#and years later a traveler comes to kattegat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barnes-lothbrok · 2 years ago

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Mermaid Tears - 1

A/N - I honestly have no idea where I am going with this. But here's part 1 of maybe 4? Who knows. Apologies for spelling, grammar and all that. Just me trying to proof read, multiple times, this jumbled nonsense and mess of words

Warnings - blood, capture, slightly creepy Ivar (who doesn't love a staring Ivar), unimaginative descriptions.

Tags - @youbloodymadgenius ♡ (please let me know if you wanna be tagged)

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Years passed and with it the boy's curiosity and belief in the mysterious creatures that inhabited the ocean disappeared. Replaced by dreams of blood and desire to go fight and raid with his brothers. He grew into a strong and bloodthirsty son of Ragnar Lothbrok, the feared Ivar the Boneless, King of Kattegat.

He and his brothers were famed from Norway to the shores of Wessex and distant lands. His eldest brothers had set out to travel as far as the Mediterranean Sea. After countless battles and raids Ivar and his brother's reputations were known to many.

Horns blared around the town of Kattegat, signalling boats on the horizon. Groaning and covering his head with a pillow, Ivar closed his eyes to block out the offensive sound and the much too cheery sunlight. He'd barely slept two hours that night and wished to return to his restless slumber.

His wish however was not granted as his door was thrown open.

"Come on, lazy ass!" Hvitserk yelled "Björn and Ubbe are back!"

Ivar groaned and threw a pillow at him, luckily for Hvitserk in the was the closest thing instead the knife beside his bed.

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The whole town had gathered by the docks, forming a large sea of people to fight his way through. Many did their best to part, making way for the king as he limped, leaning most of his weight on his metal crutch, but the sheer number gathered made it difficult. The people were obviously excited to welcome the princes home and eager to see what treasures they had returned with.

Ivar snarled at everyone who accidentally knocked into him and snapped at anyone who didn't move out of his way fast enough. He mumbled about having to making a list to make them suffer later. He hadn't had anyone stoned in a while. One young man had the misfortune of being unable to move causing Ivar to grab him by the tunic.

"You move for your king!" he spat before practically throwing the frightened boy into a bunch of people, almost knocking them down like bowling pins.

Ivar glared at the people around, daring anyone to make a comment or move to challenge him. He was a good king, providing for his people (often with Hvitserk's guidance) on his best days but on his worst when he was tired or in pain, it was best to leave him be. It was unfortunate his brothers had decided to return home on a bad day.

"Ah, Brother!" Ubbe called, hurrying over to the hole in the crowd now formed around him. "Good to see you haven't changed"

Ivar's glare only softened slightly as his older brother embraced him, clapping each other on the back before hugging.

"You look like a lobster" Ivar pulled back to look at Ubbe's sun kissed cheeks, his cheekbones and nose burnt pink.

Ubbe chuckled as he punched his shoulder "Maybe I should grow claws, cut that tongue of yours" he teased, making a pinching movement with his hand.

"You can't threaten your king, I could have you boiled, made into lobster stew"

Ubbe laughed and embraced him again before turning back to the boats. "Björn has a surprise for you" he said as he guided him to the biggest boat.

A group of their strongest warriors were heaving ropes attached to wooden beams as Björn commanded them to pull and be careful.

The wooden beams were attached to a glass container at the bottom of the boat. It took up most of the deck and was filled with water as it splashed and sloshed over the sides from under the fabric covering the top being held down by ropes.

"Hold" Björn yelled as he dropped the rope to climb back into the boat, some men and women following him. "Ubbe" he called, spotting he had returned with Ivar.

Björn gave Ivar a brief nod before commanding them to lift and pull. With great struggle and force they managed to move the container above the edge out the boat. It was narrower than Ivar originally judged, more like a tub, big enough to fit a person. He watched closely while anyone who was able to helped, grabbing the beams at his eldest brother's command. Whatever was inside the covered container was clearly fragile with the way Björn snapped anytime there was a slight knock or bump.

People crowded, curious to see what was inside as it was carried towards the Great Hall. Ivar followed closely behind, people keeping a distance from him as they desperately tried to catch a peek at what was inside. Ivar frowned as he thought he glimpsed a flash of golden orange in the water as wind caught the fabric but he shook his head. It couldn't be? Could it?

Just as he was clearly his head of long forgotten childhood wishes and tales, one of the warriors caught their foot in a dragging rope and pulled the fabric away. His eyes had not deceived him.

Inside the water was the creature from his childhood. Half-maiden and half-fish. Her tail was just as described and matching a memory long forgotten. The golden orange scales glistening in the sunlight.

He was unable to admire for long as the warrior whose foot got caught stumbled and fell, taking everyone carrying his beam down with him.

Ivar watched in horror as the sudden loss of support caused the tub to hit the ground. The glass smashing, water gushing out and the creature tumbling out into the middle of the town square.

The crowd gasped as they watched the creature flop before her tail turned to legs before their eyes. She gasped and whimpered, looking down at her naked form quickly grabbing at the tattered fabric close by, covering herself the best she could and hugging her legs to her chest, while sitting in the wreckage of her former prison.

To Ivar, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her flame-like hair was held in braid, decorated with tiny sea shells. Her pointed ears were adorned with three tiny pearls. Her eyes made his breath catch in his chest, they were a green like he'd never seen before. They seemed to hold the ocean's beauty with in them.

He was first to start approaching her as she sat shivering, hiding her beautiful face in her knees but Hvitserk and Ubbe were faster. Hvitserk pulled off his furs and gently placed them over her shoulders.

"If we had known you would grow legs. We would have sat you in the boat" Björn chuckled, his voice making her curl up more.

The brothers looked at each unsure what to do. Hvitserk shrugged and Ubbe looked for Torvi, maybe a female presents would help calm her.

"Can you stand? Let's get you inside, in the warm" Torvi said gently, kneeling before her as the brothers stepped back.

The creature gave Torvi a puzzled look, as if she couldn't understand her.

"Um, stand?" Torvi stood up from kneeling to demonstrate but the sudden movement frightened her making her scurry back a little catching her hand on some glass.

The woman looked down at the blood pooling on her palm in wonder as if she'd never hurt her hand before. Her moment of curiosity was short lived as Helga appeared beside her, trying to help but ended up scaring her half to death as she screamed in terror.

She looked as though she was about the pass out but before her head hit the floor, a hand caught it. Ivar was shocked along with everyone else at his sudden, almost lightning speed in which he'd abandoned his crutch and fell to catch her, not caring if he caused injury to himself.

"Take her to my room. The bed is the most comfortable" Ivar said, having got to his feet again with a concerned Ubbe's help and dusted himself off.

Surprisingly from the stunt he pulled, he only gained a small cut on his arm and a fair amount of bruising that he knew would be there in the morning.

After raising at eyebrow, Björn carried the unconscious woman inside as she was bundled up in Hvitserk's furs before he gently placed her on Ivar's giant bed covered in more soft furs and warmth from the almost continuous fire in the hearth. The warmth had always helped his bones.

He demanded everyone leave but Helga as he flopped into a chair beside the bed while Helga tended to her hand and checked for other injuries.

"Are you hurt?" Helga turned to him after tucking her in, making sure she was as comfortable as could be in her unconscious state.

"Just some bruising" he grunted with a shrug as his eyes were glued to the woman in his bed. "When will she wake?"

"Could be a few hours, maybe a day" Helga gently brushed some hair from her hair and behind her pointed ear. "Poor thing has been through a lot, best she rests and let her dreams comfort her"

Ivar hummed in thought, turning his eyes away to watch the fire instead. He didn't know this creature, didn't even know her name and yet he had an odd urge to care for her.

An urge to reprimand Björn and Ubbe, to punish them for capturing and tormenting such beauty. He had the urge to never let her go. He couldn't describe or even understand the ache in his chest and the odd flutter of his heart as he watched her sleep in his bed.

His thoughts were broken by Helga placing a pot of beam beside him "For the bruising" she smiled knowingly "Call for me when she wakes"

With one last look back she left. Leaving Ivar with the creature from his childhood dreams.

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A/N - This is an AU and will not be following canon; it will have canon elements.

#vikings fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #vikings #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk #ivar vikings #ivar au #ubbe ragnarsson #bjorn ironside #vikings au #mermaid

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years ago

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Mistakes (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, OC/Reader

Prompt: From the Quotes category: “In some other life we are standing side by side and laughing that, in some other life we are apart.”

Word Count: 4817

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence and death, and my writing.

A/N: So, hi. Remember these? I hope you like this one! Mind the warnings please!

Btw, setting: Ivar is past 6b of age, around 27-28, and instead of becoming King of Kattegat he stayed with the Great Army and his brothers raiding and conquering in England.

You look at your husband out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way he seems to be sizing up the men that are surrounding you both. Here you both are, dragged in chains towards a Viking warlord as the only survivors of a Saxon attack -you were foolish to have felt relief when you saw the familiar armor, you were foolish to believe they had come to aid you and not pick apart the remains-, and he still itches for a fight.

“Don’t even think about it,” You ask under your breath, brows furrowed. “You really think you can fight your way through two hundred men?”

His eyes remain trained on the men, on the painted patterns of their shields, on the orderly way they guide you both to wherever it is you will be taken; for a few moments too long, long enough for a knot of fear to tighten at the base of your stomach. The man you love is many things, but a patient man isn’t one of them.

But his eyes meet yours, and you breathe easier. He wouldn’t take his eyes off them if he truly were planning to attack.

“You think I can’t?” He taunts, a quirk of his mouth that pulls tight at a still-healing scar that travels down from the center of his cheek towards the curve of his neck. Leaning closer, breaths warm be your ear, he continues, “With your favor, my love, I’ll slay them all.”

Even against your better judgement, even against the threat of capture or worse that looms over both your hearts, he manages to make a smile pull at your lips, and a small laugh bubbles from your chest.

Shaking your head at the smug smile he proudly wears at having made you laugh, you silently tell him to return his eyes ahead, and he does, after a moment.

It doesn’t take long for you two to be brought into the middle of the massive stone structure within Nottingham, the makeshift main hall seemingly empty -and for some reason that is what draws your attention, how the only people in here are you, your husband, and whoever you are to meet-.

There’s a strange sound, like metal on wood, like who stabs a sword onto the floor, as you approach the throne, but you are too busy searching your husband’s profile as he steps closer to you as if to protect you, to care who it is that has taken you prisoner.

His voice reaches you both soon enough, and your heart stops at the first tilt of accent in the familiar voice.

“King Hróarr, aren’t you? I have heard of you.”

Your husband shakes his head, “I am king of nothing yet. I am not one for claiming titles that do not belong to me.”

You are of half a mind to tell him to mind his tongue, words of how his insult isn’t lost to you or anyone here; but you cannot speak, the words are stuck on your throat as if the man before you were holding you by the throat.

Ivar finally meets your gaze, head held high and eyes piercing on yours.

Your first mistake, you realize now, was thinking that the world was big enough. Your first mistake was thinking you would never see him again.

When you left him all those years ago, divorcing him by simply running away in the dead of night -aware you wouldn’t survive letting him know of your wish to leave him-, you had truly, foolishly maybe, believed you could get far away enough that he wouldn’t find you; you had truly, naively maybe, believed that you could escape a bond forged before the Gods themselves.

Sooner or later, Fate would bring you together again, you have always known that, even if you wish you didn’t.

Ivar’s head tilts slightly to the side -a gesture still painfully familiar- as his lips curve into a cruel smile.

“We both know that is a lie,” He says, a calmer answer than you were expecting to your husband’s insult. Eyes still on you, his gaze roams over you, a blend between a trail of fire and a trail of ice slithering over your skin at the intensity behind his gaze as he takes you in. “Your wife, is she not?”

Hróarr is a smart man, that is one of the reasons you fell in love with him. You do not need to look at him -you aren’t sure you can anyhow- to know he has realized exactly who stands before you two now, exactly at the mercy of whom you two are now.

Still, with a side step to put his body slightly in front of you, he claims.

“Yes. Y/N, Lady of the Hebrides.”

You know what he is doing, what he is bringing attention to by calling you by that name. But no titles will save you now. Not these, anyways.

Icy blue eyes return to your husband, a calmness to the ire, a restraint to the disdain, that unsettles you more than it should.

The words leave Ivar’s mouth like a curse and a challenge all in one.

“I knew her by another title, once.”

____

The tips of your fingers dance over the outline of his lips, and your eyes follow the movement, but you feel Ivar’s eyes on you, intent on taking in your features with that happy, almost dazed, look that you know owes none of that uncharacteristic softness to the mead.

“You are my wife,” He says. He says it quietly, reverently, as if speaking the words any louder would break the spell of whatever dream is built upon this simple fact. “We are married. Finally.”

The giggle that makes it past your lips is as lovesick as you have ever heard one, but you do not mind one bit.

Smile wide, you nod your head, “We are. You are my husband, Ivar. Finally.”

He shakes his head, lifting a hand to grasp at the side of your neck, thumb brushing over the line of your jaw and making a shiver run down your spine. Ivar brings you closer, not intending to kiss you yet, just seeming to crave the closeness of your lips a hair’s breadth away.

“No, not ‘finally’, not for you. I would have married you years ago, and you know that.”

The petulant complaint makes your foolish smile, and your fingers that were lost on tracing the shape of his lips travel to the side of his face, trailing over the angle of his cheekbone. Your breath stutters past your lips when Ivar doesn’t hesitate to lean into the caress.

“I have known I would marry you one day for just as long.”

“Why hadn’t you, hm?”

This time it is you who shakes their head.

“That doesn’t matter. We are husband and wife now, and we will always be together,” You vow quietly, “That was my promise to you today, was it not?”

But Ivar doesn’t answer your question. His eyes search yours, as always seeming to seek an answer written in your gaze before he even utters a question, and his voice is low, rough as if he hadn’t spoken in so long, when he beseechs,

“Promise me. Again, promise me again.”

Heart beating quickly, you softly press your smiling lips against his. He responds almost stiffly, and you realize with a pang of emotion in your chest that the fool is waiting for your response with baited breath, as if the ring on your finger, the blood from the wedding ceremony still staining your face, the years you have spent side by side, aren’t enough of an answer.

But, you know him well enough to know why it is he needs such reassurances, and so the words, the promises, leave your lips with ease.

“You and me, Ivar. Always, and forever.”

____

Stepping forward, almost stumbling at having forgotten the shackles at your hands and the heavy chains that keep you prisoner, you plead,

“Ivar…”

A twitch of anger and something else, that is all he gives away. Your heart feels squeezed tightly by some unseen force as you meet his gaze again, as you force yourself not to look away.

“Release her,” He orders suddenly, a gesture of his free hand. He spares a glance to Hróarr, but it is dismissive, mocking, especially with the words that follow, “No man enjoys seeing his wife in chains.”

The warriors approaching you jump, but the men only get close to release you from your chains. Wide eyes meet Ivar’s, and he offers only the ghost of a smile, a curve of his mouth that in another life, a life you once lived, a life that was once the only one you thought you would live, a life that was once the only one you ever wanted to live, would have been soft, would have been a secret, a truth.

Now it is the pale remnant of the smile you once tasted on against your own, now it is a mockery of the curve of his lips that spoke of softness and adoration and so much more that even to you remained unspoken.

Your second mistake, if desperation can be called such, was forcing your mind to let go of the memory of the blue of his eyes, was forcing away from your heart the cadence of his voice as he said your name. Your second mistake was letting yourself forget.

Because now it all returns to you, a flashflood of memories and broken promises and a life that could have been, should have been, was.

He still looks so familiar, he still looks so alike the man you once loved, the man you married.

There are deeper scars on his face that weren’t there before -you would have known, with so many nights spent tracing with your eyes, your lips, and the tips of your fingers his features as he slept peacefully beside you- but that have long since healed. There’s more strength to his frame, a wider definition to his shoulders and his arms -once, you would have found peace in the easy embrace of his arms, you would have felt hunger and not fear when looking at him- that are only accentuated by the prouder stance.

There are so many things different. His hair is longer, his armor is different, there’s ink traces on the side of his neck that disappear down to his chest, his demeanor is calmer.

There are so many things that remain the same. The crutch by his side still is of the design he first made in York, his father’s arm ring still adorns his wrist like a shackle, there’s still a curved axe that hangs from the side of his leg.

There’s still a ring on his finger.

It shouldn’t hurt, it shouldn’t make a hollow ache make your chest tighten. You know it shouldn’t.

You were the one that left him, you were the one that divorced him, you were the one to choose for your paths to no longer be one and the same.

It has been nearly eight years since you have seen him. A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble past your lips as the errant thought of how it has been almost ten years since you have seen your husband crosses your mind.

In all the time you have spent on the move, never staying too long anywhere -least the echoes of his victories and his defeats reached you; least the stumbling fool with a good memory gave word of where Ivar the Boneless’ wife truly was; least your mistakes, though you aren’t sure, just as you weren’t sure then, what those mistakes were, finally caught up with you-, never staying too long with anyone -not until a loyal and kind fool made you feel safe for the first time in so long; not until you found peace in someone’s arms and realize you could never leave him-, you had never really given thought to how long it had been.

No matter how much time has passed, it is still far longer the time you two had spent together than the time you have spent apart, and that realization tears at something within you.

____

Always, and forever, you had promised him.

You tell yourself some ‘always’ are shorter than others, you tell yourself ‘forever’ is a word only children use so carelessly. You grit your teeth and breathe past the sobs that threaten to tear your chest in two, as you board the ship that will take you far from here, from him.

Securing safe passage from York wasn’t easy, but it was easier than pulling away from your husband’s embrace in the dead of night. Finally deciding to do something like this tore you in two, but not as much as having to whisper your goodnight and watch Ivar fall asleep knowing it would be the last time.

It is three days into the journey that a man approaches you, asks if you are selling that, pointing to the ring on your finger. You bite back tears and only shake your head no.

Always, and forever.

Even as he turned against his own brothers, even as he let hunger for power consume him, even as his ambition overshadowed anything else. Even as Ivar died slowly under the shadow of Ivar the Boneless.

Even as his need for controlling the world around him started to extend to you, even as he grew possessive and distrusting and distant. Even as love descended into madness, and dragged him with it.

A stronger woman might have stayed despite the pain, a more selfless woman might have loved him despite the madness. A woman that hadn’t known who he was before the blind ambition of reaching it, whatever it was -you are almost certain he didn’t know either, jumbled thoughts in voices not his own battling each other, pulling him between I could have been happy and happiness is nothing- had consumed him; might have been able and willing to accept the man she had loved was this, this man of cruel hunger for power, this man of blind ambition, this man of cold heart.

Always, and forever.

You had warned him, you had pleaded with him, many times before the last one, that he was leaving you no choice but to divorce you if he continued down this path. You had told him, you had promised him, that this madness might lead him to fame but it led him away from you.

York is a distant spot in the horizon and time has made that life a distant memory by the time you realize you never lied.

Always, and forever, you had promised him. Always, and forever, he will be the man you love, the man you wish you could have spent a life alongside of. Always, and forever, your life will be filled with him, even if it is a life you must live apart from him.

____

“What happened to you two, hm?” Ivar asks, uneven steps carrying him closer with ease. With a movement of his head and a gesture of his hand, he continues, the barest trace of mocking in his tone, “My men here tell me all there was left of your army is corpses and ash.”

It is an errant thought, nothing more than a passing conjecture, the idea that it wasn’t a coincidence the Vikings were so quick to trace the footsteps of the Saxon army, that it wasn’t a mistake on the Christian’s part that the Lord and Lady were left alive. It is a foolish feeling, you know this; but still the suspicion lingers.

And it isn’t just on you that such thoughts are found, it seems, for your husband narrows his eyes, and replies slowly, “We were ambushed while we were moving the last of our forces past Trent river.”

The faint quirk of Ivar’s lips into a smile has never scared you as much as it does when Hróarr speaks, and with your heart beating in your ears, you speak up,

“It was a mistake, that your path and ours crossed,” You are fully aware that both men know what you are speaking of. “This was never meant to h-…”

“Do you speak for the Gods?” He interrupts, words and tone biting like the winds that circled the city you left him behind on. “Fate has made it so that this happened. The Gods have brought you here to me.

The edge to his voice makes your heart seem to stop its beat for a moment, and what runs through your veins then is that same restlessness of those first months after you left York, that same crushing weight of those weeks before you were strong enough to leave, that same grief and anger that filled you as Ivar the Boneless took over the man you loved and left nothing left for you to love.

Your third mistake, and it is one you could have avoided if you had been more aware, was thinking the years making him more measured eroded away at that destructive rage that you remember from your years together. Your third mistake was thinking his smiles were anything other than a beast baring its teeth.

He turns to your husband with a false smile, a mocking narrowing of his eyes as he adds,

“The both of you.”

You swallow past the knot in your throat, and plead, “We did not wish to intrude past your borders.”

Ivar challenges your eyes with his own, rage still clearly shining in the blue of his gaze, making his features all the graver. Gritting your teeth but still lifting your head high, you remain quiet, standing by your words. Standing by your choice, the choice you made so many years ago.

If he wishes to challenge you because of it, he is welcome to. In all these years, though you have suffered and grieved, you have never regretted your choice that night.

With a deep breath, Ivar adjusts his grip on the crutch, lowering his head with a breathed chuckle that sounds mocking and cruel, that sounds as if he is laughing at a joke at your expense that you aren’t yet aware of.

But he returns to careful amicability, even if an obvious mask, soon enough.

“Where were you going, then?”

The calm unsettles you still, and the way he seems to seamlessly lean into conversation as if the situation were not what it is, it makes you think he is playing a game, it makes you realize whether he is or he isn’t, you have no way of winning.

Hróarr answers for you, “Skíð.”

A breath, two.

“Hm. Do you have means to cross the waters?” Ivar questions, making even your husband startle at the cordial response.

Hróarr squares his shoulders, an edge to his stance that isn’t lost to you or anyone here, and his voice is the same of when he speaks to the men sworn to him back home, of when he reminds his army of his authority.

“I am not leaving without my wife.”

Ivar replies with a smile, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes in the slightest, and a huff of laughter that makes a shiver run down your spine.

He shakes his head, expert movements of his arm as he adjusts the crutch to step closer. His gaze, something written in it that you do not dare try and decipher, remains on Hróarr.

“I never said you would,” His voice is low, dark, a promise. But he quickly, seamlessly, returns to the act, and with a gesture of his free hand, he raises his voice and speaks again, “It was a mistake that you made it here, after all. You shall have safe passage to where you must go. On my honor, I swear it.”

Another gesture of his hand, and warriors approach you two again. Though you startle, they only approach to remove the shackles from around Hróarr’s wrists.

It is an instinct that will never leave you, a tradition as old as your earliest of memories alongside Hróarr, that makes you look down at his hands to check for injuries, that makes your fingers trace the inside of his wrist to check the effect of cruel iron on him.

You turn to the man that kept you captive and find his eyes already on you, something human past the mask of chaos and madness making that contorts at his expression. He looks away, anger curling at his lips as he breathes out almost shakily.

Too lost on that, too caught up in that small window to a world, a life, long past you, you barely hear cautious gratitude being extended by Hróarr’s low, soothing voice.

Blinking past the daze of a past long gone, you watch as Ivar dismisses you both, a mocking bow as he signals for you two to leave. Stumbling steps take you alongside your husband to the entrance of what you realize now is a Christian church turned into a longhouse, and yet you cannot shake the feeling, when you turn your back to Ivar, that that might be your worst mistake.

____

They say the first night a bride spends at her husband’s side is the most important of all, for they say the future that awaits the couple is revealed to the women on such a night. They say in her dreams the Norns let her see, let her feel, the life she might have alongside him.

The Gods are cruel, you have known this for a while now, and as Hróarr sleeps beside you, unaware to the thoughts -the memories, the mistakes- that swim in your mind; you can’t help but think the life they have let you see was nothing but another show of such malice.

You can see it clearly, almost as if it hadn’t been a dream. A dream doesn’t have smells, and you feel your eyes sting at the scent of autumn amongst the pine trees that still fills your nose. A dream doesn’t feel solid, but in years nothing has felt as real as his arms around you did. A dream doesn’t leave you hollow and lacking, and yet here you sit, mourning for a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream, it was another life. A life that could have been. That should have been, maybe.

You can still see Ivar lying beside you, smile as soft as you remember, eyes as electrifying as they always were. You can still feel his arms around you, making you feel safer than you have in so long.

You can still hear your voice, as quiet as you can make it, ask, “Do you ever wonder if, after everything, it is our Fate to be pulled apart?”

A frown that you remember by heart had settled between his brows, and you had reached to smooth it as if it had been natural, as if it had been what it should be.

Ivar had shaken his head, whispered words that are even now echoing in your head, that were then and are now a knife to your already half-lost heart.

“It cannot be. We will always be together, you and I. Always, and forever, hm?”

Here you are now, surrounded by ghosts that will not leave you, hopes that could never be and hopes that could; wondering what the Gods intended for you to understand from this dream, this glimpse into another world, that they have granted you.

Maybe, in some other world, in some other life, that is what you are living, and instead of a vision that tears you in two, that is the reality you are living in. Maybe, in some other world, in some other life, he could love you past his ambition and you could love him past your grief.

You hear a murmur of your name, and a labor-roughened hand reaches for you, settling on your naked thigh and sluggishly tugging you towards him. Your heart light, lighter than you expected, you fall back in the bed, letting the warmth of the furs and of Hróarr’s body lull you into that peace you have become so accustomed to.

Perhaps the Gods showed you this not to torture you, but to let you say goodbye.

Because you look at the man beside you, and you can say with all that is left of your heart that you love him, you love him as much as it is possible to love another, and whatever life alongside him will bring, you want it. This time you will not promise a forever, you will not swear upon an always, for you cannot, your always and forever aren’t yours to give away anymore.

____

You cannot help it, you cannot help your foolish heart and your distrusting instincts, you cannot help the dread in your stomach and the fear in your heart, you cannot help the certainty that has filled you since Hróarr’s chains were loosened.

You cannot help it, and so you turn your head, you look back.

When you decided to finally leave him, when you got on that boat to never return, you forced yourself to not look behind you.

You feared he would be there, watching you leave him.

You feared if he were there, and there were pain shining in pale blue eyes, and his lips formed around the shape of your name in grief and broken disbelief at what you were about to do, and you were to be witness to how what he had promised had undone and remade him -you, your love, your promise of forever- was taken from him; you wouldn’t be able to turn your back to him again, you feared what it would do to what was left of your heart to make the impossible choice again.

You feared if he were there, and there were to be rage and madness swimming in the depths of his gaze, and the words his lips formed were not promises of love or calls of your name but instead promises of vengeance, and what undid and remade him were to be betrayal and the desire to see it punished; you wouldn’t be able to turn your back to him regardless, and you feared what that said of you, of who you wanted to be.

You never feared there would be a blend between those two, between the manic love, the desperate devotion of Ivar and the burning rage, the cruel chaos of Ivar the Boneless; you never thought it possible.

Until now.

Your eyes meet his, and your Fate is sealed, and so is his, you know this.

You turn your back to him again, and count your breaths as you walk. One, two.

Before you can take another step, the characteristic sound of an axe cuts through the silence of the room. You are stunned into stillness, though you stumble forward as if it had been you the hit had struck.

As the body besides you drops to the ground, so does your heart.

The scream is caught on your lips, all that leaves you is a gasping breath, and you refuse to look down but…they never speak of the sound someone makes as the die, they never speak of the gurgling breaths, of the trembles that rattle at a body losing its life.

There’s barely a movement in the room, the warriors not even flinching as the Lord of the Hebrides is killed, and you realize why with a faint, broken, mad smile.

No matter how much the years you’ve spent apart and the last years you had spent together could change your first husband, there are many things that both Ivar -Ivar, whom you met on the docks of Kattegat; Ivar, who would grumble away from your affection but complain when you desisted; Ivar, whom you loved with all that you were- and Ivar the Boneless -Ivar the Boneless, beast of madness and chaos; Ivar the Boneless, monster of merciless killing and bloodthirst; Ivar the Boneless, man you still loved with all that was left of you- have in common.

You hold yourself still, on the back of your mind hoping there’s an axe meant for you too, but you know better.

“You will not leave me again. I won’t let you.”

Your fourth mistake, the last one you will ever make if the Gods are kind, was thinking enough time had passed for him to accept the life you are living is the one where you are lost to one another, was thinking he could accept a world where you two are apart form one another. Your last mistake was thinking he would let you go.

Yeah. A part of me wants to write a continuation of that, but it wouldn’t be exactly pretty, and I’m not too happy with this because it didn’t feel evocative or good enough for my liking, so idk. Anyhow, hope you liked this, thank you for reading!

Edit: This is continued on Promises. You can find it right here.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @sagyunaro @aprilivar @yourwonkywriter

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #500 fucking hell thank you ily

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disasterofastory · 4 years ago

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Three times when Harald asks you to marry him (Harald x Reader)

Three times when Harald asks you to marry him Harald x Reader Warnings: mention of blood and death and sex. and angst.

I. You and Harald hook up for years now. He finds you when he wants to spend the night with you. You are his favorite choice when it comes to sex. He enjoys it. You know what he likes, and he never leaves you unsatisfied. At least not in bed.

His heart belongs to his princess. You always knew it, so you never let your feelings get out of hand. It's easy for him to call you to warm his bed, and you take advantage of him too. You don't have to search for men to satisfy your needs. King Harald is a safe point in your life. Well… until he can get marry to Ellisif.

You work hard to get everything ready for the long travel to avenge Ragnar's death. Kattegat is busy and full of strange Vikings who come for the same cause. Everyone who is matters is here, even Harald's princess. You heard about his arrival from Halfdan. He told you about his concerns and the girl's marriage. "You should talk with Harald…" he tells you. "No," you shake your head. "We have sex, but it's not my job to take care of his heart." Of course, you want to see how's Harald doing, but you don't let yourself go that way. You are worth more than a plan B for his self-esteem. You are not his woman.

Your days go like this. You work on the ships and train with other warriors, and you try to chase away Harald from your back of your mind. It's not your business. After a long and busy day, you go back to your tent later than usual. You are tired and hungry. When you enter your temporary home, you meet with Harald's bloody and half-naked form. "What happened?" You ask him. You look him over to find injuries, but he seems perfectly fine, at least physically. His eyes tell you another story. He is upset. "I killed Ellisif's husband," he tells you. "So… is it his blood?" "No, it's Ellisif's," he shakes his head. "What?" "She seduced me and wanted to kill me. Halfdan killed her when… she was on top of me." "So… Ellisif is dead?" You ask him, but it's obvious. You just can't say anything else. Were you jealous because didn't matter how many times you shared a bed with Harald, his heart belonged to the blonde Viking woman? Yes. Are you jealous because he wanted to have sex with her? Yes. Are you angry because since the princess arrived, Harald didn't even look for you? Absolutely yes. Is it your business? No. "So you have no injuries?" You ask him in the end. This is your only duty. You have to make sure your King is safe, and that's it. "No, I just need a bath," he says, looking down on himself. "I just come to ask you something." "What?" "Marry me." You look into his eyes for long moments because you don't want to believe in your ears. He can't be so cruel. "Get out!" You point to the entrance. "Y/N…" "No! Get the fuck out!"

II. Your journey from avenging Ragnar's death to home was long and lonely. Harald tried to talk to you several times, but you avoid him and his brother. You are nothing more than a warrior for them, and that's it. You are not friends, you are not lovers anymore. You need to think about your future. You need a man who loves you for you, and you never find him next to Harald. "Y/N, wait!" Halfdan yells after you and grabs your arm. His grip is strong but not hurtful. "What happened?" "He didn't tell you?" "Whenever I ask him, he says he is an idiot," he answers. "He is," you agree. "He asked me to marry him that night you killed Ellisif." "But… that's what you wanted, no?" Gods, they really don't know a thing about women. "Yeah, every woman dreams about a man who wants to marry him after his love is dead," you answer. Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and anger. Halfdan doesn't dare to say anything, so you continue your way home. You feel humiliated.

The weeks go by without a word between you and Harald. You find your routine without him. One night after a long day, you get ready to sleep when somebody knocks on your door. You grab your dagger before you open the door, but you find Harald drunk from rocking back and forth. His brown hair is messy, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused. "What are you doing here?" You ask him. You don't want to let him in, but he helps himself, and he pushes you. You want to grab him and throw him out, but he is still your King. He sits down on one of the chairs and leans on the table. "Why are you avoid me?" He asks you. He sounds like a moody child. "I don't want to talk about it," you tell him. You want him gone. "Please," he says. "I miss you." "Harald, please, go home." "But you could marry me. We could marry tomorrow." "Oh, gods! You hear yourself?!" You ask him angrily. "You didn't want anything from me before your princess died, and now you ask for my hand? Half a loaf is better than no bread?" "I was an idiot." "No. You are an idiot and now get out."

III. After years it seems like you never had a thing with Harald. He found himself a new woman, and you moved on too. You married two times, but you couldn't give them children before they died on the battlefield. You are happy with your life. Everybody knows your name as a shieldmaiden, and you train the youth. Of course, you didn't dream about a life like this when you were young, but sometimes you have to accept what the Gods give you. When you arrive at your hut, you see the King before your door. He cut his hair, and he got older like you. "My king," you greet him. "Y/N," he says. You talked to him during the years, you had to, but it was never more than tactics. "How can I help you?" You ask him. "I… I needed a walk, and I find myself here," Harald replies. The night is cold, and the wind tangles your hair as you stand before the man you loved once. You don't ask him anything, and he doesn't continue. For long minutes you just stare at each other eyes. His skin is more wrinkled than you remembered, and his beard is almost entirely grey. His brown eyes seem tired. "You never answered me," he says after a while. "When I asked you to marry me, you always send me away." "It was not enough for an answer?" You ask him, and he laughs humorlessly, looking up to the sky. "If I would ask you, it would be still no?" "You want to ask me the third time at night in the shadows. When you asked your soon-to-be Queen, you asked her in front of everyone," you smile softly. You are not angry, nor disappointed. You don't feel anything for the man standing before you. "No?" "No."

#harald x reader #harald finehair x reader #harald/reader #harald finehair imagine #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #vikings/reader #vikings fanfic #king harald finehair

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thepaperpanda · 4 years ago

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Brothers || Ragnarsons x sister!reader

Summary: Your brothers can be a little overprotective towards their little sister

Warnings: None

Words: 3249

Authors: Cass & Rouge

Ragnar's return caused quite a stir among people of Kattegat.

When the news came to your ears, you had been hunting outside but you quickly went back to the settlement.

Mob was chanting Ragnar's name on and on, gathering in the main square.

As you spotted your older brothers lined in one place, you pushed yourself to get to them.

Bjørn wasn't happy with Ragnar's return yet he knew one day this had to happen.

He had so many questions to ask, so much bitterness and spite grew within his soul for the years when his father was gone.

Ubbe grabbed you tightly by the waist as soon as you pushed through them so you won't just run to Ragnar like nothing ever happened. "Slow down, little one," he said, stopping you in the place.

Ragnar smiled at his sons and daughter. "So, this is how it's gonna be? You will just pretend you see someone less important than all?" He frowned looking at you all for a moment longer before pulling out his sword and walking closer to Hvitserk. "So, maybe one of you should kill me to claim the title?!,” Raganr roared and Hvitserk flinched, looking at his siblings.

Bjørn was standing in the crowd, not manifesting his presence yet, it was too early, and on the other hand he was willing to see what would happen.

Ivar, who finally managed to crawl to the place his siblings gathered at, raised his chin up, fixing his blue eyes on his father.

You were tugging onto your loose blouse, a part of your hunting attire. Too many thoughts were spinning around your head at the moment, but you couldn't deny you did miss the father.

Ragnar smiled as he plunged his sword into the ground. "Come on! Who wants to be a king?!," He challenged one more time, waiting for any reaction.

Ivar looked at Hvitserk and Sigurd as he was between them. Then his glance moved back to Ragnar; the young man didn't blink.

You also were paralyzed with fear and anxiety as your father raised his tone.

"Just keep her in place," Ubbe muttered to Hvitserk as he let go of you to walk out to the front, ready to fight his father.

Hvitserk gave you a reassuring smile as he moved a little closer to you.

Ragnar looked at him and smiled, it was brave to stand against your own father. Soon, Ubbe was pulled into a tight hug by his father.

Both of them laughed softly and Ragnar gestured for the rest of you to come closer as well.

You were the first one to jolt towards your father. You simply pushed Ubbe aside and wrapped your arms around Ragnar's neck, climbing on your tiptoes to place a kiss to his cheek. "Dad! I was longing for you!"

Ivar crawled towards his father as well, being left behind Sigurd and Hvitserk. He waited patiently for Ragnar to notice him.

Ragnar chuckled as he hugged you tightly than looked at you and Ivar proudly. "Look at you two, my youngest children. My twins. I missed you all. You look like a princess and you grew up a lot," Ragnar said, placing a hand on Ivar's hair.

"Well he for sure didn't get any taller," Hvitserk muttered to Ubbe and both laughed quietly.

You simply aimed a blow at Hvitserk should. "Quit it, both of you!"

Ivar closed eyes, enjoying the touch of his father's hand. "Been a lot of time, dad," he said finally. "I always knew sooner or later you'll come back to us."

This was the moment Bjørn decided to join. He pushed between two huge men and crossed arms over his chest as his glance met Ragnar's. "Why did you come back?"

"Hey! Don't hit me," Hvitserk muttered, rubbing his shoulder.

"What? Our princess hit you too hard?," Ubbe teased his brother but they both went quiet when they saw Bjørn approaching.

Ragnar patted Ivar's shoulder and got up to look at the oldest son. "I wanted to see my children, I missed you all and I missed our home."

"You went away years ago. You didn't care to let us know whether you were alive and now you suddenly pop up here, expecting everyone to fill into your arms? Everything had changed, father," Bjørn said. "What's your real purpose?"

Ragnar sighed, opening his arms slightly with a little shrug. "No real purpose. I just wanted to see my kids all grown up, strong, beautiful."

"Bjørn, leave him. Maybe he really changed," Ubbe said shortly.

"The truth is we all kinda missed him. No matter what he is still our father," Hvitserk quickly added.

Bjørn scoffed, turned around and left, vanishing in the crowd.

You grabbed your father's hand and squeezed it. "I bet you're tired and hungry. Come with us, you need a meal."

Ragnar cringed a little, he didn't want to go but against himself he nodded, following you. "A good warm meal would be wonderful, my dear," he said.

Ubbe and Hvitserk picked up Ivar.

"Come on, little brother. We don't want you to get lost on the way to the Great hall," Ubbe joked.

Ivar grinned wryly but let his older brothers help him back to their home.

Once you got inside, you immediately shifted a chair for Ragnar. "Ubbe, pass me the chalice with wine," you asked Ragnar's eldest. "Shall I bring mother?"

Ubbe set Ivar in his seat and patted his brother's hair before looking at you. "Since when are you the one giving orders?," He asked with a frown.

Hvitserk rolled his eyes and passed you the chalice. "Here, sister," he said and sat down.

Ragnar licked his lips and shook his head. "No, No... No need to bother your dearest mother. I will find her myself later," he assured.

You simply patted father's head and kissed top of it. "Your wish is my command, dad." You pretended you didn't hear Ubbe's comment aimed at you and thanked Hvitserk politely for complying.

Sigurd brought a spoon and a clean bowl for Ragnar. "Here."

Ragnar nodded his head and took the plate. Soon he started to eat.

Everyone was quiet just looking between each other and their father. No one knew what to say.

"So, dad, where have you been for all this time?," You asked simply, offering chalices with wine to your brothers.

"I traveled and I lived in the mountains. I also had a lot of stuff to rethink, everything that happened in my life so far," Ragnar explained. "I saw many beautiful places."

"What places had you seen, father?," Ivar asked, curiosity in his low tone as he propped head on hands rested on the table counter.

Ragnar was quiet for a moment, chewing on his food. He took a sip of his wine. "I visited a place so high that I could touch the northern lights by my own and lakes so deep that monsters lived in them.”

Ubbe and Hvitserk looked at each other and laughed quietly.

Ivar completely sunk into his father's stories. When his brothers laughed, he grabbed the nearest knife and threw it into Ubbe's direction. "Shut up! I'm listening to dad! If you're not interested then just leave and go fuck your Margareth!"

You blinked, being totally taken aback by your twin's behavior. "I suggest everyone cool down."

Ubbe took the knife that got stuck right next to his head and angrily plunged it into the table.. "I at least can go to her and fuck her, cripple," he snarled and retuened to his seat. "Those wonderful places sound just like a child stories mother told us to make us go to sleep sooner."

"Ubbe!," You raised your tone and got up from your place, narrowing your brows. "It doesn't mean that father is lying to us. We all heard stories told by Harbard as well. They were more impossible yet everyone believed in them."

Ubbe chuckled. "Harbard was just like our father. Coming and leaving as he pleased, filling our heads with stories," eldest Ragnar’s son rolled his eyes. ”But what do we know? All those men cared about was the cripple and women cunts, Sigurd knew it by himself, Y/N."

Ragnar watched the fighting between his children. "I really don't think it's a right time to fight, children. We should be happy we are back together again."

You looked at your older brother with a sad glance. "Oh, how skilled you are in killing the atmosphere. You got the worst of mother," you grunted and got up. "Stop looking at simple things and at least try to look beyond, Ubbe," you snapped before you left the chamber.

Ivar put his forehead on his hands. "Congratulations, brother, you made her little inner monster going."

"Whatever you say, brother,” Ubbe rolled his eyes. "Do you know where I can find Ole? The boy that is sniffing around Y/N?," Ubbe asked simply, smoothly changing the topic.

"Docks or stable," Ivar replied.

"Why do you want to meet him?," Sigurd asked.

"Well, he is sniffing around our sister. I am going to make sure he doesn't get under her skirt too quickly, I heard he likes to treat girls like toys," Ubbe pointed at Sigurd and Hvitserk. "You two are going to help me. First we will go to docks and to stables later. Move your asses," Ubbe ordered.

"I better go to make sure he won’t kill the poor boy," Hvitserk commented and quickly got up from his seat to follow his brother.

"Wait! Ubbe, wait! What with me?!," Ivar screamed after his brothers.

Ubbe stopped and nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Right, she is your twin after all." Ubbe himself with Sigurd returned for Ivar. "Come on, we are going to scare him a little," he said, picking his brother up.

Ragnar just sat there, enjoying the food and drink. "At least they somehow look for each other," he muttered.

Ivar growled when Ubbe and Sigurd helped him up. I can easily make him cry."

Hvitserk laughed and nodded. "Sure, sure. We will see that soon."

Boys checked the docks first but Ole wasn't there so they went to stables. The boy was there flirting with some stable girl who definitely wasn't you.

".... Your hair, sweetie," Ole said to the girl while playing with the loose strand of her hair. "So pretty. I can have a use for you!"

Boys watched him from far away.

"I told you," Ubbe said pointing at Ole.

After a few more minutes of sweet talk they decided to step in. They sat Ivar on the nearest barrel and walked closer to Ole. Ubbe casually wrapped arm around the boy and smiled at him. "Oh, will you, friend? I wonder what use? The same as for our sister?," He hummed with amusement. "Frida, you can go now. I'll see you later,"

Frida gave all men a sweet smile and quickly ran away.

"So what will we do with him, brother?,” Hvitserk asked, looking at his siblings.

Ole raised his hands up in the air, shaking his head strongly. "It's not like you think. We were speaking of a raid! I wanted to train her for a shield maiden, she's pretty good at stuff!"

Ivar, who still was sitting at the barrel, chuckled darkly and looked around. "You're digging yourself a grave, friend."

"Yes. Frida is not a shield maiden material. Trust me, I deeply checked it many times," Ubbe patted Ole's shoulder. "But she is good at stuff, riding is her best."

Others chuckled.

"Do you think our sister is a toy? That you can play and throw away?," Hvitserk asked with a frown.

"You can do nothing against me. Y/N is madly in love with me. She's silly enough to think she's the number one for me. And oh, she moans my name lovely when I kiss her neck!"

Ivar had enough. He rolled off the barrel and crawled quickly to the other man. He pulled a dagger out of his boot and cut the man's ankle a few times.

Ole fell down on the hey.

Other brothers didn't react much, they just looked at Ole.

"Maybe after ankles we should cut him manhood?," Hvitserk asked with a smile. "Maybe he will learn that playing with few women at the time may be dangerous?"

Ubbe crouched next to the boy and looked at Ivar. "What do you think brother? How does this idea sound?," He asked and then his gaze moved to Ole. "We could easily do that."

"Take his pants off," Ivar said in a low tone. "I'll cut this little thing off."

"What do you say to that idea, Ole?," Hvitserk asked with a nasty smile, crossing arms over his chest.

Ole was already crying. His body trembled with every loud sob.

Suddenly Ragnarssons could hear a loud grunt. As they turned to see the source, they spotted Bjørn, who stood next to them with arms crossed over his chest. "What the fuck, guys?"

"Taking care of the trash,” Ivar shrugged, playing with his dagger.

"We are teaching him a lesson," Hvitserk said proudly.

"He thinks he can tell our little sister that she is his only one. When he is involved with most girls in Kattegat," Ubbe explained quickly. "We decided to show him to not fuck with Ragnar's daughter.”

Bjørn listened to their explanation. "I see. But violence is not a solution to any problem."

Hvitserk raised his eyebrow. "Do you think that asking him nicely to stop cheating on our sister would help, brother?"

Ubbe and Ivar rolled their eyes.

"Whatever, you're the most intelligent one among all of our people," Bjørn scoffed and observed the situation.

"Then what do you suggest, Bjørn Ironside,” Ubbe asked in a mocking tone. "You will just let him play with our little sister? Break her heart, over and over again?”

"No," he replied. "Exile. That's what awaits him now," Bjørn looked down at the man on the hay.

Brothers looked between each other and nodded slowly.

"I like the idea, we will free our little sister and other girls from him. Guess it's your lucky day, Ole! You will keep your sad, little cock."

Bjørn gestured at Hvitserk so his stepbrother picked Ole up. "Lead him outside settlement. Confiscate all of his weapons and let him go."

"With a pleasure brother!," He said and followed the order.

The evening came quickly.

Ragnar was long gone, which didn't surprise boys at all. It only made Ivar kinda disappointed.

Boy sat around the big table just eating supper, drinking while joking and sharing some stories about women and other topics.

All conversations died when you stormed inside crying and yelling at them.

Because of your shaken state no one really understood what you were on about.

"Y/N! What is wrong? Why are you screaming at us suddenly?," Ubbe asked with a frown.

You sat in the corner of the room, grabbing a blanket from the armchair before. You pulled it over your figure and sobbed loudly. "I hate you. All of you! Why did you do this to me?! My Ole! My Ole is gone! It's all your fault! People told me!"

All the boys groaned annoyed with your reaction.

They didn't do it to hurt you in any way, they did it to protect you.

"Y/N. There is a lot you didn't know about Ole. He fucked half of Kattegat behind your back, just to tell you later you are the only one," Ubbe said, looking at you.

"Yes. When we found him in stables he was flirting with other girl and he openly told us that he fuck others behind your back," Hvitserk added quickly to back up his brother.

Ivar was the only one who decided to approach you. With a lot of difficulties he got off his chair and rolled to his stomach so he could crawl towards you.

Once he did, he poked your knee to catch your attention. "He was bad and Gods my witnesses that I'd cut him all open but they stopped me."

You looked down at Ivar and let huge tears still roll down your red cheeks.

Ivar laid on his stomach and reached his hand out, and as gently as possible he wiped the tears off your cheek with the top of his palm. "Don't cry, sister, you're too beautiful to be all sad. He's gone but you deserved far more than that."

Others followed Ivar, they all sat close to you.

"Ivar is right, sister. You are beautiful and you deserved a man that would love only you. No other woman on the side," Hvitserk said softly, giving you a friendly smile. "And Ole wasn't this kind of the man."

"You may think we did this because we are assholes but this is not true, Y/N,” Ubbe said, wrapping arm around you. "You are our little sister and we won't let some idiot to break your heart."

Sigurd crouched next to Ubbe. "Even if I hate to break it to you, sister, that man was not worth anything but exile."

Bjørn, who came to speak with Ubbe, stopped at the threshold of the Great Hall, observing the scene. Even if you weren't his biological sister, he always cared for you just like he cared for his step brothers.

You reached hand to Ivar and placed it to his cheek, gently grazing his skin. "Thank you," you gasped loudly.

They all smiled and hugged you tightly, happy that their little sister wasn't that angry about it all.

"You can be sure we'll scare away anyone who tries to hurt you in any way possible. That's what brothers are for. Even your cripple twin,” Ubbe teased, ruffling Ivar's hair.

Ivar offered his elder brother a smug smirk. "You would not survive without me for a single day."

You couldn't help but chuckled and knelt, trying to hug all of them.

Ivar moved closer and wrapped arm around your leg.

Bjørn who caught your glance nodded at you. "Family reunion."

"Yes, but we are missing one brother. Come here, throwing that trash out was your idea after all. Without you he would be dead now," Ubbe said.

Bjørn smiled and came closer. He shared a hug with everyone except you. When other men shifted aside, including Ivar who also grunted unhappily, Bjørn helped you up and picked you up. "Even if you're only a step sister to me, I want you to be safe and happy."

"How about we eat something now? Eat and drink! The anger and crying had to drain you," Hvitserk offered happily.

"And later we can find her a good man among warriors," Ubbe joked.

You cringed. "No, thank you. I already have a very important man by my side," you claimed and when Bjørn put you down, you knelt and shared a long and string hug with Ivar. "My lovely, handsome twin-brother."

Sigurd chuckled darkly. "What about us, little one?! We're also handsome!"

"And lovely!,” Hvitserk whined.

"And we take care of you," Ubbe added.

Bjørn poked Ubbe's shoulder. "They're twins. They have a stronger relation, it's normal. And, well, Y/N is right, Ivar’s the most handsome of you all."

Ubbe gasped and pushed Bjørn's shoulder. "Shit up, Ironside."

Bjørn only ruffled Ubbe's hair, making it fully messy at the top of man's head. "We're family. Children of legendary Ragnar Lothbrok. This is what counts."

#hvitserk x reader #ubbe x reader #ivar x reader #sigurd x reader #bjorn x reader #ragnar x reader #fluff #dangerous siblings #ragnarssons #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #ivar the boneless #ragnarsdaughter!reader #ivar is twin #vikings x reader

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conaionaru · 4 years ago

Text

UBBE ONESHOT

You are my home

I have been thirsting over Daddy Ubbe. So here you go!

Götaland had been her home since she was a kid. It was where she was born and raised. Her parents were from there, and so were their parents. But visiting Kattegat and Queen Aslaug had been a great honor for their family.

For a month, they talked to the Queen and her sons, marveling at the beauty of the kingdom. Her favorite had been Ubbe. The kind prince had been her type and didn't force her into anything. They talked, laughed, and spent time together.

When Aslaug found out about it from Ivar, she began her plotting. Just before they were to leave, she gave her father an offer—a marriage proposal for Ubbe and (Y/N).

The Jarl's daughter came from eight siblings, so she could be fertile enough, and that was all Aslaug wanted. Grandchildren.

(Y/N) was excited to marry the Ragnarsson. What he thought of it was unknown to her. He didn't say, and probably even if he did, it wouldn't change anything.

Within a week, they stood before a seer and got married. The ceremony was splendid and grand as befitting the Queen's son. The feast was overcrowded for (Y/N) taste; even Ubbe winced a few times when somebody stumbled into him.

He only had kind words and soft eyes for her, holding her hand and kissing her knuckles. After the third course, he pulled her chair nearer to him and put an arm around her shoulders.

Their first night together had been long before their wedding, but nonetheless, it was good. Better than good, it was amazing.

Now three years later, with the second child on the way, (Y/N) was happy. But still, she missed her home. Kattegat was not home; neither was Wessex or this land that Ubbe wished to sail to.

"You are pouting again."

She chuckled at his warm voice and turned around on the bench to see him walk up to her. Lagertha smiled at their cute moment, Torvi playing with her children right near them.

"I am thinking that's all."

"Aaah. And about what are you thinking?" He whispered, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear, ignoring the toddler pulling at his hair.

(Y/N) frowned and rested her forehead against his shoulder to hide from his watchful eye. "I miss home."

"It is not safe to go to Kattegat yet. You know that." She shook her head and looked back up at him. Tracing the tattoo on his face with her finger.

"I meant home. My home. Götoland."

He sighed and rose from his spot by her side, pulling Ragnar from her lap. "Don't just ignore me! You said it is not safe here. We have two children. They would be safer there!"

"You are pregnant. It's unsafe for you to travel. What if it comes early? Or something happens?"

(Y/N) rose to her feet and turned to him, her skirt flying up as she took their son back into her arms. "You are right. I am sure that when Ivar comes with his army to kill us all, he will spare the children and the pregnant wife!"

"We will not go. And that is final!"

(Y/N) glared at his back as he left to chop wood. If it was out of necessity or to stop himself from doing something he might regret, even he wasn't sure.

She marched inside the hut and slammed the door so no one would disturb her. Ragnar babbled away happily in her lap, chewing on her hair and putting a hand on her baby bump. She loved her children, she did. But she missed her parents and siblings. They were her whole world once, and the fact that one could lose that all in a second was terrifying.

Ubbe lost his mother, father, and brother in a year, yet he sits here with his mother's killer acting like a family. If it were her, she would be furious. A good mother or not (Y/N) would have acted differently.

The door opened, and someone walked in. By the heavy thud of the boots, it was Ubbe. Her husband sat down next to her and sighed as Ragnar reached for him. "I am worried that you could die out there. Sailing is a dangerous task. We could drown or go off course and starve."

"I just want to know if they are alive. I can't send a letter, and we left before I got one. What if they are dead? And I sit here happy while they suffer."

He pulled her to his side and stroked her back softly. "I am stern with you because if I lost you, I would lose my mind."

(Y/N) sniffled and looked up at him with tearful eyes. "You still love me? Doesn't my nagging and complaints drive you mad?"

"Of course they do. But you drive me mad as well, in a good way. You have a place in my heart that no one can ever have. You and the children are my home. If you really want... We can go. But not alone. We will take some people. So we can be safer."

"Thank you, love."

"For my wife... Even the world."

#vikings #history vikings #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader

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the-girl-in-the-box · 4 years ago

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Not Today XVIII

A/N: A LOT is happening in this chapter. We're really gearing up for some plot shifting events, and things are being set up for the future. TW again for infant mortality, though this chapter will be more explicit than the last with that theme. So, last chapter before things REALLY hit the fan, and I hope you enjoy! Skål!

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

Masterlist

Everything seemed to go downhill after that night. It hadn’t immediately, there had been a few days, but it began with a ship.

An English ship had come into port, and Aethelind recognized that it would likely be one from her brother. She grinned at first. News of home was much needed, especially good news, which she hoped it would be.

Aethelind met the messenger who stepped off the ship, smiling and thanking him for the letter. He didn’t smile back, however, and bowed to her. “You have my sincerest condolences, Your Majesty,” he said. Her smile fell then, her heart dropping.

"Your-?” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you. I’ll have my reply by this evening. Make yourself comfortable here until then.”

She waited until she returned to her room to open the letter, and her heart was pounding, fearful of what she would read. The moment she recognized her brother’s writing, she was relieved that he must be alright, but that didn’t set her mind at ease.

Dearest Sister,

I regret that this letter is written under the worst circumstances. Though I have good news, it will be quickly outweighed by the bad. We have found Lagertha, and she is safe with us in Wessex once more. I have also enclosed here a letter that has come to you from York, written by her son. We figured it would be easiest to send in this letter. I hope it holds better news than what I must tell you. While you have been away, our mother fell ill. I cannot be sure when this letter will reach you, but I am sure that by the time it does, she will have been with God for a few days at least. At the time of my writing this, she has only been with Him for a few hours. I pray for His peace and comfort for you, Aethelind, and I ask you pray it for myself as well. I miss you more and more each day, but I know the work you do is important, so I cannot find it in myself to ask you to return. Know, however, that I have faith we will meet again. Until then, may God be with you.

With sincerest love,

Alfred

The words settled heavy in her heart, and Freydis and Ivar paused mid conversation as they heard the pained scream that came from Aethelind’s room. Freydis was the first one to reach the room, opening the door without so much as a knock. Seeing the Princess, sitting on the edge of her bed, sobbing, holding a letter close to her chest…

Freydis was at her side in an instant, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close. Another death, she figured, as this was very similar to how she had found her when the news had come of Aethelred’s death. There were only two she could think of who were in Wessex, and would have this sort of effect on Aethelind- Alfred, or their mother. Freydis brushed her fingers through Aethelind’s hair, and Aethelind turned more toward her and clung to her.

“Shh, my love,” Freydis whispered to her. “I know your pain. Nothing can compare to this. I am so sorry. I am so sorry, dearest.”

Ivar came into the room shortly after Freydis, as he couldn’t match her speed, and the sight before him stunned him into freezing. The two women still on Midgard that he cared for the most, crying and holding each other, a letter now abandoned on the floor. He walked to the bed and sat down on the other side of Aethelind, before bending down to pick up the letter and read it.

Sure enough, there was a letter from York, but it hadn’t been opened just yet. So he sat it aside, assuming Aethelind would read it later and tell him if there was anything important, and scanned the opened letter in his hand. As soon as he saw what had passed, a flash of a memory, hearing of his own mother’s death, passed through his mind. He abandoned the letter once more, as well as the news of Lagertha’s reappearance, to prop his crutch against the bed and turn to wrap his arms around Aethelind as well.

Aethelind wrapped an arm around Ivar’s, holding him closer to herself as well. He knew what she believed about hardship, from their conversation just days before. This was the worst he’d seen her take something, though. When Heahmund was killed in battle, he learned from Freydis who had found and comforted the Princess. When it was Aethelred, he had found them sitting together the way he had today, but she hadn’t been so devastated as she was now. With Thora, the news had come to them together. He’d forgotten to give the order not to execute her with the birth and near death of Baldur. The Princess had simply thanked his warrior for informing them, and gone quiet the rest of the day. This was different.

This was the same sort of blinding, raw pain he had felt when his father and mother were both killed, that he had disappeared into the cliffs to deal with. This was the sort of agony that would likely keep her up at night. He hoped he and Freydis would be able to help her through this, as no one had truly helped him through his own grief. And with everything Aethelind was doing for himself and his wife… she certainly deserved it.

Freydis, unlike Ivar, didn’t know exactly who had passed, but that didn’t matter to her so much as helping her friend. Never had she felt so close to another woman her age as she did to Aethelind, so perhaps that was why she cared about this as much as she did. She just couldn’t imagine letting her go through this alone.

Eventually, after a few moments, Aethelind managed to whisper, “I miss her so much.” So it was her mother, then, Freydis realized. “I never imagined when I left Wessex, I would never see her again.”

But, as much pain as she was in, she couldn’t imagine what Alfred was going through. Aside now from Elsewith, Alfred was entirely alone- so far as family went, at least. Ubbe, Torvi, and Lagertha were still there. But their birth father had been dead for years, their adopted father as well now, their brother, and now their mother… Aethelind was the only relative he still had in Wessex, and now, she was in Kattegat. He may as well have been the last of their family.

“Should I go back?” she asked, her voice quiet and scratchy. “I don’t want to leave Alfred alone through this…”

“But you also want to stay, don’t you?” Freydis surmised, and Aethelind nodded. “What does your heart say, hm?”

“It is torn,” she confesses. “Alfred is my brother, but I feel something here that I could have never felt in Wessex, and I’m afraid if I return, he won’t agree to let me come back here.”

“What is it you feel?” Freydis questioned.

“Like I’m… where I’m meant to be?” Aethelind said. “It’s strange, and it doesn’t make any sense to me how that can be so. I was born in Wessex. I was raised as a Princess there. But I have learned to fight like a Shieldmaiden, I have become councillor to both King and Queen of Kattegat, and I feel like I am home when I am here. If Alfred were to leave Wessex, I could almost assuredly say I would have no care to return there. My heart is no longer in those halls. I wonder if it ever was.”

Something in Ivar felt thrilled that she wanted to stay, and he had no doubt Freydis felt the same. He understood wanting to be there for her brother, but a selfish part of him whispered that if he could survive losing both of his parents within a week of each other, alone, her brother could survive this alone. And if that just happened to mean she stayed in Kattegat… well, he couldn’t really complain, could he?

“What would you do if you did return?” Ivar eventually questioned, making her turn to look at him. He tried not to put too much thought into the way seeing her leaning again Freydis, who was holding her still, as she looked up at him made him feel. “Your mother has gone already, to be with your God, hasn’t she? You cannot see her if you returned, and by the time you did, would all your rites for the dead not have already been finished?”

These were the same things that had made her realize there was no sense in returning to Wessex when Aethelred had died. But Alfred had still had their mother then. He hadn’t been alone, just as she wasn’t now.

“They would be,” she confirmed. “If I returned, it would be to be with Alfred. So he wouldn’t feel so alone.”

“Is he married?” Ivar asked, and Aethelind nodded. “Then he is not as alone as he could be. Just as you are not alone here. You should not have to leave where your heart is at peace.”

Freydis nodded, clearly agreeing with Ivar. Of course, she also wanted Aethelind to stay, so just as Ivar was she was biased, but it was good advice either way, she thought. It’s how she would have made her decision.

And, that did make Aethelind’s decision. The letter from York remained unopened for a few days, as she wrote her reply to Alfred, and mourned her mother in Kattegat. Ivar and Freydis were with her every step of the way, of course, and she was grateful for this.

The letter from York remained unopened for yet another few days, however, as tragedy struck Kattegat once more. For the past week, Baldur had cried day after day, his stomach surely empty, as he couldn’t feed. He would stop if he fell asleep, but otherwise, he continued his crying.

Aethelind had taken to sitting with Freydis and Baldur during the day, while Ivar was busy handling business around Kattegat, but as night was settling in, Ivar had returned to his wife’s side. Freydis was already in bed, and Aethelind was sat beside her, smiling sadly at the small infant who was crying in his mother’s arms.

“He’s so thin,” Aethelind found herself commenting, and Freydis nodded slightly. She had finally realized the truth, though Ivar and Aethelind both questioned if she had truly come to terms with it. Freydis handled much with the grace of a woman raised for the throne, so they couldn’t quite tell if that were true, or if it wouldn’t set in until Baldur was gone.

Which, it seemed wasn’t going to be long now, it seemed to Aethelind. Ivar even came to sit on Freydis’s other side, and he brushed his fingers over the baby’s head. His cries had become quieter, weaker, in the past few hours, and they seemed to be weakening still. That hadn’t happened yet, not in the way it was happening now.

This far more resembled a loss of strength than a baby who was falling asleep, and when Ivar noticed how Baldur was moving more slowly, he looked up at Aethelind. They both recognized this, and so when she felt his gaze, she met his eyes and gave a small nod. It wasn’t going to be long, now.

And it wasn’t. A few hours passed, and none of them had moved. But when the room fell silent, it was thick. It was the suffocating kind of silence where no one knew quite what to do, or say. Baldur’s body was perfectly still, no breath even coming from the boy.

The silence stretched on for a minute or two, and then it was broken. Tears rolled down Aethelind’s cheeks at the sound of Freydis’s screams, and Aethelind took the woman in her arms as quickly as she could. Freydis was trying to pull the baby close to her chest, and Ivar himself felt his eyes water.

He had asked Aethelind why these things were allowed to happen to them, why the gods would take the child into their halls so soon, and she had replied that there were lessons to be learned in hardships. If only he could see what lesson he was meant to learn through losing his firstborn son.

That was when the fighting began. Aethelind had heard the first of them the day she’d finally read the letter from York. It sounded bad, and she could even hear Ivar demanding to know if Baldur had been his son. When she heard Freydis cry out, she glanced back at the letter, swallowed hard, and then stood, carrying it with her toward their chambers. Something needed to interrupt this, at least until Ivar had calm down, it seemed. If he wanted to question Baldur’s lineage, Aethelind thought it needed to be done later, not when emotions were still running so high.

“Ivar,” she said, stepping into the room. She held up the letter, and said, “I’ve just read this. You need to hear what’s in it.”

She noticed Freydis on the ground then, an almost unreadable expression on her face. It was clear she was crying, though. Something bad had happened here, and her brows creased a little as she looked at her. “Freydis, what happened?” she asked softly.

Ivar spoke before Freydis could answer, questioning, “What is in the letter?”

Aethelind swallowed and handed the letter to him, before crouching down to check on Freydis. His eyes widened at first, and then narrowed, as he realized what was happening here. Björn was coming to take Kattegat. If this letter had come from York to Wessex, and then across the sea to Kattegat… Chances were, he was already nearby. Defenses would need to be mounted immediately. He would need to call a Þing, bring the people together and explain the situation to them.

And that was exactly what Ivar did. Aethelind was stood toward the front of the crowd, facing them, her back turned to Ivar and Freydis. This was where she’d been asked to stand, as the one who had provided the information about the attack coming to Kattegat. Ivar had made clear to her that she, again, held a new role in his Kingdom. And as such, she belonged with himself and Freydis.

She took a deep breath when she heard him begin to speak, and folded her hands in front of her body. This wouldn’t likely be a long Þing, but there was much to cover.

“My people,” Ivar began. Aethelind’s back straightened a little. “Spring is coming. The Earth renews itself. That which was dead comes alive again. Everything changes. My wife gave birth to a child.”

Aethelind was careful to not let her confusion show on her face. The three of them needed to be seen as a united front to the people of Kattegat, if they were to be trusted. Still, she did turn to look at Ivar and Freydis. Where could he have been going with this? From the look on Freydis’s face, she didn’t know, either.

“A beautiful, beautiful boy,” Ivar continued. “I held him in my arms and he was as beautiful and as shining, as Odin’s son, Baldur.” He even mimicked holding a baby, and the slightest bit of Aethelind’s confusion slipped through. “My heart overflowed with love for that child.”

The look Freydis gave him could only be described as cold. This wasn’t good, Aethelind realized. They may have been fighting privately, but a divide could be caused in the people if that got out. Some would support Freydis, some would support Ivar, and they might just turn against each other. It was one of the first things Aethelind had learned about ruling. Always present a united front, regardless of what is being done in secret.

“But the gods cut his life short.” The people began to murmur amongst themselves, sounds of dismay and upset coursing through the room. Aethelind herself had to swallow, her eyes dropping at the mention of the late infant. Freydis, however, grew ever colder. “I have no idea why,” Ivar said. “They have their reasons.” She looked to the ground, and her behavior might have made sense to those who weren’t aware of the fighting when Ivar spoke again. “But it is had for a mother to accept such things.”

From what Aethelind had understood of the argument Freydis and Ivar had had, from what Freydis herself had told her, this was actually not exactly the case. Or, rather, it was, but Ivar was having just as hard a time. Whereas Freydis tended to become quiet, retreat into herself to mourn the child, Ivar’s hurt was explosive, and angry. This was the frequent cause of the fighting. But to everyone else, it appeared that Freydis was mourning, and likely angry about the loss of her child.

“To lose the child they have carried inside their body…” Ivar was now continuing. “But the will of the gods cannot be denied. They have other plans. And, in all humility, we have to accept their verdict.” There was more indistinct murmuring from the people, before Ivar once again interrupted them. “King Harald and my brother, Björn, have abandoned York, and the Saxons will retake the city. The Princess of Wessex herself has given me this information, through means we have not had since the passing of the Ancient One.”

The Seer? Aethelind realized, and she had to keep her expression from revealing her shock at what he had just said. He was passing her off as another Seer… For whatever reason, she couldn’t guess, but if she knew Ivar he would have one.

The truth was, he wanted to paint her as a Völva, a Seeress, for two reasons. One, was that he simply did not want the knowledge of how she had learned of Björn’s departure from York to get out. If it was known that she had contact with Björn Ironside, it could invite disagreement among his people. The other reason, was to add further support to his claim that he was a god. He had had a rather rude awakening with the death of Baldur, and his conversation with Aethelind, to the fact that he was just as human as everyone else, but his people didn’t need to know this. If he had a Völva supporting him, working alongside him, how much more convincing could he be that he was a god?

He continued with his speech before anyone had too much time to question anything- just as he always did. “Our plan for this season was to raise an army, sail to York, and reclaim it as part of our Empire of Kattegat.” Aethelind knew that York had long been claimed by the Vikings. Because of this, she didn’t see reclaiming it as a breech of their agreement with Alfred. Perhaps he’d have disagreed, but he wasn’t the one in charge of this agreement. Not on the Norse end.

“I was expecting my brother, Hvitserk, to return with King Olaf, and his army. We were going to attack York together.” This came as a surprise to Aethelind. So, it wasn’t about Björn leaving. He had meant to take it from King Harald. Well, still a move against another Viking, I suppose, she thought. Still wouldn’t have broken our agreement. “Unfortunately, they are not here.”

A feeling of unease settled in Aethelind. Hvitserk should have been back by now, if he was only going to get an army Ivar had already made arrangements with. And, from the sound of it, that was exactly what he’d been meant to do. So if he hadn’t returned, it either meant he was in trouble, he was dead, or…

Hvitserk had betrayed Ivar.

The crowd murmured in shock, and anger settled in Ivar as he nodded with them. “I know, I know,” he said, raising a placating hand. “Things have changed. My people, we will not venture out. We will not attack York.” He had stood now, and was beginning to raise his voice in that way which would win the people over to him, whatever he was asking. “Instead,” he continued. “Recognizing our own vulnerability to attack, we will renew and strengthen the defenses of our great town.” The crowd cheered him on, and he began to smirk. “I am with you!” he announced. “I am speaking for you!” Once again, he was doing as Aethelind knew he would. The crowd appeared to love him.

“Let those who want to destroy us, know this. You will never overcome Kattegat. We will always defeat you! The gods are with us! The gods love us! We are the people!”

The crowd began to chant his name once more, again with the name of Odin, as he turned and offered his hand to Freydis to stand and join him. She seemed conflicted for a moment, before taking his hand, and slowly getting to her feet. As soon as she had stood, she pulled her hand away, and folded it neatly with her other hand in front of her body.

He played it off brilliantly, though, and truly only Aethelind noticed. She noticed because he then used that hand to offer to her, silently inviting her to stand beside him. But, she did take his hand and let him pull her to his side, and the people of Kattegat accepted this as an official declaration from their King, that the Princess of Wessex had become his right hand.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood

#ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings history #history channel vikings #not today #chapter eighteen #ivar's heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #alex hogh andersen #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc #tw: infant mortality

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its-me-jessi · 4 years ago

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Back To The History PT7

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: Y/N is back in York not knowing Hvitserk is no longer the only one knowing her secret. Meanwhile Hvitserk isn’t aware of her return.

A/N: I’m sorry it took so incredible long to finally continue the story. I had to fully concentrate on my studies but now I’m back with the next part.👍😊 I hope you’ll enjoy the 7th part of this series as well and again, sorry for taking this long. 🙈 As always, I’d appreciate any kind of feedback. Feel free to leave comments or reblog.😇

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

A few seconds ago, I was gazing at a picture of an old church which made me reminisce about everything I had experienced back there. I reminisced about the time I spent with Hvitserk and I wished for one more chance to see him again just to say a proper goodbye. He deserved it. Since I’ve been back home, I felt terrible not only because I missed him, but also because I had a guilty conscience for leaving him shortly after I promised, I would stay with him. I definitely had things to straighten out and now I got the chance to do so.

The picture printed inside that old history book turned into reality. From one second to the other, I was standing in front of that church like I was when I first came here, still holding the book in my hands. Despite the fact that it is already the third time I travelled in time I still couldn’t believe my eyes. My brain needed a few minutes feeling the cold air against my not so warmly dressed body and hearing people talk in an unfamiliar but yet familiar language to really understand I’m actually back. I was brought back to York.

I’m back. I’m really back. Happy about being back I strolled around York smiling to myself. All the time I thought it won’t be possible to come back here since I didn’t even know how I came here the first time, but I did it. The only thing left to do now is finding Hvitserk and I should be quick since I don’t know when my time here is up. What I didn’t know was, Hvitserk wasn’t back from Haralds kingdom yet.

Eager to find him I looked everywhere I thought he might be, but he was nowhere to be found. What made the situation even harder for me was the cold temperature. Since I just got beamed out of my cozy home, I was only wearing a cozy loungewear set and fluffy slippers. All in all, not very suitable for a indeed very spontaneous trip to York especially in the colder months of the year. The people crossing my way were all staring at my shivering figure and wondering what in the world I was wearing. I felt exactly like when I first came here, except for the fact that I knew some of these people and they knew me.

“Y/N?”, a woman came running to me. It was the maid who used to lend me a helping hand with managing my daily chores from time to time. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be joining the Ragnarssons on their raid?”. Her sudden question took me by surprise. Apparently, something wasn’t going as I expected it to. Ivar and Hvitserk weren’t back from their raid and I shouldn’t ether. What should I tell her? I need an explanation, quickly. I was staring at her quietly thinking about a credible lie as she spoke up: “What on earth are you wearing?! You must be freezing!”. My constantly shivering body seemed to have distracted her. Thank god. For now. “Let’s get you inside!”, she laid a hand on my back, shoving me forward.

Hvitserks POV

Completely lost in thought I was sitting at the bottom of the ship back to York. Since our plan of attacking Kattegat didn’t come to fruition we decided to sail back and work on our plan for the time being but to be honest I didn’t really care about the plan anymore. All I could think of and all I wanted to know was why Y/N left and if I will ever see her again or if she’s gone forever. Actually, I had so many questions on my mind I feared I would never get the answers to. I knew deep down that sooner or later she would’ve been gone. I didn’t believe we would get the chance to spend a lifetime together since we belonged to completely different time periods, but I hoped the time together would still last quite a while. As one old saying goes “hope is the last to die”. After spending days looking for her and not even finding a hint to the whereabouts of her I gave up looking for her and with every week going by my hope did fade away. “I should simply accept my fate”, I thought shrugging my shoulders.

The only good thing her disappearance entailed was that Ivar wouldn’t take advantage of her. I didn’t know what Ivar had in mind since I’ve told him about Y/N’s personal background, but I knew it won’t be a good thing. Somehow, he would make use of her and the fact she’s from the future. So, wherever she was, she would be safe and that’s all that mattered. Only for that reason I actually wanted her to stay away. I glared at Ivars back. He was sitting inside of that boat ahead of the one I was sailing with. I knew Ivar too well. He won’t let an opportunity to successfully take revenge and overcome any barriers slip though his fingers even if his success is bound to the expense of others.

Time flew by and our ships were slowly entering the port of York. Ivars ship was the first one to arrive at the port. After the ship was tightly tied to a wooden pillar and a plank was leaned on the edge of the ship to close the gap to the port Ivar got off refusing any help but supported by his crutches.

Y/N POV

When the Viking ships entered the port, I was strolling the city, this time suitable dressed but completely spaced out. I still had no idea how to explain to everyone why I suddenly disappeared and turned up back here in York. There was no possible way for me to come here on a natural basis. What the hell am I supposed to tell them. The only person I could be honest to was Hvitserk. He needed an apology more than an explanation. Hopefully I can talk to him first. Maybe he has an idea how to get me out of this mess.

If I knew at this point that Hvitserk wasn’t the only one who knew about my personal background anymore I would have prepared myself for a greater problem. I would have been on the look-out for Hvitserk in the first place. Would have been more careful about my surroundings. In the end I would have hid by Hvitserks side until time decided it was again time for me to go back to my own time period and that time I wouldn’t leave without saying Hvitserk a proper goodbye since that time it might really be the last time we would see each other in our lifetime.

But I didn’t know…

When I heard a crowd loudly rejoice over something, I became curious and out of my curiosity I went down the road in the direction where the sound came from. As I came nearer, I saw the ships and instantly, a smile played on my lips. I instantly knew Hvitserk came back and a warm fuzzy feeling grew inside of me. I wanted to run all the way down to the port but suddenly a tall and strong looking man blocked my way. Seeing this man standing right before me made me take fright. My smile was gone.

“Ivar Ragnarsson wants to see you!”, he said with his deep voice. How does he already know I’m here? The maid must have told him. I couldn’t even protest. He just took me by my arm and pulled me in the direction of Ivars place. What is it now what he wants from me?! Still I didn’t have a clue. As I took a glance back to the port, I saw him. I saw Hvitserk and I wished Ivar wouldn’t keep me occupied for too long.

After I’ve been shoved into the entrance hall I immediately felt a pair of eyes on me. Rubbing my arm where the man held me not so gently a few seconds ago I glanced up to him. There he was. Ivar was sitting casually in his throne evilly grinning at me.

“I see, you came back from the future all safe and sound.”

He knows?! I was shocked and instantly afraid of whatever he might do to me.

Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe! 😇

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lisinfleur · 4 years ago

Text

Buble Gum, Time is fun!

The request:

Author’s Notes | Two of my favorite things reunited: Sigurd and time travel plots! I love it! I decided to post it like this, because you said you liked it how it is, love. But I’ll probably use this request later for a bigger work! It really has potential! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Sigurd x Reader Info | Time Travel plot, Viking Age AU, Modern AU, prepared for the Patron’s Holiday Event Words | 3706 ⁑ Warnings: Cursing a lot.

Damn foggy night.

Damn stupid idea of accepting your co-worker's invitation into his house for a Christmas celebration!

Of course, you should've noticed his intentions! Of course, he was luring you into a trap!

What were you thinking? Ivan had tried to lure you into going out with him through the whole year! How could you think he was serious about a party with his family?

In the end, it was just a lie to "finally get some time alone with you, pretty..." Oh, GOD! You hated so much his stupid way to make that word sound doughy in his voice!

And there you were, walking away from his house, all alone on Christmas' Eve - because OF COURSE, he refused to drive you home since you wouldn't give him a chance... Asshole.

The problem is: it was easy to reach his cottage exactly because he was driving the 4x4 through the woods to take you there. On foot, the trail would surely allow you to see Santa Claus' reindeer flying through the sky, going away and coming back home before you were able to finish that God damn way!

"Wonderful!" you cursed when your eyes found a bifurcation and the plaque that should indicate the way was broken, leaving you without a choice but betting which way would take you down, back to the town, which would take you deeper inside those woods into some wolf lair or something like this.

With your luck?

You would end up frozen in the middle of that stupid fog!

Walking into that fog, you caught yourself thinking. Sadness taking your heart... If you weren't all alone... If your family wasn't a bunch of assholes like Ivan... Perhaps you wouldn't have accepted his invitation. Maybe you would be celebrating with her instead of all alone, lost in those woods.

Where was the trail?

"Oh, crap!" you cursed, looking around, trying to find yourself again, anything but trees that could serve for you to locate yourself.

Your heart clenching inside your chest.

If you were to disappear that night... Who would miss you?

Damn Ivan! It would be perfect to know he would probably be arrested since you were last seen entering his car but you didn't want to disappear!

Even less into those woods!

"Shit... Shit shit shit!" You cursed.

Your feet, lost, stumbled on some roots and you fell straight to the ground, rolling down a small hill and hitting your head against a tree.

You weren't sure, but you saw a silhouette right before everything blanked out.

You remember you thought it was better to freeze in those woods than being found by Ivan in that place.

You couldn't precise how long did you blank out. But it was warm when you woke up. There was some strange cloak over your body, with a marine perfume that resembled the sea right after the dawn, or the dew evaporating on the first hours of the mourning.

"You woke up," a strange voice, kinda hoarse, with a heavy accent spoke to you.

And you turned yourself to see a blonde man sitting near a fire, noticing you were somehow into a cabin. A pretty rustic one! He was shoving the pieces of wood into the fire, making it warmer. But his clothes were so strange!

You could bet they were handmade!

He was dressed beautifully, like those medieval peasants from old Scandinavia. His hair had braids with leather straps decorating it and beautiful curls you couldn't stop yourself from admiring.

You sat, observing the beautiful handmade embroidery of the cloak over your body. That man wasn't a peasant. Such beautiful work wouldn't be made for someone that wasn't noble.

But why the fuck was he dressed like that?

"My head is aching..." you mumbled.

"You must've hit it against the tree I found you near. Your clothes are strange... Too thin for the cold. What is your name?" he asked with that strange accent, coming closer to sit beside the fur you were laid upon.

Too thin for the cold?? Those were your best warm trousers!

"I'm Y/N," you answered, confused. "Excuse me, but where am I?"

Everything around was so realistically rustic! You felt like waking up into a movie!

"This cabin is mine," he answered, "A small secret place I use as a refuge when I don't want my brothers to find me. I'm Sigurd, son of Ragnar Loðbrók. You must've known about my father." he sighed.

Sounding so genuíne for someone who was speaking, for sure, a scripted line for any stupid theatrical spectacle that was - for some reason - including your dizzy self. Right?

Cause there was no living way for you to be speaking to a son of THE Ragnar Loðbrók he was talking about. No-living-way!

You chuckled, looking at him.

"Fine... You're pretty good, for real. But I'm seriously lost here and... Can we leave the characters behind for a moment and give me some real information?" you said, looking at him "I'm lost for real, you know? I got lost in the woods while fleeing from a night into the house of the biggest asshole I've ever known in my whole life, so... Could you be gentle to me and tell me how I can reach the town so I can take a bus and go back home?"

The more you spoke, the stranger was the frown in that man's face.

"What is a bus?" he asked, looking at you as if that wasn't the most absurd nonsense someone could ask you at all!

"O-k... A persistent actor uh? So... Let us do it your way, ok? I need to go back to the town, uh? Where can I find a... a chariot?" you tried.

"You must've hit your head too hard... Come. I have a horse outside, I'll take you back to the village, but I suggest you visit a healer," he said.

Genuinely looking as confused as you were.

You got up, looking around. It was really a small cabin, seeming to be handmade as well, for a single person. Maybe you just invaded some kind of fantasy for him or anything, you thought. But the horse outside his door was pretty real.

"Fuck," you mumbled.

He really had a horse. And you would really go back home... In-a-freaking-horse. How the heck could that night become stranger?

Never doubt life.

It can ALWAYS overwhelm your expectations.

"What in the actual fuck?" your mouth mumbled when his horse reached the streets of what was an entire Scandinavian village. "Is this a joke? What kind of... Look, Sigurd uh?" you said, looking back at him from upon your shoulder as he guided the horse forward into that village.

A lot of other people like him were finishing putting things inside, the houses were decorated. It was Christmas night in that place as well... But how the heck?

"I need to go to the real town. Like, the real one! Not this scenographic thing for whatever you guys are filming ok? I need to go back to Kattegat!" you insisted.

Just to see his frown becoming even bigger.

"Woman, what is your problem? We ARE in Kattegat!" he said, convict.

"Then take me to the bay!" you demanded, almost as a touché.

They would never be able to reproduce the bay perfectly! It was a beautiful natural arch of mountains where the sea would make a pool, almost a beautiful natural circle of water you saw yourself stunned looking at a few moments after your ask.

"You see? We are in Kattegat, woman. I'm Sigurd, son of Ragnar, fourth among the princes of this place. And I demand you to visit a healer right now!" he said, full of himself.

But you'd barely heard his voice.

Your heart was pounding, your ears were throbbing along with your whole head. How the fuck was you standing in Kattegat's bay?

How in the actual fuck was that place a Scandinavian village again?

How hard did you hit your head?

"Be patient, son of Ragnar," a hoarse voice came out of nowhere and you turned yourself too quick, falling at the sand, afraid of that black-cloaked figure that looked at the two of you - and seemed not to scare Sigurd at all! "A strange thing happened and sometimes it happens, indeed..."

"Who are you? Where am I?" you asked, fully scared.

But that burned man looked at you calmly. You could feel he was looking at me although he had no eyes.

"The correct question would be when are you, Y/N, future’s child. You are where you think you are. You are in Kattegat such as he was. Time is not what you think it is."

Your heart started racing.

If what he was saying was real then you were far away from home now!

"But if you were to disappear tonight, who would miss you?"

That sentence in his hoarse voice seemed to shock both of you, you and Sigurd, cause you could see the same surprised expression in Sigurd's eyes as well.

"Time is a spiral... It swirls and swirls and sometimes its rounds touch each other. Two thought like one, two desired like one. One was heard by the night and its mysteries," that burnt man continued. "You shall be back to your time, back to your life, when the night is over and the magic with it. Unless your desire to come back is not strong enough to take you out of here," he said, starting to walk away.

Leaving you at that beach, sitting on the sand, almost panicking.

"So... You came because of my desire?" Sigurd mumbled, breaking the silence first.

And you looked at him.

"He said... Two thought like one. What were you thinking, Sigurd?" you asked, trying to rationalize.

To avoid freaking out.

"I didn't want to be home with Ivar being the usual spoiled brat he always is. But I didn't want to be alone... After all, it's Yule."

After all, it was Christmas...

"It makes sense..." you mumbled. "I didn't want to be with Ivan... But did not want to be alone either."

Sigurd crossed his arms, sighing. And you looked at him with your heart clenching. Maybe he was as lonely as you were. And if it was strong enough to throw you into that situation then... Then why not?

It would be over in the morning.

"We could keep each other company..." You suggested.

"Then none of us would be alone." Sigurd completed. "Come. It's cold here... I have some food in my cabin we could share and you can tell me about this future you come from." he said, extending his hand for you to get up.

Sigurd didn't seem to be a bad guy at all. And what choice did you have, anyway?

He walked you back to that cabin, pulling the horse by its reins but walking beside you at a slow pace. It wasn't such a short path, so you had some time to know each other properly. The craziest it was sounding; Sigurd was indeed a Viking prince who definitely sounded like everything but a Viking. Whether your time's acknowledgment of his kind was awfully wrong or he was something different from the barbarian raiders his mutuals were described to be.

Instead, Sigurd was gentle, helping a total stranger he found wounded in the forest, taking you inside his cabin, ensuring you would be warm and cared for. He lighted a campfire in front of the cabin where he placed a piece of meat to roast intending to divide what was supposed to be enough for himself with you, and you noticed he just didn't ask for his cloak back - somehow he was really apprehensive about how cold it was for your "thin clothes".

Sigurd's presence was completely different from Ivan's and despite being a total stranger for you, soon it became more comfortable than having your co-worker you worked with for a whole year beside you.

To be honest? It was better. Way better.

Sigurd's curiosity about your shoes was funny, his surprise seeing your elastic hair tie was the most innocent and sweet thing you've ever seen and you could laugh for hours at his funny face when the thing escaped his hand being shot against his nose.

When you started talking about your time's music, he entered the cabin and brought back some kind of guitar he called an oud and played for you some amazing songs you wish you didn't have lost your cell phone so you could record to hear again later.

When he wouldn't be there to play...

For a moment, that sensation made you think about your loneliness and how it had just vanished with Sigurd's presence there. His gentleness was able to make you forget completely you weren't in your time and even more, that you were alone.

The two of you shared the food he made and when the night became colder he made the fire higher to warm the two of you as you sat at the door of his cabin, looking up to the sky.

So much more stars!

"The sky is not this beautiful where I come from," you said.

"Did the stars fall from the sky?" he asked, looking at you.

Making you smile with that sweet innocence he seemed to have.

"No. There are too many artificial lights. The night is not dark enough for us to see them all..." you explained.

"Your time seems to be amazing, but at the same time, it seems colder," Sigurd said, looking up once again.

Silence landing between the two of you like a solid wall his voice broke once again.

"I'll miss you, Y/N. When you go home, I'll miss having you here."

You thought about your lonely life. It would be so good to have the chance to stay... But at the same time, you were so far away from your time! And you couldn't just be impulsive and stay in a place and time you barely knew just out of your need for company... You would come back at the end of that night, you knew that. But your heart would be broken.

"I'll miss you too..." you mumbled.

Feeling when something touched your hand, looking to see Sigurd was messing with a leather strip around your wrist.

"What is this?" you asked when he finished, showing you the wooden beads with runes he had tied to your arm.

Lifting your eyes, you could see one of his braids was undone: he had turned the leather strip from his hair along with his beads into a bracelet for you.

"A gift, so you can remind me," he said, "A Yule gift."

You smiled with tenderness looking at that loving gift. Nothing was ever so sweet in your life.

You would miss him so hard...

You weren't as good as he was with the crafting, but you took off your necklace - a golden chain with a small butterfly pendant - And you placed it on his neck, watching as he touched the delicate piece.

"A Yule gift," you repeated, smiling at him.

Feeling his fingers touching and caressing your face.

Silence was made as you laid your head on his shoulder. There was nothing to be said anymore. You wanted his embrace around you. He wanted you to stay forever.

Both of you woke up alone the next morning...

The magic of that strange night was gone when you woke up sitting against the tree you had fallen near the previous night. You lifted your hand to touch your head searching for any kind of wound, thinking that the whole night could've been a dream.

But something was weighing on your hand and your eyes filled with tears when you saw the leather strap with his beads there. You touched your neck, your necklace was gone.

It was real.

He was real!

And now it was gone...

You found out you had fallen out of the way and into the woods some few meters before reaching the road. You went back home with that knot on your throat.

You searched for anything about his story just to find out Sigurd had died one thousand years ago, murdered by his own brother's ax.

The following days made no sense for you. Everything was missing color. You wanted to cry every time your eyes would look at the beads on your wrist. You never took that bracelet off.

When the third night came, you decided: You had to change that! You had to go back, to find a way to make his fate different.

To be with him once again.

But how?

The following days you passed searching for any information, finding anything that could help you, getting yourself more and more despaired with the hopelessness of that journey. When New Year's Eve came, you made your last try...

You came back to those woods, you went away from the trail, you tried to find the ruins of his cabin or that location. But all you could find were some stones placed in a specific way that could resemble that house.

You sat in the middle of it and you felt the tears pouring down your face. Your fingers caressing the leather strip on your wrist.

"You were such a gentle man... Such a sweet company. You killed my loneliness and... And you found such a terrible fate," you cried, thinking about him, the sweet smiles you exchanged, his laughs from that night.

"I wish so bad I could change it... I wish so bad I could come back one more time..." you closed your eyes, lowering your head.

"It's a one-way trip this time. And you know you can't change the cycle of life. He will die. You will die. Each must die someday," the hoarse voice of that burnt man you knew now was the Seer from his time invaded your ears, startling you up.

If he could be there, then...

You could come back.

"But I can make it different!" you said, looking up to see the black-cloaked figure standing where it was supposed to be the door of that cabin.

"What if you can't?" he asked, looking at you.

"I can!" you yelled, getting up.

"What if you can't, woman?" he repeated.

Remembering you maybe Sigurd's fate wasn't changeable...

Maybe you would go back just to lose him that awful way.

"Then I can make his life different," you mumbled, looking at the Seer. "Then I can send his loneliness away. And kill mine. And make it better as long as he lives."

"Cross the line... And find your fate. Time won't touch itself once again. Don't look back, future's child. Everything forward is lost for you now."

With his scepter, he traced a perfect line on the ground from one stone to another at the entrance of the cabin's ruins, turning his back to you and vanishing in the middle of the trees.

You swallowed dry.

You could just jump the stones and go back to your life.

But time wouldn't touch itself again, he said.

You could cross that line and everything you knew would be lost.

But who would miss you anyway?

You touched the leather bracelet on your arm and took a deep breath, walking forward and crossing the line without thinking any longer. And then... His voice filled your ears...

"... and I don't know where or when you are now. But I wish you were here. It would be good if time could swirl that strange way one more time."

Your eyes caught Sigurd's figure sitting beside a campfire. Almost the same scene from the Yule night you spent together. Except, you weren't there, and his hands were messing with the necklace you gave to him, tenderly caressing the pendant. He missed you. He wanted you back.

And it filled your heart with love to think someone would care.

He cared.

"Maybe two thought like one once again," you mumbled from the door, startling him, watching as he jumped up, standing to look at you, first scared, then, with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen on someone's face.

"Y/N!"

Sigurd came closer, without a warning pulling you into his embrace. Such a tight embrace, so full of that feeling only he was able to make you feel!

You embraced him back, maybe as tight as he was embracing you. And Sigurd cupped your face, touching your foreheads.

"You came back... I wanted so hard to see you again!"

You went on your tiptoes, following the will of your heart, and touched his lips with yours, surprising Sigurd with a gentle and loving kiss, full of that need you had inside your heart to change his life. To make his fate different.

"Y/N?" he mumbled your name when the kiss was over.

Looking at you full of doubt in his eyes.

But you caressed his face gently, smiling at him.

"I came back for you, Sigurd. For you..."

His tone changed as you felt his hands gently pulling you closer. His forehead touched yours and you saw as he sighed, almost in relief, nuzzling his nose to yours.

"You took my heart with you when you left..."

He felt the same. That need, that sensation you were everything he needed and he had lost it. Sigurd fell in love with you as well. And it was good for him to notice he wasn’t alone.

"Tell me you'll stay this time." He asked.

"I'll stay," you answered, nestling your face against his neck, hiding into his embrace. "I'll stay, my prince."

"That's good..." he mumbled, kissing your hair, embracing you tighter. "That's good, my love."

You knew everything you ever knew was lost for you now and you would've to learn everything about life in his way. You knew you could lose him not far from that day. But you would fight to change his fate and if you had to lose him then, at least, you could say you loved him till the end.

And Sigurd loved you back. Like anyone else before.

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wlfkssd · 3 years ago

Text

The Way You Flirt

based on a combination of prompts sent in by @issadoragreen <3

summary : aethelred comments on hvitserk’s flirting and they end up having sex in the maze in the gardens that surround rollo’s castle in frankia. (set in the When in Frankia au)

pairing : hvitserk x aethelred

words : 2,790

warnings : (a probably) poor attempt at SMUT in the latter half of the piece. aethelred giving, hvitserk receiving. fingering. butt stuff.

"The way you flirt is shameless." Aethelred admonishes, quietly, steely eyes piercing into Hvitserk beside him. Both know it has everything to do with the plump, dark red grape being held as daintly as possible between thumb and forefinger. It's an offering. From one prince to another. Whether or not Aethelred chooses to accept it; that's entirely to come.

Hvitserk laughs, gaze fixed upon the face close to his own. "You think this is shameless?" He asks, wasting no time in popping the small, round fruit into his own mouth and crushing it between his back teeth. "One day, I will take you to Uppsala. Then you will see what shameless is."

Nimble fingers pick another grape from the bunch on the large silver platter in front of them and offer it up. This time, Aethelred considers before he leans in, opening his mouth just enough to allow the fruit inside. His tongue is practiced at staying put, flat, and his expression holds nothing but indifference.

Yet. Hvitserk can see the way the Saxon's cheeks flush as rough digits pass the threshold of his warm, pink entrance. A flush that's just as deep as it had been when tongues found themselves locking in a battle as furious and seemingly ancient as that of their two cultures. A flush that Hvitserk knows spreads just as beautifully down, past Aethelred's collarbones and onto his chest.

The exchange is short lived in real time but, for the pair of them, moments like this last forever. And, when it's finally time for those fingers to withdraw, Hvitserk finds himself taking them both in, savouring whatever taste he can of the most forbidden fruit of all.

"Uppsala. What's that?" Their gazes fall from one another as Aethelred makes short work of the grape and leans across to pick up his cup of wine. He's really enjoying the Frankish vintage. Perhaps a few barrels will have to come home with him to Wessex in the new year. He drinks, still chewing.

"We travel there to make sacrifices to the Gods every nine years. My father never really talked about it, and I've only been there once, but it's a place where anything is possible." Hvitserk explains, tongue pressing into his cheek as it searches out the remnants of food, leftover from his last mouthful. "I could feed you as many grapes as I wanted there and nobody would care. You could feed me whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted."

That sounds far more like an offer not to be fulfilled in the future, but now, and along with the look Hvitserk's clear eyes give, it's fairly obvious that's the point.

"Whatever I wanted. Whenever I wanted to, hm?"

Understanding dawns as the two stare one another down. Yet, gone is the animosity that may once have pitted them against one another and Aethelred's throat bobs as he brings the chalice up to take another drink, swallowing almost audibly even in the crowded dining hall.

"Yes." Comes the reply and this time Hvitserk's tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as if in invitation. He blinks. He's holding his breath.

"Perhaps, then, we might meet in the gardens in an hour, Prince Hvitserk." The tone Aethelred takes is formal but there's a mischief in his heavy-set eyes. One that's lost as soon as he turns to make conversation with the diplomat to the other side of him.

***********

An hour later, roughly, of course, Rollo having kept his nephew a while to ask questions about his budding friendship with the prince from England, Hvitserk bolts down the side steps of the tower and into the gardens as promised. The sun has set and now the night air touches his face with a gentle kiss of cold; kinder than the frozen lake where he fell as a child in Kattegat.

"Aethelred?" He whispers, peering about as he takes a few steps forward. Arms bring his dark cloak in around him.

Beside the long shadow of the tallest tree in the grounds, the Saxon waits. His gaze is turned upwards, towards the moon and his figure is still as a statue. His shadow, too, is long, cast just as beautifully as nature intended upon the grass beneath both their feet.

Hvitserk approaches and comes to stand beside him.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Blue eyes don't turn away from the shining orb, high in the dark sky and all Hvitserk can do is agree. "I sometimes wonder how many times you and I have gazed upon her, unaware of each other's existence."

"Her?"

It's now that Aethelred looks down, bringing his eyes and thoughts from the Heavens, allowing them to rest easily upon more Earthly delights. "The moon. She's a woman. A saintly one who sees every sin beneath her, committed under the veil of darkness, and says nothing to the rising sun that follows."

"I like-" Hvitserk is allowed no more than that as, whatever he might say is first stifled, pushed back down his throat and then, a second later, coaxed out in the form of a soft, short moan. Aethelred's mouth on his is divine; every time perfectly explaining the meaning of a miracle but without words. This near-silent exchange sees their hands, having learned and remembered one another's bodies, touching.

Aethelred lays warm palms to Hvitserk's cheeks, holding his face in a steady grasp as they kiss. It's surprising for the Saxon to initiate such a thing but Hvitserk won't stop him now. That would be pure madness when he knows all he has to do is part his lips and he'll be invaded just as easily as the Mediterranean had been; conquered just as easily as England.

Some may call him weak but Hvitserk feels himself melt. Thoughts leave his mind as feelings build in his chest - his own hands finding their rightful place at Aethelred's waist, fingertips tightening into the soft material of his long robe.

Breathlessly, they part after a long moment. Lungs gasp and burn as their chests rise and fall in unison. Yet still they come back together, Hvitserk giving in and opening his mouth to greet Aethelred's exploring tongue with his own. The touch is familiar by now and confident, rough pads scraping alongside one another as teeth bite softly into plump lips; fuller now, heated and throbbing.

Another lifetime passes in the moonlight and a fox cries in the darkness.

"We should go. I want you but not here." Aethelred barely moves away, breath mixing beautifully with the cloud puffed from Hvitserk's mouth so closely aligned with his own.

"I know where we can go."

The words are no sooner out of Hvitserk's mouth than he takes Aethelred's hand and leads him quickly to the north side of the tower. Before them; a maze of tall hedges. It's secretive and sure to be safe at this time of night.

Safe for lovers.

"Come on." Biting his lip, Hvitserk smiles and lets his fingers entwine with those of the Saxon now, where before only their palms touched. "Nobody will find us here." He starts to walk backwards, eyes as much a lure as the way his cloak falls open, revealing how hard he is inside his leather trousers.

"Hvitserk," Aethelred's protests fall silent against the vision of the Viking's desire for him and he takes a breath of cold air in, steadying himself. "There may be other lovers in there."

"So what. I don't care. You want me and I want you; that's all I care about. And besides, anyone who has to sneak around at night to have sex won't say anything about us if we don't say anything about them."

The reasoning makes sense and, for once, Aethelred finds himself throwing caution to the wind as his feet carry him into the very same footfalls as Hvitserk, making them appear to be one to the naked eye.

Once inside the maze, the moonlight is more a hinderance than a help. Shadows are heavy and hit every angle, making it almost impossible to see. Yet, the hold upon his hand gives Aethelred all the reassurance he needs. He is not alone.

A few times along the way, they stop to kiss against the prim, cut hedges, and more than once Hvitserk loses his hand between them, palm almost cool against the throbbing warmth their bodies provide in anticipation. Aethelred is harder than he is. He's heavier too, Hvitserk knows, and even the thought of that has his hips pushing forward, begging for friction; just a touch if nothing else.

"Do you want me here?" Hvitserk's lidded eyes draw Aethelred in as needy hands do, pulling the Saxon flush against him, drawing a sharp and satisfying hiss from them both. One that slides into a sigh and then a laugh.

"I want you here."

Whatever shame may have been felt before now dissipates with those four, short words. Whatever feelings Hvitserk might have of needing to be in control or dominant - simply because each of his brothers is - vanish. Giving himself to a Saxon might be seen as weak by some, a betrayal by others, but it's all he wants.

Just to feel full and wanted.

Nudging Aethelred away, but holding onto his gaze, Hvitserk pulls the cord of his cloak, allowing it to drop from his shoulders, into a heap at his side. He instantly feels the cold but knowing what's to come keeps him warm enough. Hands slowly find their way to the waist of his trousers and deliberately, he hooks his thumbs inside. In one movement then, he's exposed as leather trousers cling to his thighs and his cock softly slaps back up against the skin of his stomach, hidden a little by his green tunic. One practiced hand lifts the hem of that tunic as the other wraps itself loosely into a fist around his hardness. He strokes it as he tilts his chin up, eyes darker.

"Then have me here, Prince Aethelred."

No note of shyness invades Hvitserk's voice as he finds himself turned and bent at the waist. In the darkness, it feels as though this should be wrong but, if anything, finally being taken this way is what makes having to hide all-the-more worth it.

Strong hands guide Hvitserk's legs, spreading them by the thighs - a little wider. Strong but gentle hands. And that makes the Viking gasp and shudder. Because he knows Aethelred will take care of him. The touch to his lower back, beneath his tunic, grounds him and the shifting he can't see soon falls silent but for the slickening of fingers from Aethelred's own mouth.

And then the blunt press he knows all-too-well.

It's uncomfortable at first, despite only being one or two digits, and Hvitserk tries his best not to flinch or give any indication that he doesn't like it. Because he knows full-well what this sharp sensation will turn into with careful ministrations. A hiss and his toes curl but Aethelred's hand soothes him, rubbing full and so very there at his lower back.

"Do you want me to stop?" Aethelred asks, even as two of his fingers seek to sink deeper into the tight, warm entrance. He will stop if Hvitserk tells him to.

"No. No, don't." Even now, Hvitserk can hear he sounds desperate. It's almost embarrassing - or probably would be to anyone else. But he glances over his shoulder and Aethelred catches his eye. "Just kiss me."

It's the softest command and Aethelred doesn't need to be told twice. As he steps closer, the action only reiterating the fact that two digits are fully seated now, a slow rhythm forming in and out, the prince gives as much heat to the kiss as he can as distraction. His second hand even comes up, reflexively taking hold firmly around Hvitserk's throat to hold him still. Tongues clash in a sloppy, wet way and neither can tell by the end whose mouth is filled more lovingly with the moans of the other.

For that is how they give and take; in moans. In the vibrations Aethelred can feel straining against his palm as his hold only tightens when he feels Hvitserk clench around him.

Aethelred pulls back, easing away with a last small touch of their mouths. It's a gauged tease followed very soon by the loss of touch altogether and Hvitserk, for a moment, fears that perhaps he's gone too far. That perhaps his bite that's almost drawn blood on the Saxon has brought this moment to a crashing halt.

But he's wrong.

The retreat of fingers makes way for the beading head of Aethelred's heavy cock at his entrance and the warmth is unmistakable.

Hvitserk shivers in the night and barely controls his body as it begs to push back; stopped only by a determined hold on his hips. This is to be done at a pace not his own. That much is very clear. No matter how desperately he wants relief.

"What's the matter, Saxon?" He breathes out, panting really, one hand still between his legs, stroking his hard cock. He curves his spine beautifully. "Losing your nerve?"

Aethelred laughs behind him. Not the kind of laugh that he used much before he came to Frankia but one that's become all-too-familiar since. He shakes his head - not that Hvitserk can see. "Hardly. I'm just more used to being taken by you but I suppose it's time that came to an end."

The yes and the please are lost somewhere in the breath that's punched out of Hvitserk's chest in the moment that follows. A silent gasp drops from his mouth; jaw agape with painful pleasure.

Inch by inch slides in - a new sound accompanying each as it's hit and passed - until Aethelred's hips are pressed flush. Skin on skin. The feeling, according to Hvitserk, is better than being with a woman. He can believe it now but it makes the realisation of his future seem all the more unsatisfying. If he knows sex won't ever feel like this again, as though he's a little closer to his God, despite the sin, then what's the point? A family will come to be sure but this tight heat is one of a kind. One he's sad to know he'll have to give up soon.

"Do you like it? Do you like being conquered, Hvitserk?"

That's all he wishes now. To have Aethelred lay waste to him in the best way. Take everything from him; his senses, his mind, his speech. Everything. He longs to be consumed with desire and devoured by his lover.

Bringing the hand up from between his legs, Hvitserk blindly reaches behind and finds Aethelred's hand there to meet his. He takes it and guides it down, wrapping it, along with his own fingers, back around himself.

"I like it. Take anything you want. I'm yours."

Slowly, the rhythm between hands and hips begins. The slow drag that falls in line with the slow push. The slow twist of a wrist that brings about the clench and the quake. Over and over and over again, each thrust gaining in power and speed until the night's silence is indefinitely broken by their shared, unbridled passion.

Few words are exchanged. Instead, the air is filled with the growing repetition of each other's names. Aethelred's whispered out through moans and the slick sound of sex, and Hvitserk's very much the same. Both breaking in crescendo as bodies tense, jointly, in orgasm, before relaxing into one another. The weight of the Saxon prince is heavy as he all-but collapses against Hvitserk, boneless now.

Aethelred's hips still twitch as he releases the last of his seed and Hvitserk is, at least at first, reluctant to let go of his hand - now sticky along with the Viking's own. Gradually though, they recover and part. Hvitserk turns, leaning back into the forgiving hedge and grins, feeling the soreness already beginning but ignoring it in place of the thick, wet warmth left deliberately to soothe it. His face is flushed and the darkness now does little to hide it.

"So?" Hvitserk croaks out, not bothering to dress for a moment but choosing to watch Aethelred tuck himself back in, instead. "Are you going to think of me when you're bedding your wife in the future?"

"Mmm," Aethelred mirrors with a lazy smile. His eyes blink even more heavily than before, if that's possible, and he steps in close again. "Perhaps. But I don't think you should think so highly of yourself, Pagan." He laughs and leans in to claim Hvitserk's mouth in a hot, open kiss; a thin line of saliva connecting them even as they break. "It gives you a bitter taste."

Just as Hvitserk did before, at the dining table, Aethelred holds his gaze and raises his own fingers to his lips. His thumb slips between them and the cooling mess left behind is consumed. Fingers follow systematically and such a thing makes both their cocks twitch.

Perhaps grapes should become a staple from now on.

#hvitserk #prince aethelred #hvithelred #vikings #issadoragreen #requests #/ i tRIED ???????????

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plus-size-reader · 5 years ago

Text

Blessing

Ragnar Lothbrok x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1320 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Ragnar wants to marry the woman he's in love with but first, he has to convince her two sons that he is good enough for her.

——————————————————————————————————

Ragnar’s wandering eye was known far and wide throughout all of Norway.

However, you weren’t going to let that scare you, just as it hadn’t when you’d first met. You two cared about each other, and that wasn’t going to change even if he had been with many other women in his past.

He was a lover, and who were you to shame him for that? You thought that Ragnar was amazing in everything that he was, and you couldn’t have been more in love if you tried…

And surprisingly, Ragnar felt the same way.

It was true that he’d fallen in love often in his life but there was something different about you. At his age, he no longer had to worry about passing on his family line through sons and he was no longer king.

Being with you was simple, because it could be.

In fact, there was only one thing that he had to worry about when it came to you and that was getting married.

Marrying you was something that Ragnar knew he wanted to do, and that should have been enough. However, it could never be that simple because any wedding to be had wasn’t between only you and the former King of Kattegat.

You both had families who would need to be involved in such a decision and while Ragnar’s sons were all for the matrimony (Save for Ivar, who had yet to get over his mother’s murder) your sons had yet to even meet the man you cared so much for.

Both of your boys, now grown men, were incredible warriors who spent most of their time voyaging and raiding but they were scheduled to arrive in the next few months for the cold season.

When the water turned to slush, it didn’t exactly make for ideal travels.

Still, even you had to admit that you were a bit apprehensive to see how they would react to the news that you were planning on remarrying. Since their father had died when they were young, the idea of you ever finding another husband didn’t even cross their minds.

...But they weren’t children anymore.

Mikkel and Kolli were your children yes, but they were also adults now. They were grown men and they had to come to terms with the fact that you were in love again.

Even if they didn’t want to.

It was just going to be that way, no matter what happened in the meantime.

No amount of planning was going to make their meeting Ragnar any easier, but you didn’t understand the gravity of the situation until the ship carrying both of your boys, and their shipmates.

You had no idea how they would react to Ragnar, but you did know that they would be anxious to see you, as they always were. So, without even thinking about it, you made your way over to the dock where they were waiting.

Both men had changed quite a bit since you’d seen them last, for the better of course.

Mikkel had grown much since you’d seen him last, and his hair was much longer too. His hair was down to his back in a few braids, and he had a single scar across his cheek that was brand new.

Beside him was Kolli, who was a few years younger with his hair hanging free and curly. He had no scars to speak of but you knew that would change before his last days.

It was only a matter of time before battle turned him into just as hardened of a warrior as his older brother was.

“How was the voyage boys? I’m so gladdened to see you” you allowed, grinning from ear to ear as you wrapped them both in a big huge.

Even at your size, both men swallowed you up in their huge arms, covered with furs and tanned skins. You had no idea when they’d grown to this size, but you didn’t mind.

As far as you were concerned, they were still children.

“It was wonderful mother, we raided a few villages along the coast” Mikkel spoke first, reaching out toward the boat where a few others were unloading their gold and trophies.

You smiled, nodding as you watched. However, you didn’t really care all that much for their winnings. More than anything, you were just glad to have them back.

“I’m glad to hear it, my darlings. I’m very proud of you both” you grinned, looking between them. You couldn’t have been more proud of two men-you were sure of it.

No matter what they did, nothing would ever change the fact that being a mother was the chief thing you’d ever be.

“I actually have something I’d like to tell you about-” you started, but before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by a second voice over your shoulder.

It was Ragnar.

You didn’t know what he was going to do but you knew that you weren’t going to enjoy it. Ragnar didn’t know your sons like you did, and he would surely make a fool of himself.

“Hello, you must be Y/N’s sons...I’m Ragnar Lothbrok” he tried, reaching out to take either of their hands. However, neither of them moved to help him in his quest.

They had heard stories of Ragnar Lothbrok and they respected who he was but they had also heard stories about him and all his wives.

…It was no secret that he had a bit of a wandering eye and they didn’t want him anywhere near you.

“Ragnar, I’m Mikkel, this is my brother Kolli” he introduced, gesturing between the two of them. You had no idea what was going on, all you knew was that both your sons were much taller and wider than the man you cared for.

You had never really understood how much larger they were than most other men and you knew that the only other man in Kattegat around their size was Bjorn.

...It was sort of funny.

Not that Ragnar seemed intimidated in any sense.

If anything, he thought that they should have been intimidated by him due to his social standing in Kattegat.

“Wonderful. It’s a pleasure to meet you” he hummed, doing his best to stay as kind and gentle as humanly possible, though you weren’t sure what you would do in his place.

After all, you had never had to face something like that.

Kolli said nothing more about it to Ragnar, instead turning to you with a questioning look on his face. He had no idea what you were doing with the man in front of them and you were sure you’d have to hear it later.

For right now though, both men kept to themselves and minded their manners and mouths, just as you’d taught them to.

“You intend to marry that man?” Mikkel scoffed, his voice booming in the small room as he spoke, not that he minded. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter if Ragnar Lothbrok was the king of all Norway, he still didn’t deserve you.

He couldn’t believe it.

How could you be so foolish?

Everyone in all of Kattegat had heard the stories of his various wives and concubines and neither of your sons could believe that you were so eager to join the list.

It just didn’t seem like you.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, Mikkel closed his own. Even at his age, he knew better than to treat you with any sort of disrespect.

“I do”

There was nothing but certainty in your voice, and that meant that there was no room for either of your sons to argue with you. It was in no way the end of this conversation, but it would do for now.

...It would have to, because you weren’t going to rethink your engagement.

#ragnar lothbrok #ragnar #King Ragnar #vikings #ragnar lothbrok x reader #ragnar x reader #ragnar x ps reader #ragnar x plus size reader #king ragnar x ps reader #king ragnar x plus size reader #vikings x reader #vikings x plus size reader #vikings x ps reader #vikings imagine

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literary-spirit · 3 years ago

Text

Lessons of Devotion

Chapter 6

Bonnie spent the next several days restoring Rollo's former keep. By the end of the fifth day, she moved in and Queen Aslaug gifted her with a new bed, a table, two chairs, and a large barrel to use for baths. Bjorn gave her bulks of silks, linen, furs, and leather material to fashion a wardrobe that would range from great hall feasts to raiding next spring. For that task, her magic did the bulk of the work. In no time, she had several dresses fashioned after wears she'd seen on the hit television shows Reign, Last Kingdom, and Merlin. She even threw in some retro fits from her time period. For her raiding gear, she went straight Valkyrie from Thor Ragnarök.

She stared down at the leather black raiding outfit she wore, frustrated she couldn't see the gear on her in its entirety. Craning her neck, she looked over her shoulder to see if she could catch a glimpse of her butt. "Damn, wish I had the full-length mirror from home," she mumbled to herself.

Seconds later the mirror materialized in front of her. Her bottom lip kissed the floor. Although the emergence of her mirror from thin air stunned her, the reflection which stared back at her shocked the southern fried shit out of her. Instead of her sassy twenty-seven-year-old self-staring back at her, she was staring at her scared of her own shadow eighteen-year-old senior in high school self. The self who died before she even had the chance to graduate. How? Why? She rubbed a hand over her face, unable to believe the lie her reflection attempted to tell.

A knock sounded at the door and she hurried to cover the mirror with a few bulks of stray fabric. When she turned to answer the knock, Bjorn walked in followed by Torvi and the boys. Bjorn carried a chest, while Torvi held a battle ax and a sheathed sword.

"Bonnie, you fashioned your raider's wear?" Torvi placed the weapons on the table and hurried over to spin her around. "It's made so well, you're barely able to see the stitching. Look, how the chainmail overlays the length of her arms and bosom area. Bonnie you have to make me one. Wait until Lagertha sights this."

As Torvi continued fawning over the raiding outfit, Guthrum rushed over and wound himself around one of Bonnie's legs. Hali, not to be left out, toddled over with his arms raised. Bjorn, who had since place the chest on the table next to the weapons, watched her with a complacent expression locked tight on his face. Conflict, however, incinerated his eyes until they glowed brighter and bluer than a Brazilian sky. One could only imagine the battle which waged inside his head.

"Of course, I'll make one for you," she said as she leaned down to scoop Hali into her arms.

The intensity in Bjorn's eyes doubled, when his gaze traveled over her and Hali, "You'll have to wait until after you give birth to done the garb."

"It's enough to know I'll have it when time comes," Torvi insisted, standing back to stare down the length of Bonnie once more before turning to her husband.

"Bonsie, will you come before slumber to finish the saga about the street rat, and the Jinn?" Guthrum questioned.

Bonnie squatted with Hali still in her arms pecking away at her cheek, "Yes, and if we finish early we can start on a new one."

"Alright," Bjorn said, snapping from whatever mental deliberation he wrestled with to the point of distraction, "help your mother ready the keep for Lagertha's visit on the morrow. We'll fish in the harbor once you've finished."

Torvi and Bjorn exchanged a stare that screamed a thousand words without whispering one. Torvi glanced away first to regard her with warm eyes that put cups of cocoa and comfortable furry slippers to shame, "Will we see you at second meal? Queen Aslaug does enjoy squandering a great amount of your time." She finished with an eyeroll.

"I'll be there," Bonnie smiled, handing Hali back to Torvi.

With that assurance, Torvi nodded and ushered the children from the keep. After the door to the keep closed, Bonnie's gaze moved to Bjorn. He still watched her with eyes that burned her in a place she couldn't even begin to try and soothe. "What troubles you, my protector?"

"You," he straightened from his lean on the wall. With deliberate purpose he crossed the room. "You trouble me. So does your voice that I hear even when you're not near... and your eyes that forces me to misuse time because I'm occupied staring into the trees to find their likeness in hue... but let me not misremember your mouth! For how can I misremember your mouth which tempts and mocks me just so of the point of madness...your hair, in which my hands long to fist themselves...your scent, which intoxicates and besots me until I'm no better than the village drunkard." He paused to lift her onto the table. After cupping her face in his hands he continued, "Everything about you troubles me." He dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to her lips. "And it troubles me that I'm troubled by you. It troubles me that I can't merely make you my concubine because my heart refuses to recognize you as anything other than my wife...my future queen." He kissed her again, this time slipping his tongue between her lips. The taste of him ripped a moan from the bottom of her throat. Without any real thought behind the action, her arms snaked around his neck. "Marry me, Mystical One."

In that moment all she wanted to do was drown in him. To become overwhelmed by the absolute epicness of him. And if she was just a woman and him just a man with a heart equal in measure to the demigod who stood before her, then to him she would submit. Goddess, help her, she'd become his wife and carry a minivan full of children for him. Alas, she wasn't just a woman and he wasn't just a man. They both had roles to roll with and it was too early in the game to allow emotions to get in the way of them achieving the victory history had already saw fit to deny him.

"I'm sorry, Bjorn," she leaned back from his grasp, "I can't."

Several emotions filtered across his face, but the one of pain is the one which stuck with her. "Why? I know you would be my second wife, but you have to know you'd always be first in my heart."

"There's someone else, Bjorn," she said, figuring there was no better time than the present to make Klaus' place in her life known. "There's someone I left behind, who's waiting for me back in my land."

"And he holds your affections?" He backed away from the cradle of her legs. "Even now?"

"He's my family," she said, barely above a whisper.

Bjorn scoffed, before spinning around to stalk toward the door. Opening it, he paused, "Whomever he is, he doesn't deserve you. Anyone who could misplace one as rare and precious as you, doesn't merit the treasure the gods have gifted him." With that said, he left.

Bonnie's eyes closed, and there in silence she allowed the salty liquid droplets of pain to slip freely down her face.

****

"Mother said Bjorn has spoken to her of his plans to marry, Bonnie," Hvitserk said to Ubbe's back as he followed him through the forest.

Ubbe remained silent. He already knew of his older brother's plans to marry his Mystic One. Anyone with sight could bear witness to how taken he was with the girl. Odin's eye, they all were. Her beauty and exoticness was unique to any other in Kattegat. Hel truth be heralded, anyone in all of Norway. Yet, her physical appeal only attracted one's attention, it was everything else about her which intrigued. The whole of her is what provoked many topics of conversations at the long table and had every ear trained on what she would possibly say next.

"Well, she will not have him," Ivar said, while gripping the sides of the wooden plank on which they dragged him. "She will have none of you. You all see the way she gazes upon me, hmm?"

It was true. Whenever in Ivar's presence, she couldn't keep her verdant pigmented eyes from meeting his. The strangest thing. One would think she didn't even see him as a cripple, but instead as an unbroken man who was capable of being her provider and protector.

Sigurd scoffed. "Have you ever even been with a woman, Ivar?"

"Sorry, Little Brother," Hvitserk laughed, leaning down to ruffle Ivar's hair, "Nestled between those dark thighs is my home and I do mean to return to the comforting heat of her hearth."

They reached the edge of the forest which gave way to the cove. Hvitserk was about to pull Ivar out but something with in the falls of the water snared his awareness. He raised a hand to signal for Hvitserk to halt. The shadow in the water moved into view and their collective breaths caught. There in all her bared radiance stood the matter of their debate. Her body was beyond perfection. Even through all the froth lathered over her golden bronzed skin, he could tell her tempting frame was crafted by and for Odin. For what mere mortal man would be worthy of a woman such as her?

"I don't understand?" Ivar mumbled. They turned to see there little brother gawking at the overexaggerated man stand towering in his lap. Fear glistened Ivar's already too blue gaze, "What is happening?"

"What don't you understand?" Sigurd frowned, barely tearing his eyes away from a now rinsed clean Bonnie. "Is that your first one?"

"Looks like you're not quite so boneless after all, Little Brother," Hvitserk said, reaching down to squeeze Ivar's shoulder.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Ubbe's mouth as he returned his gaze to Bonnie. She now stood on the rocks near the waterfall rubbing a liquid substance of sorts into her skin which made her rare hue glisten in the sunlight. Unable to resist her any longer, he left the cover of the trees.

"Ubbe!" he heard Hvitserk hiss.

"Where's he going?" Sigurd panicked.

"Where do you think?" Ivar answered.

****

Bonnie stood in front of the waterfall, dipping her head back. She allowed the supernaturally heated water to rinse the homemade co-wash from her head. With the pads of her fingers, she gave her scalp a deep massage. Her eyes slipped closed. Mm, she needed this after how things went down with Bjorn. No matter her feelings, she couldn't afford to lose focus.

Ansel's warning growl from the bank alerted her to be on guard. Her eyes snapped open and collided with a bottomless sky-blue gaze. Ubbe towered before her bared tanned, hard, ripped and cut the hell up with godlike precision. For a full minute they remained struck in awe of the other. Unable to take her eyes off of him, she backed away. Once she bumped into the large rock holding her belongings, she squatted to retrieve her shower scrub and a scrap of linen from her basket.

When she reclaimed her spot in front of him, she commenced to bathing him. She started with his face, and then worked her way down to his solid shoulders. There, she kneaded the rigid muscles into pliable submission. After she relieved the tension in his neck she moved on to the firm hills of his chest. With ease, she glided the rag over the dipped crevices of his abdomen. She lifted her gaze to stare in his eyes as she attempted to wrap the linen scrap around all eight inches of him. Which was no easy task since the girth of him was almost the size of her ankle in width. Once secured in her grasp, she gave him a few firm tugs that earned her a long-drawn-out moan and a couple of grunts.

"Don't marry Bjorn," he demanded in a hoarse broken whisper.

She gave him another massage infused pull, "I wasn't planning to."

"Good," He leaned down and captured her upturned mouth with his.

The kiss he rocked the hell out of her mind with was nothing like she believed him to be. Under all that arctic chill simmered a passion so fierce and wild she'd nearly missed the splashing of the water in the distance. She severed her lips from Ubbe's in time to see Sigurd and Hvitserk's glorious but naked form trotting over to them.

"Shit," she hissed, and broke away from Ubbe.

Snatching her basket from the rock, she disappeared behind the curtain of frothy falling water. Quickly, she put on white bikini bottoms and a matching wrap top, items she managed to displace from home in 2018. Once dressed she stepped back through the waterfall.

Hvitserk greeted her with one of his signature wide smiles. "Our turn." When he glanced down at her bikini bottoms, a frown battled back his previous good cheer, "What are those? Is that some strange fabric barrier to preserve chastity in this Mystic land of yours?"

"Why is your muff bare?" Sigurd questioned, fucking all over the boundaries of her personal space. "Have you not completely reached womanhood yet?"

"First, I'm not done with Ubbe yet, so you'll wait your turn." She began, addressing them both with her chin raised and hands planted on her hips. "Second, these or bikini bottoms and they're made for swimming, not preserving chastity, Hvitserk. Third, Sigurd, I'll have you know I'm all woman and the reason there is no hair down below is because I prefer a clean canvas down there. And Fourth," She looked over the three of them, "where's Ivar?"

"Back on the shore. He can't swim," Sigurd said, his tone dismissive.

She stepped closer to Hvitserk and Sigurd, palming each of their cheeks. "Will you both please get him and place him here on the rocks. This platform is large, flat, and stable. It should be safe enough for him over here." When they nodded their assent, she stood on tip toes and kissed them each on the corners of their mouths.

Once alone, Ubbe wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "I apologize for my brothers' interruption. Can I come visit you at your keep after second meal?"

"Isn't that normally when you meet Margrethe in the barn?" She asked, watching as they placed Ivar on some sort of wooden raft.

He yanked her backwards through the waterfall. When they were obscured from the view of his brothers, he allowed his hands-free reign over her body. One reached up to palm her breasts, while the other slipped into her bikini bottoms. He devoured the side of her neck with open mouth kisses. His thumb grazed over her clit in persistent brushes, provoking her overheated good-good to ooze her need all over his hand. Whimpering, she silently urged him on by further parting her legs. Instead of giving into her quiet demands he kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple. The roughness of his touch had her grinding into the heel of his hand.

"I do not care to meet Margrethe in the barn this eve," he rasped next to her ear. "I'd rather greet the next rising in your bed. Now will you have me, Valkyrie?" He tried to press two fingers in her entrance, but her good girl being a tease refused admission. After a brief pause, he downgraded to one finger and she still refused to bloom. "Are you a-,"

"Where are you two?" Sigurd yelled from outside. "We need help getting Ivar off the raft and on the boulder."

"Do you think they're-," Hvitserk began.

"No," Ivar cut him off, "Bonnie's, girdles are not nigh as light as Margrethe's."

She broke free of Ubbe's hold and straightened her bottoms. After stepping back through the waterfall, she jumped from the rock into the water and swam over to the raft. Ivar searched her face, and then looked over her shoulder at Ubbe who'd just reappeared back through the froth of water. A smirk settled on his all too willing lips.

"As I said before," Ivar said to no one in particular, "Some girdles are light and others..." his dancing gaze moved to regard her, "not so much. Greetings, my love. My brothers tell me you requested my presence over on that boulder."

Her heartbeat tapped out a peculiar rhythm upon hearing Ivar refer to her as his love. "Yep, I wanna bathe you and wash your hair. Do you have any objections to me doing so?"

His brows leaped to his hairline as he shook his head, "N-no."

For the next couple of hours, Bonnie bathed, shampooed, and groomed the Lothbroks. They each seemed to bask in the attention. Especially, when she braided Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd hair in actual designs instead of the sloppy twists they usually wore. Since Ivar's hair wasn't yet long enough for braids, she trimmed it into a precision cut. By the time they made it back to Kattegat the second meal had already begun. She was late for dinner with Bjorn and Torvi. If she didn't hurry she'd miss it altogether.

"I'll see you guys later," her gaze darted to Ubbe first before moving over all of them, "I had fun, thanks for helping me to take my mind off things."

She turned to walk towards Bjorn's and Ivar grabbed her wrist. "What things?"

She squatted and kissed him on the lips. "It doesn't matter." With that, she stood and hurried away.

****

The next rising after first meal, Bjorn greeted his mother in the great hall. People who remembered her from long before as Ragnar's first wife waited in Kattegat's long house to welcome her. Although he was happy to see his mother, only half his heart cared she visited at all. Bonnie's refusal still pained him. Why would she choose another over him? Surely, he couldn't be the only one between them who harbored such affections.

"I said, how have you fared here since your return, my son?" Lagertha's voice, delivered him from the torture which was his thoughts.

"Distracted it would appear," Astrid, his mother's...Astrid said.

Bjorn waved off their observations. "I've fared well enough. Although, Floki has informed me that the fleet he's building for the Mediterranean won't be available until next spring."

"Oh," Lagertha reached up to rub his back, "I'm sorry, Bjorn."

He shrugged. "Just as well, Torvi's carrying again."

"Bjorn, this is wonderful news," Lagertha hugged him, her smile nearly splitting her face in two. "The gods have truly favored you and Torvi."

This time he felt his own smile creep into his eyes. "They do, in truth Bonnie has assured me this babe will be a girl."

"Bonnie?" Confusion snatched Lagertha's head to the far left.

"The dark woman he brought back from his last raid," Astrid enlightened, "The one he placed under his protection."

"Ah," Lagertha's pale brows shot up as she gave a slow nod. "I remember. How is she? Is she still a part of your household?"

"No, she now resides in Rollo's former keep," Bjorn answered, while tracking Ubbe's march into the hall.

"That's better for all," his mother exhaled, seeming somewhat relieved.

"No!" Bjorn snapped, dragging his attention from Ubbe. "I do not think it's better for all. I suffer-w-we suffer very much from her absence. The sooner she agrees to become my wife, then and only then will we all be the better for it."

"Your wife?!" Lagertha low hiss shrieked. "Did you leave your wits in the wetlands of Frankia? Bjorn, you know nothing of this woman!"

"You're wrong," he placed a palm at the center of his chest, "I know exactly who she is, and I know exactly where she belongs."

"And what of Torvi? Is she content with this usurper stealing her way into your lives and making a home of your marriage?" Lagertha questioned.

Bjorn folded his arms, weary of the entire discussion. He wasn't Ragnar, Torvi wasn't Lagertha, and Bonnie wasn't, Hel take her, Aslaug. "Torvi embraces the idea of Bonnie joining us in matrimony."

His mother's eyes flared. She scoffed in disbelief. "You've been bewitched. This woman has bewitched you, just as Ragnar was so many years before you. What is it about Lothbrok men that breeds witches?"

"Mother, it may be best if you rest," Bjorn said, leveling her with a glare that would make steel fold, but more than likely meant less than horse shit to Lagertha. "The journey from Hedeby to Kattegat can be exhausting." With that said, Bjorn turned and left the great hall.

Once Bjorn disappeared from sight Lagertha looked to Astrid. "Take care of her."

Astrid nodded her understanding.

****

Unable to stay inside any longer, Bonnie decided to take a walk along the shore of the fjord. Though they were on the brink of winter, the beauty of Kattegat was heart snatching.

In her own time when she traveled, she never even considered visiting Norway. Now that she found herself stranded there surrounded by its people and exquisiteness, she couldn't understand why this place never made the bucket list.

As she continued along the bank a cloaked figure sitting on a large rock staring out at the sea caught her attention. Loneliness wafted off of him in dejected waves. When she'd binged the series with Caroline Ivar was never one of her favorite characters. He reminded her too much of Klaus. Always hurting and terrifying others to distract from the obvious detail that he too was also hurt and terrified. Back then she had zero compassion to give to bullies who thought to offer reason behind their madness. At least not until Damon became her best friend and she fell face first in love with Klaus. Now after seasons of judgement from her something within urged her to offer Ivar the consideration she never did when she watched the show.

Wrapping her cloak tighter around herself she made her way over to him. Once at his side, she joined him in staring out at the clear waters of the fjord. For a while, neither of them said anything. They just existed together in a shared moment of peace.

A several more comfortable minutes of silence, Ivar spoke without turning to look at her. "I'll wager you're pondering what a cripple could possibly be considering as he gazes at waters he can never be minded to tread."

"You're considering how far you'll go," Her words brought his disbelieving blazing stare to hers, "But you don't have to worry because you'll go far, Ivar. You'll go further than you can ever think to dream or imagine." She reached inside his cloak and interlaced her fingers with his. Laying her head on his shoulder, she turned back to the fjord.

He rested his head on top of hers, "Why'd you kiss me, hmm?"

"Because I wanted to and I knew you wanted me to," she answered reveling and drowning in him all at the same time. "You bother me, Ivar. The last time a man bothered me I fell in love with him."

"You mustn't do something as foolish as to offer me your heart, my love," He cradled her hand in both of his. "I may do something as equally foolish and accept it."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to study his face. What she saw there was the strike of lightening she'd waited twenty-seven years to see. How did one come back from Nirvana and settle for the lack-lusterless of reality? The mundane of good enough. Was he the reason? Far away yipping of a dog snatched her from the brink.

"I have to go," she whispered.

He studied her for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

She pressed her mouth to his and took a minute to savor his lips. He moaned into the kiss, reluctantly she pulled away. After she gave herself a second for her world to start spinning again, she slid from the rock and darted off toward the woods. Inside the forest, Ansel barked for her to follow him. So that's what she set out to do. After a half hour of nonstop running she could no longer see Ansel. Bonnie called out to him, but only silence answered her in return. She glanced about the overhang she stood on. Everything and nothing looked familiar. Hell, she didn't know north from south. She'd do better waiting for Ansel to return for her. She walked to the edge. A view of the fjord feeding water into her cove greeted her.

A grin teased her lips. Thoughts of her bathing the boys shamed her better judgement. She would have never pulled that shit back in Mystic Falls as a senior in high school. Hell not even as a senior citizen. With thoughts of the day before still trailing across her mind she backed away from the edge. Bjorn's sacred arm ring slipped from her wrist. When she was unable to locate it among the leaves she dropped to her knees and started sifting through the brush on the ground. As soon as her hand connected with hard metal she exhaled. She didn't know what she would tell Bjorn if she'd ever loss the symbol of their vow. Quickly, she slipped the sacred arm ring back on her wrist.

When she moved to rise something hard bashed her in the head. Fingers tangled themselves in her hair as blunted nails clawed at her scalp. With unnecessary force her head was jerked backwards. A cold jagged edge of steel bit into her neck and slid from ear to ear. The sound of howling dampened her hearing as her attacker drug her by her hair to the edge of the precipice. A well-aimed kick to the center of her back sent her tumbling over the edge. Her heart stopped long before the near freezing waters of the cove embraced her.

#bonnie bennett #ivar the boneless #bjorn ironside #hvitserk #the vampire diaries #vikings #tvd fanfiction #time travel #crossover #ubbe ragnarsson

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

Athazagoraphobia (250 Drabble)

250 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: Athazagoraphobia - (n.) the fear of forgetting, being forgotten or ignored, or being replaced

Word Count: 1003 (I’m really struggling with the less than 1k words huh?)

Warnings: Angst, lost love

A/N: I’m not making it to the five drabbles of today, I’ll post a couple of em, and the rest tomorrow. I’m sorry, but I’m a mess atm and I can’t write as much (or as well) as I’d like to. Anyways, I hope you like this, and thank you!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @xceafh @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla

You grip the edge of the ship tightly, watching the silhouette of the city taking form in the distance. A navy accompanies you, your fame precedes you; and yet you have become nothing but a wide-eyed girl with a too-soft heart the moment you saw that city in the horizon.

In all these years, you have asked yourself many times why you never returned to him, you have asked the Gods why Fate was that you forged a life across the sea from your heart, you have asked the seeresses of how he fares and whether he has forgotten you.

The answers to those questions are difficult. Some evade you, some you ignore, and some you know.

You know you haven’t returned because you found a home in the thrill of discovery; you know when he drowned on the way to England your heart broke and died in that sea, and the loss hurt too much for you to forge a life near him; you don’t know whether his heart remembers yours still, but the old and battle-worn hammer of Thor that hangs from your neck even today tells you yours does remember his.

The ships dock, and you have no more time for reminiscing.

You think you catch sight of a few familiar faces in the crowd, but the inked face of your youth approaches, and you smile with ease. He greets you with a shout of your name as you descend from your ship.

Harald approaches with a smile, and places with strong and familiar hands on your shoulders.

“It has been too long,” He laughs, “You travel with my brother to those strange lands before joining me in a raid. I should be offended.”

You shake your head, “I’d spent a few winters here already. I am not one to be tied to places, Harald.”

His smile turns to that of the King, to that of the scheming man that taught you much of what you know, and his eyes narrow.

“But you are tied to people, it seems. You return now.”

“You know why I’m here.” You state without hesitation.

“I know what you’re here for, I don’t know why.”

You motion for him to lead the way, and after a huff he does, with sure steps and the annoying expression of the cat that got the mouse.

The doors open and familiar faces greet you, though the throne room is almost deserted. When you cross the doorway three men raise their heads, ready to tell you to leave, but of course they don’t.

You don’t recognize the dark-haired man that’s with the boys you grew up with, but he doesn’t say a word.

“You came.” Hvitserk breathes, standing up and crossing the distance between you in long strides.

Before you know it, he wraps his arms around and lifts you up, huffing a laugh as you hold on tightly to his shoulders.

It feels familiar, he still smells and feels and sounds the same, and regret clogs at your throat. When you pull away, you look into his eyes,

“Your father, your mother-…I’m…I’m sorry. I should have come back sooner.”

“You are here now,” He promises, brow against yours and smile wide and easy on his lips, “That’s what matters.”

“But why are you here, huh?” Ivar taunts, cold and cruel. You try to ignore the pain it sends all the way to your chest to hear his voice again for the first time in so many years and have it be laced by hate, distrust, fury.

“You are planning on attacking Kattegat. You need as many warriors and shieldmaidens as you can get.”

“I don’t need you.” He snarls back, and you step to the side, moving yourself out from behind Hvitserk. You meet his unyielding blue eyes and stand your ground.

“People you can trust are always needed, Ivar.”

His head tilts to the side, and the curve of his smile is cruel when he says, “That’s the thing, I can’t trust you.”

You don’t waver, lifting your chin and stating, “Learn how to, then. I’m not leaving you to fight alone.”

Refusing to stand for another second the vitriol in the eyes that once looked at you with nothing but love, you turn around and leave the throne room.

Later, with the darkness of night embracing you, you find yourself standing at the edge of Tamdrup’s forests, leaning against an old tree and watching older ghosts dance before you.

You feel a presence behind you, and the unfamiliar sound of their steps startles you. Ivar stands behind you, his hand on a crutch at his side, his legs surrounded by iron.

You say nothing, eyeing him carefully as he moves closer to you. You study the way he now walks, the workings of the braces on his legs that look painful; you study the longer hair, shaved at the sides and braided to the back of his head; you study the older, more angular face of the man you love, the eyes of familiar hue but yet so foreign in their coldness.

“You’ve accomplished a lot, shieldmaiden,” Ivar starts, lacking the vitriol and cruelty from earlier. You could swear he sounds proud. “Defended Ribe, travelled to new lands…”

“So have you. Repton, York. And soon, Kattegat.” You remind him. Ivar smiles, but it is barely the pull of the side of his mouth.

A deep breath, and he asks, “Why are you here alone?”

“Alone?”

His eyes pierce into yours, but he says nothing, forcing you to understand the meaning behind his words.

You lower your gaze with a foolish smile on your lips. You fetch the pendant of Mjolnir that even after so many years still hangs from your neck, and trace over the old metal with gentle fingers.

“Someone I loved gave me this in exchange for my heart. I still have this,” You lift your gaze to his, find finally familiar blue eyes looking back. “And he still has my heart.”

____

This one will be continued in Inevitable, a Kiss prompted drabble. I’ll post it somewhere before the end of the week!

Thank you so much for reading, I love you!

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #250holyfuckthankyou #250 holy fuck thank you

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alexhogh7137 · 4 years ago

Text

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Scare

Word Count 3k

Warnings: slight angst, heavy fluff

The day after your father's attempt to end your life, you finally gave your best friend a proper burial. You and her mother wept the entirety of that day which you knew was bound to happen. You lost Thyra and you can never bring her back, but her mother informed you continuously that it was not your fault. But deep down, you will always feel a sense of guilt because the man that took her life was none other than your own father. Nonetheless, she is in a better place and is having the best time with the gods above, which brings you as well as her mother, some comfort to this tragedy. After Thyra was buried, her mother went back to Wessex, but not without having this conversation with you:

Helga "Thank you, Y/n. The burial was beautiful."

"Mmm, I am glad that I could do that for her. She did not deserve this." You began to cry again.

Helga "No she didn't, but in the end, she died for what she felt was the right thing to do."

"I would much rather have her here than her gone, Helga. She did not have to sacrifice herself-"

Helga "Your father didn't give her that chance. He killed her because she never left your side. She loved you, she still loves you."

You sniffle, "I loved her all the same. She was my sister, even if we weren't blood, she was always my sister." She nods and wipes a tear off of your cheek.

Helga "And you were hers, my sweet girl."

"Well on the plus side of life as we know it, the king is dead and Wessex will be safe again."

Helga "Oh, that is wonderful isn't it?" You nod, "But who will rule the kingdom?" You still have not thought of the concept because of all of the chaos, so you do not know what to say to her.

"I-For right now, I would like for you to gather a list of good men and women that you think will suit for being in charge, and send me the list. Once I have the letter, I will return to Wessex and give the final decision."

Helga "In charge?"

"Exactly. You see, they will not be a king nor a queen but the kingdom needs a sense of guidance and leadership in order to stay a kingdom." She nods, "But I will return every chance I get to check on everyone, especially you Helga." She smiles, "And as for a king or queen, my daughter will be queen of Wessex when she is of age."

Helga "Oh Y/n, that is so wonderful!"

You smile, "Yes. But my ruling is beside my husband. Wherever he is, I am. Ivar is the king of Kattegat, therefore I am the queen of Kattegat."

Helga "I understand."

"So, when the time comes, my daughter will rule with honor and dignity."

Helga "And so she shall."

"Now, you get home safely, yes?"

Helga "Yes. Thank you again sweetheart."

"You are so welcome." You hug and say your goodbyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five Days Later…

Ivar has sent a letter to the prince of Kiev to ask for his approval of traveling to visit. It is only a waiting game as of now.

Hvitserk "He is just going to love you, Y/n."

"Oh yeah?"

Hvitserk "Yes. He is a sucker for beauty such as yours." He caresses your cheek, making you blush.

Ivar "Yes but this time, I will be going there with my own queen." He smiles.

"A very pregnant queen, at that." You say as you rub your growing belly and sigh because you feel huge. You still have a few months to go before your little goddess joins the world but you think to yourself, 'how am I going to get any bigger than this?!'

Ivar "You are glowing, my sweet. You are more than perfect."

"Thank you, my love." He leans down and kisses your lips, "I'm just so excited to meet her."

Hvitserk "She will bring so much joy to our lives."

Ivar "Oh that is certain. As soon as she is born, she will be a new and bright, shining light in all of our lives." You smile at the thought. You and baby girl have gone through so much together and she hasn't even been born yet. She will be told stories about how strong she is and she will learn of her legacy and past ancestors. She will know all and then she will make her own story, create a wonderful life for herself, as you did.

Hvitserk stands up from sitting down on a tree stump and walks over to join his brother in eating some chicken wings. You use your belly as a table as you snack on little bits of whatever you could find. You catch Ivar just staring at you and smirking.

"What?"

Ivar "Oh nothing." Hvitserk chuckles.

"What is it? You were staring."

Ivar "What?! I cannot stare at my beautiful wife?" He shouts, making you giggle.

"But I am just eating, how can I be-"

Hvitserk "It does not matter, you are always beautiful, Y/n." You don't know what to say. They make you feel so special and so loved that you are lost for words most of the time.

"Thank you, Hvitserk." He winks at you and continues to eat. After a few minutes, Ubbe and Torvi come join you three outside, enjoying the weather. Today is the first warm day of the year which brings your heart joy and warmth.

Torvi "Uh, it is so lovely today." She says as she sits down next to you.

"It is."

Ubbe "Maybe it will melt the little snow that we have left."

"I'm sure that my dragons are enjoying this weather.." you say as you look over at them, playing with each other.

Ivar "Mm, do you remember when they experienced their first snowfall, my love?"

"Oh of course I do. They were so small." You smile at the memory, "Their eyes sparkled!"

Ivar smiles, "It was the cutest thing!"

Hvitserk "Where was I?"

"On a trade shipment with Ubbe." He nods as if he remembered.

Hvitserk "Now we have new memories with them-"

Ubbe "And many more to come, aye?!"

You smile, "They are such a blessing, aren't they?"

Torvi "A true gift from the gods, just like your daughter." She places her hand on your belly.

"Mmm." That's all you can say, really. You are just so grateful to be carrying this miracle child in your core that you can only say the bare minimum.

Ubbe "So, has Prince Oleg sent a letter yet?"

Ivar "Not yet. He will though, I am sure of it."

Hvitserk "Will you be coming with us, brother?" Ubbe looks over at Torvi and she looks saddened. She hates it when Ubbe is gone for long periods of time, and if he were to go, he would not be home for two weeks. So Ubbe thinks for a moment before answering his brother.

Ubbe "I do not think so."

Ivar "And why is that?"

Ubbe "Because I would like to stay home with my wife and children." Torvi smiles.

Ivar nods, "I see, well, will you look after Kattegat while we are away, huh?"

Ubbe "Of course." You three spend some time together before you all had to attend to your responsibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Few Hours Later…

"Do you hear that?" Ivar looks over at where the sound is coming from and nods.

Ivar "You go inside and rest-"

You and Ivar have been helping around the village: checking in your people, feeding them and making sure of their wellbeing, while Hvitserk and Ubbe tended to the hunting. You were just about to go inside to rest your body when you heard commotion going on by your dragon's resting rock.

"No, I can rest later." You don't let him respond before you walk off and towards your dragon's. Once you see what the noise was, you were infuriated.

"Hey! They are not toys, get off of them!" To your shock, there are children attempting to get on top of your dragon's, making them very irritated.

Ivar "Aye, you four, c'mere!" Once Ivar joined your side, the kids left your dragon's alone. When the four boys got in front of you two, they could not look either of you in the eye.

"Why would you do that to them? They are not a playground."

"I am sorry, my queen." They said.

"You could have gotten seriously hurt, boys. I care for your safety, as well as my dragon's safety. So please, do not attempt to get on them anymore. Do you promise?"

"We promise." The eldest one said for the four of them.

"Right...you boys run along now." They scatter as soon as you give the order. But soon enough, their parents come to you, begging for their forgiveness.

Ivar "The only person or person's allowed on those dragon's are your queen and I."

"I understand completely, my king." The mother said, "I turned away from them for a second and-"

"They are fast kids." The father said.

"I understand, truly I do. Anything can happen in a matter of minutes or even in the matter of seconds. Your children could have gotten seriously hurt."

Ivar "It is a good thing that your queen heard them in time."

"And I am forever in your debt, my queen." The mother said.

"All I ask from you is to keep a better eye on your boys. I might not be able to come to their aid the next time something occurs."

Ivar "In fact, isn't that your job, hmm? As their parents, you two should watch over them and keep them safe, no?"

"Yes!" They both said.

Ivar "Then keep them safe by keeping them close. If those dragon's weren't kind and gentle, your children could have been eaten in seconds. Do you understand?" They nod.

"Good. Now, I suggest you inform them of what we told you."

"Of course, my queen." The father said.

"Very well, if you'll excuse me." You walk past them and towards your dragon's who are very agitated. You place your hand up for them to sniff you. Once they do, their senses calm instantly.

…

"I know, I'm here." Neith lays her head down by your feet so that you can pet her scales.

"I won't let anyone use you as their playground. Any of you." You say as you look over at your boys. They blink at you so that you know that they understand you.

"Tomorrow, we can go flying, how does that sound?" All three of them bolt their heads upwards in a playful manner.

"I will take that as a yes." You laugh. You feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

Ivar "Are they okay now?"

"They are. They were just confused is all."

Ivar "Mm, I could only imagine how that made them feel."

"I told them that I would fly with them tomorrow. We haven't done that in such a long time..just me and them."

Ivar nods and kisses your forehead, "Just be safe while you fly, hmm?"

"I will." He smiles and takes you inside for the both of you to rest.

As night fell, all you could think about is taking a warm bath and then placing your head on a cold pillow and falling asleep. Your feet were swollen and your legs felt like they were going to break in half so you figured that a warm bath would suffice. Therefore, you asked for a maiden to run one for you, to which she obliged.

Ivar pulls you into his side while you wait for the water to fill up. When you are in his arms, you forget all about being sore.

Ivar "A bath will help, my sweet."

"Mm, I know."

Ivar "Oh look," he looks at the entrance, "the idiot's are back."

"Hey.." he laughs.

Ivar "Sorry, I know." Hvitserk smiles as soon as he locks eyes with the mother of his daughter. He makes his way over to you and he sees how swollen you are and he frowns.

Hvitserk "Are you alright?"

"Oh I am fine. Just been on my feet for too long. The maiden's are running me a bath."

Hvitserk "Oh good." He kisses your head.

Ivar "Any big catch today, my brothers?"

Ubbe "Three deer, a few rabbits.."

Ivar "That is good. Now that it is getting warmer, more food to catch aye?"

Ubbe nods, "That is true."

"My queen, your bath is ready."

"Wonderful, thank you dear." She bows and tends to other matters. "I will be out soon."

Ivar "Do you need help getting in, my love?"

"I think that I can manage." You offer a warm smile before wobbling your way to the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you undress to get into the tub, you realize how hard it is to balance by yourself. Your feet are the size of pumpkins *to you, they feel like they are* and your legs feel like they are about to go numb from the aching. You try and hurry to get yourself into the tub before you physically can't do it yourself. But in rushing, you fall short of breath and have to take a breather by the vanity. You look at yourself in the mirror and realize that this feeling is not a burden, it is a pleasure to be able carry a human within you. This calms down your breathing but you hear a knock on the door, making you hurry up to cover yourself.

"Uhm, who is it?"

Hvitserk "It is me."

"Oh, come in." When he enters, he offers a small smile.

Hvitserk "I had to come to see if you made it in safely..."

You sigh, "I am kind of glad that you did."

Hvitserk "How can I help?"

"I can't get the back of my dress." He walks over and undoes your dress and helps you into the tub without hesitation. "Thank you." Your eyes begin to close as the warmth of the water sinks into your skin and through your bones. Hvitserk kneels down and sits by the tub.

Hvitserk "Of course, kitten. I'll always be there to help you."

"And I will do the same for you, Hvitserk." He giggles, "What?"

Hvitserk "Nothing, sweetheart. You are just so sweet is all."

"I try to be. All of the time...it's draining.." you sigh as he begins to play with your hair.

Hvitserk "I know this to be true. I try to be as kind as you but sometimes it gets me nowhere.."

"I suppose I am the way I am because of my parents."

Hvitserk "That is why. Our parents shape us, but our pain and suffering strengthens us."

"You are right."

Hvitserk smiles, "Are you feeling a little better now?"

"You always make me feel better Hvitserk."

Hvitserk chuckles, "No I meant, is the bath helping you."

"Oh, yes it is. Thank gods.."

Hvitserk nods, "Good. That makes me happy, love. But, I will be outside if you need me, I am starving." He kisses your head.

"Okay." You say as you laugh. As he leaves, you can't stop smiling.

When you get out of the tub, your muscles are so relaxed that you had to force yourself to get out of the warm bath to get to your bed. You can't take the chance of falling asleep submerged in water, gods know what could have happened if you did. So without hesitation, you got out of your bath and slipped on a soft robe and made your way to the door. As you open it, Ivar is waiting for you on the bed.

Ivar "My sweet, how was your bath?"

"It was divine!"

Ivar "Mm, that is good." He smiles and then he frowns.

"Ivar, what is it?"

Ivar "Nothing Y/n, I've come to the realization that Hvitserk has not had the pleasure of your company in quite some time."

"Oh, yes I know. Just with the battle and everything, I needed to be by my husband's side at all times." He smiles and kisses your lips.

Ivar "I love you so much, do you know that?"

"I do, I know it well. I love you too, beloved." He kisses you again but more passionately, making you both moan.

Ivar "You go ahead. You can sleep with him tonight if you'd like."

"Are you certain?"

Ivar "Absolutely. I always seem to forget that that little princess in there is not truthfully mine, she is my brother's-"

"She is still your daughter, Ivar. Just in a different way."

Ivar smiles from ear to ear, "I know she is, but I have to be kind...you taught me to be kind and loving. So, yes..go be with him tonight. If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Sweet dreams, my love." You kiss him once again.

Ivar "You as well, princess." You are so happy that Ivar said those words because you were hoping to be with Hvitserk tonight. You haven't been in his arms since the night before the battle. With great haste, you made your way to Hvitserk's room. He was already in a sleep state when you opened the door and found him on his bed.

Hvitserk "Hey..is every-"

"I just wanted to be with you tonight, is that okay?" He rises from his position and opens his arms for you. You allow him to engulf you with his arms and immediately feel a sense of tranquility run through your body.

Hvitserk "I was hoping that you would be with me tonight. It's been so long."

"I know. Ivar suggested it because we have not been able too, so I was not going to refuse his offer." You laugh.

Hvitserk "I am glad that you are here, kitten." He kisses your head but you pull his face down and towards your lips. He captures them with love and affection. It feels like the very first time he ever kissed you and that feeling is one of the best feelings that you have ever experienced.

Hvitserk "I love you."

"And I love you back." He smiles and kisses you again. After a while, you both fell asleep in each other's embrace. Today had its obstacles, but it ended in a wonderful way.

@hvitserkmarcosource @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @a-mess-of-fandoms @herestherealproblem @saldelys @heavenly1927 @conaionaru

#the battle between love and fire #alex hogh andersen #hvitserk #vikings #ivar the boneless #ubbe lothbrok #marco ilsoe #ivar the god #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #torvi vikings

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