#angrboda flokisdottir

[majesticwren]

The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. In her life made of choices, war, magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 10k Trigger Warnings: Ivar is his own Trigger Warning, Mention of Sex, Mention of Rape, Mention of Murder, Violence. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @miss-madness67 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 14 - The Feast.

Summer finally came.

The warmth of its Sun burst all over Norway.

The cities and villages all over the country were filled with flowers décors, feasts and celebrations.

The forest's landscape changed. Their evergreen gloomy look, with its deep shades of greens and browns, now bloomed with warm and bright colours given by new flowers and mushrooms. The always humid air carrying its heavy earthy scent was now accompanied by the cheerful chirping birds that populated the area.

It seemed as if everyone welcomed the arrival of the season.

The fairies sang new songs from faraway places, and the wind carried the smell and echoes of numerous festivals.

With the arrival of the season, together with its fruits and crops, something else ripened: Bjorn’s fleet.

Floki worked restlessly on his ships, to finish them on time as he predicted. Helga and Angrboda both helped throughout the entire month it has passed.

And they were finally ready.

Their sails were coloured in warm shades of yellows and oranges, following the colour pattern that the shields of Bjorn’s men would have added to the sides of the ships. Some sails showed runes on them and every longship keel had protection and fortune runes carved into them.

Their dragons watched over the fjord proudly, and over them stood the tallest dragon of the leading longship, made by worked iron and wood; it was an intricate piece of art. Its sail had painted a meaningful opened eye thirsty for discovery. It was an ode to Bjorn, so he may lead his men to great fortunes guiding them towards the Mediterranean Sea.

Helga and Angrboda worked on replenishing the ships with barrels of fresh water, extra ropes and cloths and rags, and empty boxes or bags that would have been filled up by provisions on a large scale just in Kattegat, before leaving.

But they also got their spot ready on the head-ship, loading it with a bag filled with several healing herbs, ingredients and clean bandages, with Floki and Angrboda’s weapons ready for battle, and with a few spare clothes and some food.

Word was sent to both Bjorn in Kattegat and King Harald in Tamdrup.

Because if the ships were finally ready, then it meant for them it was time to leave.

As hard as they would work on the ships, as much work was put into Angrboda’s training.

Most of it was based on lots of meditation and making her anger surface, to create a controlled crisis, and make her calm her own soul down.

But Floki also focused on Angrboda's power of sight.

There weren't any notions she didn’t know already about how to read the runes, but they still used them to interpret signs, dreams, and visions. Or to get them. And she learned then that sometimes, even for a connection or a vision, a sacrifice was needed – a toll in blood, to have clearer signs.

Angrboda found herself stacking stones and reading runes all over again, as she did when she was a child. Only, this time it all had such different meaning and purpose. It wasn’t a game anymore, but harvesting her mind.

At the beginning of their training, it was hard. The first few days, Angrboda felt like she was losing ground on the minimum control she thought she had on her abilities. Pressuring her powers to surface, either visions or whatever it was that Floki called Death-Bringer, discombobulated her entire being and it was mostly painful.

It was like there was a wall inside of her, trapping everything in. Behind which her darkness and some abilities would mostly hide. There was a whole side to her being and nature that Angrboda herself was blind to. To discover it, she had to tear that wall down.

It was a real fight. A siege happening right inside of her. It was her fighting against herself.

But slowly throughout the weeks, it became easier for some aspects. While some remained hidden away.

Floki would not neglect Angrboda’s need for combat training either. It was during one of their fights, that Floki realised losing grip on his axe handle, or suddenly missing a step, wasn’t natural, but commanded.

So, Angrboda found a new ability she never knew she had – she could yield the luck of someone in restricted situations.

She knew she could have some sort of control over the luck of a restricted and very quick situation. It couldn’t be something planned. In that case, it wouldn’t work. So, even saying she had control, was not entirely correct – because she didn’t know the entire situation. But if the moment was right and favourable, then she was able to make someone trip and fall, or lose their weapon, or anything they carried. But that particular ability was probably the most feeble one she possessed. Impossible to predict or control, therefore not to be completely trusted.

Floki and she trained day and night, every time they weren’t working at the ships. But as much as her father wanted to push her to see how far she could go, there were still limits Angrboda wasn’t able to break.

And then there was something Angrboda trained on her own. Her connection with Ivar.

She still wouldn’t accept things changing. But her bond with Ivar changed. Yet Angrboda had no problem considering that same bond she was so opposed to, as if it was something that now defined her.

Runes and meditation were not enough, sometimes, to channel their bond. But when they worked, she managed to have clearer synchronisation with Ivar’s aura.

Sometimes, she wasn’t able to control the spikes of extraneous emotion she felt, much less she was able to completely understand them. It happened only once. One of Ivar’s violent waves of rage was so deep and consuming to let her hear his wrath shout as if he was in front of her and not miles and miles away.

That feeling was enough to shake Angrboda to her core, to the point time and space wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Ivar’s pain. She didn’t even know what caused it precisely, and it didn’t matter.

That time, instead of perceiving the world through Ivar’s eyes, like a latent force hiding inside of him spying the world he saw, as it generally worked when she managed to link to him, Angrboda was instead projected into his world, next to him.

The scene around him was chaotic and faded – she knew she was at the Hall, she recognized its smell and knew just because Ivar knew, but wasn’t sure who else was there, she was clearly connected just to him and felt every aspect of his furious desperation.

At that moment, even if it was just a second, Angrboda didn’t accept the fact that her powers showed once more to be growing. She didn’t want to see that scene from the outside, being connected yet separated from Ivar. She wanted to crawl back inside of his chest and surround him, to protect him from his sorrows.

Because his fury, as violent and scary as it could be, exploded as a protection mechanism. It was his loneliness, the usual pain of existence, and the constant being aware or reminded to be different, that quickly moulded into pride, and as soon as his pride was hurt, it caught fire. Just then Ivar could truly become destructive.

The night this episode happened, their connection was strong. The strongest it has ever been throughout their entire life. Yet at the same time feeble and volatile, and it did last no longer than a few seconds.

Which, then, was mostly what Angrboda tried and focus on. More than its depth, its focus and duration.

Her connection with Ivar didn’t disappear day by day, as she naively imagined it would do at the beginning. So, she studied it.

Angrboda imagined there would have been a reason why it happened. Surely, there was a reason for that bond with Ivar, even if she could not quite imagine it yet.

She took time to wonder, though, whether or not would every man she welcomed in her bed bond to her soul that way?

That theory was soon to be dropped. It didn’t happen with Hvitserk. Not to that degree.

But with Hvitserk she had a completely different type of connection. She wouldn’t feel what he felt unless she was close to him. But even if she was so distant from him, she felt his light. She knew where he was. Always.

It worked and felt the same way it would to look up in the sky and look for one’s favourite star or constellation. She knew where to look, she expected to find that light, and she felt better knowing it shined bright. She needed just to look up, through the landscapes, forests, mountains and bodies of water, and Hvitserk’s light would be there.

But Angrboda had that bond with him since they were kids, it didn’t develop with sex.

Angrboda’s theories on why such a deep soul-tying connection with Ivar could have happened were vast and numerous. But also easily debunked.

Throughout that entire month, the Gods were extremely quiet. Angrboda never felt anything. Not even the howling of wolves carried by the wind.

She expected to feel Loki in some kind of way. And she expected the God’s anger regarding her closeness with Ivar. But that didn’t happen, and Angrboda doubted it was because the God could have been blind to it. Possibly, it could be because he chose to spare her.

Though, the space the Gods left her didn’t make her feel lonely or lost, but enough to be able to breathe.

Now, Angrboda sat on the step of the porch just outside her house, in the centre of Kattegat.

Her eyes gently caressed the roofs of the nearby houses and the street passing by.

Kattegat was animated by a buzz of energy and warmth, it hummed and glowed. Music could be heard everywhere, and jolly chattering accompanied it, mixed with the smell of flowers that decorated the city and the smell of various cooked foods carried by the wind.

The smell of charcoal and roasted meats mixed with the sweeter smell of dried up candied fruit.

Everyone was ready to participate in the celebrations in order to honour Bjorn Ironside fleet and his journey.

How many times before she already saw a similar scenario? How many times did Kattegat buzz and glow like that?

Yet, it felt different. The ground she walked on felt different, as the air she breathed did.

She felt different.

Angrboda patiently waited for her parents to join her, so they could reach for the Main Hall, which would harbour a great feast that night.

She wasn’t sure if she liked living in the city more than the cabin. But she still had to admit she missed it.

Even though being suddenly surrounded by so many people was a bit overwhelming after weeks alone with just Floki, Helga and Ragnar, when he visited to spend the night. She still managed to keep a good grip over her control.

After the word was sent to Bjorn and Kind Harald, it became a matter of time before Harald’s ships flocked into the fjord, heading towards Kattegat. When the two fleets merged then the King’s men helped Floki take the boats back to Kattegat.

After their great arrival at the port, immediately the preparations for the journey began. Everyone knew it was just a matter of days.

“Are you ready?” Floki’s voice squeaked with a giggle, distracting Angrboda from all the thoughts and mind-travelling.

She quickly turned over to him and was welcomed with a smile. Floki just looked at her for a moment, his head tipped to the side. Then, he pulled his hand in front of her. “It will be ok.”

“I know it will.”

He didn’t respond but with a smile and waited for her to grab his hand so to give her a pull-up, helping her to get up.

Of course, there was no need for any explanation. Angrboda knew Floki felt her sharp anxiety.

Truth was that more than finding herself between so many people for the first time in weeks, and more than the idea that the next day they would have left the life they always knew to that point, to reach for new, exciting and unknown adventures – Angrboda was shaken to the core by the idea she would have found herself in the same room with Hvitserk and Ivar after so long and after everything that had happened.

Angrboda ran her hands through the folds of the skirt of the dress she was wearing, making an exception to her usual dressing code for that evening.

For once, Angrboda accepted the idea of being more feminine. She borrowed one of her mother's dresses. A green one, which Helga praised to be a good colour to go with her hair.

Helga soon joined them, hopping out of the house buzzing with such warm energy, clearly looking forward to celebrating at the feast and to their travels.

"We should go, then." Announced Floki looking at his wife, who answered him with a tiny smirk. "Almost ready, dear." Helga moved towards Angrboda, pulling from behind her back a thin floral crown. A giggle left her chest, while she proudly waited for her daughter's reaction, seeing her gift.

Angrboda eyes widened while she looked at it, with its soft lilac bellflowers, yellow daisies and blue liverworts. A genuine, huge smile appeared on her face. "Mother! You didn't have to!" Angrboda squeaked, shaking her head.

Helga shook her words off with a nod, stepping closer.

"There." She placed the crown on top of Angrboda's head and then just stood there for a second, looking at her, sided by Floki. From both her parents’ look Angrboda received such pride and love, to flood her heart completely.

Angrboda smiled and leaned closer to Helga, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, mother."

"We must show everyone who's the prettiest girl!"

Angrboda just smiled lazing greatly in the idea that night was special yet simple and common.

Generally, she would take pride in her strength more than her looks. She wanted to be known as a warrior, she wanted to die honourably in battle, holding her axe. She wanted her name to be renowned among their people, thirsty for fame and conquering as every young Viking.

But that day she was just a girl like any other, about to participate to a feast and celebrate among friends and her people. And she liked that idea.

So, she decided she was entitled to feeling pretty. She even found herself wondering about the possibility of catching others' attention – just for pure vanity.

Floki, Helga and Angrboda followed a group of people up the road, reaching for the Hall. Angrboda walked behind her parents, enjoying listening and observing everything that surrounded her.

Kattegat at dusk was overflowing with the orange light of the many fires lit all around the city, mirroring the spectacle of the sky.

The same energy that hummed throughout Kattegat and its people, buzzed through Angrboda, crawling under her skin.

Feasts and festivals weren’t new, and those weren’t her first celebrations, of course. Yet it was the load of great expectations everyone had, that she herself had, about setting sails and leaving towards the unknown, that made it different.

Many other people were crowding the Hall already. The air smelled of redwood, furs, ale and roasted boar, and it was soaked in bright emotions.

For once, Angrboda didn't dislike the idea of participating in such a big event, being surrounded by such a big crowd.

At the door together with the guards, stood tall and proud Ubbe, who seemed to be busy welcoming a few guests.

As soon as Angrboda saw him, she immediately bolted towards the Ragnarsson.

“Ubbe!” She shouted, tackling him in a tight hug.

Ubbe took a second to react, and embraced her in a brotherly hug, welcoming her with a laugh.

Angrboda took a deep breath, inhaling his aura.

She had to admit she missed him.

She missed all of them – even Sigurd. For different reasons, of course. But the Ragnarssons were still part of her, like family.

Angrboda moved away and met Ubbe’s inspecting look that crossed her figure. “I was almost expecting to find you taller, or older-” Ubbe’s attention got caught by something else, and before Angrboda could say anything, he moved, raising his hands and fixing her crown of flowers – which moved to the side while they hugged. “-Better.” Ubbe stated with a wise nod, then offered her a smile.

Angrboda gave him a playful push, shaking her head. “Your jokes are not funny!”

“Oh – they are really funny.” Ubbe’s words were paired with a smart smirk.

Floki and Helga joined them and to both Ubbe directed a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Ubbe.” Her father's voice danced in those words, synchronized with the movements of his head and shoulders.

“Floki! Helga! Welcome, please enter, have a drink and enjoy.”

Floki smiled and just nodded towards Ubbe, indulging in following his invitation. Helga was right behind him but exchanged one last look with Angrboda before entering the Hall.

Angrboda was ready to do the same, but Ubbe caught her attention. “Hold on a second.”

“What is it?”

“You owe me a talk. I haven’t forgotten.”

It suddenly dawned on her, the weight of his words.

He wasn’t wrong. She remembered from the last time they saw each other. Yet Angrboda hoped that maybe Ubbe could have let it go, since so much time passed by.

But he clearly didn’t.

The last thing she wanted to do now was having to defend her pride, integrity, and the decisions she took.

But mostly, having to explain to Ubbe what went on a month earlier, was something that would have inevitably brought memories and feelings back. Feelings she was trying desperately to ignore and drown.

Angrboda huffed and her body seemed to sag on itself while all her energies suddenly left her and sunk through the ground. “Do we have to? Now?”

“I’m afraid so, little-one.”

Angrboda sent a meaningful look to the Hall doors and another sight left her lips.

The idea of having to delay her entrance felt heavy on her chest – she knew Hvitserk was inside, same for Ivar. And she wanted to see them.

“Can we have this conversation in a few minutes? I haven’t even seen the room!”

“Last time that you said later, you disappeared for a month. So, I would rather not.”

“I didn’t disappear to avoid you.” Angrboda lowered her eyes, muttering those words that had serious meaning, in the same way, a child would complain about eating onions.

She huffed once more and shaking the slight annoyance off, she nodded towards Ubbe. “Ok, let’s do this.”

With another nod, Angrboda moved away from the main entrance, imagining Ubbe would follow her.

The situation with all the other brothers was compromised now, in a way or the other. The only one she could consider a friend truly was Ubbe. And she didn’t like the idea that some kind of tension could arise between them too.

“So?” Angrboda turned suddenly towards him, raising her green eyes and proud chin.

She didn’t need to feel his aura to know that he had everyone best interests in mind. She knew he acted out of care and that his concerns were dictated by his honest heart – to be honest, he wasn’t even so wrong having certain doubts.

She knew and accepted it. Yet, she didn’t like the idea of having to justify her decisions.

“So, what’s going on?”

“What do you want to know, specifically.”

“Well, first of all – we didn’t expect you to disappear.”

“I didn’t. I was just at the cabin, helping my father with the ships.”

“You weren’t here. Not even once you visited.”

“I could say the same for you, but I’m not accusing anybody, am I?” Angrboda bit her tongue and forced her words to slow down, releasing her frustration in a sigh, instead of more, unnecessary venom.

“You just left. You left my brother on his own waiting for us to go and pick him up.” Ubbe’s blue eyes seemed to catch fire. Again, she didn’t need to feel his annoyance to know he clearly didn’t approve of her move.

And she agreed.

But waking up that morning and having to separate from Ivar to go back to their regular lives and to who they were before was painful enough. And every second she spent in that hut with sudden frost falling between Ivar and her was agony. It broke her heart and sunk her in melancholy. Every second made her wish to crawl back into bed with Ivar just to be skin to skin with him and see his true self.

“I left. I left him. I know.”

All her thoughts were supposed to become words. Then maybe, they would have been a good enough explanation, something Ubbe would have appreciated. But they didn’t leave her lips.

Though as she lowered her eyes the sudden spike of pain and melancholy that hit her was clear.

Even if she was not proud of it and she wished to hide it away, feeling too protective of her feelings towards Ivar to show them to anyone, she did raise her eyes letting Ubbe see her face. Hoping he would get a glimpse of what she felt.

Ubbe looked at her for a long couple of seconds and then, his icy blue eyes seem to become calmer.

He sighed and then moved towards her.

Angrboda felt his aura welcome and absorb the pain she showed to a degree she wasn’t even aware of. And she felt his emotions crack and move. His concern shifted towards her.

Ubbe moved, raising a hand to her face and scooped her cheek up into his palm, giving her a meaningful look. “What is going on, Angrboda? You have to tell me. I don’t understand. I’m trying- I tried.”

Angrboda just rested against his hold and reacted just with a sigh of relief while Ubbe quickly kept talking.

“Ivar won’t talk about what happened between you two. Not even to praise it. Which is weird, we all know him. And I thought you cared for Hvitserk. I know you two had some kind of unresolved business, but, I always thought-”

“I care.” Angrboda's eyes sparkled with sudden decision. “You know I care.”

“I don’t know anymore. Then why? If you care-”

“Because I care for Ivar too. And me and Hvitserk- We cannot happen. Don’t question me, just trust me on this one.”

“He loves you. You know that, yes?”

Angrboda lowered her eyes once more and this time, she looked for distance from Ubbe. She moved away, crossing her arms to her chest, more in a hug to her own figure than a defensive position. “Of course, I know.”

“You owe him an explanation.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t know you at all, lately?”

Angrboda turned over to him, shaking her head. Her eyes burned with all the emotions she wasn’t allowed to speak of – yet were there. Always. “Knowing. Feeling Hvitserk’s love rips me off from the inside. More than his pain. Don’t lecture me about what I have to do because I very well know what I should do – and what I’m allowed to do. Which are two different things. I cannot speak of everything that is happening, Ubbe. But I have my reasons and Hvitserk is better off without me.”

As soon as she started hinting about those things she wasn’t allowed to speak about, Angrboda felt her throat tingle in an increasingly more nagging ailment, but she pushed her words, mixed with her decision and anger, through vehemently.

She wanted Ubbe to understand that her situation wasn’t so easily judged as it appeared. As himself was quick to jump to the wrong conclusions.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“Yes, well- And the truth about Ivar is simple: he asked me to lay with him, because he wanted to be with a woman, to be like all of you guys. I felt honoured to do so. And I thought it would break Hvitserk’s heart enough to finally separate us. Simple as that. Ivar knows my reasons and knows his own reasons-" she looked at Ubbe, glaring into his blue eyes. Truth sparkled through her irises. "-what happened throughout the night it’s no one else’s business. But you need to understand, I care for Ivar deeply. We used each other – and still care for one another. That’s all.”

“Is it so?”

“Yes.”

“Well. You definitely broke Hvitserk’s heart. But I’m not sure he will ever stop loving you.” Finally, the glimpse of a smile appeared on Ubbe’s lips and quickly spread through to Angrboda. She smirked back, knowing Ubbe was not joking or taking his words any less seriously, yet welcoming that break of tension.

Especially when she perfectly knew Ubbe spoke the truth.

How could it be any different? She was Hvitserk’s soulmate. And he hers. What they felt for each other would have never died. But that was ok, they just needed to quiet it down enough to be able to ignore it.

“Now, I’ve been meaning to ask how you are, but you are particularly elusive – and I cannot even say I’m surprised about it. Be it on purpose or not, I’m glad you are here.”

“I am ok, thank you. As much as I can be. And I am happy to be here too. How are you?”

“I’m good. It’s been difficult, lately, trying to keep everyone at peace.”

“Why?”

Ubbe took a deep breath and looked away. A sudden wave of awkwardness surrounded him and it seemed clear he didn’t want to have that conversation.

“Ubbe.” Angrboda called him back, moving to bring his eyes back, focusing on her. “What happened?”

“The tension between Sigurd and Ivar is getting heavier and heavier by the day. They cannot be left in the same room or they will bite each other heads off.”

“Oh-”

“And-” Ubbe paused and then released a deep huff looking away once more if his emotions weren’t clear enough, his distress was noticeable enough by the stiffness of his neck and shoulders.

“Ubbe?”

“There’s been rumours going around, lately. People are talking, a lot – and it doesn’t help anyone.”

“I’ve been out of town. What are they saying then?”

“It got worse, Angrboda. All the chattering about you and your character and involvement with us. It got worse. People think you’re up to no-good now more than ever. In fact, I think it will be better if you sit around us later.”

Angrboda shook her head and shrugged, scoffing a laugh. “Don’t you think that would make it worse, actually?”

“Yes. And no, because we can keep an eye out for you. Me and Hvitserk, that is, of course. So, I don’t care what they think but I rather have you safe.”

“I don’t need guards, Ubbe. I am fine.”

“Yes, I think you do. Listen to me and swallow your pride for once. Either be with us or stay next to your father – but keep your eyes open.”

“Do you think people would actually-”

“I think you stand in a dangerous position. Especially tonight. You will leave tomorrow – and you will have your chance to prove your worth, I am sure. But for now, people do not respect you enough.”

Angrboda frowned and felt suddenly dizzy, not entirely able to understand the degree Ubbe’s words had.

She knew people didn’t like her. And she knew sometimes she wasn’t safe to be on her own. But to a public event, so celebrative like a feast. Not being safe then meant that public opinion really got worse and worse.

Why she didn’t feel anything about it? Why the whispers didn’t suggest anything to her ear?

Did the Gods send Ubbe to talk to her specifically?

“And there’s more-”

“What else?”

“Voice got out – of your relationship with Hvitserk. And with Ivar. It’s- I don’t know how – but it’s now out there, and it’s backlashing on you. People are more convinced than ever you’re manipulating us.”

“Oh-oh, no. How did it happen?! No one knew! But a few-”

“If I have to take a wild guess…” Ubbe sent her a meaningful look and Angrboda didn’t need him to say anything to understand clearly where his thoughts went.

Sigurd.

Why was he on such a strong crusade against her?

She knew he didn’t like her but to get to such a point?

“I know these rumours are stupid – most of us know. But there’s not much we can do and you weren’t around to vouch for yourself. It got out of hand.”

“You should have said something sooner! You-”

“What could we have done? I think it was actually better that you stayed away. I think it would have become unbearable if you were around. Some people with still a crumb of brain in their heads actually noticed your absence, and that’s why some do recognise the rumours as nothing more.”

“Why do I feel like there’s something more?”

“Because there is-”

Angrboda just waited – thinking that if she had to digest her feelings, and come to terms with the idea she could get lynched any second now, might as well be hit by whatever else lurked for her.

“I will say it now and I will say it once, ok? I expect you to behave, after what I have to say. I want you to keep it quiet, and if you have to sort any situation, do it privately. Not because I wouldn’t back you up – but because this evening is important to us. There are Kings and emissaries at the Hall, we cannot-”

“Yes, I understand, stop patronizing me. What else has happened?”

“If you do care for Ivar, as you said, then you should speak to him.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Ivar?”

Ubbe sighed. He felt so uncomfortable with the idea of talking forward, that the feeling crawled under her skin so deeply to give her a shiver.

Angrboda could almost feel how many times he bit his tongue before explaining.

“Just speak to him, later on.”

The feast proceeded between music, ale, food and laughter.

Every guest seemed to be enjoying their time and throughout the night both people from Tamdrup and Kattegat mixed together as one in loud chattering and general celebration.

Even Angrboda, despite everything, managed to have some fun.

She did as Ubbe suggested: she swallowed her pride and occupied a seat next to him and Hvitserk, accepting their protection.

In the beginning, the whole situation felt awkward and she felt extremely uncomfortable under her own skin. Especially sitting next to Hvitserk.

For obvious reasons, it felt like a heavy winter fell between them – but with Ubbe’s help and some ale aid, soon Hvitserk’s spirit melted enough to push their awkward sorrows aside. And they had fun, cracking jokes and exchanging stories, people watching, even dancing at some point.

It was nice. She actually managed to forget who she was, deceiving herself to an apparent fraction of reality as a normal person.

Angrboda did her best to ignore Sigurd’s presence or every emotion coming from his aura. Even if it was hard.

But she wouldn’t have left her safe spot between the two older brothers, just because Sigurd made the air uneasy and difficult to breathe in. Mostly, she didn’t accept the idea to let him think he won something.

She couldn’t understand why he kept fighting as much as he was doing, stuffing all his anger, all his hate in the wrong things.

Actually, she could. She knew exactly why he felt that way, but deeply disapproved. It was getting worse, and it was jeopardizing her. It wasn’t a hateful joke or venomous words, it wasn’t receiving a push or just a bit of bullying, it was endangering and hurting people.

And Kattegat was her home. One day, she would come back to it, hopefully with glory on her shoulders, enough so people would forget she was a witch. But if her situation got as much out of hand as Ubbe said, then Sigurd is to hold responsible for making her life ten times harder now.

Kattegat was her home, but would it accept her?

It wasn’t fair.

Angrboda did a very good job in pushing those thoughts aside and pulling a brave face, though.

Throughout the night, she kept as far away as possible from Floki, not intentioned in worrying her father furthermore. She decided he and Helga were entitled to have a night of fun.

But there was someone else she didn’t dare to step close to. Ivar.

He sat at the head of the main table and observed everything and everyone. Every now and then, Angrboda looked over, just to follow his stirred seas eyes around the room to see what he was watching.

She felt his mind moving, his brain absorbing, she knew he was studying everyone. Especially the most important people in the room, besides the Queen’s family and Bjorn and his wife Torvi, those were King Harald and his brother Halfdan the Black.

If Ivar’s aura wasn’t strongly connected to hers enough to stroke it constantly even from such a distance, she just needed to look at him to spot the dark shadow surrounding his aura, shaping and shifting around Ivar at every thought and change of emotion.

Their eyes crossed a few times, and every time she felt Ivar’s emotions spiked in such despite and deep offence.

Ubbe did warn her and he definitely wasn’t wrong. Something happened and she needed to talk to Ivar. Especially knowing she needed to leave him so soon, and for good.

No way she would have let those be the last feelings he felt for her.

Not after what they had. Not when the absolute devotion and love he had for her the night they shared still burned into her mind and chest.

The only reason why Angrboda had yet to approach the younger Ragnarsson was because of his mother.

Aslaug sat next to him and spent the night chatting away with his son, behaving more like a guardian than anything else.

If Aslaug always had affection and respect for Angrboda throughout the years, now those feelings were definitely gone. And Angrboda could not say she wouldn’t understand after the rumours about her came out.

She knew that Aslaug would have never judged her regarding being gifted, being a gifted woman herself. But she knew she would have definitely judged her harshly for sleeping with two of her sons, especially when one of them was Ivar.

She just wished she had more time to solve all the misunderstandings that had been dawning upon her, at least with people that were the closest to her.

But she didn’t.

And then finally, the right moment she has been waiting for presented itself.

As soon as Aslaug left her seat, Angrboda knew it was her chance.

She sent a look over to the head of the table, finding Ivar waiting for her eyes.

He widened his shoulders and raised his head proudly. His eyes sparkled crossing hers and his lips arched in a grim smirk.

His expression gave her a shiver. There was something in his way of always being a step ahead of everyone. And of course, he knew already she wouldn’t have ignored him. It was clear he was expecting her to do the first move and didn’t have any intention to chase her.

Angrboda moved slightly towards Ubbe. Just placing a hand on his shoulder, she called his attention but didn’t say a word before getting up.

There was not much to be explained anyway, but she thought to give him heads-up, so then he could happily keep an eye out for her, as he felt comfortable doing the whole evening.

She exchanged a brief look with Hvitserk before moving away.

As she did for most of the evening - and with most of the people surrounding her – Angrboda did her best to push his aura away from her, much preferring not to be influenced and overwhelmed by everything Hvitserk felt at all times. Especially for her, especially if it was to see her leaving his side to reach for Ivar's.

She walked slowly, not to attract particular attention to herself. Ivar’s eyes accompanied her the whole way, with his confident smirk carving deeper and deeper into his expression.

The closer she got, the more his darkness seemed to react to her. She felt his shadows move and mix to hers both from the inside and out, accompanied by the sparkles of the fairies that surrounded everyone that evening.

“I need to talk to you.” She announced finally, once she stood in front of him.

Ivar lifted his head and leaned comfortably against the back of the chair, offering her a smart smile. Just after a second of studying her image, caressing her figure from head to toe with his grey eyes, Ivar finally nodded towards her. “Be my guest, Loki-Kissed.”

Angrboda felt a shiver crossing her back hearing her given name rolling on his tongue.

She breathed in his emotions, feeling his bitterness towards her, but also the disappointment, frustration and pain that hid underneath his cockiness. There was a great deal of pride and a hint of anger hiding his cracked heart.

Angrboda shrugged, shaking her head. “Privately, if you may.”

“No. I may not. You can tell me anything you want right here, no?” Ivar accompanied his words widening his arms, clearly hinting to the crowded room that surrounded him.

The fact that he was so stubborn and proudly playing hard to catch was enough to fill Angrboda with enough frustration to make her grumble, raising her eyes to the ceiling. She even had to tone her reaction down, remembering Ubbe’s words.

“Ivar.”

“Yes, Angrboda?” Ivar’s eyes sparkled. He was clearly feeding off his ego, annoying her, and she just needed to know him to know it. Her empathic abilities were unnecessary when it came to understanding Ivar.

She knew she didn’t have much time, as much as she knew that Ivar’s curiosity would have given her what she wanted, sooner or later.

Of course, she rathered sooner.

“Please? I really do need to talk to you.”

“Now? Now, you want to talk? You picked an inconvenient situation, you see? Unfortunately, I’m enjoying the feast and I rather assist to the happenings around me. Especially when my mother just went to welcome the arrival of none other but Lagertha. Actually, you could be useful to me. Why don’t you syntonise on them and tell me what they are feeling? Especially Lagertha, I am curious.”

Angrboda raised her eyes to the ceiling once more. This time, she remained in that position for a few seconds, pushing her eager anger down and trying to focus to stay calm.

She didn’t know Lagertha would attend the feast but should have expected it since her son Bjorn was the one leading the expedition.

Part of her wanted to meet her – as much as she wanted to meet King Harald and his brother. Just to know all the important people roaming the Hall. But Angrboda had priorities at the moment and Lagertha could have come later.

Angrboda gazed back at Ivar. Besides his words, he didn’t seem much interested in what was going on between his mother and Lagertha, since he didn’t take his eyes off her once. Which was a strong hint of how much attention he was still giving her, even if he was as stubborn as a mule.

Angrboda moved closer to him, her eyes met his, burning with the same degree of determination. “Right. We need to talk, so feel free to follow me. I will be waiting for a short amount of time. If you won’t, then whatever is your problem with me then it will be on you, don’t hold me responsible for whatever reason you’re being an asshole.”

Angrboda felt the shot of anger spike through his aura and hit inside her chest – and ignored it completely.

In that specific case, anger was good. Anger would have got Ivar to move. He would have never missed an occasion when challenged.

Which was the reason why, while she moved turning around the table, a tiny smile of victory appeared on her lips.

Angrboda didn’t look back to check if Ivar was actually following her, she walked towards the back of the Hall, to the private quarters where the Queen’s room could be found.

Once she left the main room filled with music, loud chattering and the dense smell of ale, food and people, Angrboda took a deep breath, filling her lungs up with the energy of that way quieter and darker place.

She stood in the middle of the room, with her arms crossed to her chest and her back to the door.

If Ivar followed her, she actually didn’t mind being a bit dramatic, just imitating his ways and giving him back a bit of what he deserves after his little scene at the table.

And if he decided not to follow her, then at least she wouldn’t have waited desperately looking at the door and hoping in vain, keeping a bit of dignity. Plus an unwanted, not required broken heart.

After a few moments though, she heard the familiar heavy dragging noise of Ivar crawling on the floor.

Angrboda could not deny the relief that completely surrounded her and actually welcomed it with a smile, that she made sure to hide though. She had absolutely no intention to give Ivar any satisfaction whatsoever.

She didn’t know what happened and why he felt the way he did. But absolutely hated the idea that despite growing years of friendship – let alone all the rest - he could turn against her like that. Angrboda wanted a confrontation to understand what happened but wasn’t about to go at it peacefully.

Pushing her expression into a serious mask, Angrboda turned over, gazing over towards Ivar.

His eyes sparkled in the darker room, lit just by the flicker of a few candles.

“What is going on?” She finally asked after a few seconds of them just proudly looking at each other.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Get out my head.” Ivar shook his hand mid-air, as if he could flap her empathy away.

Not that she needed her abilities to understand how differently Ivar was behaving with her now, compared to the last time.

Angrboda huffed, letting her arms fall along her sides. “Sorry, can’t control it.”

Ivar just slid his eyes across the room, clearly annoyed and then moved, looking for a place to take a sit and gain some higher ground from where to have that conversation.

He climbed his way up a solid wood trunk and found a sit. Angrboda gave him time, and just when he turned overcrossing her eyes, she took a step closer. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I said nothing. We went back to our regular lives. Wasn’t that the plan?”

His words hit her like thin, sharp blades.

“This is not our regular life. You never looked at me the way you do now.”

“How am I supposed to look at you?”

“At least like a friend, not like someone you would happily move out your way.”

“I’m not the boy you knew anymore.”

Another deep stab right through her chest.

The boy she knew and the man she knew he would become were wearing the same skin, having the same strength, the same determination and brilliant mind – and the same darkness, but also the same promise of sweetness to them.

She saw it. She felt it. The boy who let her slip through the cracks and see his fragile, loving side, would be the same man who would let her in in future times.

She knew he was just using his usual tactic of being extremely unpleasant to push people away.

“You wanted this-" he spat moving his hands mid-air, "-you wanted us to go back to what we were, what we had always been. Which is nothing – so, why do you want to be friends all of a sudden?”

“We were friends!”

“How much will it matter when you will leave, tomorrow?”

“Is that it?! Are you angry at me because I’m leaving?”

“Well, I didn’t even know you would. If we were such good friends, what a piece of information to keep tucked away, huh? I found out through Hvitserk.”

“My father was building Bjorn’s ships. I thought-”

“It would be obvious? Well, I would have still appreciated it if you told me. But, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. You’re leaving, I am leaving soon too, and maybe we won’t ever see each other again, so what does it matter if we are friends?”

Angrboda was ready to whip a salty answer. With her annoyance, her anger was waking up, and with her anger, her darkness was always next to start stretching and to grow seeping through her.

But Ivar’s words distracted her – more than the core of their argument. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I am leaving. With my father. To go to England.” Ivar tipped his head on the side and offered a cold, proud smile.

For a moment, Angrboda forgot their quarrel, which seemed stupid compared to the fact he was going to embrace his Viking inheritance and leave for the adventure.

It was something great, something Ivar trained for his entire life, even if people always doubt he would be able to do so.

Angrboda moved closer and offered him an honest smile that Ivar didn’t seem ready for, to which he reacted freezing and trying to find a bit of distance from her.

“I am glad you’re going. It’s good news!”

“Don’t do that.” Ivar broke their eye contact, looking away. His face froze into a serious, almost disgusted face.

Inside her chest, Angrboda felt his heartbeat at the same rhythm of his pride, a pulsating wave that resonated into his aura, growing darker and darker by the second.

“Do what?”

“Patronize and cuddle me. Do not treat me as a kid. Did any other man got praised for being called to raid?”

“Ivar, I –”

“You what?!” Ivar shot her a look, his stirred seas eyes burned through her, to the point Angrboda felt pushed to take a step back.

“Why are you being like this? Why are you fighting me?”

“You are truly something, aren’t you? Maybe the people are right. Maybe Sigurd is right, you’re so good at manipulating all of us with your pretty face that we never realised how slimy you can be.”

“Hold on. What did you just say?”

Ivar’s poisonous words hit her but her pain quickly burned, shaping itself into anger. Angrboda felt the familiar buzzing of her darkness waking and growing inside of her, like smoke filling the air.

“You heard me well.”

“I wished you could hear yourself.”

“No, I wish you could hear yourself! You’re so full of yourself and truly a hypocrite. So good at lying you fooled even me. But I see it now.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“The way you talk to me. The way you look at me. Everything you do. You’re like anyone else. Like my mother. Acting out of pity.”

“Pity?!” Angrboda spitted that word like it was venom, frowning and reserving an intense look to Ivar. Not realising her eyes were turning darker now.

The more he spoke, the more he hurt her. And the more Angrboda was hurt, the more her darkness would grow.

“I bet that is why you wanted to talk to me before you would leave. Poor, little Ivar left all alone. I bet it is also why you actually went all the way with me that night – because of pity. Poor me, huh? You must have thought it would have been my only chance with a woman. Damn, you acted so well you fooled me.” Ivar started clapping his hands, as if there was actually something to praise, but the rain of his toxic words didn’t stop there. “-And I bet that’s why you hid up in the forest – could not stand the sight of me. Must be tough.”

At every sentence, Angrboda became visibly less and less stable and it seemed like the more she shook and stiffened to his words, the more he felt entitled to continue. And a bigger, darker smile would grow on his lips.

But when Ivar touched the matter of them being together, that particularly set her off.

She really wanted to find a way to answer to him calmly, having the upper hand. She would have been able to do so if the matter wouldn’t have touched something she considered so personal.

The night she shared with Ivar changed her, and everything around her. And maybe she wasn’t ready to accept how deeply connected she was to him and how deeply she cared. But she did. It was a precious moment that she would have never diminished but praised upon.

Angrboda moved quickly towards him and broke his words from piling up any further with an abrupt slap on the face.

She trained hard to contain similar situations where her emotions would take over. But it seemed impossible to bite her tongue or breathe through Ivar’s assumptions. “Shut your mouth. You’re just a boy if you think so little of me. And worse, if after everything and all the years we’ve known each other, you are so easily influenced. I never felt pity for you. I respect you, and my affection towards you is dictated by heart, not guilt.”

Ivar was quick to gaze back at her, moving his torso and head closer to her, ready for a fight. “I don’t believe you.”

“That is entirely on you-” Angrboda pointed a finger to Ivar's chest, giving him a push. “-and I wasn’t lying when we had sex. Everything I felt, everything you felt, was real to me. So, I will never regret it. But you can choose your own truth.”

Ivar just sat there silent.

Angrboda saw and felt his emotions tremble and crack. She felt his disappointment and pain pour out of his chest, surrounded by guilt, pride, and anger.

Even if she had all the answers she needed in front of her, and knew Ivar so well even without having to read him, she decided to ignore the knowledge of Ivar's immense fragility on some of his biggest triggers. For example, the idea that people loved him just for pity and not for worth. Because Angrboda could be proud too and she thought he crossed a line in a way that was not acceptable.

He chose to doubt her, to believe what other people said. He chose to become like any other.

And besides hurting her, he was hurting himself.

She would have been inclined to forgive and forget anything to Ivar, but not something like that.

She felt the need to hurt others and break things just to deal with the anger that the idea of someone she considered as highly of, and as close as Ivar, could just so easily doubt her.

If she had something between her hands, she would have definitely thrown it with the sole purpose to see an object shutter in a million pieces.

But she didn’t want to hurt Ivar. The slap she gave him felt more than enough.

So, with all her anger and pride, Angrboda took off.

She turned on her feet and quickly charged to reach the door, intentioned to put as much distance from her and Ivar as she could.

Tomorrow it wouldn’t have been a problem: as he said, there was the possibility they won’t see each other again. And for a second, it sounded like such a good thing.

Even if everything, inside of her, was revolting to the sole idea that could have been their last conversation. Their last moment.

Maybe her vision lied.

Maybe it was just the inebriating moment she shared with Ivar that got so much to her brain to make her fantasise too much.

Maybe it wasn’t even a vision.

And who is her to understand perfectly something like that? Could she even be sure of what she saw?

Maybe it was all wrong. Even the Seer, and her destiny. Maybe, she wasn’t bound to be by Ivar’s side.

Her heart trembled under pressure just by the idea she was now rejecting something she always believed to be her fate. And that took a more realistic shape in her mind after she had her vision, laying between his arms, and after she felt their darknesses melt and tie.

Even now, the shadows inside of her were frizzling and agitating, like arguing with her for her own emotions and thoughts.

Angrboda stopped.

All her thoughts and emotions went quiet.

And she held her breath for a second. “Maybe, you are the one who should stop feeling pity for himself.”

She didn’t look back and denied feeling his aura, even if it was impossible. She clearly felt Ivar’s heart breaking inside her own chest.

Angrboda stepped out, running away from him and her own feelings – deluding herself that she could actually do so if she quickly put enough distance between herself and the whole situation.

She slid through the crowded Hall, being already unsteady made it easy for the sudden cacophony of people, voices and emotions to overwhelm her.

She needed air.

She needed quiet.

And to be alone. From everyone.

She didn’t stop on her way, not even when Ubbe and Hvitserk’s auras caressed her with their sudden worries. Actually, she probably moved even quicker, praying to the Gods that the brothers wouldn’t have followed her.

Once outside the Great Hall, Angrboda quickly turned around the building, following its longer side until she found a safe spot to hide.

Angrboda flattened herself on a wooden panel between one of the mid alcoves of the structure, feeling nested between the wooden columns and shielded enough to let out a deep breath.

She pressed her forehead against the redwood, taking a long and deep breath in, trying to work on her breathing to calm down and gather her thoughts.

Losing control meant she became sole emotions… And sometimes that wasn’t the right thing.

Angrboda pushed her hands against the wood, trying to find peace in the quiet solitude that surrounded her. People and sounds felt so far away. It was blissful to breathe some fresh night air in.

But her frustration wasn’t so easy to tame, which was why Angrboda let it out, punching the wall she was leaning on, letting a grunt out.

Even if she wanted to suppress it all, she had to admit that a little spillage of emotion made her feel a bit better.

“Look. A birdy got lost.”

Her peace was suddenly broken by a deep, rude voice accompanied by a group of men laughing viciously.

Even their auras carried the fuzziness brought by drinking too much ale, so much so she could almost taste it in their unstable emotions. Worse, was that she felt their energies slimily slid across her skin, leaving her with a weird aftertaste of being cut by rusty metal. She suddenly felt threatened.

But the group of men surrounded her and moved closer.

“Let us see your face, pretty birdy.” The same one who spoke first spoke again, and Angrboda presumed he was also the one who dawned upon her and grabbed her figure by the shoulders giving her a vigorous and rude shake, before pulling her to turn.

He proudly showed Angrboda to the rest of the group breaking into another slimy laugh.

The longer his hands were on her, the more Angrboda felt her being shake and vibrate by the need to run.

She tried to shake off his hands and growled at him, showing her teeth off. It was probably just because the man's mind was polluted by the ale, that she managed to catch him off guard and slip away. But she didn’t go far.

Another of his mates was quicker and she was grabbed again. The man welcomed her with a laugh, and shook her, pulling her to turn her once again towards the group. He pulled her closer to his chest grabbing her by the hair, to which Angrboda answered with another growl. Then, he ensured she wouldn’t run again clutching rudely his heavy, dirty hand around her neck and squeezing.

Angrboda snarled firstly trying to look at him and then, at the others. “Let me go, pigs!”

“Gods! It’s Loki-Kissed! It’s the witch!”

Angrboda expected them to react like people generally did, with disgust and slight fear being that close to her. But not this time, not these men.

These men laughed.

Angrboda felt their evil intention sip through. She saw their thirst for pain and blood – hers. And she felt their eagerness into getting recognized and glorified for freeing their people of her.

She tried to shake off the hold of the faceless man that held her.

“She definitely has fire inside of her.”

“Be careful, it can burn you.”

Another one laughed.

It was four men in total, around her. They smelled of ale and sweat. Their dirty clothes and shabby image placed them into Kattegat working class – they were probably men who sailed with Ragnar Lothbrok when they were younger and would definitely sail with Bjorn Ironside to find either glory or death.

She wondered if they were guests of the Hall, for a second.

Thinking about the Hall, she immediately wondered if someone noticed her absence – she hated the idea of relying on someone else’s help. But at the same time, she wasn’t sure how high her possibilities could be.

Angrboda was armed but kept her dagger tucked away tied to her ankle, which seemed difficult enough to grab.

What about her abilities? Could she rely on them truly?

Angrboda thought of giving it a shot.

She quickly moved her head backwards, throwing a header right to the face of the man holding her. As soon as he lost a second of balance and focus, she swiftly slipped away from his hold, giving him a push.

Angrboda curled up on herself just to reach for her dagger, which she showed off. Her body tensed in a combat position. “I can show you how much I can burn.” Angrboda's eyes shone and flickered of darkness.

She was ready to fight.

“We should kill her.” The man that was holding her earlier breathed heavily those words, while another moved closer, attracting Angrboda attention.

The group of men moved around her, sending each other looks to decide how to attack her.

But Angrboda had the upper hand to feel their emotions – even if they were disgusting.

More than their thirst for violence was the slight arousal that developed in some of their auras, making her insides twist violently.

Angrboda quickly turned around, making sure she looked at all the men around her, keeping her dagger blade well ready to slash flesh.

Angrboda showed a sly smile, her eyes shined again and she fed off the shivers her black gaze gave to the men around her. “You think I am so easy to kill off? Then get closer, maybe I will send a few of you to Hel, she will feast on your unworthy hearts.”

“People are right, she is a monster. Look at her.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t just kill her. Maybe we should hurt her too.”

“Monster or not, she is still just a woman and we should do what men do. I like her.”

“You can have her.”

Angrboda showed her teeth once more, growling at them. She hated to be talked about like she was a piece of meat, especially when she stood in front of her.

But feeling their hesitation, adrenaline and fear filled her with determination and hope. And power. The more scared they would become, the more she felt her thirst grow. “If you touch me there will be consequences. You will regret the day you were born!”

Angrboda kept slowly moving into a circle, thinking she had control. Thinking those men wouldn’t have dared to actually hurt her.

“No one would avenge you, witch. Your spells will die with you.”

“My father is Floki the Boat-builder! He will skin you alive.”

She thought she had control for too long.

As soon as she gave her back to someone to threatening look at someone else, she would automatically become more vulnerable and those men didn’t take long to understand it.

She got tackled, this time by three men at once.

They all pushed her against the red-wood wall, rudely smacking her face against the panel.

The two on her sides held her arms up, and the one who stood on her right side grabbed her arm and firmly slammed it against the wood panel, so she would lose the hold on her dagger.

The man behind her back kicked her ankles, to push her legs apart.

It was then that Angrboda shook and tried to scream, but the man behind her back grabbed her, suffocating her voice with his heavy, callous hand.

The man pushed his face between her hair, inhaling her smell – and the sudden satisfaction that broke into his dirty aura made her retch.

If it had to end, she would have rathered die that feel that man free hand moving on her body and pulling her skirt.

Then a voice suddenly broke through the air. “What a shame.”

[thunderfaucet]

Gyda Ragnarsdottir and Angrboda Flokisdottir

[theroleplayingedda]

TV/Movies Mini List:

Apparently there IS a limit on how many mentions and links you can have per post so the list is being broken up a bit now.

AGAIN; I'm REALLY sorry for spamming your mentions!!!!!

>> LINK TO THE MAIN LIST <<

American Gods:

@brknmnds Technology Boy @cursedwanderer Fenja [Sideblog][OC] @helreginn Hel [OC] @leagueprem Nike and Tee [MultiMuse][OC] @somekndofpeople

How to Train Your Dragon & Dragons: The Nine Realms

@acourtcfmuses Astrid Hofferson @adskilt Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III @ancestryfound Tom Kullersen @baldrengr Hiccup & Toothless [MultiMuse] @bloomifys Hiccup Haddock [MultiMuse] @deficd Valka [MultiMuse] @dragetunge Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III @dragonmasterhiccup Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III @haseti Eret son of Eret [Sideblog] @iisoyne Sofia Coel | Sister Winter [OC] @scouts-thingsandrps Astrid, Dagur, Fishlegs, Heather, Hiccup, Inkeri, Ruffnut, Snotlout, Thyra & Tuffnut [MultiMuse] @starsweepers Ruffnut [MultiMuse] @storyhaven Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III [MultiMuse] @tournesolette Hiccup Haddock [MultiMuse] @universeofmuses Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III Astrid Hofferson [MultiMuse] @vendettavalor Bewilderbeast, Cloudjumper, Grimmel the Grisly, Light Fury, Toothless & Valka Haddock [MultiMuse] @warraigoe Astrid Hofferson [MultiMuse]

The Almighty Johnsons:

@helreginn

The Last Kingdom:

@all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone Aethelflaed, Brida, Finan, Gisela, Sihtric Kjartansson & many OCs! [MultiMuse] @bebbanburged Uhtred [Sideblog] @entangledmuses Eadith & lots of OCs with TLK verses! [MultiMuse] @fantasywritten Beocca, Edward & Leofric [MultiMuse] @ladybebbanburg Ædgyth of Wessex [OC?], Æthelflæd, Alfred, Brida, Eadith, Finan, Gisela Hathacanutesdottir, Iseult of Cornwalum, Mildrith, Sigtryggr Ivarsson, Skade, Stiorra Uhtredsdottir, Thyra Ragnarsdottir, Uhtred & Others! [MultiMuse] @kingalfrcd King Alfred @ofprevioustimes Aethelflaed, Brida, Eadith, Gisela, Iseult & others! [MultiMuse] @ragnaarson Ædgyth, Ælswith, Æthelstan, Aldhelm, Alfred, Edward, Finan, Gisela, Sigtryggr Ivarsson, Sihtric Kjartansson, Stiorra Uhtredsdottir, Uhtred & many OCs! [MultiMuse][Sideblog] @taleswritten Iseult & Uhtred Ragnarson [MultiMuse] @tessastormrp Sihtric [MultiMuse]

Vikings & Vikings: Valhalla:

@all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone Aslaug, Canute, Emma, Freydis, Freydis Eriksdottir, Godwin, Gunnhild, Hvitserk Ragnarsson, Ivar the Boneless, Lagertha, Leif Eriksson, Rollo Sigurdsson, Snaefrid & many OCs! [MultiMuse] @brknmnds Ivar The Boneless, Sigurd 'Siggy' Lothbrok & Hvitserk Lothbrok, Floki, Angrboda Flokisdottir & Ástríðr Svendottir | A Seer OC [MultiMuse] @crowsandmurder Bjorn Ironside & Ragnar Lothbrok [MultiMuse] @deficd Gyda Ragnarsdottir, Ragnar Lodbrok & OCs including Hilda Ragnarsdottir, Sindre Ísleifsson& Solveig Ísleifsdottir! [MultiMuse] @entangledmuses Anma, Katia & Lagertha & lots of OCs with Viking verses! [MultiMuse] @ivarandhvitserks-blog mumu Ivar & Hvitserk [MultiMuse] @ladybebbanburg Aslaug Sigurdsdottir, Freydis Eriksdotter , Gyda Ragnarsdóttir, Helga, Lagertha, Torvi & others! [MultiMuse] @melodicwitchlight Aslaug, Floki, Thorunn & Siggy [MultiMuse] @ofprevioustimes Aslaug, Lagertha, Siggy & others! [MultiMuse] @pleinsdemuses Astrid, Emma of Normandy, Gunnhild, Lagertha Lothbrok & Torvi [MultiMuse][Sideblog] @retriibutions Ivar Ragnarsson [MultiMuse] @tessastormrp Harald Finehair & Ubbe (GETS HIS VERY OWN TRIGGER WARNING!)

>> LINK TO THE MAIN LIST <<

Up to date as of 27/05/24

[brknmnds]

TV Series Muses

Stranger things

Eddie Munson

Billy Hargrove

Steve Harrington

Chrissy Cunningham

Jimmy Cunningham - OC

Henry Creel

Jonathan Byers

Sons of Anarchy

Happy Lowman

Alexander 'Tig' Trager

Crazy Fun Park

Remus

Adelia Brooks - OC

Maximus Grant - OC

Vikings

Ivar The Boneless

Sigurd 'Siggy' Lothbrok

Hvitserk Lothbrok

Floki

Ástríðr Svendottir - OC

Angrboda Flokisdottir

Fargo

Gator Tillman

Outer Banks

Rafe Cameron

JJ Maybanks

American Gods

Technical boy

Fallout (series)

Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul

[honestsycrets]

Ragnar digging Angrboda’s plot

[triumphantreturnofpies-blog]

“I think the answer is that a circle has no beginning.”

Angrboða Flokisdottir || Luna Lovegood

So I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for quite a while now about a rather complicated crossover, and this idea of Luna as a reincarnation of Angrboda is directly related to that. The more I thought about it, the more I liked it, and this is the direct result. If anybody has any questions, comments or suggestions, feel free to drop me a message or jump in my ask box! This was super fun to make! :)

[No images are mine, though the edit is. The title quote is Luna’s from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows]

[therealvikingstrash]

Children of Vikings Week, Day 2: Angrboða Flokisdottir

[sifshoney-notactive]

Daughters. 🌹

[goldentailedmermaids]

Also on Ao3 

Forgotten and rejected, Siggy Bjornsdottir tries desperately to find her place in a world that doesn't want her. From wild child to an accomplished shieldmaiden under Sigurd's commands, she made herself quite the reputation and can always counts of Angrboda Flokadottir, a healer and sorceress who desires to discover new ways to heal and set sail to the unknown, to channel her strength and calm her wild temper. But nothing is ever easy for a child used as a pawn and soon, Siggy will have to reconnect with her ancestry. Whether she wants it or not.

So this was the first chapter of that Sig and Boda fanfic I longed to write for so long. It is longer than I expected and I hope I can keep up with the length. It would be nice if all the chapters did not exceed 5,000 words; it would be easier for me to write them. I hope you liked this beginning. Be warned tho; I only wrote one chapter so far and the whole fanfic is not fully planned yet. I have yet so many things I need to write down and a timeline to set up, a tone to find, a structure to establish (and I have yet to finish Crashing Waves). Many things will happen (SO many!) and I can only hope this will be as exciting to read as a saga. I really hope you will like it. I wanted to give Sig and Boda the story they deserved because I was bitter about the way they had been handled in the show. Also, if you ever see similarities with the story of Alfhildr, it is normal. It is a great inspiration of mine. Also, this story is linked with Children of the Wolf. I really hope you will like this fanfic.

[atoasttotheendoftheworld]

They say that every child looks like their parents, some more than others.

Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga.

[allherdaydreams]

Valley of Kings — Prologue

Sigyn | And So It Begins

Universe: Vikings Pairing(s): None yet (there will be several later on, mainly Ivar x fem!OC) Word Count: 1,195 Warnings: Bad writing and mentions of the death of Angrboda Author’s Note: my first vikings fic!!! ahhh!! I really hope y’all like it, i know it’s not much and it’s not great but I hope to have the next chapter out by the end of the week and hopefully I’ll get my other fic started by then too. lemme know if y’all wanna be on a taglist and i’ll add you :)

The stories of the Gods were part of the way of life for my family. Ever since I can remember — and, likely, before that — my mother and father spent countless hours recounting the tales of the Old Ways. I spent a large part of my childhood cradled in my mother’s lap, surrounded by my brother, sister, and our friend, Ivar, as we would listen to my father’s animated retellings. He told us of Odin and Thor, Freyr and Freya, the creation of the Nine Realms and the soon-to-be Ragnarok, when the Gods would die and the Realms would end. Ragnarok was his favorite story to tell us. 

When my father was away on raids in the summers, my mother would take over the storytelling — she especially loved to tell us of Freya and her cats, who drew the Goddess’s chariot. Of all the Gods, I loved Freya the most, and it was because of this love that I begged for years to be allowed a cat. On our eighth birthday, my brother and I were gifted kittens — twins, just like us. My brother named his Tyr, for the bravest of the Gods; I called mine Muninn, for Odin’s raven of memory. I often pretended that, when he got back from his hunting trips, the little black kitten brought me knowledge of the goings-on in the lives of our neighbors and that, occasionally, he spied on Ivar’s older brothers. I believed he also brought me news of my sister, Angrboda, who had died a few years before. I always pictured her in Valhalla. Though she was not much older than me when she passed (she was the same age as Ivar’s brother, Sigurd), she has always been fully grown in my mind’s eye. 

In my dreams, Angrboda looks like my father; tall, thin, agile, and strong. She has the same prowling walk as him and my brother, the same eyes and the same hair — but her smile is my mother’s. When I was little, I decided she was a Valkyrie, one that Odin himself had assigned to watch over her younger siblings. I held onto that idea for the rest of my life, even if it wasn’t how the legends described the Valkyries. 

After her death, in the later years of my childhood, the story we always begged to hear was the life and death of Baldur — the story of Loki’s punishment, and of me and my brother’s namesakes, Vali and Sigyn. Sigyn, wife of Loki, who displayed the ultimate act of love and loyalty as she shielded Loki from the snake’s venom during his punishment. Vali, whose birth was for one purpose; to avenge his brother Baldur’s death, by killing Hodr and binding Loki. 

My father was an odd man with an odd sense of humor. I could never be sure why he had named his children how he did, but I often wondered if it was coincidence or fate.

“And so begins the Saga of Sigyn Flokisdottir and Vali the Reaper,” My father had once remarked, out of the blue, not so long after my sister had passed. My brother had been given the title “the Reaper'' just after he was born because Ivar’s mother, Queen Aslaug, had foreseen him to be a great warrior with an even greater fate. He would avenge not one death, but many. His name would be remembered for centuries to come, all throughout the world. 

I don’t have many memories of my life during that time when we were very young, around the time my sister left us, but I have since been told of how my father was given Loki’s punishment for killing a Christian. My mother, always gentle and steadfastly loyal, had readily taken on the role of Sigyn. 

What we never heard in the story of Baldur’s Death was that Loki’s eldest daughter would die while he was chained in the cave. But we did often hear afterwards, from my father, that “All things come to pass as the Gods will them.” Though my mother would always nod silently at this phrase, Vali and I knew she never truly recovered from losing our sister. 

Every day, my father prayed aloud and talked to the Gods. He made sure to include his children in his conversations, both by mentioning us and encouraging us to join in. We spent many formative spring days speaking to the Gods, learning how to pray and practice our religion and the ways of our people. My brother and I loved this season, when everything was new and our father did not yet have to go overseas to raid. As we became older, spring became Vali’s time with him as he helped our father design and bring to life his great longships. And while Vali learned the art of boatbuilding, I learned how to help my mother around our secluded land. 

We lived on the edge of Kattegat, with our house overlooking the water, the trees behind our home sheltering it from the bustling noise of the city. Ivar, the youngest prince of Kattegat, was my only close friend besides my brother. He pretended he didn’t like other people, who excluded and underestimated him because he was a cripple. It was easier for him that way: to pretend he hated them instead of acknowledging that he wished for their love. Similarly, I didn’t have other friends either, though I tried to make them, because I was odd to the other children. Ivar found me odd, too (“You are always in your head and never really here!”), but I cherished his company despite his blunt words and often mean temper. All through our childhood, we stayed by each other’s side; listening to my father’s stories and prayers; watching my brother and father build boats; keeping me company as I did the “women’s work”; following all of our brothers around the streets of Kattegat and the forests outside it as they grew up just before we did. 

As we got older, things began to change. I was still odd (I had only begun to grasp what it was to be ‘here,’ present in the world outside of my mind), but people began to pay more attention to me. Ivar was still an outcast, but he had become handsome and strong, refusing to fall behind his brothers in any way. My brother had become his own man, skilled and clever and confident. He remained good friends with Ivar’s older brothers, and though Ivar & I continuously tried to keep up, we were usually able to make peace with it just being us. And it was, usually, just us.

Slowly but surely, Ivar and I crawled our way out of our childhood. As it was with everything, we did it together, following the footsteps of our many brothers. 

As it had been told once to us: “And so begins The Saga of Sigyn Flokisdottir & Vali the Reaper,” — and, as it had been told many times to us: “Sigyn, destined for steadfast loyalty and acts of love; Vali, born to avenge the deaths of many, to kill and bind and be remembered.”

[majesticwren]

The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602.It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 4.5k. Trigger Warnings:  Mention of Sex, Mention of Contraceptive Methods, Mention of Death, Uncontrollable Anger and Possessiveness, Angrboda is Unhinged. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @miss-madness67 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 13 - Metamorphose.

The opening on the beach was filled with chattering and laughter.

After her arrival, Angrboda struggled to warm up to her new situation in her old clothes and being. But it didn’t take long before the babbling with her mother made everything look and feel just normal.

Nothing changed and nothing will do. Even if everything was changing.

There was solace and balance in that thought. And even if it was a temporary feeling, it was more than enough. It was something Angrboda needed to feel, even for a little bit.

While the two dived into a cheerful and light girl-type conversation, based mostly on the night Angrboda spent and chatting of the sort, she watched Helga prepare the brew to avoid pregnancies, paying particular attention to everything her skilled mother had to teach her on the matter.

Her mother showed her some specific dried out herbs and flowers, and explained in detail how they are supposed to look and where to find them. Helga taught her the different properties of different herbs, with a degree of toxicity, risks and consequences. Finally, how to properly cook them to make an effective infusion.

Her mother told her it was a practice passed on between generations throughout time. Helga learned from her mother, who before learned from another woman in her family. And so, one day, Angrboda could teach it to her daughters. So long and so forth, a powerful connection and knowledge branching between women of different times. They might be forgotten in identity, but their teachings would never be lost.

It wasn’t so common, between women, to use such techniques. Most of the time, young and old it didn’t matter, would be scared or sceptic about similar practices. Especially because it needed someone who had vast botanical knowledge, empathy and respect towards a woman's choice. Too many times people believed wrongfully that having those traits meant being a witch.

As for many things in life, scepticism brought people to ignorance.

Being a woman, and being biologically fertile, and having intercourse with men from time to time, meant for Angrboda that having such knowledge would be possibly one of the most useful pieces of information she could ever learn.

Especially if her plan in life wasn’t the one of being just a wife and a mother. She was Viking, and she was a warrior.

Even if it did hurt like Hel and back when Loki told her he ripped from her the possibility of having a child from Hvitserk - Gods, not even so long ago - It still wasn’t in her plans to become a mother.

“So-” Helga stirred the mixture in the pot but had a cheeky smile crossing her lips. The air filled with the earthy smell of the infusion. “- Ivar is a capable lover.”

“He is a good learner. I like his eagerness.”

“I bet!” Helga raised her brown eyes giving her a good look and for a moment didn’t say anything. Letting Angrboda’s words just sink in between them.

“If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I would have struggled to believe he behaved how you described.”

“Ivar is an underestimated being. People never believe how strong he can be, or how sensitive. They decide to see just one reality. But he is so much more than what people think. I am honoured to be as close as I am to such a man.”

“Well, my daughter – I think you both did the right thing, then. Who knows, another woman might not have been the right one for someone like him.”

Angrboda suddenly froze, her smile disappeared just by the idea another woman could touch him as she did.

She sighed, looking away, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable shiver spread under her skin.

Sooner or later, the events would play their course and things would have changed.

She was about to leave with Bjorn’s fleet to go discover unthinkable places where no one, between their people, had ever seen. She didn’t know how long she would have stayed away, probably months if not years.

Separated from her life in Kattegat. Separated from Ivar.

Many things could change.

Maybe, when she would be back and finally, whatever she now felt would have quietened down. But for now, the idea Ivar could give to another woman what he gave to her, or feel for another what was hers, was enough to fire her blood up and make her hands vibrate under the need to break something.

It was the same reaction she always had at the idea Hvitserk one day would have loved another woman.

It was pure jealousy and possession over feelings and people she wasn’t allowed to feel that way.

“You look uneasy. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“I am ok mother, don’t worry.”

Helga answered to her just shaking her head and shoulders, letting her have a bit of space.

But Angrboda really didn’t need to have space to think. She actually needed to fill her mind with chatter and words that could be a distraction.

So, she cleared her voice. “Earlier you said something about father.”

“I said many things about your father.”

“Yes – yes, you did.” Angrboda couldn’t hide the smile that grew on her lips and the sudden awkward blushing that bubbled under her cheeks, trying her best not to think about the stories her mother shared – maybe even in too much detail – about her affection with Floki. “What I mean is, you said he was going after the wrong man. I – what did you mean?!”

“Oh! That.” Helga took a long pause, paying attention to the brew she was stirring – her expression changed from distracted to amused to concerned, all in a matter of a few seconds. “We knew something had happened to you last night. Or, actually. Your father knew.”

“He knew-” Angrboda choked, taking a moment to think about what Helga could mean – but a moment was enough to make her realise exactly what happened.

She went white as snow, while all the blood in her face seemed to drain away. Suddenly, she didn’t feel very well. Every time she felt an incredibly strong emotion, Floki would sense it as well. And vice versa.

Angrboda was connected to Helga too, that way, but her mother wasn't an empath like her or Floki.

The idea that her father literally felt her having sex made a shiver cross her spine making her stomach twist violently.

“Mother, what do you mean he knew?!”

“Well, I am not entirely sure darling. He was suddenly startled-”

“I mean how much does he know? I know sometimes if I’m terribly scared he feels scared too.”

Helga giggled, shaking her head. “No. He didn’t feel that way. But he did feel that moment of connection you were talking about earlier. That’s why we thought it could be Hvitserk.”

“So he went looking for him?”

“I tried to stop him! I said you would have shown up and you would have explained to us if you felt like doing so. Or not. And that would have been ok. You know, like smelling a storm in the air and waiting for it. But your father decided to run right towards it.”

Angrboda huffed, pushing her hands to her face trying to suffocate her desire to scream.

Hvitserk didn’t need to endure Floki being a protective father as well.

Especially when it wasn’t about him.

Part of her wished it could have been.

And part of her, the one still purring curled around Ivar’s dark energy, resented her for thinking such a thing.

“Then father’s decision might as well be another thing I will have to be taken accountable for.”

“I am sure it will be ok. Your father's pride might be wounded when he comes back, though, when he will realise he made a mistake if he doesn’t already know.”

Angrboda sighed keeping her eyes away from her mother’s image. She felt particularly uneasy in her own skin, like a snake needing to change its own.

But now it was also obvious the embarrassment and annoyance she felt. Thinking how her father just acted, rushing into a decision that he thought right and that turned out to be stupid.

Angrboda had to admit that maybe, just maybe, it was in Floki’s rights to be protective and worried. It was true, it had been a while since she just closed up in silence not sharing with him her troubles.

And she wondered what did he say to Hvitserk. And what was said to him? Did Hvitserk act with pride or honour? Did he lie or did he tell the truth? And if so, did Floki storm to Ivar as well?

She needed to stop making up scenarios in her own mind. Because she knew how defensive Ivar could get when met with a confrontational tone or every time he felt threatened.

It was as if the Gods decided to trick her. As soon as her father became part of the conversation between her and Helga and occupied her mind with all those kerfuffles of thoughts, his aura filled the entire beach corner.

The placid waters of the fjord seemed to react to it, raising against the hulks of half-built ships that crowded that corner of the world.

Angrboda held her breath, curling on her own figure not sure what to expect. Would he be angry? Or calm? Disappointed? The emotions that spiked around like bolts of energy in his aura seemed to be incredibly quick and confused, shifting into waves of different nature. But besides the erratic nature of his emotions, Floki seemed to be pervaded majorly by calm and amusement. Which seemed such a weird combination, since he was just back from a trip to Kattegat to have a confrontation with the man he thought she had sex with. Maybe discovering it was actually someone else.

Just thinking about it made her want to dig a hole deep enough to get buried into, and hide - and disappear.

“Father is back.” Announced Angrboda raising her green eyes to Helga’s. In her irises, there was the silent question of someone looking for an ally. She knew Helga would have been in her corner if it needed to be.

But Angrboda didn't hide or tried to disappear in the background as she wished she could do.

She stepped up, deciding to face whatever thing Floki decided to show. She walked out of the tent onto the beach covered in masts and sails and waited for him to appear.

When he finally did, her father's expression surprised her. His eyes seemed to reflect that weird superficial calm he had, even if his aura kept spiking like a thunderstorm. He even showed a smile. It was a genuinely amused and warm smile that she definitely didn’t expect to see, and it did instil new calm in her being.

Floki walked in big but slow strides, taking his time. When their eyes crossed, he greeted her with a nod and that smile of his just grew. “You should have said it was Ivar!”

Angrboda just stood there frowning. Just because Floki showed a completely unexpected reaction on the good side of things, it didn’t mean it was any easier. “Why? What difference does it make?”

“What difference? Helga! Do you hear your daughter?”

“I hear her, my dear husband. But I am wondering the same as her.” Helga slowly walked to her side, tipping her head to the side greeting Floki with a look.

He giggled firstly at her, and then looked back at Angrboda, stopping right in front of her. “You wouldn’t understand what I’m trying to say.”

“No. Explain it to me, father-” Angrboda crossed her arms to her chest, raising her chin and looking at Floki straight in the eye. Suddenly, she was the one looking for confrontation. “I would have told you, by the way. If you just gave me the time. Instead, you just… What? What did you do? Had a jolly walk to Kattegat and probably threatened the wrong man?”

“You know me well, daughter. But I have to say Hvitserk is a more mature man than I expected.”

“He is.” Angrboda nodded with conviction – ready to defend Hvitserk’s honour. Even if she was the one responsible for breaking it, or walking all over his heart – or her own.

Floki smile didn’t disappear. “He seemed eager to defend your honour – and his brother’s. It did surprise me.”

“I know how Hvitserk is worth, father.”

“Ah, I like him a little bit more now.”

“So, he lied to you. He did what? Took responsibility?”

“No. I mean, yes. He didn’t lie nor said the truth – he just took my words and didn’t shit himself like a weak man would do. He protected you and Ivar instead.”

Angrboda didn’t answer she just lifted her chin in a tiny proud nod.

Her heart lost a beat to that knowledge. She knew how bright Hvitserk’s light could shine. She knew how pure and candid his heart was – not naïve, or unable to lie, just set towards doing the right thing.

The idea that, even after everything, he still didn’t deeply hate her made her want to crumble.

And the fact that he protected Ivar as well just gave Hvitserk even more honour.

“Do you want to know why?” Her father’s voice danced in the air, with those excited high pitches he usually had. It made his entire conversation sound musical, in a way.

“I know why.” She didn’t have to guess, in fact. It was Hvitserk’s loyalty. And it was his love that brought him to protect someone else’s secret.

Angrboda’s eyes shined brighter for a moment. But she had to bite her tongue to distract herself from going on thinking about it. And how much she felt for Hvitserk.

Floki just looked at her for a long moment. She knew he was rummaging into her soul, taking all the emotions she just felt. It looked like they were pieces to a puzzle for him. She could almost see the thoughts form into his mind, piecing her emotions together.

“Well? Are you going to explain why Ivar makes any difference?”

“Because he is Ivar! Do I even have to explain?” Floki’s sudden spike of pride and excitement about that particular topic made Angrboda’s shiver.

She felt an awkward feeling sliding and crawling under her skin, giving her goosebumps. “Is this it? You love Ivar so dearly that your consideration of him it’s still so high, even in this situation? So, Ivar doesn’t deserve your threats because he touched your dear daughter?”

Angrboda's sudden reaction of anger and venomous words was still met with a giggle and a bright smile, while her father was just amused by her reaction. He wasn’t taking the piss but he was studying her.

“No. He doesn’t deserve my threats.”

“Good. Because anyway it was nothing, father. Just sex. He wouldn’t have deserved your threats anyway.”

Why was she suddenly so angry?!

The darkness inside of her was stretching and growing, surrounding her being and absorbing every part of her, filling her irises with a darker light. She could not control it. Much like any other time before when she gave in to rage.

Floki just stood there, looking at her. “You think what you felt was nothing?”

“It was.”

“You think what you feel is nothing?”

“It’s just temporary, it will pass.”

“Oh, yeah? So, you think what Ivar felt was nothing.”

Angrboda didn’t answer to those words but with a growl.

Ivar’s feelings were hers.

She had no control. Her anger spiralled, her darkness fed into it, more powerful than ever before, darker and denser. And her eyes were quick to transform and shaded into darker and darker shades of green – becoming closer to black.

Floki just stood there, looking at his daughter from his height. He wasn’t scared or angry. He was calm and still amused. He was absorbing everything she was giving out, willing to feel more, to explore more. She didn’t have enough control to shield what she was feeling.

“Angrboda-” Helga's soft voice reached for her ear, while her mother tried to call her back. But she didn’t react. She moved closer to Floki, not paying attention to their height difference or the respect she is bound to have for her father. “What do you know about Ivar’s feelings?”

Angrboda even showed her teeth, snarling those words. She narrowed her eyes, looking at her father. There wasn’t something specific she was angry at. Anything he would say made her feelings or memories for both Hvitserk and Ivar threatened.

Floki moved his eyes to Helga and exchanged a nod with her, signalling to his wife to move away. Angrboda didn’t even realise that her mother stepped away, finding some distance from her. She was too focused on Floki, to feel the sudden worry that broke into the woman.

Then, Floki looked back at Angrboda. “No. What do you know about his feelings? I know about them since he had them. You know how long that was?!”

Angrboda snarled once again – but didn’t say anything.

Whatever information on Ivar’s feelings would have just fed into her, making her situation even worse. “It doesn’t matter – it will pass too.”

Floki nodded to her words, looking so impressed by her being stubborn more than to her reaction. He wasn’t surprised as much by her reaction, but by her words. “Hm. It will just pass. Nothing happened.”

“Yes.”

Floki smiled with a touch of arrogance in his expression, it was the smile someone who knew better, and was winning an argument, would have.

He didn’t do much. He just raised his hand, to which she didn’t pay attention before, just now realising he was holding something. A piece of white sort of material.

Angrboda could not see it very well, yet she recognized it immediately.

“So, you don’t mind burning this, then.”

And her eyes went black. “Father, give it to me.”

She didn’t even know how he found it or knew about it. But then again, Floki was more powerful than her. She was following his steps in her divination gift, but her senses weren't as strong as Floki’s. So, there could be infinite ways he knew about the dress.

On the other hand, he did go after the wrong person. So even his sight wasn’t perfect.

But of course, she wasn’t in the right state of mind to think straight or question anything.

Angrboda raised her hand demanding to have back what was hers. Yet, Floki moved quickly, hiding the dress behind his back. “Why do you want it?”

“Because it’s mine.”

“Why? Do you care about it and who gave it to you?”

“No.” She spoke between gritted teeth, pushing out words that were clearly crushing with her actions and violent reaction on the matter.

Floki smiled once more. “Then I will burn it.”

“Do it and you will regret it.”

Floki didn’t say a word, he just opened wider his eyes and made a pout in pure gloating astonishment. Her threat didn’t induce any fear in him, but a wave of pride hit her.

He smiled, with a spike of determination colouring his aura.

Floki leaned closer to her. The fact that his move made her feel smaller filled Angrboda up with such roaring fire.

“I wouldn’t threaten Ivar because he is more worthy to have you than Hvitserk is.”

The Angrboda able to weigh words and think clearly, was gone. She wasn’t Flokisdóttir, she wasn’t standing in front of her father and next to her mother. The woman standing there was pure emotion and fire.

Angrboda’s eyes gleaned and twisted, the light shone through them like the eyes of a predator would do. Her blood demanded violence, her muscles were tense and ready for a fight.

The honour of the man she loved was put at stake. The craving to protect Hvitserk mixed with the rage she just felt about her situation with Ivar.

Angrboda wanted to speak. She wanted to say she was perfectly able to decide herself who was worth enough and pick whomever she wanted without having to have her father's permission.

But words didn’t come out. Just a growl.

Then Floki nodded towards her, again acting in a way she couldn’t predict. His smile didn’t disappear and his aura remained overwhelmed with calm and pride. And respect?

For a moment, Angrboda thought she must have been so mad to not have her senses right.

All she needed was a cohesive thought, in the time span of a second, to regain sudden grip over her thoughts, emotions, facial expression and senses.

Angrboda gasped, taking a step back.

She brought a hand to her chest, pushing it against it as if she wanted to push inwards whatever emotions just bubbled up.

She regained control over herself in the blink of an eye. Her sudden mood swing made her head spin violently.

Her facial expression changed from scarily livid to concerned – and her eyes switched back to the normal, natural colour of her irises. “I – I am sorry, father. I –”

“It’s ok. It’s all right.” Floki embraced her, stepping next to her and sliding an arm around her body. He pulled her closer, and Helga followed right after, taking her face between her hands, ever so softly to make her look at her.

Helga offered her a smile and then pulled her closer to herself, pushing her forehead against Angrboda’s. Her mother inhaled a deep breath closing her eyes, and Angrboda did the same, absorbing part of the calming energy Helga seemed to be pushing out to her.

Then, Helga looked at Floki. She didn't say a word. She was worried. Not scared, but definitely worried.

As Angrboda herself was. “I cannot control it. It’s not the first time I've lost control. I–”

“You do not have to explain. I know. I wanted to see it.”

“You know?”

“Yes. I do. Your powers are growing and changing, my daughter. I feel them. I needed to see what is hiding inside of you.”

“And what is it?”

“Something that will become very useful to you when you will be able to control it. One day you will become Angrboda The Deathbringer, because of it – but you need to channel yourself.”

“Did you see it?”

Floki nodded solemnly, speaking words of a prophecy she didn’t know the nature or meaning of.

“We can help you.” Floki’s voice broke in a giggle that filled Angrboda with such warmth, that shook away the fearful shivers she had.

She nodded, wishing to understand more – to know more.

What was she becoming?

“On the other matter.” Floki moved. He stood in front of her and scooped her scarred cheek into his hand, making Angrboda raise her chin and look at him in the eye.

Helga stood next to her, with a hand placed on her shoulder, but her mother’s eyes were on her husband and her heartbeat with such devotion, a feeling that brightened through her energy. “I do care who you chose to have by your side. But I will never judge so harshly. You are a free woman.”

“Then why-”

“Because I wasn’t sure what you were going through lately. I kept to myself – but I felt your sorrows. I knew you were, and you are, close to Hvitserk, I know what you feel for him. And I knew he wronged you. So, I assumed. And I was wrong. But I still had to prove a specific point to the boy.”

“Which was?”

“It’s between me and him. Hvitserk knows. I have to say, though, that I would lie if I said I do not support your closeness to Ivar.”

“There’s nothing to support, father.”

“The reaction you just had was not nothing, child. You can lie to yourself, Angrboda. But do not lie to me. I can see through you.”

“I am not lying. It’s how things are.”

“Yes? So why do I see Ivar’s shadow inside of you? I can feel what he feels – because you do, even if you’re so far apart.”

Angrboda sighed and raised her eyes to the sky, then she moved, escaping her father’s hold. She exchanged a look with Helga and then took a deep sigh, turning over to her father. She pulled her hand out. “Can I have my dress, please?”

Floki this time complied and gave her what was hers. “It’s a nice dress. He put a lot of thought into it.”

“He probably just commissioned it.”

“Yes – Ivar is not a skilled seamstress I imagine.” Floki giggled at his own words, but there was truth in what he wanted to say.

Which Angrboda just decided to ignore, because that was her way to be.

Angrboda didn’t touch the dress for a long time. She even tried to forget about it and how it made her feel.

As soon as her fingers ran through its material, she felt the energy the dress brought with it – full of dense passion. It felt like Ivar, it felt like the side of him he never showed to anyone. And it felt like dark smoke.

“I know of the Ancient One has told you.”

Angrboda froze on the spot, and slowly raised her eyes to Floki. She just stood there and the breath she inhaled sounded as noisy as ice shattering. “You know?”

“Yes.”

Angrboda’s heart crushed under the pressure of knowing her own father now knew what the Seer has told her, what Loki has shown her.

Those weren’t omens she wanted to share, especially with her parents who didn’t need to know the despair their destiny was signed with – and changed by the will of the Trickster.

Angrboda didn’t have any intention of explaining to Helga what Floki meant, even if her confusion and curiousness were more than clear, tingling in the air.

It was more than enough that her father knew. Such a piece of news would have broken her mother.

Floki’s aura suddenly filled with the bitter sorrow the knowledge he had brought – and there was just one thing Angrboda felt to do. She moved and gave a hug to her father, which was welcomed with affection.

He squeezed Angrboda between his arms, closing his figure around her and leaned closer to her ear. “You’re not a being of this world, my daughter. I love you.”

Angrboda found a moment of peace, between her father arms. Everything that was eating her alive, everything that felt out of place just disappeared.

“I won’t be able to shield you from the pain you will have to endure. But you’re not alone – and I can give some of the tools you might need to see and feel more clearly.”

“I just wished I knew what to do. What is expected of me? Everything people say sounds so heavy and so hollow.”

“I cannot tell you what to do. But I can help you become stronger.”

[balmacedapascal-archive]

stories i’ll never write || vikings college au

Angrboda Flokisdottir has been hopelessly smitten with Ubbe Ragnarsson since she was seven years old. And after spending over a decade dreaming about her best friend’s uncle (which she admits doesn’t sound great on paper), she’s ready to put her schoolgirl dreams to rest and see what the world has to offer. She’s determined to not spend her first year at university tucked away in her dorm, pining after a guy who was there to see every awkward moment of her development. Especially not when he’s got a perfectly gorgeous girlfriend who looks like she’s never had a pimple a day in her life. Except it’d be so much easier to get over him if he didn’t keep popping up everywhere she goes. And if Hvitserk would shut up with his stupid comments any time she’s within earshot.

[hiddenwashington]

Hi guys sadly due to a loss of muse i'm going to be doing a muse purge may I please drop Gwen, Yuki, Emily Young, Angrboda,

that happens. thanks for letting us know ! gwen pendragon , yuki cross , emily young , & angrboda flokisdottir are now reopened for applications. do not unfollow as this is still a mumu blog !

[we-walk-the-miles]

NO. FUCK YOU. FUCK EVERYTHING. ANGRBODA NO.

[majesticwren]

The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 12k. Trigger Warnings:  mention of slavery, scheming, mention of sex, mention of contraceptive methods, !Sigurd is his own Trigger Warning! Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @miss-madness67 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 12 - Wicked Game.

Margrethe crossed the market square. She was well-intentioned in walking all the way through it and up Kattegat main road, where foreigner salesmen were busy selling everything from different places all around the known World.

After her chores were done that morning, the Queen trusted her with some coins to go and buy supplies for the Hall. Of course, she was more than eager to take that responsibility and do her best. Margrethe thought it was the best way to quickly learn what she would have to do, one day, when she would be Queen.

It was also a great way to understand Kattegat.

Her eyes quickly filled up with the wonders of all the different kinds of food, animals, materials and people, and her nose would pleasantly hitch with the pungent smell of some spices or dried plants and meats. She wondered how those mysterious foods from far away lands would taste. But she was very quick to console herself with the thought that one day, she would be Queen and able to taste everything

She walked slowly, enjoying the lively buzz of Kattegat that morning and the cacophony all around her. Those would be, one day, her people.

More than anything, she enjoyed having time to feel free. Even if her simple shaped, bland colour, dirty clothes, and her braided hair would clearly highlight her social position. At least in her mind she could pretend what she wanted.

But Margrethe wasn’t just enjoying the morning air and a pleasant walk away from her usual duties at the Hall.

Oh, no. She had specific intentions. In fact, she planned that outing specifically.

Her eyes were not just filled with all the wonders around her. They were also looking for a few specific people.

She was fairly new to Kattegat. Yet, she managed to get well introduced into the slaves’ community of the city. Especially helped by her position at the Hall.

And she just needed to find someone she knew.

"Agnes!" As the fates were listening to her, Margrethe recognized the familiar face of a slave girl working for the well-renowned house of a merchant. She greeted the girl with a smile, approaching her.

"Margrethe. What a pleasure." Agnes was not a pretty girl. Not as pretty as her anyway. And not as young.

But she had other wits to her character and her master still liked her very much, leaving the slave with enough freedom to roam Kattegat as pleased her.

It was dangerous to trust slaves - but some people still did it, possibly because it was impossible to understand for a free man or woman what it meant to bear invisible chains for a lifetime.

Margrethe quickly reached Agnes, exchanging a meaningful look with her. And she knew exactly what that meant.

More importantly than its wonders, the market was a source of information.

Margrethe was new to the scene and it wasn't so common that she would have the chance to go to the market. But she already knew it was the way to find and spread information quickly.

She hated being a slave, but her role could be useful sometimes, at least for now. Slaves were invisible and could gather plenty of secrets and knowledge over the private life of people. A slave of the Great Hall would always be known for the more valuable knowledge they could have.

On a regular basis, a slave was supposed to be loyal to their master. Which was the reason why not many would so easily reveal the secrets of their houses. But with the right compensation, everyone would untie their tongues.

It was easy for her to find that business. And because of her position, it was guaranteed that if she had something to say, then it would be good.

So, a stroll around the marketplace wasn't just a moment of freedom she would enjoy. It was useful.

And Margrethe knew exactly where to find, or better, where to sell information.

Agnes was one of those instances.

"So, any interesting news?"

"I might have something." Margrethe looked at the other girl leaving behind a pregnant pause.

Agnes nodded to her words, her attention clearly already hooked. Margrethe didn’t need anything better, she hoped to receive exactly that reaction.

She nodded, with a decisive smile curling her lips.

Generally, the trade of secrets between the slaves had a few rules. More or less, in the slave community, it was common doing to trust each other even without being acquainted. In fact, the sources would generally be protected.

It was also common to think that whatever secret one ear was receiving, then it would be true – or almost entirely true.

The fewer people knew about the information, the newest this was, the more valuable it had.

And finally: everything had a price. And in a community of people without the luxury of even being free, less than poor, sometimes less than animals, a secret could save one’s life. Or give leverage. Or just be the means to have possession over an object of more or less value and more or less usability.

It was generally a dirty and blind trade. It was a gamble.

There was no way she could know what Agnes, or any receiver, had to offer and what they were in possession. It could have been other secrets, information, tips, or objects. And they wouldn't know how valuable the information could be until heard. Yet, it was a game worth playing.

Margrethe smiled at Agnes, her features bent under such a sweet expression, still aimed to no good.

She was like a beautiful, poisonous flower.

“Well?”

“I bet you noticed there has been some kind of... Problem, between the Sons of Ragnar, recently.”

Agnes scoffed a laugh, nodding. “Oh, yes. I mean, there's always friction between them, isn't it?”

“Yes. But, I'm sure everyone in Kattegat had a chance to see Hvitserk's face in the past few days.”

Margrethe was eager, full of pride, even reckless. She didn't lower her eyes or her voice - her words didn't bring the honour she was bound to carry. She was already a step ahead, in her fantasies. Too comfortable and confident she would have landed on her feet whatsoever to bother about lowering her voice.

She was sure no one was listening in, anyway. But the point wasn't that. The point was showing respect.

Agnes, instead, showed the right kind of reaction, bowing slightly and getting closer to Margrethe so she was free to answer with whispers. “I have heard voices about it. I've heard it was Ubbe the one who-”

“Those rumours are incorrect.” Margrethe smiled, lifting her chin proudly, just because she knew the truth.

Holding such information, or anything really, put her in an advantageous position, making her feel powerful. It was the same feeling she felt when she saw Angrboda sneak into Hvitserk's room and knew that getting close to him would have angered the other woman.

And she did, acting following her own agenda.

She found and took a chance to get close to Hvitserk. It wasn’t such a sacrifice, in all honesty. But she did it mainly to juggle others to her own will, Hvitserk included.

And it apparently worked. Hvitserk didn’t have to do much, but Angrboda fell right into her trap like a fool. And then showed once more how much she cared for Hvitserk that same evening at the Hall. Of course, only after confirming her anger was great. She caved a Son of Ragnar's face in, after all.

Incredible how easy it was to find someone's weak spots.

Now, Margrethe knew more about how some situations worked between the Brothers and the girl specifically.

Firstly, to them, she was such an equal to accept what she dared to do to Hvitserk with no consequences. Even Sigurd, who seemed to be the one brother who couldn’t stand her the most, still accepted her move. Secondly, Ubbe was ready to take the fall for her.

It was weird, she was part of their group, yet she wasn’t treated like a little sister or just a woman. But like one of them in every possible way.

Margrethe was still intentioned in following her plans and everyone would know who she was one day. With or without the witch's support.

She knew she had great chances to lure one of the brothers to choose her. But first, she had to eliminate her competition.

Which at that specific moment was Angrboda.

All the women of Kattegat would braid their hair following the designs the Queen would choose. But all the girls' hair would mimic Angrboda's. Even stepping outside the Hall was a constant reminder of what she had to do.

Besides, of course, the barely inconvenient fact that she was dangerously close with all the Sons of Ragnar, clearly able to manipulate them between her fingers at will.

“Are you going to tell me what really happened?” Agnes seemed eager to receive the information. Margrethe saw her hand move to her pocket, reaching for something but she quickly stopped her, shaking her head. “No. No need.”

No information came for free, ever.

Yet, Margrethe wasn’t entirely interested in obtaining payment. Her secrets were valuable but what she most needed was that her word would travel fast.

She needed the gossip to spread. Letting others act upon their own decision caused by rumours.

Agnes gave her such a puzzled look, frowning. Because automatically she thought that then the information was of no value if it costed nothing.

Even slaves between them generally could not afford to be helpful, let alone generous.

But Margrethe knew what she had to say was important and she thought Agnes could make her mind up about it after. And she wanted to be generous, now.

She also had many secrets to share – and knew it was difficult Agnes could afford them all.

While Margrethe first priority was to get the word flowing.

“I suppose you know of Angrboda.”

“Loki-Kissed.” Agnes gasped, and then tilted her head forward as if she was bowing once again.

Margrethe raised her eyes to the sky and shook her head, huffing. People called Angrboda many ways, and everyone seemed to have an opinion. But Margrethe thought she was just a girl.

She saw her anger develop, she felt it crawl on her own skin. But she chose to ignore it – she refused to be scared of such a little girl.

“It was her who hurt Hvitserk that much.”

“Was it? Impossible. Hvitserk is a warrior, a Son of Ragnar!”

“Yes, he is. And she still did what she did. Unbelievable!”

“Speak your words quietly, Margrethe. Everyone knows it brings such bad luck to speak ill of Angrboda Loki-Kissed.”

“Superstition doesn’t make what I tell you less true.”

Agnes just nodded to Margrethe words and didn’t dare to say anything else. She kept her brown eyes pointed to the ground and chose to remain quiet for a while.

Margrethe felt the deep need to give her a firm shake and push some sense into her, thinking how stupid could it be to think that speaking of someone has will over someone’s luck?

Angrboda fame mainly arrived from the value of her name and not because of her own. And from the greatness of her father, whom everyone knew, apparently.

Margrethe smiled to herself once more, thinking that once she was done with spreading rumours, then she could take some time to instigate doubt in the Brothers who would listen.

“But, why? Is there a reason?”

“Oh, there might be, yes. It generally wouldn’t come cheap. But I am generous today. And I have other things to share so-” Margrethe just smiled at the other girl, who was now hooked on what secrets she had to share. Agnes clearly established that whatever she had to say had value. “In return, I just want you to spread these secrets.”

Agnes nodded vigorously, and Margrethe didn’t doubt she would in fact do as she asked.

So, she took a deep breath and nodded, pretending she had to convince herself to say more. “Hvitserk Ragnarsson and Angrboda are apparently really, really close. And he did something that angered her.”

She saw the exact moment her secret left her lips and slid into Agnes’ ears, becoming a thought.

“What did he do?”

“He apparently went with another woman.”

“Oh- Close. That close? You mean they were a couple?”

“I am not sure about the matter. It seems to be a complicated situation even around the Hall. But they are close, yes.”

“Margrethe, are you sure about your words? This is very, very interesting.”

“Yes. I am sure.”

“Who’s the other woman?”

“Of that, I don’t know.” She didn’t dare to mix her own honour in the gossip. Maybe one day it would have come out, as things do. But she didn’t care about it now. Now it wasn’t the moment to put herself in a position of disadvantage.

Margrethe’s lips curled in another smirk, thinking her next piece of information was possibly her most valuable one so far. She wasn’t done and she wanted to place even more doubt between the people about Angrboda’s person.

“I have got more. And believe me, what I have, you don’t want to miss. This piece of information is the most valuable I have.”

Agnes widened her eyes, clearly thirsty for information, which just went straight into feeding Margrethe intentions.

“For this, I want payment. I’ve been good with you, so far.”

Agnes hesitated just a second, clearly thinking about how much could be worth. Margrethe saw her eyes distancing themselves from the world, but waited patiently for her answer, knowing if it wasn’t Agnes, she could have easily found someone else to share her secrets with.

But Margrethe knew she had to act quickly and use her chance wisely. No news was good or profitable if stale.

Agnes finally sighed and then nodded, reaching in her dress pocket. She showed Margrethe an almost completely empty tiny glass bottle, but as little as it seemed, the amount of its content was precious, even if she didn’t know what it was.

“It’s a fine lavender oil. My mistress uses it on her skin.”

Margrethe smiled, the most valuable part of the oil was the glass bottle. She didn’t even have to think about it and just took it off Agnes’ hands, nodding. “It looks like the Loki-Kissed is very close to another Brother too.” Margrethe paused, looking intensely at Agnes. She wanted to see the other hang off her own words. “Ivar the Boneless.”

Agnes welcomed her words with a smile, shaking her head. “Everyone knows that. They grew together. He was raised and trained by her father, Floki the Boat-Builder. They are like brother and sister.”

Margrethe didn’t know that, but she didn’t need that knowledge to know they were close.

Angrboda was protective of him – as it was stated the night she travelled over to mend to one of Ivar’s sicknesses. And Ivar was with her. Just a blind wouldn’t have noticed how his eyes always followed her around.

So, in the beginning, she just nodded. But then she shot the other servant a look, tipping her head to the side. “Does brother and sister share a bed then?”

“What are you saying?”

“Apparently, arrangements were made to have them meet in a cabin on the coast, under the agreement of spending a night together.”

Agnes gasped, raising a hand to her chest. Her eyes widened. But a second after she lowered her eyes to the ground.

“Loki-Kissed and Boneless. This is- Confusing. Didn’t you just say she is particularly close to Hvitserk?”

“Ah, but here is the thing. Apparently, she is thirsty for power. And she might be close to all of them that way, for what we know. Manipulating the Sons of Ragnar.” Margrethe showed a serious face, even if she wanted to grin.

She knew the rumours about Angrboda. And she knew people were either scared or straight didn’t like her. But how much would they accept her being around the Brothers if everyone thought she was actually, concretely manipulating them?

The people would have followed the Sons of Ragnar to the edge of the World. But surely not Angrboda.

Angrboda left the cabin early that morning.

Ivar and her got awakened by the bright and truthful light of the sunrise.

Untying the tight hug they slept in, they also loosened whatever deep bond united them that night. They needed to accept the consequences of their decision. Because reality was already expecting them in the outside world.

The passion and intimacy that united them the night before left space to awkwardness and silence. It felt cold. And it felt colder and colder the more Angrboda thought about, or remembered, how hot was the fire that burned them both just a few hours before.

It was easy to imagine that the bigger distance grew between Angrboda and Ivar, and the more time would accumulate between what happened last night and now, the easier it would be to accept it and just continue with one’s life.

That was supposed to be how things worked. And how they should have been working according to their innocent agreement.

That's what Angrboda expected.

She really wanted to think that way about it and feel it happen around her. It was just one night in which their destinies and bodies crossed, nothing more, nothing less. Everything would have been fine. Becoming easier to not think about, at least.

Not to forget. Never to forget. She wouldn’t have taken that path if her decision was to regret her actions. She didn’t regret anything.

Maybe just hurting Hvitserk, of that she was quite sorry. But at the same time part of her just lazed in the idea that it was more than worth it. Just to reach what she imagined to be her goal to finally break whatever bond was left with Hvitserk.

It would have been nice if things were as easy as she expected them to be.

But of course, they weren't.

The fairies chanted their songs, carried by the wind, in an echo throughout entire valleys and forests, carrying a tangle of Ivar and Angrboda's names. As a reminder that followed her the entire way home.

Worse than anything it wasn’t just the fact that Angrboda could still clearly feel Ivar hands on her skin, or the warmth of his body radiating through hers, or him crawling upon her. Or the sound of his voice in her head.

The worst thing was that she slowly started to realize it was real, more than real, especially with the more distance she would put between herself and Ivar. That bond between them, that moment when she felt their darkness mix and connect becoming one, that was definitely more than real. And it followed her.

She hoped time and distance would quiet things down. Instead, Ivar was with her.

She really hoped she felt what she felt just because of the energy of sex.

Sex was always considered one of the most powerful binding energies between worlds. It was like a sacred ritual, and it could be used as such. In fact, many times it was by witches or rituals of their people. People would easily find their way closer to their animal roots and spirits, during such happenings.

Angrboda wanted to think about it that way. She needed to cling to the idea that it was just the resonance of a powerful moment. So it wouldn’t give their decision such a binding, unavoidable weight.

But it wasn’t.

It definitely wasn’t just a powerful moment.

She was wrong.

Knowing it was easy.

She felt Ivar’s heartbeat inside her chest. It was like feeling her own heartbeat, knowing perfectly well it was happening constantly and rhythmically without having to think about it, much like breathing. Yet, it resonated with another beat that echoed in her chest. A constant invader, yet welcomed like it was supposed to be there like it always was.

And she felt his breath flowing through his lungs, and so hers.

She needed to focus a bit more to discover that their channel wasn’t just that. Angrboda felt what his skin felt. She heard the echo of his voice and even if she could not understand clearly what he said, she knew that it wasn't a memory but a present moment.

Ivar was flowing inside of her. The distance seemed to become greater and greater. Yet she felt so deeply connected to him. It was beyond her powers. It was visceral.

It was terrifying.

Whatever she felt the night before was, it was now undeniable and powerful.

Part of her wanted to understand what it meant and why it existed. She wanted to explore that bond. How far and deep would it go? How much were they connected? Would it dissipate, one day?

There was now a sea storm roaring inside of her. It was made of violent emotions clashing with each other like dense and dark clouds carrying thunder and flashes of lightning, unleashing their violent rain and winds over the agitated deep black waters of an undiscovered ocean.

But part of Angrboda didn’t want to see or feel those emotions.

She knew both Ivar and she were hoping to go back to reality. Yet, they didn’t stand a chance.

Or better, she didn’t stand a chance. Not when her entire world seemed so different now.

“Damn it…” Angrboda whispered to herself, lowering her head and curving her body on top of Ulfrún.

The horse reacted to her move, stopping her pace and raising her head, meeting Angrboda halfway and giving her a place to rest, for a moment. She seemed to do it on purpose and Angrboda gratefully accepted that move.

She was tired of not having one thing going as it was supposed to. Or as she wanted it to go, at least. Even just once.

It wasn’t that she hated the idea of being connected so deeply to Ivar – that wasn’t the major problem.

But she desperately wanted some peace.

As much as her mind could crave it so intensely. Her body was instead ready for battle. Ready for a fight.

She didn’t need to be a witch to imagine that she would have not received what she was craving for possibly for a long time.

Angrboda suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything and a state of panic started to settle in.

She felt the adrenaline crawl under her skin, tensing her muscles in sudden cramps of pain. Her heartbeat accelerated, beating quicker and quicker, and her breath became irregular.

The more she thought about it, the more she spiralled into those feelings and felt worse.

Angrboda clutched her fingers around Ulfrún’s black, long mane, squeezing it.

Angrboda's body shook under such pressure and pain, and she broke into a silent cry, unable to keep her tears in, unable to think or be.

She moved a hand to her own chest, trying to squeeze as much skin she could through the material of her shirt and leather vest. She pushed her fingers against her diaphragm, hoping she could somehow slide them under her skin to rip it apart, and through her ribs to break them open, so to reach her heart and just tear it out.

If she could do all of that, her torn, still beating and bleeding heart would be sacrificed to her dearest God Loki.

Would he, then, answer her prayers and give her peace? Would he, then, accept her sacrifice?

A strong shiver shook Angrboda's little figure, she now looked even smaller.

A sudden thought, blurry like a lost memory, hit Angrboda. To focus on her breathing. In and out, slowly.

She was so lost in her own mind, panic and torments, that didn’t even realise it wasn’t a memory – but a voice hissing through her thoughts and slowly guiding her to gain control.

Angrboda slowly found a hold on her breathing, deciding to put every single thought and any inch of attention on it. She started to count the seconds, to time her inhaling and exhaling.

And slowly the control over her breath spread throughout her entire being.

Angrboda sat back up, and quickly ran her hand on her face, clearing the tears that scarred her skin.

She took a second to regain control and order, shaking her shoulders as if it could be that easy to shake off all her emotions.

Then, as nothing happened, she gave a grateful caress on Ulfrún neck, just a second before encouraging the grey mare to continue into her walk through the forest.

Her mind felt light, her thoughts were muffled, as her emotions, for all the rest of her journey.

She knew it took some time, but it definitely felt like it took only a couple of minutes to reach Floki’s workshop by the beach.

Angrboda dismounted and then guided Ulfrún to the haystack where the other horses were kept, noticing her father’s horse was gone.

She took the time to unload her bag from her horse’s side and then took the saddle off Ulfrún.

Then, Angrboda ran her hands on her grey mare back and side, both to give her a cuddle and to check the temperature of her coat.

After all the travelling Ulfrún did in the past few days, Angrboda knew she needed a good brush and a wash. And she wanted to do it, to take care of her, but… Later.

Angrboda moved in front of Ulfrún, who lowered her head into her rider's hands and accepted her closeness.

Ulfrún welcomed Angrboda caresses with a low neigh. It was a friendly and warm sound. She knew her loyal horse was there supporting her – people who diminished horses to just common animals were so wrong. Because they were massively strong and intelligent animals, but most of all, they were empathetic.

Angrboda pushed her forehead on Ulfrún's muzzle and closed her eyes for a second, breathing in, and out. Still trying to push the panic down,, hoping to do it enough to suppress it.

“Angrboda!” Helga’s familiar voice broke the silence.

Her tone was as sweet and as warm as the one of a loving mother would be, Angrboda felt it around her like a hug.

She was distracted enough to not have felt her energy being close. Even if it was supposed to be quite alarming for someone like her, Angrboda didn’t pay too much attention to that miss.

“Mother.” She turned over and let Helga welcome her with a hug.

At the beginning of that contact, Angrboda felt a bit uneasy. Feeling someone else’s closeness on her body made her skin crawl. But slowly, she melted away between her mother’s arms and gripped on her tighter, finding a moment to relax.

“Are you ok, my child?” Helga didn’t let go but kept her close.

Angrboda senses and powers seemed to be waking up, muffled and confused like after a very long sleep. But slowly, she started to feel Helga’s aura. Her concern. Her love. Her sweetness.

Angrboda just shook her head, and then hid her face on her shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t- know.”

“Come. Us girls can talk. Your father is away.”

“Where did he go?”

“Ragnar departed this morning to Hedeby and we lent him a horse. But your father wanted to walk the way with him and then go to Kattegat.”

“Oh, I see.”

Helga guided Angrboda through the beach, taking her arm under hers. “So, what has happened?”

“I-” Angrboda hesitated. Her words stopped, trapped in her throat and for a few moments she could not talk.

A new wave of anxiety washed over her. Angrboda lowered her eyes, squeezing herself in her shoulders. There were so many things she wanted to say. So much has happened. And she needed to unload the weight over her shoulders.

Gods, if she needed to unload.

But something still stopped her.

The thought that her opening up could do worse, maybe causing bigger problems, or that it could simply be an inconvenience.

Helga stopped, pulling Angrboda to follow her too.

The two women looked at each other for a while, and it seemed like they were looking in a mirror, each face was a reflection of the other.

Angrboda's eyes burned of the same green her father’s irises did, with the same intellect and determination. But they were shaped like her mother’s, in such a sweet curve of her brows and forehead. Her cheeks would be as pink as Helga’s, with a smile able to melt ice like her mother had, a gift the Gods gave her too.

But Angrboda didn’t just look like her mother. She had her sweet essence burning through her veins, with her charm and knowledge.

Helga was a being of such purity. Perfectly able to do great things, able healer and witch, she could wield life and death in her hands, yet she never had any interest in hurting anyone. Her patience, calm and comprehension for others were one of a kind, and in all the years Angrboda knew her, she never saw her break or lose her control.

Helga was a precious woman.

Her mother just looked and looked through Angrboda’s eyes, and then raised her hand, firstly caressing the air around her face like her father would do with her aura, and then, she scooped her cheek in her palm, both firmly and lightly, caressing her skin.

“I am your mother, Angrboda. I know something happened. I know something is always happening. I see it through your eyes, I feel it all around you. I will always give you space-”

“Something is always happening seems almost like a euphemism.” Angrboda interrupted Helga’s words, showing a sad smile.

She ate away enough space. From how long she wasn’t openly speaking to her mother? From how long she cut Helga out of her troubles?

Angrboda took a deep breath, and then finally nodded, deciding that words would have come out, sooner or later. An avalanche just needed the wrong pebble to fall out of place to start rolling.

“I- I spent the night with someone.”

“Was it Hvitserk White-Shirt?”

“No.”

Helga just nodded, her aura betrayed such hope following her words. Angrboda knew she liked Hvitserk for her. Her mother knew about their affection even before Angrboda noticed it.

Her mother then continued on walking to their main tent in the middle of the beach. For a moment there was silence, between the two women, while Helga invited Angrboda to take a comfortable seat.

“Forgive me for possibly overstepping, my daughter, but I thought you and Hvitserk were close. You were so in love with the boy!”

Angrboda, sat on a pillow and to her mother's words automatically retracted as much as possible in her own shell, she curled up on herself, tucking her legs in a hug against her chest. Her eyes were sad and evasive. “I know.”

She whispered like it was a secret that needed to be kept from those who were always watching and listening.

Helga tipped her head to the side, just looking at her. Implying she could talk if she wanted. And Angrboda bit into that silence. “For reasons I cannot explain, my closeness to Hvitserk can’t happen. He cannot know. Nobody can know.”

“But you can tell me anything. Whatever you’ve done, or has happened, I will always stand next to you.”

With Helga words, Angrboda’s heart warmed up and melted away in such deep love and respect for her mother.

She always considered herself a lucky person to be raised and loved by two people like Floki and Helga. Both because everything they were, and so she was, but especially because of that unconditional affection her parents always seemed to have for her, no matter what.

Both Helga and Floki were two people considered different from everyone else, tied to each other by such love, but also comprehension of their nature, backgrounds and attitudes. And that same feeling branched over to their daughter.

Angrboda felt surrounded and overwhelmed by her mother’s love. In a good way.

She felt her mother's feelings release through her aura and flow all around and throughout her. She breathed them and mirrored them reflecting what Helga thought and felt just looking at her.

It was powerful. An unbreakable bond that started so many years ago and lasted through so many things. And still beat and existed – and always would have.

With everything that has happened and changed around her, and how much she was now transformed - she wasn’t a child anymore, and she wasn’t the same girl she was one year ago - her parents’ love was a stable, unchangeable reference and point of a strong connection.

Like the North Star would be for a lost traveller.

Angrboda felt enlivened, becoming brighter and less oppressed by her usual thoughts and worries. It wasn’t an emotion Angrboda managed to show effectively.

In fact, her expression relaxed and her eyes sparkled with affection. Even a warm smile appeared on her lips. But that was it – there was some kind of awkward barrier that stopped Angrboda from actually telling her mother how appreciative she was.

Because she was. And at the same time, she also thought that her mother could always say and feel something of that sort, seeing her as her child, loving her unconditionally, yet not completely understand.

Would she understand, now?

She would have accepted her and stood by her. But would have Helga comprehend totally what Angrboda was going through and her reasons?

Angrboda didn’t give it any thought, before rushing to the conclusion that probably she wouldn’t have. As any young person would think of an older and wiser one. Accepting someone else who could know better was difficult, especially for a woman like her, at her age, going through what she was living.

Angrboda raised her hands to her hair and moved her copper waves to the side, starting to distractedly braid them, suddenly feeling the need to fill her hands with something.

“I know, I know-” she paused for a second, trying to find better words that wouldn’t sound dismissive, “-but you don’t understand.”

There were still so many things that she wanted to say to enlighten the entire situation, but she knew she didn’t have the right words for it.

“So, explain it to me, then.” Helga's voice didn’t change. Her tone remained gentle and mild. It sounded almost surprising.

Angrboda squeezed herself between her shoulders in an automatic reaction, almost trying to evade that conversation that suddenly started to feel heavy, in a way. “I –” Angrboda stopped, trying to collect her thoughts into a sentence that would make sense and sound explanatory, but also respectable. “-I might have taken the decision to lay with another man to honour him, but also for selfish reasons.”

“What were your reasons?”

“At the beginning it was vengeance. I wanted to get back at Hvitserk for something. But then it became-” Another pause followed while Angrboda searched for a way to phrase her thoughts. She lowered her eyes, escaping her mother’s sight. “Then I thought that lying with someone else could have definitely broken the bond between me and Hvitserk.”

“Oh. Well, it makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“I guess it does. But I am also imagining that you cannot have definite proof that your plan will work, can you?”

“Not really, no. But I am hoping it will. The biggest problem is not even that.”

“And what is?”

“It was supposed to be just as it sounds. We both agreed, no strings attached. Yet, I now think the entire world shifted around itself.”

A tiny smirk appeared on Helga's lips and a shot of sincere amusement crossed her aura.

Angrboda wanted to be filled in with whatever funny thought she just had. “What is it?”

“My love, I really wouldn’t give any man such a credit after a night of passion.”

Angrboda’s cheeks caught fire, turning violently red. But a true, jolly smile appeared on her lips. But Angrboda didn’t answer, still not sure what happened last night.

Ivar’s heartbeat was still there. Like the rhythm of his breath. Still echoing in her chest.

“Who is this man, then?”

“Ivar.”

“The Boneless?!” Her mother gasped. Her wide eyes opened even more while pure surprise crossed the woman. The feeling didn’t carry any malicious sense. Just pure curiosity.

Angrboda was surprised to find such a pleasant warmth surrounding Helga, while that information sunk in.

She knew Helga loved Ivar like a son. They grew together, and Helga was there, following every lesson Floki had to teach them. Before Angrboda had the knowledge to heal Ivar, Helga’s hands were the ones that took care of his injuries and pain.

Angrboda just remained quiet for a moment. “Ivar and I- Something had changed, mother.”

“You know, my child, that sex is the most powerful magic – together with the one of blood. I’m not surprised you’re now changed.”

“But I didn’t need it to change. I needed this to remain as it was.”

“And what was it supposed to be?”

“I didn’t need another thing to become complicated, mother.”

“Can you explain the change you felt?”

Angrboda lowered her eyes on the ground. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to say.

It was her secret.

Ivar’s love for her seemed to be a secret he kept for a very long time. Now, it was hers.

And their connection. That was hers too.

Angrboda just raised a hand to her chest, slowly beating her palm against her own flesh. “I feel Ivar now. I am connected to him. There’s no way I can explain it.”

She looked into her mother’s eyes, waiting for an answer. Helga nodded to her, remaining silent for a very long few seconds. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“I never said it was a bad thing. It’s just change I didn’t need.”

“The only thing that is certain is change. You cannot be just play being kids forever.”

“No. Of course not-”

“Let me ask you this: do you regret it?”

“No.”

“So, where is the problem?”

“The problem is that I- I am tired of having to deal with difficult situations. I would like something to be easy.”

“But you are not a common woman. You know that better than anyone else, my child. Your life won’t be easy, unfortunately. I wish I could be of better help. But I can just tell you that you’re so strong, and one day all this fighting won’t appear so difficult, I promise.”

Helga leaned closer, squeezing Angrboda’s hands between hers and nodding, looking right into her eyes, as if she wanted to make sure that the seed of that idea properly found grounds in her mind.

Angrboda nodded, even if Helga’s answer didn’t satisfy her. She wished once in a while she could receive a better answer to her problems than just the fact that she was different and so deserving of an unsettled and difficult existence.

“You’re helping, mother. I- I guess at the moment I have to accept not having answers, but talking is helping.” It was true, with every word, and new notion that she let out from her lips the weight pushing her down seemed to lift. Not disappear completely but at least ease.

Another amused smile appeared on Helga’s lips. Behind her hazel eyes, Angrboda could clearly see her curious spirit dancing. “Now, you’re clearly a grown woman. So, how about you let me teach you how to brew your own infusion of herbs to avoid unwanted pregnancies, uhm? I am going to guess it might be another complication we don’t want to worry about… Right?”

“Yes. Right. I’m not naïve about this though. I did think to ask you.”

“I know you’re a smart woman. You’ve got your brains from me.”

Helga nodded towards her while tapping her index on her temple, exchanging with her daughter a cheeky smile.

“And in the meantime you can better explain to me what is going on, or what happened, uhm? If you want.”

Angrboda nodded now a bit more convinced, maybe even confident, willing to fulfil her mother’s curiosity. She welcomed the feeling of her chest being a little lighter, and a little brighter with such a relief.

Helga moved. Getting back up she  started looking around, probably thinking about what ingredients she needed.

Then, a sudden giggle pervaded her mother. Helga shook her head raising a hand to her face like she was trying to hide her smile and contain her laugh, which became even stronger.

“What is it?” Angrboda lifted her head up, trying to catch her attention, or understand what was so hilarious.

Helga turned over and Angrboda was hit by her amusement. “You know, I think that your father is going after the wrong man, then.”

Margrethe fixed her dress wiggling in it and moving it back around her body as it was supposed to be worn.

She passed her hands on the thick material of its skirt, trying to flatten some barely noticeable or totally invisible creases.

Her hands vibrated under a tiny charge of nervousness that quickly spread like wildfire throughout her whole being.

Maybe, she would have been able to rustle some time up later and sneak around the coast to give herself a wash.

Her sudden need to be clean and tidy, showing a perfect image was moved by such different feelings. There was her slight guilt, and the idea she was possibly doing something wrong. But more than that, it was the anxiety of a moment she felt just like one would a second before jumping off a cliff.

She inhaled oxygen in her lungs, trying to breathe her nervousness away.

Fresh air would have definitely helped more than the congested one of the barn, smelling of dry hay, earth, manure and sex. But she could not do much better than that, right now.

Her plan worked. After she told all her information and did what she had to at the market, she went back home knowing that Kattegat would be soon buzzing with news.

She made her way back to the Hall and patiently continued with her day, waiting and filling the time with chores she didn’t really want to do but could not escape.

Until the brothers came back.

They all left early that morning to presumably go and fetch Ivar from the place he met Angrboda the night before.

What she had to say at the market were not lies. She knew what she was talking about and how much tension that happening created around the Hall, especially between the Brothers.

She was there when Ivar broke the news to his brothers. The crippled one was all proud and quite frankly impudent about it – and was met with different reactions by the others.

No one judged him, as Margrethe would have expected it to happen. Not even Sigurd. But Hvitserk kicked off quite badly about it. It was understandable if he was as close to Angrboda as it seemed to be.

But then, for some reason that Margrethe could not quite understand, in a dynamic she was totally a stranger to, even Hvitserk calmed down and just seemed to accept the news, blessing his younger brother.

Well, she was not of the same opinion the Brothers seemed to have on the matter. And of course, Margrethe was convinced she had the right to have an opinion about it.

“You seem bothered.”

Margrethe didn’t realise she got carried away by her own thoughts.

She looked over, finding Ubbe still laying in the hay, looking comfortable and satisfied. His blue eyes pierced through her, studying her every move.

Margrethe covered her thoughts with a smile, leaning her head to the side, imagining that could be enough to distract him.

“I am not bothered. Maybe I'm just concerned.” She moved closer to him. Kneeling next to Ubbe, she raised a hand to caress his features in an affectionate manner.

Ubbe was definitely her favourite between them all, and she knew they were growing closer to each other. Or at least, she knew he was starting to develop feelings for her. Of which she felt quite proud of.

She was working on getting close to Sigurd as well. But she had to behave in such different ways with the two brothers.

Ubbe didn’t need her attention to inflate his confidence, of that he was already quite full. But she knew he was ambitious and he liked to conquer power, lands or hearts alike. So, she knew he liked the idea of charming her away from the others, taking it as a personal gain because of his infatuation in her regards, but also as a win.

Instead Sigurd just liked to have the affirmation that he could have attention. He was nonetheless powerful and he still was owed respect for being a Son of Ragnar – but he had a stormy heart and quite a short temper, he definitely liked to receive care and consideration though. Margrethe devotion and love was enough to make him crumble.

So, she had to say that her plan was working quite well. She would have used anyone to climb the ladder to her freedom. But if she had to bet on someone she would have picked, that was Ubbe.

The Son of Ragnar turned his head, and closing his eyes he softly kissed the palm of her hand. “What’s the problem?”

“Oh-” Margrethe retracted her hand, then placed them both on her knees. She turned her head and leaned it on the side, clearly showing herself uncertain – even scared. But also, trying to hide away. “I don’t know if I can talk freely.”

“You can always talk freely around me.”

Margrethe kept her act, hooking Ubbe’s attention with her naïve behaviour.

Again, her plan worked better than expected. A bit of acting and sex was definitely the quickest way into a man’s heart.

Margrethe showed hesitation as much as possible. Even if she looked forward to proceeding with her plan to isolate Angrboda from the brothers, she still had to be smart about it.

“I am concerned about you. And your brothers.”

“Why?” Ubbe sat up, leaning closer to her. Once his attention was hooked, Margrethe finally raised her eyes, pulling out her secret weapon: having them widened, assuming such a lost girl expression.

She knew someone as courageous and heroic as Ubbe would have never resisted such a look.

“I am hearing things all around, and I am seeing things. I think you’re being manipulated. All of you. And it’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous.”

“My brothers and I are not kids, we know how to take care of ourselves.”

“Forgive me, if I am overstepping but- I- I am just worried.”

“You said we were manipulated. By who? In what way? What did you hear or saw?”

“I think it’s Angrboda.” Margrethe whispered her name, pretending just saying it scared her deeply.

At that point, she noticed Ubbe freeze on the spot, his eyes became sharper and, if possible, brighter.

“Can’t you see how the witch is working her way on you? How is she winding all of you up and putting you against each other? I think she is trying to-”

The more she talked, the more livid Ubbe’s face became. She didn’t expect it, she thought she had him in a tight enough grasp to be able to manipulate him. But she didn’t, clearly.

He shushed her, shaking his head. “Of this, you’re not free to speak.” He just turned away and got up, seemingly ready to leave without saying another word to her.

Which Margrethe didn’t have any intention of letting him do, so she followed. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Ubbe turned over. He looked angry and extremely serious. To the point that when he raised a hand to her face, she was ready to be slapped and be silenced back to her position.

He didn’t. Besides his anger, he still showed her such sweetness, just scooping her cheek into his palm. “I do not know what you heard. But I know what people say. Let me clear up that Angrboda is a sister to us. She is one of us. And she is not malicious as people describe her. Do not believe what you hear.”

“But she-”

“This conversation is over, Margrethe. Angrboda is not a matter of discussion. And you do not have to worry about her.”

Margrethe bit her tongue, thinking she just messed that right up. Maybe she should have waited a bit longer, worked her way into Ubbe’s heart deeper before trying to seep doubts in his head about Angrboda. Maybe.

The idea he was so attached to her, to the point he wouldn’t listen for any reason, but just straight be ready to protect her was infuriating. Was she jealous? Maybe. Maybe a bit.

Both because she didn’t disdain Ubbe, she liked him quite enough, so the idea another woman was around him wasn’t appealing, and because she wanted to provoke the same kind of loyalty and reaction in her own regards.

Ubbe raised his other hand too, now firmly grabbing her face, bringing her to look him straight in the eye. For a few seconds, he just stood there. His icy irises seemed to penetrate into her brain. “You know what I would worry about? The distance you keep from Hvitserk. Angrboda is not someone you want to cross.”

“I-”

“No. Don’t say anything. Just take my suggestion.”

Margrethe just nodded.

Her mind travelled fast to many thoughts. More than anything, she wondered how a girl so pariah gained such respect between the Sons of Ragnar. How was it that she wasn’t treated like any common woman, but like one of them, as Ubbe said, and yet could be seen as a woman nonetheless?

The more Margrethe thought about it, the more she convinced herself that Angrboda was a threat to her plan.

She knew she made enough wrong moves around her to make Angrboda not like her. So, now it was a matter of time. If Angrboda would have whispered her disapproval about Margrethe in any of the brothers’ ears they would have listened to her, clearly.

Margrethe needed to act fast and find a more secure position very soon. Before her plan could go up in smoke and she would be doom to life as a slave. She just couldn’t accept the idea. She already was too comfortable in her fantasy – soon to be a reality, as she liked to imagine becoming Queen.

And she wouldn’t have let a girl ruin her hard work.

It was a matter of time and her window to have the upper hand was very short.

Ubbe gave her a gentle shake. “I am serious. You must be very careful. You know I like you, but not as much to accept this behaviour.”

“I am sorry.”

Ubbe just nodded and then, without saying anything else, he just left her.

Once alone, Margrethe just looked at the barn door from where Ubbe exited. Her eyes burned. She squeezed her fists, shaking in frustration and slight fear.

Of course, she wouldn’t have let Ubbe warnings stop her. She had a plan and was convinced into making it out and getting her freedom and power.

And her possibilities didn’t end there.

Just because Ubbe was her first choice, and the first she turned to – it didn’t mean he was the only one she could speak with about her concerns.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Hvitserk was untouchable. She imagined his affection for Angrboda was too blinding for her to have a chance to slip through the cracks and manipulate him.

Ivar was too unpredictable and she imagined he would have welcomed her words with anger, protecting Angrboda. But of Ivar, she was actually scared, because she knew he lacked consciousness or remorse and maybe he would have even killed her if he felt like it.

So, she was left with Sigurd, who she knew was infatuated and easy to manipulate. Especially on the whole Angrboda matter. He didn’t seem to have any intention to protect her, and definitely Sigurd clearly doubted Angrboda.

Margrethe waited patiently for the time to pass. She left the barn only  when it felt like it was long enough to exit from it without raising suspicion.

She went looking for Sigurd, which didn’t require long, she knew where he liked to hide when he didn’t to be around the Hall with the others – which meant most of his time.

He could be either at the tavern playing music, singing and drinking, but that was a more possible scenario in the evening. Or enjoying being alone, hiding away behind the stables.

There Margrethe found him.

She heard the musical tune of his flute betraying Sigurd’s presence.

All the Brothers had different interests besides the usual fighting, hunting and fishing.

Ubbe and Hvitserk both liked to play various dice games, both being quite skilled and extremely competitive about it. Margrethe imagined they just kept challenging each other throughout the years, becoming better and better.

Ivar’s hobby was carving wood. It wasn’t something the cripple ever showed anyone, but it wasn’t even so well hidden. It could be carving runes, or creating figurines either way. Margrethe hated to think someone like him could be talented.

Sigurd’s was music and flyting, he had a talent for that form of creation. He was able to play various instruments, gifted with fine hearing and a tuneful voice, but he could also master words both in ballads and poetical insults.

Margrethe saw him practice flyting many times and definitely, it was Sigurd’s favourite pastime.

She took a second to compose herself. Before turning the corner, she fixed her hair and pinched her cheeks, to make her skin blush. Once more, she ran her hands on her simple dress, making sure it looked nice and in order.

“There you are!” She chirped, greeting Sigurd with the offering of a smile. He immediately lowered his flute, raising his green eyes on her.

Sigurd smirked at her getting back up on his feet, from the pile of hay he sat on. “Looking for me?”

“In fact I was.”

“I wonder for pleasure or need?”

“Why not both?” Margrethe stepped closer to him, unleashing all her charm, knowing perfectly well he was vulnerable to it.

Sigurd was the only one between the Brothers who wouldn’t hide his interest in her even in front of the Queen herself, and Margrethe had to admit she liked how bold he could be, every now and then.

Even if her greater ambition remained pointed towards the oldest between them.

But of course, Sigurd didn’t need to know that.

She raised a hand to his torso, softly caressing his chest while tipping her head to the side. Her eyes were filled with manipulative warmth but were welcomed by Snake-in-the-Eye.

Sigurd’s smirk assumed a warmer curve, while leaned in for a kiss, that Margrethe didn’t deny him. “What is it that you need, then?”

“Oh. Besides everything else you could offer, my prince, there is something I’m here to humbly ask.”

“Yes. I know. I see it in your eyes.” Sigurd moved a hand raising it to her face, firstly caressing her jawline and then tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

He was sharp as a blade. With Sigurd one could not so easily understand his means or motives. Even in his affection, she wasn’t entirely sure she managed to tangle him around her fingers because he truly fell in love with her, or if it was to prove a point to others. Yet, it was a closeness that benefitted both of them, and so they both enjoyed it.

“I need your protection.”

Sigurd's expression suddenly changed. His features hardened, shaded by sudden defence and seriousness. “What has happened?”

“I might have attracted the animosity of a few members of the Hall. Of whom erratic behaviour I am concerned. Not just for me… But for all of you.”

“Who?”

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”

Margrethe gave him a look that didn’t need explanation. The sudden glimpse of enlightening that crossed his eyes made it clear he immediately understood who she was talking about. Especially for someone who knew what she had done and caused, in recent times.

Sigurd nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I am not so scared only of Angrboda.”

“No. You still have to be careful around that one.”

“Yes. But she is clearly protected by someone who scares me way more.”

“Hvitserk is not that scary, believe me. He is just dominated by a stupid infatuation. I hope for my brother he will open his eyes up soon. But otherwise, he is harmless.”

“But I am not talking about Hvitserk. I wouldn’t be scared of him.”

Sigurd remained in silence for a second, clearly thinking about what she could mean. “Are you talking about Ivar?”

“Yes.”

Sigurd didn’t reply. Margrethe just watched his expression becoming more livid, but he waited for her to explain. And she wasn’t waiting for anything better. “No one should have a witch so close to power. Everyone knows it’s bad news. Yet, Angrboda is extremely close to all your brothers. Even to you.”

“She is not close to me.”

“Then why did you never outed what she had done to your brother Hvitserk?”

“My loyalty doesn’t lie to her if that is your concern. I stayed quiet for my brother's honour. Besides, who would take him seriously with the knowledge that a woman did that to him?!” Sigurd tongue was often left free and would easily run through hurtful words. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even realise it. But it was his nature. And his words hissed, filled with poison.

“One way or the other, Angrboda can roam free at the Hall. I saw it. I saw that she can do whatever she wants.”

“Yes.”

“And she is under Ivar protection.”

“Ivar is just a spoiled little boy, and a cripple. What threat could he ever be?”

“Maybe not to you. You’re a Ragnarsson. But for a useless slave?” I wronged the Loki-Kissed and now, Ivar is free to unleash his vengeance on me. You didn’t notice his comments? His behaviour? He scares me…”

“Hvitserk wronged Angrboda. Not you.”

“Yes, but what can Ivar understand? The nightmares I constantly have of him killing me in terrible ways.” Margrethe spectacle became almost art. She showed such a scared mask which to her came out quite easily – as lying.

“He would not get so close to you to ever do such a thing.”

“How can you be sure? And with the witch whispering in his ear at all times-”

“I know. I see the danger. I keep trying to make my brothers understand how dangerous it is to keep a witch so close. But none of them would listen.”

“Maybe your brothers wouldn’t because they are too consumed by the Loki-Kissed tricks. But what about your people?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have heard what the people of Kattegat think about her. I know your people do not like Angrboda.”

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“I think it wouldn’t be a difficult thing to brand her as an outcast and wind people up against the witch.”

Margrethe waited for her words to sink into Sigurd’s mind. Of course, she didn’t need his approval for that part of her plan. She already started it. Margrethe was determined to ensure her own position and keep climbing the ladder to reach the top. “So, the people are smart, they understand better, and they can act with the most powerful of voices.”

“Yes, yes. I get what you mean. I don’t even think yours it’s such a terrible idea, honestly.”

Margrethe nodded towards Sigurd, showing him such a proud little smile, perfectly knowing that her plan was good.

Sigurd mirrored her move and nodded. His words, intentions and actions were dictated by worry, but not entirely. Behind his eyes, there was still a sly, selfish aim. He may be acting showing his affection for her, but at the same time… He was listening to her because she was saying something that could be useful to him.

That was it, Margrethe knew they would have been able to help each other.

“And in the meantime, I will protect you. My brother can’t touch you.”

“I am sure that separating him from the Loki-Kissed will be an advantage for you too.”

“Oh, yeah?"

“Yes, in your constant battle against Ivar. Because he will become useless without her.” If she spoke such words, with such courage and insubordination in front of anyone else, she would have been slapped and definitely punished.

But Sigurd just looked at her and raised his chin, his smile became a confident smirk. “Sounds like we’ve got an agreement then. How do you think you should act on this plan? It seems like you’ve got more answers than me, already.”

“Rumours are a powerful instrument, my prince.”

Sigurd nodded at her words with a clear sign of approval and then moved closer to her, leaning in for another kiss.

This time, Margrethe welcomed his lips with more enthusiasm. But pulled back before that kiss could become anything else.

“I need to get back to the Hall. But I will come and look for you later.”

“Lucky me.”

They both smiled at each other, to the point that even Margrethe felt a warm hold around her heart, appreciating the man she had in front of her just because he understood her and didn’t turn her away.

“I will walk you back.”

The two of them quietly found their way back to the Hall.

Margrethe wasn’t sure if Sigurd already had the intention of going back, or if he did it just for her. But either way, it didn’t change much.

She imagined she would have to go back to her chores and start to amend dinner for the Brothers and their mother.

Any slave would have been punished for her behaviour. Taking free time in the middle of the day, or in general, wasn’t something people like her had a choice over. Ever. But Margrethe suffered from the attention of some of the Brothers – which over time, made her too confident on the liberties she decided to take.

Sigurd and her slid through the open doors of the Hall, just to find Hvitserk speaking to someone.

Margrethe could not see the man, but Sigurd’s reaction, pushing his arm out in front of her stopping her from walking any further, made her understand he was someone important.

Her curious eyes ran towards the scene in front of her.

“I will not ask to know what is going on. I do not need to. My daughter will have the freedom to explain herself. But, know this, break her heart again, and I will make you regret every breath you took since you were born.”

That must have been one of the tallest men she ever saw. But besides his body size, which was about the only detail she could distinguish of the man, he didn’t need any more presentation than his words already betrayed.

Hvitserk welcomed his words just raising his chin proudly in a blunt nod. She could see his brown eyes burn of some kind of bright feeling while he looked the other man right in the eye, without flinching. “I wouldn’t dare. But I won’t do it just because of your threats, Floki. But because-”

When Hvitserk confirmed his identity, Margrethe took a second to look at him. She was almost surprised by how he looked. She didn’t picture Floki the Boat-Builder like that: tall and built, his clothes seemed in order and he was armed – she could see the axe hanging off his side. But there was something off in his voice, something peculiar in the way Floki the Boat-Builder sounded out words and sentences. His voice seemed to be high pitched in random moments of the sentences. It was both weird and interesting.

“Yes, yes. I do not need your words on the matter.” Floki quickly interrupted Hvitserk’s words and moved his hands and body erratically all around just to close a hand around his own forehead like he was suddenly hit by a painful headache. “And even if your words bring you honour, young wolf, just keep my words as a reminder. Uhm? You better take good care of my daughter.”

“She can take good care of herself, though. You know that. She doesn’t need a man to do it.” Hvitserk smirked intelligently and Margrethe could just imagine what could be Floki’s facial expression in return to his words.

She observed the man raise a hand to Hvitserk’s shoulder, giving him a soft shake. “You know? I really cannot make up my mind whether I like you or not.”

“I will always look after your daughter. I know you know.”

“I am a fool. I wanted to punish you, and then I decided to spare you but just warn you. Now I might even consider you worthy.”

Sigurd made a step forward, clearly intending to break through that moment between Floki and Hvitserk.

Margrethe could not understand entirely what just happened. The two talked to each other with threats, yet managed to keep respect well high. And, she knew they were talking about Angrboda but why?

What did Hvitserk have to do with anything?

If she had her story straight, then he and Angrboda were nothing at the moment. Actually, more than nothing. She saw in what state he came back last night, after delivering Ivar to his night with the witch.

So, she could not understand how Hvitserk could stand in front of Angrboda’s father and take in all of that, without a doubt or a shiver or anything to say to contradict the man.

She wondered what changed. But for once, Margrethe just faded in the background, accepting her position and not willing to overstep.

“Floki, welcome! I hope my brother made sure to make you feel comfortable upon your arrival!” Sigurd’s words distracted the two men, bringing them both to turn over.

When Floki turned over she could finally fill her curiosity of knowing what face he had.

He was undeniably Angrboda’s father. The two had the same expression, at times.

She had always wondered why Angrboda would always go around with her face marked by black lines. She knew their people did it in battle. But Angrboda did it often on a regular basis. And now, seeing her father’s face marked by the same kind of designs, she understood it was possibly another weird family trait.

Floki was tall, yet she could not define his entire height, because he seemed very comfortable in moving around arching his back and neck in a way that made him look off, and dangerous.

Hvitserk expression became serious as soon as he crossed eyes with his brother.

“I won’t stay long Snake-in-the-Eye, but thank you.”

Sigurd just nodded towards Floki and Hvitserk, and then an amused and impudent smile appeared on his face. He crossed his arms, raising his chin proudly. “I couldn’t stop myself from overhearing your conversation-”

“You shouldn’t listen to other people's business.”

Floki's eyes sparkled with dark humour, and even if he showed a smile, the way he tipped his head to the side, not lifting his sight from Sigurd even for a moment, made him look more like an animal than a person.

Sigurd, anyway, didn’t seem to see any threat and just continued. “You know it wasn’t him who fucked your daughter, yes?”

Floki flinched at the bluntness of his words, and seemed to hold his breath. Clear confusion filled his expression, so he turned over to Hvitserk, looking for answers that the boy didn’t give him. Hvitserk just looked back at Floki, shaking his head.

So, Floki turned back to Sigurd and took a step forward. “What are you saying?”

“Is this what you were talking about, right? Deciding how worthy my brother is to stand next to your sweet, sweet daughter.”

Floki's expression started to change, in a way that made Margrethe shiver and wish to have left her spot behind Sigurd as soon as they came in, running away in the kitchen, instead of being curious.

But now, there was nothing she could do.

Margrethe started to understand at least a glimpse of who Floki was and the possible reasons why he had such respect.

Sigurd, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be scared.

“Sigurd.” Hvitserk called his brother, clearly implying he should shut his mouth.

Floki took another step forward. Every time he moved, his shoulders would sway following his steps. “You better explain yourself, boy.”

Sigurd remained where he was standing, looking proud and content, with a never-fading cocky smirk printed on his lips. “It was Ivar.”

Floki startled once again, clearly gasping to that news. His eyes widened and for a moment, his face glimmered in pure surprise. “Ivar?”

Floki’s voice was a whisper, and Margrethe swore she saw the tiniest of smiles appear in the corner of the man's mouth.

But it disappeared in a matter of a second. Floki’s face got back into its serious and dark expression, now even scarier.

He took his time to walk all the way, confronting Sigurd.

“Look at your amused face.” Floki moved his head from one side to the other, looking into Sigurd’s eyes so intensely that he seemed to be digging in his mind.

Floki raised a hand caressing briefly the air, a second before breaking into a high pitch giggle. “You’re so proud of yourself. But you shouldn’t be.”

Floki's expression suddenly froze. The smile his giggle brought disappeared and his irises burned as if he would eat Sigurd alive.

Margrethe recognized his expression because she saw it reflected on Angrboda’s face.

The difference was, on a man like Floki it was scary.

Floki turned over towards Hvitserk, pointing a finger towards him. “Your brother, at least, had the honour to remain silent, take it in and didn’t betray his brother, being a blabbermouth like you.”

Floki looked back at Sigurd, once again tipping his head from one side to the other.

Just now, Sigurd seemed to tremble. The smile he had on his face slowly dried out.

“Nothing to say about it now, uh? What did you think I would have done, knowing what you told me?” Floki moved even closer, to the point that if Sigurd wasn’t scared, Margrethe was enough for the both of them and took a step backwards, trying to hide.

“Ah, yes, that was it. You thought I would have gotten even angrier with Ivar. Shame on you Snake-in-the-Eye.”

“I thought you needed to know the truth.”

“No. You didn’t. But that is entirely your problem. In any case-” Floki leaned closer to Sigurd, getting down to his same height and looked straight into his eyes. “Keep your mouth shut when it doesn’t concern you.”

Margrethe thought her breathing was never as loud as that moment. She just looked and looked and thought, maybe Floki deserves the respect he had.

She saw a smile appear on the man's face, while he nodded and then got back up, turning once again towards Hvitserk. To him, he didn’t say anything but the two just exchanged a nod, like a sort of agreement was decided.

Then, Floki turned over to Sigurd, his smile was now crooked and didn’t seem right. “You better be careful Snake-in-the-Eye. If no one ever explained to you the value of shutting up, every now and then, I might have to.”

It was a threat. But also Margrethe had the impression that if he wanted, Floki could be way scarier and more threatening than that. His anger and words were still clearly muffled.

Sigurd raised his chin, his face was livid, now. He just looked at Floki, and clearly didn’t pick up his suggestion. “Don’t speak to me like you’re my father. Don’t confuse me with others in this Hall that consider you so.” Sigurd’s words were pure poison and something in his behaviour that Margrethe could not quite get, made Floki flinch once more, and his expression seemed to soften.

“I thank the Gods every day for not being your father, Sigurd. But one day, someone will teach you a lesson and you will pay greatly if you don’t learn to shut your big mouth.”

“Let them bring it.”

Floki shrugged and then released a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. Suddenly exhausted.

When he went back looking at Sigurd, his expression froze again and his eyes sparkled once more. “Besides, stay out of my daughter's business and you won’t have problems with me. If I cannot teach you manners, I 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 teach you fear.” A grim smile appeared on Floki’s lips and just now, for the first time, he looked up to find Margrethe.

She immediately lowered her eyes to the ground, flattening her figure against the wall she walked back towards and held her breath in for all the time Floki looked at her.

He didn’t say another word but just left the Hall walking out in big strides.

When Floki left, the air seemed to become lighter and easier to breathe in.

“What the fuck Sigurd!” Now it was time for Hvitserk to cross the Hall in big strides, crossing his brother. Hvitserk gave his younger brother a push, raising his chin in a proud nod. “You must stop this. I am tired of you behaving this way!”

“Aren’t you tired of running behind a woman who steps all over you?”

“It is my damn business. And you overstepped.”

“Floki needed to know the truth. I don’t know why you protected her and took the threats Ivar deserved.”

“I will always protect Angrboda’s honour. Or Ivar’s. Or any of yours. Besides, Floki didn’t need to know the truth from you. If Angrboda wanted to tell him, then it should have been her.”

“I don’t understand you. You love a woman that you let your brother have.”

Hvitserk moved quickly. He grabbed Sigurd’s shirt and pulled him close to his face. His brown irises burned with such anger. Margrethe never saw him show such powerful feelings before. “You do not need to understand what I feel. Angrboda is a free woman. Our brother is a worthy man. End of this discussion.”

“So, if I wake up tomorrow and wish to sleep with her-” Hvitserk gave Sigurd a good shake, but his younger brother didn’t react to that but with a smile. “-Yes? Would you let me fuck her?! Or Ubbe? Because we are worthy?”

“I really want to hurt you right now. How about that?!” Hvitserk gave another push to his brother, this time letting him go. And then turned over, walking to the table and pouring himself some ale. “As I said. Angrboda is a free woman. She can do what she wants. With me, and anyone else. I am no one to give permission.”

Hvitserk took a sip from his horn and then pointed his finger towards Sigurd, exchanging with his brother a look. “But you, brother. You have to stop crossing her.”

“Why? What would you do?!” Sigurd spitted back almost immediately and Hvitserk just raised his eyes to the ceiling.

He shook his head, huffing. “Floki is right. One day, someone will teach you a lesson.”