd says smiling at you. "She doesn't look it, but she's my best archer."

Eivor smiled, leading you out of hiding to face Ubba and Ivarr. Your brother gave you a light pat on the back, making you straighten up. Why did you agree to come all the way here? You were better off at Ravensthorpe.

"You two have come at just the right time," Sigurd began, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Ubba and Ivarr here are hunting a king."

"And when we've caught him, we mean to crown another," Ubba explained, turning to a man approaching him. "Our dear Thegn Ceolwulf here."

"It's not a role I begged for, but it's what Mercia needs just now. A man to fairly rule both Saxons and Danes," Ceolwulf said.

"A puppet," you say, glaring Sigurd sternly.

"(Y/N)…"

"I am doing my part. I hope you have come to do yours. We are going to need all the help we can get for what comes nest."

"The king has refused our offers of peace," Ubba continued. "Ceolwulf means to change that. He'll be a new king for a new England."

"For now, Burged is holed up in his fortress at Tamworth, making a final stand," Sigurd continued.

"Another shithole, only further south," Ivarr commented.

"We've held a siege there for weeks, to no effect. So no more knocking. Now we beat the gate to splinters," Ubba continued. "If we take tamworth, remove Burgred, and crown Ceolwulf… come morning, this shire is ours. And Mercia soon after."

"Yes, remove. I cannot stress that enought," insisted Ceolwulf. "Burgred is not to be harmed. My legitimacy as king hangs on this one simple fact."

"You rob all the joy from war, Saxon," Ivarr replied, stepping away from the table to approach you and Eivor, glaring Ceolwulf sternly.

"Not every victory needs to be marked by the slaughter of a king."

"Ah! But it is much better," the Boneless replied.

"His request is fair, Ivarr. And we will honor it," Sigurd replied much to Ivarr's annoyance.

You no longer listened to what your brothers and the Ragnarsson brothers were saying. One word in particular was ringing in your mind. Slaughter. Your heart started beating at an amazing speed, your ears started ringing, your hands were shaking and you felt your stomach turn. No, now was not the time. You had to leave the tent without being noticed. The men were too focused on their hunt for the king to care about you. You slowly backed up to the exit of the tent without being noticed. Once outside, you clapped your hand over your mouth, starting to run to find a secluded spot. Once you were sure you were alone, you allowed your body to give up the contents of your stomach. You vomited the little food and bile before calming down. Why did that simple word put you in such a state? Sigurd and Eivor trusted you for this mission. You shouldn't let yourself go like that.

"Are you really a good archer, little mús?"

You turned to none other than Ivarr Ragnarsson. Of course, someone had to catch you throwing up your guts and it had to be a Ragnarsson. You used the back of your sleeve to wipe your mouth. You pulled yourself together, facing Ivarr who was closing in on you.

"You look more like a terrified little girl than a gifted archer whose prowess Sigurd kept praising," Ivarr commented, letting his carnivorous grin show. "Will you be able to hold out against our enemy or will you be busy throwing your guts out?"

"You don't know me, I'm able to stand against the enemy. If Sigurd praises my prowess, there's a reason," you say, straightening your back. "My brothers trust me and that's enough for me."

You walked past Ivarr, moving away from him to find Eivor and Sigurd. Ignoring the fact that Ivarr Ragnarsson was watching you walk away. He had noticed that you were uncomfortable in the Church. Was it the fact that he was torturing Saxons or the stress of the coming battle? Maybe both. Could he really trust you? After all, they were going to have to fight King Burgred. Were you going to crack in the middle of a fight? He was going to have to watch you closely, but first he had to get the son of the future king: Ceolbert. This kid needed to shed blood to assert himself and become a man. He arrived near his brother from Sigurd and his drengr, all were ready to leave, but someone was missing. Each mounted their horse and the party set off for King Burgred's abode, but Ivarr quickly noticed that someone was missing.

"Little mús went into hiding again to return his meal?" he asked, glaring at Sigurd.

"No, (Y/N) went ahead to check around and find his perch," replied Sigurd, smiling proudly and straightening his back.

"Who told you she didn't run away?"

"It's true that she seems quite… weak," Ubba commented.

"We know (Y/N) better than anyone," Eivor said, glaring sternly at the Ragnarsson brothers. "Our sister is trustworthy. I will not hesitate to entrust my life to her."

"Well said, Eivor," Sigurd replied. "Don't worry, (Y/N) is a talented archer. Odin granted her extraordinary vision."

"Extraordinary how much?" asked Ceolbert curiously.

"You'll see, Ceolbert. She doesn't look like it, but (Y/N) has saved our lives more than once," Eivor replied.

Ivarr couldn't help but groan when he heard that. There was no way you were as amazing as your brothers said you were. You looked like a mouse that was ready to flee at the slightest opportunity. How could he trust you for this mission?

The group arrived at the king's residence. Everyone was just waiting for orders from the Ragnarssons and Sigurd so they could invade the Tamworth. Unsurprisingly, you weren't at the makeshift camp. He was sure and certain that you had taken advantage of it to flee Mercia.

"Looks like your dearest sister ran away," Ivarr commented, glaring at Eivor and Sigurd who continued to smile.

"No, she's here. Closer than you think," Eivor replied, following Ubba to the gates of the fortress.

Ivarr rolled his eyes, growling in displeasure. He nodded to Ceolbert to follow him. Burgred stood at the top of the walkway, looking down on the Danes.

"Look at these pagan rats! Ravenous, unseemly beasts, teeming over holy ground!" Burgred exclaimed to Leofrith who looked uncertain.

"Have a care, lord. These pagan rats outnumber us."

"I can see that, fool!" Burgred muttered through his teeth. "What do we do about them!"

"I advise we strongly consider their demands, lord," advised Leofrith. "We won't survive a fight."

"Is that you, Leofrith?" Ivarr asked sarcastically. "How quickly you recover. I'm beginning to wonder if it is a man or a god beneath all that armor."

"A man of God stands before you, Ivarr," replied Leofrith emblemately? "Proud and resolute."

"That's Burgred war-thegn," Ubba explained, turning to Eivor and Sigurd. "Killed a dozen of our men in an amubush along the river Trent. It Ivarr's ax that stopped him."

"That is a poor description of a perfect thirty-yard toss," Ivarr said proudly.

"Enough jawing, heathens!" barked Burgred "Speak your piece."

"We've come for your crown, lord," Ubba replied calmly.

"With or without your head attached," Ivarr continued.

"I admire your ambition, Pagan," Burgred replied with a sneer. "But what you ask is impossible. No dane ever has or ever will occupy Mercia's sacred throne."

"Are you sure of that, King Burgred?" Eivor asked quite loudly. "Are you sure you want to see what will happen to your men posted on this walkway?"

Burgred only had time to reply to his surprise, and that of Leofrith, four of his men resures an arrow in the face or in their throat, killing them on the spot or leaving them to agony for long minutes. Ivarr watched this puzzled scene. Where did his arrows come from? The assault had not yet been launched. His attention fell on Sigurd and Eivor, the two brothers smiling enigmatically. Impossible, was it you? But where were you hiding? He didn't see you.

"Pagan dog! What have you done?!" shouted Burgred enraged. "Kill them all!"

"My king, may I suggest a more measured approach to this-"

"I grow weary of this palaver! You have trampled our lands, toppled our monuments. We've given you silver. Fed your people," Burgred shouted, spitting at the vikings' feet. "And yet in spile of all this, your encroachment on my kingdom continues. No more! We will die defending what is ours, whatever the cost. If you want my crown, Ubba Ragnarsson, you must pry it from the hands of my bloodless cor-"

Burgred had no time to finish his sentence when an arrow pierced the air, skimming his cheek and went to crash into the head of one of his soldiers, post a little further. A cry of terrifier escaped his lips as his war-thegn searched for the person who had just fired his arrows. You couldn't help but sigh seeing the two Saxons being so panicked. They reminded you of two hens running away from the farmer who was coming with an axe. When you were reunited with your brothers, Sigurd ordered you to go first so you could find a vantage point to clean up. Burgred was screaming so loud you could hear him from where you were hiding. You had found a tree with rather thick branches and dense foliage, you were perfectly concealed, sixty feet from Burgred's fortress. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Synin croak. You watched the crow circling above the tree where you were perched. You nodded slightly, jumping off your branch to follow Burgred, or at least keep an eye on him. Ceolwulf didn't want him to die, which was stupid. Burgred was not going to be captured so easily. You fired new arrows, killing guards watching for reinforcements. You had to eliminate as many as possible to allow the others to enter. When the wall was clear, you climbed it arriving on the walkway which was now deserted. You looked around taking the opportunity to slip into Tamworth, hiding in the bushes. You could already wreak havoc with just a few arrow shots. You saw carts with jars filled with oil. All it needed was a small spark for it to explode. You prepared an arrow, aiming at one of the jars.

Burgred had better be well hidden.

You let go of your bowstring, letting your arrow slice through the air to smash into a jar that shattered into a thousand pieces. The oil was spreading on the ground, coming dangerously close to a fire. Alerted by the noise, Burgred's men approached the source of the noise. The oil came in contact with the flames, guiding them to the cart which exploded, sending oil and flames on the men who screamed and pain and tried to put out the flames, without much result. His screams were the signal for the drengrs of the Ragnarssons brothers who broke down the huge wooden door, invading the place. What little house there was was now on fire, the battle cries echoed, the sounds of swords clashing echoed through Tamworth. You took advantage of the chaos to come out of hiding, killing any archers you saw, allowing the drengrs to push the ram through Tamworth. You were surprised to see an axe pass a few centimeters from your face, going to plant itself in the head of a Saxon who collapsed. Your gaze rested on none other than Ivarr. This one had a smirk on his lips as he moved closer to you to take back his weapon, returning to fight without saying a word.

"Sister! Over here!" Eivor shouted.

You rushed past Eivor, covering his and Sigurd's rear, to Burgred's home, killing his two henchmen, thus taking control of Tamworth. Burgred had lost. Eivor and Ubba broke down the door, allowing the small group to enter the house which was strangely empty. This coward had managed to flee? Impossible. Ubba turned to one of his men, ordering them to take three men and search the area before turning to Eivor, asking him to search the area for what might help them find Burgred while he go tell Ceolwulf that they have found him a throne. Throne on which Ivarr had taken his place. He was really unabashed. Ubba and Sigurd left the house, Eivor began to search the premises, leaving you alone. You sighed leaning against a beam. How did Burgred get away without anyone seeing him? Come to think of it, his war-thegn was also absent. They had both fled? You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a snore. Your attention fell on Ivarr who had just fallen asleep. Seriously? Eivor returned, a letter in hand which he handed to Ivarr before realizing that the Boneless was sleeping. Your brother was looking at you, just as lost, when Ubba, Sigurd and Ceolwulf entered the room. Seeing his brother sleeping, Ubba sighed loudly.

"Your men have any luck?" Eivor asked, turning to Ubba.

"Nothing. You?"

"This," he said giving the letter to Ubba. "Do you know that symbol?"

Ubba took the letter, checking the symbol. His expression turned serious as he recognized the drawing. He explained that this symbol was the sign of Tonna. The mercenary had helped them. Apparently, she had made a deal with Burgred. She was able to sell him the secrets regarding Ceolwulf, Repton, plans of the Ragnarssons. It smelled bad.

"Why bother with all this pageantry?" Ivarr asked, getting everyone's attention. "Fashion a new crown and stick it on your melon. There you have it, you're the new king."

"That is not how it works," replied Ceolwulf. "Not in Mercia."

"We're wasting time," Eivor said. "Tonna is our only lead. We talk to her, find out what she knows."

"I would sooner launch my face into my ax than face her," replied Ivarr, upset at the thought of seeing this woman again.

"That might improve her impression of you," Ubba replied, glaring sternly at his brother who rolled his eyes as he left the throne he was sitting on.

"We have the same father. But his mother wa a sow."

"Leave right now," you say as you approach the group of men. "The longer we wait, the more secrets Tonna will be able to sell."

"You're right. Bring your patience, you'll need it," Ubba commented as he walked towards the exit, followed by the group.

"And your axe," Ivarr continued.

The journey to the Tonna camp was peaceful, it was strange. Eivor and Sigurd had gone to talk to Tonna, leaving you with Ivarr and Ubba. You sighed, sharpening the tips of your arrows and checking that they weren't cracked. You had no place to stand high, that's why your brothers ordered you to stay with the Ragnarssons brothers.

"It was impressive what you did to Burgred's men," Ubba said looking down at you. "I've never seen anyone shoot with such precision."

"Thank you," you say, putting away your arrows.

"Looks like this little mús hides her game well," Ivarr commented with a sneer. "That and return your meal."

"What's this about returning your meal?"

The trio's attention fell on Sigurd and Eivor, returning from Tonna's camp. You straightened up, hanging your bow on your back. You answered your brother's question by telling him it was just a moment of weakness. Preferring to talk about Tonna than what had happened in Repton. According to the statements of Tonna, Burgred would hide evening in Ledecestre or in Templebrough Fort. The group split into three. Sigurd and Ubba went to Templebrough Fort and Ivarr went to Ledecestre. But Ubba asked you and Eivor to accompany him as a friend. Being friends with Ivarr Ragnarsson? It seemed absurd. But did you really have a choice? From the look Sigurd was giving you, you didn't really have a choice. You nodded slightly, agreeing to follow Ivarr to Ledecestre.

"We're going to have fun, little mús," Ivarr commented as he mounted his horse.

A sigh escaped your lips as you mounted your horse, following Ivarr to your next destination. You couldn't help thinking that you should have stayed in Ravensthorpe.

A sane person knew he or she couldn't be friends with Ivarr Ragnarsson. He was a man who didn't care about other people, he only did what he liked and he didn't care about the consequences. Why did Sigurd ask you to follow him to Ledecestre? He had taken with him a young boy who seemed as uncomfortable as you. This one presented itself to you. Apparently his name was Ceolbert and was the son of Ceolwulf, the future king of Mercia. Why risk the life of such an important person? It was absurd. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Ivarr announced that you had arrived. The town was filled with men working and fighting for Burgred. Searching the city wasn't going to be easy. Ivarr's attention fell on a fairly high tower where you can go unnoticed. You looked at Ceolbert, asking him if he had climbed himself. The young Aetheling shook his head negatively saying that he had never tried to climb a tree. Ivarr chuckled, saying he'll learn, even if it means breaking his neck. Climbing the walls of the tower was simple, Ceolbert managed to reach the top, not without being out of breath.

"Are you doing well?" you asked, patting Ceolbert on the back.

"The twig is fine little mús. It'll give him some muscle to his arms," Ivarr commented casually. "So! Let's get down to business. There are two possible places where Burgred can hide: the bathhouse and that church. One of us is going to have to go there as a scout and find out where our very dear King Burgred."

"I'll go," Ceolbert said, drawing your attention and Ivarr's.

"Are you sure of yourself? It's taking a risk. At the slightest mistake, your head will fall," you said, staring at the young man.

"Yes, I know I can do it."

"Be our guest," Ivarr replied, leading the way. "Try not to get yourself killed. Otherwise I'll have to kill your father."

You winced when you heard Ivarr say that. How could he threaten this boy to kill his father with such nonchalance? You felt your hands shaking. You had to calm down. You watched Ceolbert descend from the tower and disappear into the city. You were now alone with Ivarr The Boneless. Why did Sigurd order you to follow him? You knew he hoped for an alliance with the Ragnarssons brothers, but why did you have to stay with a man like him. You knew his reputation, everyone knew Ivarr. People had given him the nickname Boneless because he moved in such a strange way that he looked like he had no bones in his legs. Which was quite strange. You got closer to the edge of the tower, close enough to assess what was going on in the city and you were far enough away that no one noticed you. There was a lot of comings and goings of soldiers as well as carts probably containing food and oil.

"Burgred must be around," Ivarr said, snapping you out of your thoughts. "With so many of his men coming. They are preparing for a war."

"We'll be in trouble if that happens."

"It will not arrive."

You looked at Ivarr out of the corner of your eye. Ever since you left Tonna's camp, you noticed he was upset. You looked at the puzzled Boneless as he crouched down, surveying the bathhouse, rubbing his hands nervously. Silence fell between you and Ivarr. You hoped Ceolbert would come back alive. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard someone coming to the top of the tower. Eivor had arrived. You stood up, brushing the dust off your pants as Ivarr told him he was coming at the right time, because otherwise you would have torn this town apart without him.

"What have you seen?" asked the drengr.

"Soldiers aplenty. Wagons going in and out," you say. "Burgred must be here."

"The bathhouse there, and that church, see? I sent a scout to check them both. Should be back at any moment now," Ivarr continued before looking at Eivor. "Did you see Ubba and Sigurd in Templebrough?"

"No. And If Burgred is hiding here, I won't have to."

"There is a lot we would not have to do if we sruck to killing kings. Thanks to my brother, now we are into making them."

"And that's a bad thing?" you asked perplexed.

"You, Sigurd and you Eivor… do you still get along well?" asked Ivarr

"Most of the time, yes," you replied, looking at Eivor.

"Yes."

"You're both still young. Wait until you're my age and you'll see," he said, moving closer to you and Eivor. "The closer we are, the more we see each other's flaws."

Silence settled again. Eivor took a better look around, looking for Ivarr's lightning that didn't return. It was over, either he was dead or he had fled. Eivor decided he was going to see the Boneless scout. Ivarr let him go, preferring to wait here for Ceolbert to return. Your brother gave you one last look, telling you to be careful before he jumped off the tower and landed in a wagon full of hay. You were alone again with Ivarr. But you noticed that he was starting to get impatient. You didn't have time to ask him anything but he pulled out a horn to blow into it. He launched the assault on the city.

"What are you doing?!" you exclaimed in surprise.

"I've had enough of waiting. I want to shed blood!" he said, smiling at you with his maniacal smile which announced nothing good, while he approached dangerously close to you, bringing his face closer to yours. "You can hide here like a coward if you want little mús. You seem to be good at it. After all, we each have our fights and it looks like you haven't won yours. As long as you refuse to win, you'll stay a scared little mouse."

After that, Ivarr came down from the tower, leaving you alone. You didn't know what to think. He was right, you were incapable of fighting. You were too scared, as soon as you saw blood or people being massacred, you couldn't help vomiting or rolling your eyes. Archery was easy. You were too far away to see the damage you were causing, which was easier for you, but being on the battlefield. No, you preferred not to think about it. Just thinking about it, your hands began to shake, your stomach twisted and your heart rate accelerated. You had to calm down. You sat on the ground, back against the low wall, curling up and clutching your bow as if your life depended on it. You were useless. You should never have come. You should have stayed in Ravensthorpe. You would have been discussed with Hytham to learn more about his culture or his knowledge or you would have walked around the camp to help with any task. You could even bear the presence of Randvi. You were abruptly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. You jumped looking at Eivor startled. What was he doing there? He had, however, gone to look for Ceolbert.

"Sister…"

"What are you doing here? And Ceolbert?" you ask.

"He's in a safe place," he said pulling off his cloak which he was draping over your shoulders. "What happened?"

"I… I shouldn't have come," you say, your throat tight. "I can't fight Eivor."

"You don't have to fight (Y/N). Sigurd and I fight for you."

"That's exactly the problem…"

"Sister… we'll get out of here. You'll go back to Tamworth to wait for us and stay there until Ceolwulf's coronation. After that, I promise you we'll go home."

You nodded slightly before standing up. You noticed that night had fallen and the city was ransacked and was half burnt. How long was it to elapse? Did you lose consciousness? It was quite possible. Eivor helped you down from the tower before leading you to his horse. The Wolf-Kissed informed Ivarr and Ceolbert that he was bringing you back to Tamworth Fortress. You put the hood on your head, hiding under your brother's cloak so that no one sees you. You were pathetic. One of your brothers was a Jarl and the other a drengr and you didn't humiliate them by being in a state of constant panic. Eivor set off, taking you back to Tamworth.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Fanfiction Masterlist :

Assassin's Creed Valhalla:

Ivarr The Boneless x Female Reader:

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the furniture, everything was covered in your parents' blood. You could only watch helplessly as the macabre scene unfolded before your eyes. You weren't strong enough to be able to protect your parents. You had to live with their death on your conscience, but your brothers Sigurd and Eivor managed to ease the burden. Everything seemed to be going well until Sigurd decided to leave Norway to go to England.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Ect...

Mangle

King Rhodri decides to take revenge on Ivarr Ragnarsson by attacking the only thing he had the least bit of affection for: you.

Warning: mutilation, torture, nudity

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Ect.

charlie and the chocolate factory:

Willy Wonka x Female Reader:

Unlike your cousin Charlie Bucket, you hadn't had a chance in life. Your parents abandon you, leaving you in the hands of Mr. and Mrs. Bucket. As long as you can remember, you had to work hard to help them make ends meet. Like your cousin, you admired the famous Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, although you know that it was impossible for you to enter it. At least, that's what you thought.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Finish~

God Of War:

Young Kratos

Yandere Kratos x female reader:

Chapter One

Kratos x Female Reader:

Abandoned

Ragnarok is over. You agreed to follow Kratos and Freya across the nine Realms, but instead of helping them in restorative quests, you will have a completely different revelation.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Finish~

Tyr x Female Reader:

You had a happy life. A loving family and a devoted husband. But every idyllic setting had a dark spot. And you were going to learn it the worst way.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Out of series:

A Strange book

Vikings:

Ragnar Lodbrok and Daughter reader:

Being the eldest daughter of Ragnar Lodbrok and Lagertha is not an easy existence. Everyone expects a lot from you. But it's even less so when you can't stand your own father and his ways.

Chapter One

kuroshitsuji:

Undertaker x Female reader:

Madness part 1