#baker!hvitserk

[freddie-foxs]

A little present for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie because I know how much you love this guy.

[imaginesmai]

Once upon a fairy tale - Ubbe Ragnarson (7)

Barely alive, it’s been a couple of rought weeks BUT I’M BACK. Other parts: Once Upon A Fairy Tale Masterlist  

Plot: Ubbe and you take important decisions, about your future and the future of your kingdoms, not knowing that something bigger than you is happening outside the castle’s walls.

When Ecbert told Ragnar about your decision to stay, the king didn’t look surprised at all. He humored you with your father, agreeing about the old age and bad knees. They both exaggerated their physical conditions between laughs, and concurred that they needed to take the hunting trip easy.

From behind your father, you watched with a soft smile the interaction.

You hadn’t noticed until that year how close your father and Ragnar were. Back at Wessex, you didn’t have many friends, and not a relationship as close as them. As you stared at their interaction, you felt your heart growing bigger, feeling that you had taken the right decision.

The moment was cut short when Ubbe and Sigurd appeared. Apparently, Aslaug had had a bad night and wouldn’t be gracing you with her presence. And, since Hvitserk hadn’t shown up for breakfast, he had declined going with them.

The hunting raid was complete and ready to go, you guessed. And it was time to share with Ubbe the news.

Both kings looked at you when the brothers arrived. Before you could notice the difference between them, Ubbe talked.

“I’ve been looking for you” he lifted the corner of his mouth, not completing the smile. “Good morning, father. King Ecbert”

“Ubbe” your father nodded in recognition.

“Where is your saddle?”

Indeed, while Sigurd was wearing his riding clothes, Ubbe was still in his usual, prince-ish robes. Not only he was wearing a long, cobalt tunic with silver embroidery, but he didn’t carry the usual smell of staying in the barn for hours.

When his brother rolled his eyes and walked away, Ubbe smiled. He had had enough time to prepare his horse, clean his riding boots and choose his favorite saddle. If he had wanted, he could have gone to the hunting raid, just as it was planned for him to go.

He liked to hunt. Like the adrenaline of chasing a prey and the silence of the forest. When they hunted, his father and him went back to his childhood, where they shared a deep bond. But he had decided against it.

“I won’t be accompanying you today, after all” Ubbe explained. “There are… matters I need to take care of. Maybe I can help princess Y/N packing”

“You won’t have to” Ecbert interrupted him.

“Oh”

Looking at your father, Ubbe lowered his head. His idea had been to stay behind with the excuse of helping you to pack. He didn’t know why, but after you were interrupted in his chambers, he had felt the need to spend one last day with you. Hvitserk had left the castle early in the morning to complete his weekly activities in the cabin, which included two brunets’ servants and the daughter of the baker.

So there was little chance of being interrupted.

He tried not to show his disappointment, because if you didn’t have to pack bags, then he didn’t have a reason to stay.

“We’ll be… staying. For another day” you explained, not meeting his eyes. “Because my father might get tired in the hunting raid, and it’s a long way back to Wessex. If it’s not a problem”

When Ragnar didn’t answer, Ubbe realized you were talking to him.

It took him by surprise that you were staying, but it was even more surprising that it was just for a day. Because he had known, deep down, that his intention today was to convince you to stay. That, during the last seven days, he had tried; first unconsciously, then as a choice. He started the summer mildly convinced that he had to marry you, and now he didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

Just that a day was an awful short amount of time.

“You could always check the old storage room” Ragnar proposed finally, breaking the silence. “It’s full of games and objects you used as children, and I’ve been asking you to take a look for a while. Maybe Y/N can help you”

“She can. She’s really organized” Ecbert contributed. “Besides, it is a bad day to stay outside. Just let these old dogs enjoy the hunting raid and find something to do. We will be back soon. Don’t want to get too tired”

“Indeed. Only God knows how many days in bed will earn us the hunting trip” Ragnar started at you with an amused smile. “Might be weeks”

“Might be, my dear friend. Shall we go?”

Both kings turned around and walked towards the carriage, that would take them to the designated part of the forest. Where the rest of the town would be waiting, with their dogs and bows ready.

While they walked away, you thought about how lucky you were. Your father would willingly stay for the whole summer if that’s what you wanted to, if that made you happy. He would also cancel the hunting raid and ride back to Wessex himself.

You stayed in silence as they got into the carriage and told the driver to move, until they drew up dust from the path and Sigurd kicked his horse to lead the way.

You had never had any problem talking with Ubbe. With remarks or mean words, you always kept the conversation going until you were torn apart by the adults or one of you couldn’t physically talk. But while the first drops of rain hit the ground, you kept quiet, not knowing what to say.

The meaning behind your decision was clear – that you wanted to try again, that you were willing to finally accept his hand. That you had consciously turned away the chance of changing your fate, consciously had chosen to marry him, without a proposal or weeding plans.

Staying meant you had admitted your intention of moving forwards, to whatever future you could hope for, and now it was Ubbe’s turn to answer. The decision of staying instead of going to the hunting raid could be an answer, but he didn’t know your decision yet.

So you waited, as rain started to wet your hair and soak your dress.

You waited in silence, until a cape was wrapped around your shoulders and a pair of hands turned you away from the path your father had just disappeared from.

“We should get inside” Ubbe spoke through the rain, that had gotten heavy a matter of seconds. “Fuck. It’s – fuck!”

“Oh my god” you couldn’t help but laugh when suddenly you were hit with what felt like a gallon of water.

You let yourself be lead away from the main door while Ubbe wrapped an arm around your shoulder. With a natural instinct, you shifted closer to him until you fit under his arm.

It wasn’t funny, but you couldn’t stop laughing, and soon, Ubbe was laughing too. It wasn’t the pearly smile you had seen that day at the courtyard, that flashed in your mind without your permission. It was different, and at the same time, wonderful.

You ran through the rain, not tripping against each other’s feet by luck. Servants that were taking cover in the barns stared when you passed by, and a man with bulky clothes tried to stop Ubbe with a scandalized scream.

Once you finally took cover, you were soaked. The rain had drenched Ubbe’s cape, now heavy on your shoulders, and the bottom of your dress was full of mud. Even your socks, under thick books, were wet. Still smiling, you stared at Ubbe as he moved your hair out of your face, letting you see his full smile. It was beautiful, his chipped front tooth a reminder of you.

Although he was too drenched to the bones, his hands felt warm, or maybe it was your cheeks. Or maybe you were running a fever and you were hallucinating, because suddenly, it was a déjà vu from that morning. He was looking at your lips and you were wondering what it would feel to stay forever, not just for a day.

His finger hovered over your mouth, a ghost touch.

“You look like a wet rat”

“And you smell like a wet horse”

He scoffed and for a second, you thought he was going to actually kiss you. That he was going to move forward and you were going to meet him at the middle. In a perfect fantasy, he would ask you to stay and you would choose to, not using excuses or prologues.

You would never know, because thunder roared in the sky and the moment was broken.

 -

 What Ragnar defined as an old storage room was everything but that. It could have been a room, a long time ago, with high windows and a clear view of the forest. But someone had decided to start accumulating things inside, and now you could barely take two steps straight.

You hadn’t bothered bathing, neither had Ubbe. As if not spending every minute of the day together was an offense, you changed clothes with your backs to each other, not even using the bathroom. You chose a dark green dress that showed your boots, comfortable to move, and Ubbe had put on a different tunic.

He showed you the storage room, moving the curtains. Everything was covered with white, dusty sheets, and you were in for a long morning.

“I threw Hvitserk down the stairs with one of these” Ubbe said from behind you, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. “He broke through a window and didn’t even get a bruise”

You looked away from the pile of children’s clothes that you were trying to organize. He was holding up a large piece of wood attached to one wheel, the other missing. Indeed, you remembered using a similar one in some occasions, although you didn’t have a specific memory with it.

Between mountains of garbage, you had found many children’s toys and clothes. After spending a lifetime of summers together, you had gathered a good amount of entertainment options. In a useless attempt of bringing you closer, your fathers had brought you everything a child would want or need. Not realizing until it was too late that you would hit each other with it before sharing.

“Didn’t you race me with one of those in the gardens?” you tried to remember, getting closer.

“You were winning so I tried to shorten through my mother’s roses” he chuckled. “She got mad, but you were furious”

“You destroyed every last of them!” you laughed too, remembering that summer.

It was one of the first ones you spent in Mercia, and you had never used a toy like that one. Thinking you wouldn’t know how, Ubbe had raced you and you had won, and in the meantime, he had destroyed half of his mother’s garden. You remembered her scolding and feeling furious at him.

So angry, that you used his favorite wooden sword as a throwing dagger during the next day.

You moved closer to him, looking at the piece of wood. Even if you had argued more than talked, it wasn’t always boring. There were games and competitions. When you were all young, Ubbe didn’t discriminate you from being a girl, and included you in the games where he thought he could win. Somewhere in the way that changed and your worlds drifted apart.

“You care too much about flowers” he said, raising from where he was sitting.

“It’s not I have many things to care about in here. I can’t cook, train or ride, and needlework is definitely not one of my passions. No matter how much your mother tries” you explained. There was only a foot between you two. “Flowers are… nice. They are beautiful”

“If you want to, I could assign some more servants to the garden. So they can help you take care of them”

If you want to stay, I could make you happy, just so you know

Ubbe let the hidden meaning clear. Because if you left after your father rested, then the garden was the least of your concerns. He couldn’t care less about the flowers or the garden, and he knew right then, that if it made you stay, he would send his whole army to take care of those flowers.

In that dark room, crowded with objects from your past, he waited for you to answer. It was impossible that you hadn’t understood what he meant, and by the way you stared at him, he knew. In just seven days, he had made a decision that had been asked from him for sixteen years. Sixteen years under the pressure of getting to know you and take you as his wife.

Only when you were no longer under that much pressure, he finally saw it clear.

“It would be nice” you answered, your voice small. “You could help me sometimes. If you want to”

Through the window, another lighting broke the sky. The storm was now loud and wild, thunders and lighting accompanying the rain. Someone appeared through the trees riding a horse at full speed, towards the castle. It would take them a while to reach the gates, and you didn’t notice them.

Not when Ubbe’s blue eyes were staring right into your soul, and when yours couldn’t decide where to look – to them or to his mouth.

“You’re staying” he tried, not a question but a fact. A need.

“If you want me to”

Before you could notice the smoke that was raising from the middle of the forest, he crossed the invisible line he had drawn sixteen years ago and pressed his lips against yours. They were rough and demanding, not like the shy, first kisses you had shared with boys in your kingdom.

You could have fallen if it wasn’t for the table that was behind you, or for his hand that pressed your hips against his. There was no air between you two, no space for second guesses. Only his lips and hands on your body, and yours on his neck.

One of yours caressed the back of his head, your thumb brushing the soft hair where his braid started. Not knowing what to you with the other one, you held yourself together by holding onto the desk. Afraid he would let you go and you would crash into the ground, knees turned into jelly.

But he didn’t let you.

With his free hand holding your head straight, demanding more of you, he broke free for air. His pupils were blown, almost no trace of blue behind them. No one had ever touched you the way he was, and you understood that no one would in the near future, if you had a saying in it.

Ubbe didn’t move his hand from your face. Instead, giving you time to push him away, he lowered it down your neck. Something inside him screamed to let go, to forget about what was expected from him and lower his hand more, until there was no turning back. The way you were looking at him, the way you weren’t moving, made it harder.

But he resisted and let his hand go to his original place, to your cheek.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked after a long minute, his voice rough and deep. “We don’t – you don’t have to. Not even if you stay”

“Shut up”

Once more, you crashed your lips against his and he let you, smiling against them. You could feel every curve and corner of his body that you had guessed that morning under the covers. The room’s temperature grew in seconds, and when the hand on your waist moved lower, you let him.

Sixteen years of frustration, hate and disagreement were forgotten as you felt your skirt move higher, his leg making its way between yours.

One thing was to sleep in the same room, to let people assume you were together, but another one was to actually do it. Before you could regret your decision or let your brain caught up with your heart, someone knocked at the door urgently.

“It’s the king! The king is dead!”

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[kawennote09]

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[slxthxrxn-sxmp]

How you met the Ragnarssons (Dane addition)

Bjorn Ironside 

You both had grown up alongside each other. It was as if your parents wanted you two to marry when the time came. When Bjorn went to get his arm bracelet your father let you tag along to support the newly turned man. Gyda loved you and invited you over to anything and everything. Lagertha convinced your mother to allow you to train under the famous shield-maiden. You hoped to one day go on a raid alongside Bjorn. But (for now) he just thought of you as a loyal friend he could rant to about the Christian priest Athelstan and not being allowed on the raids with his father. 

Ubbe 

In times of need your family were always loyal allies to the Lothbroks. Your farm was isolated, no town anywhere near it. Sometimes it seemed not even the gods could touch you there. Though this seemed to be an advantage that was needed in times of unrest.Your parents had provided shelter to the young sons of Aslaug, Rollo, and Aslaug herself a single moon before you were born. And now it seems Ubbe was in need once more of shelter this time it was from his own brother. 

You were tending to salting your excess meat from your recent hunt, when bone rattling banging came from your door. Just as your parents had taught you, you unseathed your dagger holding it firmly as you went to your door. 

“Who are you and what is your business ?” You were proud your voice was unwavering. 

“Is that young (y/n) ?” the voice did not identify until it realized you were not going to answer. “We are seeking shelter. I am Lagertha there's probably twenty or so men, women, and children who-” She did not have to finish as you flung open the door to reveal the all to famous shield-maiden and a tall man with a long strip of hair down the middle of his head. 

“You need not explain any further. I will carry out the oath my parents pledged long ago. There's meat being prepared, water in the jug on the table, vegetables on the table ready, and a warm hearth for all your people. “ The women standing there embraced you. 

“It is young (y/n). You look just like your mother.” She pulled back and looked into your eyes, placing a hand on your face then stepping inside. 

“Ubbe, at your service.” The man dipped his head slightly in respect of sorts. 

Hvitserk 

You had been born in the same year as Siggy (Bjorns child) but your parents weren’t of the same rank as any of the Lothbroks. So you hadn’t truly met any of them in your youth. No, it was not until Margrethes marriage to Ubbe that you were “blessed” with the presence of the infamous sons of Ragnar. Your family was providing the bread for the feast after. You could thank your mother and father for being the town's bakers for that. Today was one of the rare days your clothes were clean of flour and your hair wasn’t up in a mess. You looked radiant if you did say so yourself and let's be honest here you did. It was a breath of relief that one of the princes was finally getting married, secretly it was the topic of much gossip for the people of Kattegat. Even you were getting proposed to by a few. And it seemed that you had caught the sight of a certain warrior during the feast. 

Everything was going smoothly, you were sitting at a table with your friends laughing and eating. The volume you all were making filled the hall. On top of this there were also probably fifty other people present. 

“So I hear that your family deserves thanks for some of this meal.” In an instant the conversations stop. The comment came from Hvitserk who had sat himself in front of you. 

“Your presence here at our table is enough Hvitserk.” A few snickers from your friends were heard but then they got the idea that they should talk once more in order to ease tensions. 

“Well now I feel at a disadvantage. You know my name but I am unaware of yours,” He was still confident in himself, not even phased by your comments. 

“(Y/n), the child of the bakers.” 

To be completely honest Hvitserk came over here as a way of recovering from no longer having Margrethe. He wanted a simple hump to distract his mind. And maybe deep down he still wanted that but he was shocked to find you could bounce jokes with him. Now he was going to see how long he can just simply be in your presence and enjoy your company. 

Sigurd 

You had lived in Kattegat for as long as you could remember. Most of which Ragnar wasn’t even there, he was lost to his people after the defeat in Paris. Now though his sons were grown men way past the age of marriage. The Kingdom also wasn’t right, despite Bjorns attempts to keep the peace, the Queen had little grip on her people. Thieves ran around and justice was being served to no one. But you had your small corner with the other musicians, where everything could slip away. This was where the gods were calm and Bragi touched midgard. And now ? Now you were singing a hearty song meant for two. The beat echoed through your body even a flute entered into the chorus. 

“My dearest one, my darling dear your mighty words astound me but I’ve no need of mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me,” Children had come now as they always do and started to dance in their own way among each other. They were free. 

“But I would bring you rings of gold. I’d even sing you poetry and I would keep you from all harm ! If you would stay beside me,” Came the light masculine voice a few paces away. Momentarily the music stopped and heads turned to the voice. It was one of the younger princes, Sigurd. He hitched a brow up in a pointed look, “Do not stop on my benefit.” 

Just like that everything was back in motion. 

“I have no need for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry. I only want your hand to hold.” You and him met each in a few strides and interlocked hands. Dancing to the song and the children around you. He continued without thinking. 

“I only want you near me.”

He could’ve sworn you were a witch because he was completely enchanted by you in a way that could only be possible by a spell. 

Ivar the Boneless

When King Halder Finehair first ventured to Kattegat your father brought you along as you were his first born. The King gave his blessing and practically took you under his wing to guide you when your father was busy with his duties. Even going as far as to personally introduce you to the queen and her sons. The one was nice enough you supposed but the one that caught your interest was Ivar. It seemed that he was also intrigued by you as he couldn’t stop staring at you. Admittedly you were a little intimidated by the family. 

“And (Y/n) this is young Ivar.” Halder spoke with a smile on his face. It was warm as if he were looking at a child of his own. You looked up to the King for guidance and he just nodded. 

“Hi, Ivar. The gods have blessed me with the opportunity to meet you and your family.” You smiled at all the members, even the mother. 

“Well aren’t you just,” the mother paused looking back and forth between you and King Halder “the sweetest.” There was a level of malice in her voice that Halder picked up on but went right over your young head because all your attention was back on Ivar as he smiled the brightest smile at you. 

Ivar knew then that he had found his first friend outside of his family. 

*Special Edition 

Uhtred Son of Uhtred 

Your family and the lord of the land you lived on were visiting Ragnars village to show support against the Saxons pressing on their borders. You were but eight. Your father went to battle with Ragnar and came back with scratches and bruises but alive. It was your first time seeing the post battle celebration. Something deep within was scared of all the blood, death, and hostages. ‘If the gods are appeased I suppose it can’t be that bad.’ Then a young Saxon hostage, who was around your age, was being escorted down from the second floor. He made direct eye contact with you then ducked his head down. With a small smirk you looked to Ragnar for permission to approach the boy. He gave a sly nod and that was all you needed to sprint your way to the bottom of the stairs, “Hello, would you like to come play with me ?” 

At first he looked confused and scared, eventually he nodded. “I’m Uhtred.” He stuck his hand out as a way of greeting. You stared at it for a beat only to grasp it and drag him away to play with the other children. 

All the boy could think was how grateful he was for the small amount of calm in the rushing chaos that is Northman normality. 

Ragnar the Younger 

Everything seemed to be going well for now. Guthrum had taken Alfred's kingdom and taken residents in the Castle. You were running a mission from one of the king's trusted shield-maidens. Unfortunately that meant you had to walk in on a conversation between Aetholwold, Guthrum, Brida, and Ragnar the Younger. To get their attention you cleared your throat “My lord-” 

“Who might you be ?” It was the only Saxon in the room who dared to interrupt you. 

“Gods, let the woman speak.” You felt so smug that Ragnar stuck up for you. You heard about him and his father from the other warriors. He sent you a small smile to encourage you to continue. 

“Thank you, I am (y/n) and I was sent by Estrid to deliver you a message.” 

Ragnar in that moment no longer felt his heart hurt for the woman he could not have, Brida. Of course, he had been through Helheim and back with Brida but this new person seemed to be sent from the gods for him. Perhaps even Sif herself as a way of thanking him for his service to Thor. Nevertheless he had to earn her respect and favor. It was only right. 

[lisinfleur]

Brauð

The inspiration: (link)

Author’s Notes | And of course I forgot to place it here haha, well first of all congratulations, honey! May this 600 become thousands and thousands! And for the record, the bun joke comes from @milbethmorillo​‘s Chibi Hvitserk and his cute little loaf! I couldn’t miss this! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Modern AU, produced for @flowers-in-your-hayr’s 600 followers celebration. Brauð is Icelandic for Bread Words | 858 ⁑ Warnings: None

"Are you sure you're ok?"

How many times in nine months did you hear that question?

And any time you would answer the same way, with a tender smile on your lips.

"I'm fine, love."

Hvitserk was the sweetest of the companions. The two of you weren't married yet, but when the pregnancy came, you knew it would become a thing between you guys: he was so happy!

You thought he would be scared, perhaps surprised, but the smile you saw forming on his lips was just the most beautiful you've ever seen.

"We're going to have a baby!"

It was party time for him. You could still remember the size of the barbecue he invited his whole family into just to announce you were his oven and the two of you had a bun being cooked.

"I made a bun!"

And then, the bun joke was everywhere.

"Look what I found!"

From the overalls with smiling loaves to the bottle decorated with different kinds of comic buns, Hvitserk made the whole trousseau of your baby with smiling cartoon references to bread. He even managed to get a mobile made of small cupcakes, buns, and cinnamon rolls little plushies!

In spite of his loaf obsession, Hvitserk listened to every one of your asks, from the baby's room position to the side crib you asked for your bed to keep the baby beside the two of you while it was too little. Always checking on the equipment, recommendations, safety measurements, everything to have your heart secure about your baby's comfort and safety.

You always thought he was sweet when speaking about children, but you were surprised by how good he was being a father. Although your child wasn't there yet, you found books about caring for children beside his bed and lots of research about pregnancy and what could he do to make you feel better on your computer.

Hvitserk bought you new pillows, he exchanged the heater of your bedroom, he learned how to massage your ankles to avoid fluid retention and you could still remember how happy he was the first time you melted under his skilled fingers.

After your pregnancy became closer to its end, Hvitserk became even more careful and tender, picking up everything you couldn't reach for you, training two or three times how would it be the moment to take you to the hospital, studying different ways to give birth with you and actively participating on your choice, respecting your boundaries and finding a place where nothing would limit him from being there for you.

He was such a good companion, such a sweet father! You couldn't ask for anything better and now the time to finally deliver into his arms what he had waited for so long had come.

"Are you sure you're ok, babe?" he asked again.

First on the car, then now on the bed where you were waiting to enter the birth room. You smiled.

"I couldn't be better," you answered, holding his hand, catching his attention.

The pain had started but you were fine with it. Hvitserk's hands were cold, on the other hand.

"It's fine, love," you said, causing him to smile when you gently warmed his hands between yours.

"I'm anxious," he confessed.

"Me too," you said, caressing his fingers.

"Do you think... We can do it? I mean..." he swallowed dry.

And you could see once again your sweet bun-boy, so afraid of not being enough, so anxious about the challenge that was about to start in your lives.

"Hvitserk," you said, calling his eyes to dive into yours. "You'll be the best father ever. And I couldn't feel safer about this. Our child is blessed..." A small grunt cut your sweet speech and you smiled. "And eager... Just like its father".

The two of you entered the birth room and Hvitserk never let go of your hand. And when your child was brought to rest on your chest, you saw his eyes becoming teary.

"It's a healthy little girl," the doctor said.

Finally popping the bubble of surprise the two of you wanted to keep until the last moment.

You saw a smile forming on Hvitserk's lips when his gloved fingers touched and caressed the little girl's face laid between your breasts.

"Hello, little bun," he mumbled, making your smile bigger.

The child's face reflexively essayed a smile and it twisted Hvitserk's face in a beautiful smile, breaking the dam of his eyes and pouring the tears of joy he didn't even try to hold back.

"She smiled at me," he said.

And you smiled back at him.

"Our little bun knows who the sweet baker is," you joked, caressing his face, making Hvitserk chuckle between his tears.

The next morning, his Instagram story had a picture of the three of you. Your little girl packed on her blanket, your face smiling and Hvitserk's proud and happy face between the two of you.

"The baker and the oven proudly introduce: The little bun!"

You would laugh forever with that, but nothing could be better than having Hvitserk's beautiful smile and his most pure happiness.

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[jadelynlace]

a dead woman tells no tales / vikings fiction

series based on Lady Lazarus, a poem by Sylvia Plath. 

chapter three / catch up here

synopsis: He left you for dead and now you’re back.

author’s note: the one small detail the reader has, is that she is a red head. also! as apparent in the last chapter, Ivar’s canon dick-can’t-get-wet-problem doesn’t exist. It can go fuck off with the canon ending in my humble opinion. 

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✄

“You lie,” Ivar says suddenly, shoving your body to place a strong force of distance between you. “Freydis loves me,” Even at his small attempts to prove his own mind to work in his favor, you still catch yourself passing another laugh.

“And do you love her?” You answer, a slick smile spreading through your lips as the amber waves go over your shoulders. “Because lying with another woman as a man who has wed does not sound like love,” Ivar looms over you as you speak, twisting his torso to peak a menacing glare through how he holds on to the sorrow you’ve suddenly stuck him with. His hand grabs your throat at such a speed your flinch is caught far after he has his grip on you.

“You are lying,” Ivar spits again. “You lie because you can not deal with what is truthful,” You feel the pressure along your airways tighten, the hum of the faint dark ink creeping along your vision as Ivar watches your eyes flutter. Suddenly his hand loosens and your mouth opens to pull in as much oxygen as your lungs will take.There’s a quick spark of fear spreading to a fire through your body as you crawl away from him; you know this time Ivar will not wait to call for help because he will ensure you are left at the gates of Valhalla. Scurrying back to your garments, it’s quick work to tie your dress haphazardly as you ready yourself to flee from him. Ivar’s eyes are still stuck on you with such distaste for your words it only makes you fonder, desperate to twist the knife further and tell him more of what you know.

“When that child is born you will see it resembles nothing of you. The only lie that I have ever spoken was that I did not love you. I have loved you Ivar, and I have had to deal with that,” You can hear his roar as you leave the hall, the shatters of broken ceramics not soon after.

*

Ivar hovers over a plain of disillusioned fate, the promises of returning to a woman who claimed her love for a monster like him torn from his crippled hands. His mood sours, even far past what he was normally known to hold as the meal around them takes no interest of his. Chatter from Hvitserk in one ear, chatter from his men in the other. Ivar had yet to look up to see you standing.

“Yes?” Hvitserk says, a faint turn of his head to your figure. Ivar’s eyes peel briefly as he flinches a whisper of fear through his bones from his spot. You place the dagger on the table that belongs to Ivar. “How did you get that?” Hvitserk questions, reaching for the steel blade that you pull back.

“Your hair still curls like it did when you were young,” You voice comes, the meal halfway towards Hvitserk’s lips stopping short. “It is fine that you do not remember me, I would not blame you. Have you not told your brother the tale, Ivar?” You speak, turning your head to look back at him. He is set to sail at the sun’s rise and you will swim behind the boats if you have to. Ivar just laughs, the ring of his amusement falling short with the snap of you wrist, the blade flying to piece the wooden table next to his hand.

“Leave,” He yells. You grab the lone cup of mead on your passage out of the room, drowning the concoction past your lips before tossing the container along the floor.

The moon is high when Hvitserk finds you, silver light past your cheek bones as it dances off of his blonde waves. He studies your body from where you’ve seated yourself, the rocks catching your figure as you try to keep the tears at bay. Ivar did not deserve them then, and he does not now. You would charge him for every droplet of salted water, every scar, every broken jagged twist of your heart if it was possible. The words in his voice that take up your mind, his touch, how tightly he held you. The men you have killed so that you would not simply slaughter him.

“What did Ivar do?” His voice beckons softly, curling around your cloak and lacing with the amber on your shoulders. The lapping water takes your voice from you briefly as you arrange the words on your lips to tell him of the past faults that only you and Ivar knew of.

“When you heat a blade over flame, it pierces more smoothly. Did you know that?” There is no answer given to you as Hvitserk shifts to seat himself where you are. “It is what he did not do. Do you remember the young girl who used to pull him in the wagon? The young woman who would challenge him in the woods when you would practice alongside him?”

“Yes,” Hvitserk answers. “She went missing—left,”

“Ah, that was the tale they told,” You sigh. “You know better of that, do you not Hvitserk?” You catch the way he looks at you, puzzled brow as he absorbs the sight before him. “I never went missing, Hvitserk. I fell, dueling Ivar and he could not help me up but he spoke of getting help. He never came back,” Your words fell past your mouth like tightly coiled ropes, thunking weight on to the ground, unraveling to be picked up and climbed. “I was there until travelers found me, and I went with them,” You added as Hvitserk sighed, his disappointment taking hold of your dropped ropes and latching on.

“And you think he has changed since then?” He asks, his question hanging heavily in the air.

“People do not change, Hvitserk. The seasons may, but people do not. I longed for an answer to why he would not return, and perhaps I will never get one,” You said. You knew Ivar was still under there, under the look of madness, the look of evil. The man that held you last night, making love, was the man you knew. The shocked eyes of being told he was unfavored by his queen were of a new person, failure to read even the simplest scenarios—that was not Ivar. He was not a blind man, nor a stupid one, but you wished for one day perhaps he could be—he could be told of something and simply accept it. He was not in love with Freydis. He was not surprised you came back. But he was sorry that he left you there to die. Crawling from ash as a walking miracle of the skin he dreamt of, rotting on those rocks as he could do nothing with his useless body to save you.

“You will sail back with us,” Hvitserk suddenly states as he bends to stand.

“Hvitserk,” You speak as he halts to turn back to you, brows raised in expectancy for the next question across your lips. “I have been sailing with you since you left Kattegat,” You admit as his face churns to catch where you have slithered through a lie within your words. “I never left, that was only the tale,”

*

Birth of Freydis’ son chimes through the town, up over the valleys and down through the trees, squawking between the ravens, and croaking between the toads. The town rejoices for their new prince upon the return of Ivar and his men, his attempts to act in celebration are only caught to be faulty by your eyes. What comes next are the whispers of Ivar’s unacceptance, his torment of throwing them out because the son carried a skin tone not of Ivar’s and not of Freydis’, eyes deep and dark and the near newly reborn spitting image of the baker’s son. Ivar wanted the man hanged, spread wide and pulled between layers of flesh for all to see. He wanted to pull the blonde hair in Freydis’ braid and choke her own airways. He wanted that bastard child left to the wolves.

Your meal was adorned before you, petty pickings from your cutlery on account of your absent appetite. Even if Ivar knew the truth now, it still did not make you feel any higher. You knew you were broken, but you would never doubt you were powerful—you had destroyed yourself, and it had been glorious. The pounding on the door halts you but you leave it as minuscule in your peripheral visions of things left of importance. You add wood to your fire and put out the last candles, collecting the scraps of your nightly meal to toss to the wildlife that litter the area past the great hall. Through all of your routine the pounding did not cease. With a pull of your shaw you cross the threshold and pull the door from its home, and the guard’s eyes sparkle in the light of the full moon.

“Your king has requested you,” He says. Nodding to the man, you follow his beckoning towards the quarters that hold Ivar’s throne.

“I figured you may haunt me, tell me that you were right to spite me,” Ivar’s voice says as you enter the room. His back is turned to you, speaking his words into the yellow fire that crackles but you can not detect any movement on his body. His voice comes across as dead, so brokenly mundane that you even can tell he makes no effort to hide what he’s feeling.

“Hvitserk never did handle his mead well,” You find yourself saying, the brief smile you crack at how untimely he must have spoken of your return on the ships with them, and how closely you had stayed apparent now. “And I can say all of that if that is what you wish Ivar,” His chuckle calls through your mind as you cross in through the room, padding behind him. “What became of them?” You asked.

“Nothing, as of yet,” Ivar says back all to bluntly for your favor.

“What would you like to become of them?” You ask from behind him. “Because while you have motive to hurt them Ivar, I do not,” You sang from where you were, crossing hands over his shoulders as you level your head next to his, your arm stretching out before both of you towards the hearth. “The burn of a flame can be put out, it can be controlled,” You whisper as you move your arm to the swords on the high wall. “A lot of blood comes from very specific places, but slice precisely and they take time to perish,” Your lips curl by his ear as your breath fans across the hair that has crawled his jaw, tracing your nail along his chin. “The meat of a mortal tastes the same to a wolf,” You add as you catch his jaw to look to you. “Whatever horror you want me to gift to them, Ivar, I will do it,” You spit as his eyes watch you. “You know how simple it is to break a bone,” Ivar’s tongue passes over his lips after you go quiet, your offer taking up space in his mind of the torment he could let you run madly free with. How there was no limit to what you now knew to do because you had spent far too long dreaming up how you would hurt Ivar for leaving you under that sky. You watch his chest heave quickly, a slow smile spreading over his mouth as his mind wanders. “You can bathe in their blood and show your people that there is no one who should cross Ivar the Boneless,”

He had never been this quiet for this long in the time you have known him. Ivar’s eyes mimic the oceans he has sailed for his path to ruthlessness as he stares at you, dancing through the shadows on your cheeks as you level yourself into his lap.

“Can I watch?” Is all he asks.

“You answer my one question, and you can watch anything you desire,” You say as he nods, sinking slightly from you as you sit just inches from his heart. “Why did you not come back?” You whisper, willing your voice not to crack under the extent of getting the chance to be gifted the one answer you ever wanted, but you are of no success. You eyes line with tears and although you need to blink them away, a stray droplet trickles across your cheek. It’s caught by the pad of Ivar’s thumb against your jaw as he looks back at you.

“You were gone when I came back,” Ivar simply answers.

“Now you are the one who lies,”

“You were,” Ivar repeated. “You jumped from that ledge, do you not remember?”

Tagged:

@smileysam13579  @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk  @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @grimeundglow @another-bryk-in-the-wall​ @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @revolution-starter​

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/fandom/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

[imaginesmaimasterlists]

You can request about any of the characters above, or any other masterlists I have (here), always following the Requests Rules. My main blog is @imaginesmai​

💕:Fluff

🎈: Funny

💋: Smut

😭: Angst

⭐: Personal favourite.

🥇: The most popular fic in each category (it might change).

Angst Alphabet

Fluff Alphabet

Prompt List 1

Kink-November

UBBE RAGNARSON

25th of December (1) (2) (MILITARY AU):   😭

When Ubbe’s gone, the only thing you have left is hope. (ON GOING)

Dance Teacher (1):   💕

Ubbe’s Friday is not going as well as he would have liked it. Yet meeting his daughter’s dance teacher is going to change that. (ON GOING)

First time being a dad (MODERN AU)  🎈

Heartbeat AU (1) (2) :   💕 😭

Your heart doesn’t allow you to have a normal life, but it does beat faster when you meet your new doctor. (COMPLETE) 

Imagine 1

Imagine 2

Imagine 3

Imagine 4

⭐  I’m with you:  😭

 Ubbe wants to make peace with the Saxons. He doesn’t care what it takes, but when you decided to follow him in the middle of the night, he’s not so sure anymore. 

⭐ Lagertha’s Daughter (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) :   😭

Lagertha plans on attacking Kattegat, soon, and you, her daughter and Ubbe’s lover, just ask her to make you a promise (COMPLETE) 

My Viking Prince (1) (2) (3) :   💕  💋

You’re Alfred sister, princess Y/N. All your life, you have believed that love is all about pleasing your husband and making him happy or that’s what your mother told you. Now, prince Ubbe is making you see things differently. (COMPLETE)

Once upon a fairy tale: (Preface)

Ubbe Ragnarson knew three things: that he would inherit the throne when his father died, that he should get married soon to assure that throne, and that he hated Y/N Ealhmunding. And those three facts were related. Because your hand had been promised to him since you were young kids, and now it’s time to fulfill that promise.

As princess of king Ecbert Ealhmunding, you also knew three things: that the laws for a kingdom ruler weren’t fair, that your father had done everything he could for you and your future, and that you hated Ubbe Ragnarson. Not only you hated that they had decided your future without you, or that you were expected to leave every braincell behind once you married, but also that the same boy who you had hated since childhood would be your husband.

Every summer, Mercia and Wessex try to make you both fall in love. And they fail.

But this summer is different, because a series of tragic and unfortunate events brings you closer to Ubbe than ever.

You’re no longer mischievous kids pulling pranks on each other, but responsible adults looking for what’s best for your country. And trying to survive in the meantime.

Say that again:  

Ivar has never liked you, Ubbe Christian lover, and he makes that very clear.

⭐ The sweet baker and the bad biker (1) (2) (3) (4) (5): (vikings x SOA crossover)   😭

Ubbe, as the new president of SAMCRO, goes to the new bakery to see who is the owner and if he or she is a threat for Charming. He finds you, a sweet, cute and innocent girl who doesn’t hesitate to make him fall in love (COMPLETE)  

🥇  They learn about periods  🎈

Together:   😭

Sigurd’s death threaten to tear not only your world but your relationship apart. 

What you deserve (1):  😭

Ubbe knows that you’re pregnant with his son or daughter and that he needs to leave Kattegat if he wants to protect you. What he doesn’t know is if you’re going to make it. (ON GOING)

Winner’s prize :  💕 😭

Ubbe has put his life again at risk, but this time there are things in between that makes it different

Your daughter’s first boyfriend  🎈

HVITSERK RAGNARSON

⭐ Angst Alphabet (Tattoo Artist!Hvitserk) (1)  😭

- N for Nothing  😭

- O for Offended  😭

- P for Pressure  😭

- Q for Quake  😭

- R for Rob  😭

- S for Surgery  😭

- T for Time  😭

- X for Xx  😭

Crush AU (1) (2):  💕  💋

Shitty job, shitty life, too much stress. What’s better to solve those problems that your hot, handsome and funny roommate’s brother? (COMPLETE)

⭐  First time being a dad (MODERN AU)

  🎈

Him (MODERN AU):  😭

Hvitserk and you are seeing each other behind your boyfriend’s back, his half-brother Magnus. And leaving the latest isn’t easy.  

His lady:   😭

You’re his lady, he’s your prince. 

Home:   😭

What do you call home when you have lost everything? You come back to Kattegat to fight Ivar, but it’s hard to know that Hvitserk will be there too.  

Imagine 2

NSFW Alphabet  💋

Octopus:  💕

Hvitserk is sick and just wants cuddles. (can be read as the second part of him)  

Rewrite the stars (Song inspired)  💕

Soon to be husband:   😭

Hvitserk’s back from raiding only to find you promised to another man. It’s up to him do something or not about it. 

Taken :  😭

You are taken by the saxons, along with your soon to be husband, Hvitserk. And you do not hesitate in protecting him, not caring about the consequences 

🥇 ⭐  They learn about periods   🎈

They don’t know about us  💕

You know that Kattegat will never approve of your relationship with Hvitserk, not matter how hard you try. But you love him anyway.

⭐  Your daughter’s first boyfriend   🎈

IVAR RAGNARSON

Angst Alphabet  😭

Checkmate:  😭 💕

Ivar hasn’t always been the murderous king we know. There was a spark initiating the fire.   

First time being a dad (MODERN AU)   🎈

Quiet days:  💕 💋

Ivar is in a bad mood and it seems like only you can fix that  

🥇  They learn about periods   🎈

Your daughter’s first boyfriend   🎈

BJORN RAGNARSON

Angst Alphabet  😭

First time being a dad (MODERN AU)

  🎈

Imagine 1

🥇  They learn about periods   🎈

Your daughter’s first boyfriend   🎈

ALFRED

Something that there wasn’t there before (Song inspired)  💕

[freddie-foxs]

Vikings Edits

Baker

Hvitserk For @/deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Werewolf

Hvitserk For @/deans-ch-ch-cherrypie's Halloween Spooktacular

Zoo

Hvitserk For @/deans-ch-ch-cherrypie's hot fic summer challenge

[imaginesmai]

Ubbe-The sweet baker and the bad biker (SOA AU) (2)

The original idea was from @recklesslonelyblond! I will make a third angsty part, because you already know I live for angst. I hope you like it, here is the first part if you haven’t read it yet!

I’m not quiet happy with the first part, so I made a huge gap of time with this one. It’s placed a year later, but everything is explained.

Plot: Ubbe has finally found what he needs, his safe place, his home. His sweet baker.

Warnings: FLUFF.

Ubbe was sitting in the bar, reading the new “demand” that Hale had given to the sons; since the deputy discovered that Ubbe was your friend, he had been giving SAMCRO a hard time. The biker was trying to find something wrong, something that could get them out of the mess. The paper said that the sons had been present on the shooting that happened a few weeks ago outside Charming, where two black guys were found dead. They were involved, of course, yet there was nothing that could place them there. But he couldn’t find something that proved Hale wrong.

-          So, you and the baker. -he heard his mother talking, and he looked up. -What was her name again?

-          Y/N, mum. -Ubbe answered. -And there is no me and Y/N, we’re just friends.

-          Friends who have sleepovers and talk through the phone until late night. -Hvitserk added, who was sitting beside him with the computer. -Just like teenage girls.

-          Does she braid your hair, Ubbe? -teased Tig as he let out a loud laugh. -And does your make up?

-          Why don’t you shut the fuck up, hm? Don’t you have anything better to do?

-          Take care pres, your nails might get scrapped.

Soon, all of the guys were teasing Ubbe about you. It was true that, lately, Ubbe spent a lot of time with you; and that when he came back, he was happier. It had been nearly a year since you came to Charming, and it had not been a day where he didn’t see you. Sure, there were some times where he had to travel away with the club and that shit. But when he came back, he made sure to spend all day with you and with Sully. Ubbe threw one of the pens on his desk to Hvitserk, who was mocking him with Tig; and it hit him in the front, making him fall down. All of them laughed until Aslaug talked again.

-          I want to speak with Ubbe, boys. Alone. -she said with a voice that left no place to argument. They all left, including Hvitserk; she might had been his mother, but even he was scared of her. -As I was saying, you and the baker.

-          Her name is Y/N, mum. -he frowned. -She’s not the baker or another part of your game, she’s Y/N and she’s a person. Who is not related with the club.

-          But she’s related with you. -she raised a brow.

-          Well yes but-

-          Then she’s my business. -Aslaug interrupted. -I couldn’t help but search a little about her.

-          Of course you did. -Ubbe rolled his eyes.

-          She was Jax’s friend. And now, she’s here running the most famous bakery in Charming.

-          There’s nothing wrong with that.

Aslaug was his mother, yet he did not trust her with you. He knew that she would kill for the club; before him, his father, Ragnar, was an important member of the club. The president before Jax. When he was killed, Aslaug stopped trusting people; maybe that was the reason why things were alright in the club then, but Ubbe knew that she could be a danger to you.

-          Oh, no. -she smiled. -What is wrong is that we have received nearly ten demands from Hale in less than a year. The deputy has been a pain the ass lately, since your baker arrived.

-          She has nothing to do with that. -Ubbe scoffed. -Hale has always been a pain in the ass.

-          Yeah, but lately-

-          Y/N is a good person, mum. Hale is her neighbour and is just jealous that I spend so much time with her.

-          If Hale searches deep enough, Ubbe, he will find things against us. -Aslaug got up from her seat and walked towards Ubbe. -And if he does, all of us will be going to jail, just because you got a silly crush on a stupid girl. Is she worthy risking our safety?

-          Stop being so paranoid. -he glared at her, getting angry. -You don’t know her, but Hvitserk does. And he will tell you there is nothing wrong with her. Besides, Hale got nothing on us.

-          Maybe we can change that. -she smirked. -Bring her to Friday’s dinner.

Friday’s dinner at the club were not like an usual dinner. There was alcohol, drugs, croweaters, and a lot of people who were in the bad side of the law. The sons invited other clubs who they had business with, and they created an environment dangerous and dark. Ubbe thought about your kind smile and your innocent eyes, and got angry at her mother for ever suggesting it.

-          This conversation is over. -he said, getting up and walking to grab his vest. -Y/N is not coming over neither you will meet her. She will stay out of the club. And that’s an order from the president.

-          So there is a “you and the baker”. -she let out a soft laugh. -I didn’t know if what the boys said was true, but seeing you all riled up about her is enough. Try not to show that you’re crazy for her, Ubbe.

-          Wh-I’m not! -Ubbe turned around with his vest half-put to see his mother already leaving.

-          Tell her I say hi.

-          How did-

But she already gone. It was not hard to guess where Ubbe was going; everytime he wasn’t at the club, he was at your house or at the bakery. In a way, you were his anchor. He understood why Jax left the club; it was all too much. Too many guns, too much death, and too little peace. Ubbe would have left if it wasn’t for you, the sweet baker who held his heart.

Ubbe jumped on his motorbike after looking at the sky. It would be night shortly, and you probably were at your apartment by then. He had wanted to help you to clean the bakery and then take you home. Sure, you had a van, a new one thanks to Ubbe and Hvitserk. But he enjoyed taking you to work each morning and bringing you back, and he did so whenever he could. On his way to your apartment, as he heard the rumble of the motorbike, he thought about his mother’s words.

It had been a year since you two met, and still, you hadn’t kissed once. He was infatuated with you, that for sure. And sometimes, he swore that you wanted to kiss him too. Like that time when he surprised you on your apartment.

Ubbe had been away for the whole week, fixing some things outside the country. Usually, when he travelled with his brothers, he spent the week getting wasted in a pub and enjoying some croweater’s company. But that Monday’s night or any other day he didn’t touch any girl; he stayed in the motel they rented while their brothers enjoyed the night, thinking about his sweet baker. It was almost mid-night when he decided he couldn’t do it no more. The sons still had to attend to some things there, but if he was fast, he could be back in the morning. Sure, he could have called you, yet your voice wouldn’t be enough that time. With care of not waking up Chibs, who was sleeping besides him, he walked out the door and started his bike.

He drove above the speed limit that night, and when he arrived to your apartment door, he called you.

-          U-Ubbe? -your sleepy voice greeted him, and he almost felt bad.

-          Hey darling. -he smiled. -Did I wake you up?

-          Kind of. -you laughed. -I drifted off on the couch. The movie was too boring without your snarky remarks.

-          Oh, that’s flattering Y/N. That means you miss me?

-          Of- Sully, no, bad girl!

Ubbe heard barking and your muffled voice as he was propping in his bike, watching with a smile how your light was still on. He kept hearing to you trying to fight off Sully as he walked up the stairs. Luckily for him, the main door was open.

-          Sorry, Ubbe. She has heard your voice and gone crazy. -you sighed. -Guess she misses you too.

-          I miss my girls too. How has been the bakery today?

-          Good! Mrs Lowman has told me that her son is getting married, and she was so excited. She wants me to do the wedding cake.

-          That’s amazing darling. -he was then on the first floor, trying to make no noise.

-          And your day? When are you coming back?

-          You know, club things. -Ubbe hated to tell you thing about the sons; not because he didn’t trust you, but because he thought you were better than that.

-          Are you all alright? I’ve made some cookies for Hvitserk for when you come back.

-          Oh, and I don’t get anything?

-          I might or might not made the cake you like so much. -you said. -You know, that one with cream and sprinkles.

-          Y/N, you didn’t have to. -he chuckled. -I know it’s expensive and takes you a lot of time.

By then, he was on the second floor. Ubbe was walking without turning on the light; he knew it made a strange noise and he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. So guiding himself by the wall, he continued walking.

-          Well, I did it. -you laughed. -But I might have to give it to Sully, because it will rot if you don’t come home soon. Come on, when are you coming? I miss you.

-          I miss you too, darling. -he smiled. -The trip is planned until Wednesday, but I will have to go sooner if I want to taste the cake, won’t I?

-          I can do it again, Ubbe, don’t worry. As long as you’re safe, I don’t care how long it takes. -you were going to say something else but Sully’s loud barks interrupted you. -Sully, stop! Come one, the neigh- ow!

He was in front of your door, and he could hear Sully running around the apartment; also, he could hear your voice, from the phone and from inside the door. The dog must have smelt him, because she ran to the door and Ubbe heard her paws on it.

-          God, Ubbe, I will have to hang up. -you said, and that time Ubbe knew you were on the other side of the door, trying to get Sully back. -I don’t know what has gotten into her, she’s crazy.

-          Maybe there is someone outside the door?

-          Who would be -you stopped, and Sully used that hesitation to bark and scratch at the door again. -How do you know she was by the door?

-          What can I say, I can’t just resist a good cake, darling.

As soon as the door opened, Sully greeted him with excited licks and happy barks. He tried to make her lower down a bit, but she was wo excited that she even fell back. One or two neighbours shouted not so kind words, so he had to walk inside and close the door. While the dog circled around him and searched for his hand, Ubbe looked at you. You were in your pyjamas, some sweatpants and a big blue t-shirt. And you were looking at him as if you saw a ghost; you eyes wide and your mouth trying to say something. Just when he thought it hadn’t been a good idea, you jumped into his arms.

Ubbe stumbled a little, but caught you and pulled you close. He had missed how your body fit perfectly with his, how you smelt and, most important, how you would look at him like he was something in that world. You pulled away from his shoulder, yet your legs stood around his waist.

-          Wh-what are- I mean, how did -you interrupted yourself with a laugh. -Why are you here?

-          Most of the guys were out in the pub. -he smiled, noticing how your faces were inches away. -I had a little free time since I didn’t go, so I thought that what I wanted most was to see you.

-          You’ve driven here? -you rose your brows. -Ubbe, it’s the middle of the night! You could have had an accident.

-          Then I would have crawled here, Y/N. -he bumped your nose with his. -Because I missed you a lot.

A little giggle left your lips, and your breath hit Ubbe’s mouth. His eyes went down to your mouth, that was curved into a beautiful smile. And God help him, he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to stay with you a whole life, hiding in your apartment where nothing could get you. Without really noticing, both of you got closer until your lips nearly touched. Just when you were ready to close your eyes, the annoying noise of your door made your pull away. Ubbe let you on the ground and pet Sully as you opened the door, revealing a concerned Hale. That night, neither of you slept, and you talked until he had to go in the morning. As he rode away, your face accompanied him in the whole trip

He shook the memory away when he almost crashed with a car, and focused on the road again. By the time he got to your apartment, it was already night time. He jumped two stairs at a time, holding his helmet against his side. When he reached the third floor, he heard Sully barking and your soft voice begging her to lower her barks. He knocked loudly twice, and waited until your bright smile greeted him.

-          Ubbe. -you smiled, moving so he could enter. -I thought you weren’t coming today.

-          Sorry, got held up with some club business. -he threw himself on the couch, petting Sully with one hand while the other was behind his head.

-          Would you like anything else, sir? -you faked a bow. -Are you comfortable enough?

-          I would be more comfortable if you would sit here with me.

-          Let me finish dinner first. Are you staying? Because I was making food for two.

Ubbe smiled, feeling relaxed and free for the first time in his day. It was like he had finally found his home; you were doing dinner for the both of you, a comfortable silence in the apartment with the TV on the background, and Sully on the floor used to Ubbe’s presence. Yeah, the sweet innocent baker was his home.

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Blood of the Same Gods I

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Thank you @toothhurtyam​ for beta-ing

Self indulgent fic about Vikings. Some of it is canon divergent. Very Floki, very smut. Later also much Ubbe and Hvitserk. Also involves actual Norse Gods and one Elder God. I do this for me, hahaha.

Ch 1 - Invading Forces

In this Chapter: Norsemen come to Friesia and I get to better my Old Norse through practise.

The church bells ring loudly in alarm. “Did the baker set his shop on fire again?” I wonder out loud. My horse nickers in reply. He rubs his head against my shoulder. I hear people scream. “What the hell.” I whisper. I twist Icedust’s mane around my hand and swing onto his back. He whinnies and almost rears up. I give him my heels and steer him around the house. From high upon the hill I can see the village. The small wooden church is on fire. “Father!” I yell. The window of the second story of the homestead opens. “What?” The Crawling Chaos sneers. “The church is on fire. I am going down to see what has happened.” I call up at him. “I’ll be right down if I am needed, just yell for me.” The Elder God replies.  

I give my white stallion my heels. He trumpets loudly and races down the hill.

In the village, I cannot believe my eyes. The usually so quaint and quiet farmer’s community is in a jumbled frenzy. People are running away left and right, chased by wild looking men. The Raiders have come!

One particularly large specimen comes right at me, brandishing a battle axe. I nudge Icedust with my toe and he handily steps out of the Norseman’s way. With a yell, the man narrowly avoids a tree. I have to stifle a giggle. I dismount and slap Icedust on the rump. “Go make yourself scarce, but wait for my call.” I command. The horse trots off gracefully, lifting his knees high. 

I approach the large Norseman, showing him my empty hands. “I .. I mean no harm.” I say in my best Norse. The man furrows his heavy brow. I am quite sure he is not accustomed to this type of surrender. “Where is … your leader?” I speak carefully. The large man gives me a suspicious look. “Please.” I seek eye contact with him. He gives me a ponderous but slow look. “My Lord, I beg you.” I say. That seems to motivate him. “Come.” He barks. I oblige and follow.

He leads me to the market square. “Ragnar!” He calls out. The Northman that jogs to us is slighter than the raider that leads me. There is blood on his sword. “By the gods.” I hiss. That is likely the blood of someone I know. “What is the matter, Rollo? Have you found yourself a pretty slave?” The slighter man asks. Another Northman giggles nervously. “I am no slave!” I say loudly, firmly. “Are you leader?” I turn to the man called Ragnar. “My father would speak with you.” I say to him. “Bring him to me.” Ragnar tells me. I shake my head. “I will bring you to him, my lord.” I tell him.

“Have you horses?” I ask. Ragnar shakes his head. “We will borrow.” The Northman named Rollo grunts. There are a few horses tied up in the market square. Rollo pulls them towards Ragnar. Rollo, Ragnar and a third, much thinner man mount up. “Lead us.” Ragnar barks. I nod and gesture for the Northmen to follow me. 

I whistle for Icedust. The white stallion is quick to find me. I swing onto his back and we race up the hill. 

The Crawling Chaos is waiting in front of the house. “Good girl.” He smirks. It is as though he’s foreseen this. “Thank you, father.” I smile. I dismount and help tie the village horses to a post. Icedust seems not to like them. “Sod off then.” I give him a slap on the rump. “Come inside with me.” Nyarlathotep invites the Northmen to follow him inside the homestead. All three oblige right away, much to my surprise. “You too, daughter.” The Elder God says. I hurry to follow. 

The Northmen sit down at the large table. “Bring them ale and bread.” The Crawling Chaos says. I head to the kitchen, pouring three tankards of ale and grab a fresh loaf of bread. This I carefully retrieve and set it down in front of our Norse guests.

“Eat and drink and be my guests.” Nyarlathotep speaks. His Norse is better than mine. The two large Norsemen drink from their ale and eat from the bread. But not the third, slenderer man. “Why …” I search for the words, seeking eye contact with him. “Why don’t you drink?” I ask. He looks at me, his grey eyes full of stormcloud and unknowable mysteries. I like this one.

Very suddenly he reaches out, catching my necklace. Carefully he caresses the wolf head pendant. “Why do you wear this?” He asks. “Floki, be polite.” Says Ragnar, sounding rather amused. The slender man, apparently called Floki, let’s my necklace go. “I have wolf blood.” I reply. Floki frowns, his eyes growing more stormy. “Wolf blood, what is it you mean?” He asks. I sit down opposite him and change the shade of my eyes. From grey blue to red as blood. The mark of an alpha, the mark of a child descending from Nari and Narfi. All three men gasp and Nyarlathotep chuckles. “Interesting, is she not?” He purrs. He smiles amusedly and strokes my cheek. “What is her name?” Ragnar asks. The Elder God nudges me. “Tell him your name, my child.” He purrs. “I am Tessa Storm.” I say sweetly. “And my name is Nicholas.” Says Nyarlathotep. “She is your daughter?” Ragnar asks. The Crawling Chaos nods. He strokes my cheek again. “She is the apple of my eye.” He purrs. “Papa, please.” I whisper, coyly, in Diets, which is an early version of Dutch and German.

“Why have you invited us?” Ragnar asks The Crawling Chaos. The Elder God sends the Norseman a sardonic smile. “I invited you because I want to join you on your way back to your home.” He says. This makes Ragnar and Rollo frown. “Why, why do you want to come with us?” Rollo asks. “Because the Christians here do not like me. They think I practise witchcraft.” Nyarlathotep replies. “And my daughter dreamed that she will grow old in The North.” He sends me the type of smile that let’s me know I should only agree. I quietly nod. I know not to anger my Patron God.

The Elder God seeks out Ragnar’s eyes. “I will pay, of course, to board your boat.” He says. “I am a rich man.” He digs in his pocket and dumps a pile of gold coins between Ragnar’s hands. “Why do the Christian’s accuse you of witchcraft?” Floki asks. The Crawling Chaos laughs joylessly. “I am an Alchemist. I have a greater control over the elements than most people.” He says. He pulls a plaque of iron from his pocket. “I can turn this into gold.” He says. “Takes a little while but it will be genuine gold.” He sends Ragnar a wide smirk. Ragnar holds out his hand for the plaque of iron. Nyarlathotep deposits into the Norseman’s palm. Ragnar closes his fingers around it. “Show me, prove it and I will take the both of you to Kattegat.” He says.

“It is a long process, have you two days to wait?” Nyarlathotep asks. Ragnar snorts loudly. “Of course I do.” He says. He gives Rollo a light slap on the arm and whispers something to him. At once, Rollo gets up and leaves. 

“Show me, now.” Ragnar says. “Very well.” The Elder god stands and gestures Ragnar to follow. Both Ragnar and Floki get up and follow The Crawling Chaos to his lab. I clear the tankards off the table and busy myself with my own chores. I have plenty to do.

I am brushing Icedust when Rollo returns. He ties his horse to the post and comes over. “Where is Ragnar?” He asks loudly. I gesture for him to follow. Rollo follows me to the homestead, but so does Icedust. I put my hand against the horse’s chest. “Stay.” I tell him in Diets. He whinnies loudly, not agreeing with me. “Stay here.” I order him. We leave the horse on the doorstep and head up various stairs to Nyarlathotep’s lab. He is there, explaining what chemicals he uses to change Ferrum atoms into Aurum atoms. The adding of the neutrons and protons is a slow and arduous process and needs to be paid for with the exact right combination of chemicals. And that is only to maintain the weight of the plaque. Dry transfers would diminish the amount of gold resulting from it. 

“I will leave this on in your tender care too, father.” I say, nudging Rollo forward.

Back down I go, to the horse in the hallway. Icedust whickers and rubs his long face against my side. “You are not supposed to be in the house.” I slap him on the shoulder. He snortles and follows me into the kitchen.

“I swear, if you shit in the kitchen, I’ll make Father turn you into a mule.” I warn him. “What is your father, if he can turn a horse this splendid into a mere mule?” I hear one of the Northmen say. I turn to see him enter the kitchen. It is the slender man, the one they called Floki. 

“My father is very powerful.” I reply. “How powerful?” Floki demands. “Powerful enough to turn that stubborn horse into the mule he is in his heart.” I purr. “ Powerful enough to raise the blood of the wolf twins.” I take a shiny yellow apple out of the basket on the counter and throw it at him. Floki handily catches. 

I start peeling  the rest of the apples. Floki sits at the kitchen table. “Who gave your father his powers?” He asks. I turn to him, looking him in his pale eyes. “I don’t know.” I lie. “Maybe the gods that come dance in our gardens when the moon is waning.” I cooe. “What gods dance here?” Floki tilts his head. I grab a pot and a cutting board and sit opposite him at the table. I core and cut the apples, tossing the pieces in the pot. “Many gods come to dance here. Tricksters as well as Thunderers. Even the Radiant One.” I reply. “He is the best dancer, but then again, what is he not the best at.” I chuckle softly. 

Floki narrows his eyes at me. “You want to tell me you danced with the gods?” He asks. I give a little shrug. “Barely, I am not a good dancer. But neither is Thor.” I giggle softly. “They owe my father favours.” I explain. “What type of favours?” Floki questions. “That is my father’s business. I do not know. I heard him talking about it once with one of them.” I reply.

I put the pot over the fire as carefully as I can. I add a few herds to the pot to sweeten the compote. Then I go back to the table. “Can I get you anything?” I ask Floki. “I’d like another ale.” He replies. I oblige and pour him another tin mug of ale. I put it down in front of him and go over to the fire and gently stir the pot. 

It is silent between Floki and I. In this silence, Rollo enters the kitchen. “Ale.” He tells me firmly. “No please?” I frown at him. “Show our host manners, Rollo.” Floki tells the much bigger man. Rollo frowns at me and then at Floki. “I said, ale.” He barks. “And I said ask politely.” I reply in Diets.  Rollo pulls a confused and flummoxed face and Floki giggles. I stir the pot once more and look up at Rollo with a wide smile. “Just say please, Rollo. We are the guests of her father, we should be polite.” Floki says. “She is not a slave, she is a free woman.” He tells the warrior. “You are, are you not?” He asks me. “There is barely a more free woman in all of Friesia.” I reply. “See, you can’t just bark orders at her.” Floki says with a smirk at Rollo.

“Please.” Grunts Rollo. I roll my eyes and turn to Floki. “I’ll take it.” I shrug. I take a tin mug and descend into the cellar to draw Rollo some ale. 

I come back into the kitchen and give Rollo his ale. “Happy?” I ask him sharply. “Yes.” Rollo replies firmly. “Good.” I go to the fire and stir the pot once more.

“Why is there a horse in the house?” Rollo asks. “That is not a horse, that is a dog in a mule’s body.” I answer, after having thought about the correct Norse words for my answer. Icedust whinnies loudly in disagreement. I laugh loudly. “You sure act it.” I tickle the stallion under his soft chin. “It is a very handsome horse.” Rollo says. “Thank you.” I smile. “A handsome horse that can stay outside perfectly well.” I tell the white steed. Icedust snortles and puts his ears against his skull. He turns away from me. “Don’t give me that attitude. Go bother Pandora.” I slap him on the rump. Icedust trumpets and trots out of the house. “Much better.” I say softly, shaking my head. 

“Daughter!” Nyarlathotep calls out. “Yes, father!” I holler back, running to the stairs. “Prepare two guestrooms!” He replies loudly. I climb the stairs, going into his lab. “Why two, there are three Norsemen.” I ask him in Diets. “You can have one.” Nyarlathotep replies. I snortle softly. “If you say so. I’ll prep three rooms, we’ll see if one wants me.” I tell him. I walk back down to check in on Rollo and Floki. Floki is nosing through the pantries, pulling aside the cloth drapings to discover what is on our shelves. “Excuse me.” I say loudly. Floki looks up and giggles. “Now who is being impolite?” I ask him, but send him a small smile. Rollo also looks at Floki, but he is not smiling. Sheepishly Floki goes back to the table. “Father has asked me to prepare the guestrooms for you for tonight, he hopes you will stay for the night.” I tell him and Rollo. “I suppose we will, if Ragnar is staying, we should too.” Floki replies. “Very well.” I nod. “I’ll tell the others.” Rollo rises. “You do that.” Says Floki. Rollo scowls at him and takes his leave. I watch as he leaves, wondering where his tension comes from. “He better not invite the whole crew back over.” I try to joke. Floki responds with a loud giggle. “I doubt he will.” He says.

Nyarlathotep and Ragnar come back down. “Where is Rollo.” Ragnar asks Floki. “Informing the men where we are.” Floki answers. He looks up at Ragnar. There is something in his eyes when he looks at Ragnar, something akin to desire, but mixed with fear and anger. Ragnar does not look back at him. “Did he say if he was going to come back.” Ragnar asks. “No, he did not.” Floki answers. Ragnar furrows his brow minutely. I see Floki watch his expression closely. He sits tense, waiting for Ragnar to say what it is on  his mind. 

But The Crawling Chaos sweeps into the kitchen just as Ragnar opens his mouth. “Child, it is time to feed our guests.” He tells me. “Yes father.” I reply. I head to the cellar to grab meat and vegetables and rice. 

While I prepare dinner, Nyarlathotep talks to Ragnar. Floki sits by and mostly just listens. He every so often he will add to something Ragnar is telling The Elder God. But then suddenly, during a lull in the conversation, he interjects. “Your daughter tells me Gods dance here.” He says. Nyarlathotep laughs loudly. “Did she tell you that? Did she also tell you she dances with them?” He strokes my cheek. “Yes, she did.” Floki nods. “You should see her, like a little Princess.” The Elder God smiles at  me. Only I can see how cruel it is. It is the type of smile that tells me he knows everything about me and about these two men. That he knows exactly how their lives interject with mine and how precisely he is going to be the influence on it. I may think I have free will, but I am but a puppet on his strings, that smile tells me. I am at his mercy and his smile is utterly devoid of just that. 

“Maybe, if we are lucky, we may see her dance.” Ragnar says. “Why do you think you are allowed to see your gods dance?” The Crawling Chaos smirks at Ragnar. “Because I am of Odin’s blood.” Ragnar replies. Floki giggles nervously at the statement. The Elder God whirls around and leaps over to Ragnar. He grabs the Norseman’s chin. “You make a grand claim Ragnar Lothbrok. Time will tell, as will the gods.” He hisses. Ragnar meets his eyes. I wonder what he sees there and if he is afraid. If Ragnar at all feels fear of The Crawling Chaos, he does not show it. 

Rollo comes back in, two other Norsemen at his heels. 

“They are multiplying, very well, sit down.” Nyarlathotep rolls his pale eyes. That is what makes Ragnar tear his gaze away from The Elder God. The Norseman heaves a sigh and greets his comrades. I truly wonder what he saw in Nyarlathotep’s eyes. Maybe his own face. Maybe his own death. I will not ask. What The Crawling Chaos shows is what should be kept to oneself. I will never tell a single soul what I see there when I look at him. 

“Sit, please.��� I tell the two newcomers. One has an eyepatch and the other has red hair like mine. “There are Arne and Torstein.” Ragnar says, only to Nyarlathotep, not to me. If he is at all afraid of the Elder God, he does not show it. He is a very strong man. “It is nice to meet you, Arne and Torstein, I am Nicholas Storm and this is my daughter Tessa.” He gestures at me. “Good meeting you.” I give a curtsy and gesture to the chairs around the table. This whole process feels like herding cats. 

Finally everyone is seated, has a mug of ale and a plate of dinner in front of them. Nyarlathotep and I have spiced wine. The Norsemen don’t like wine. And I don’t like ale. The conversation is in such rapid Norse that I can’t follow it. I silently eat my food and observe the men. I do my best to avoid looking at The Crawling Chaos. His knowing eyes are continually on me. 

“Is your daughter married?” Torstein, the Norseman with the red hair, asks The Crawling Chaos. Nyarlathotep shakes his head. “She is not, but let me tell you, you are not the man she is meant for.” He purrs. “Do you know who she is meant for?” Ragnar asks. He sounds intrigued. “Maybe we killed him today.” Rollo guffaws. “Oh no, Tessa’s destined husband lives in Kattegat.” The Elder God says. “I choose my own husband.” I say, knowing it is an empty statement. “Of course, but only where the gods want you to.” He winks at me. He knows very well he is counted among them. “The gods do not control me father, they said as much.” I put my hand over Nyarlathotep’s. His skin is icy cold to the touch. “Of course child.” He sends me an indulging grin. He knows I speak only of the Aesir, not of him. “How can you say that?” Floki asks. I turn to face him. “I am just a woman. I am not a warrior, or builder.” I say. I pronounce the words wrong and Floki crinkles his nose as though he is annoyed. Torstein corrects me. I send him a smile.

“The gods want nothing with me. I am free to walk my own path because I am not important.” I tell Floki. Floki tilts his head and looks at me. “I wonder if that is right.” He murmurs. “Of course it is not. You are very important.” The Crawling Chaos murmurs. He strokes my hair. I try not to shudder. “Nonsense father, I am just another girl.” I sternly tell him in Diets. “I think your father is right. You are important. Only very important people get to see the Gods. If you were not important, they would have struck you blind.” Floki says, leaning over to me. I fluster a little. There is a lingering scent of wood and earth about him and something much, much older. “And you said you are of the blood of the twins. That is very important.” The Norseman smirks. I brush my fingers over the wolf head pendant hanging on my chest. “It is very muddled blood. Very old blood.” I reply. “But it will never not be important.” Floki whispers. He extends his no inhand to brush the wolf head too. My heart stutters a little. Nyarlathotep puts his hand over mine and gives it a squeeze. It is a tell tale squeeze. He knows. He knows my heart and he knows my future. Yes, says the squeeze, yes it says, your heart is right. Thanks for the spoiler, you tentacled fuck. 

For dessert I bring out a large pie, filled with berries and flavoured with traded spices. I divide it equally between the five Norsemen. “It is like she knew of your coming, she baked it this morning.” The Elder God purrs. Floki giggles. Ragnar is the first to take a bite. “My gods, this is delicious.” He says. The other Norsemen dig in too, not bothering to use their spoon. I pour The Crawling Chaos more spice wine and sit in the window seat with a bowl of blueberries. “I am glad you like it.” I send Ragnar a smile. He grins back at me. “It has flavours I never tasted before.” He says. “My father is a prolific trader. The spices come from Africa and Asia.” I reply. “I hope we get to taste more of your pies.” Says Rollo. “Worry not, you most certainly will.” Nyarlathotep smirks at him. Rollo shudders visibly and looks to me instead of The Elder God. I send him a sweet smile. Rollo is evidently not as strong a man as Ragnar. “I will take the spices with me, we have more than enough.” I say sweetly. Rollo seems a bit relieved.

After dinner I wash the dishes. Ragnar and father head upstairs again, to the lab. Rollo sits drinking ale on the porch, with Torstein and Arne. And Floki is everywhere and nowhere. He explores the house on his own. Sometimes I see him walk past and sometimes he stalks into the kitchen. Once I am done with the dishes, I catch him by the arm. He turns to me, swift as a snake. “What do you want?” He hisses. “I could ask you the same question.” I cooe. He narrows his eyes at me. “What is it you want most, Floki of the North?” I ask him softly. He tilts his head a little. “What is it you want most, pretty one?” He giggles. “I want most a son with hair as red as fire and eyes as blue as ice.” I reply. “Why?” Asks Floki. “Because that is what I want most. Not a reason, just because that is what I want. From the day that we venture North with you, I am going to give others what they want.” I reply. “I am going to do what is asked of me, what is needed of me.” Slowly I let his arm go. “But you are a free woman.” Floki does not retract his arm. Instead he seeks out my hand again. “I am free in name and in heart, but I assure you, the story of my life is not written with my own hand.” I whisper. “But during dinner, you said...?” He does not finish his sentence. Instead he runs his fingers from my elbow to my wrist. Gooseflesh pimples my skin from scalp to heel. “The Aesir have nothing to do with my path in life. It is not the Aesir that give me my dreams.” I reply. I touch his arm in return. “Who gives you your dreams?” Floki asks. “I cannot tell you that, for fear they will stop.” I answer.  

Floki’s clever, keen fingers run from my elbow to my shoulder. “You want those dreams?” He asks. “Yes, I do, they never guide me wrong.” I reply. I look him in the eye. “What are we going to do?” I ask him. “Show me where the gods dance.” Floki whispers. “What do I get in return?” I whisper. “What do you want in return?” Floki asks. I bite my lower lip. What to ask of the man that Nyarlathotep has already indicated to be in my future. Do I already ask him for intimacies or do I get to know him better first? “Whatever it is you want to give me.” I whisper, making up my mind. Floki giggles and leans in. He kisses my cheek. “We’ll see.” He says. So we are both leaving it in the middle, huh? Isn’t that ironic.

I take him by the hand and lead him through the garden. 

Beyond the garden trees suddenly rise up. The woods begin so abruptly it is almost eerie. “These are strange trees.” Floki says. “How do you know?” I ask him, looking keenly up at him. “I am a boat builder, I need to know trees to build good boats.” Floki giggles and winks. “Oooh, that is interesting, my dear Floki.” I purr. “You speak our language well.” Floki says. “I speak many languages, Father taught me. He likes me smart.” I reply. “Smart women are often the better. Shield maidens are valuable, yes. But smart women raise responsible children.” Floki replies. 

We walk through the woods, to the meadow full of wild flowers. “Here we are.” I let his hand slip out of mine and sit down under the old gnarled willow. I usually sit there to watch the gods dance. Floki sits down beside me. “This is a beautiful place.” He says. “Yes it is. When they dance, fireflies fill the meadow like stars in the sky.” I affirm. “So you have seen their faces?” Floki asks. “Of course I have. They are just like us. From youthful clean shaven Tyr to the smiling Ullr. From regal Frigg to strong Gerd.” I tell him. Floki sighs a happy sigh. “Oh to see them, that would be the happiest moment of my life.” He says. He rises to his feet and dances clumsily around the meadow. “Come, come dance with me.” He calls out. I stand up and, shaking my head, join him in the meadow. I twirl and prance a little, giggling, feeling only slightly awkward. 

We both startle when we hear a loud whinney. “Sleipnir?!?” Floki calls out. I laugh, knowing that whinney all too well. “No, that is just Icedust.” I reply. And indeed, the white stallion comes trotting up to us. “Is it me bedtime?” I ask the horse in Diets. He nudges me with his soft muzzle. “We’ll come home.” I stroke his head. “Come, Floki, we are going back to the homestead.” I tell the boat builder. “Must we?” Floki all but pouts. “Yes, the horse is not here for cuddles. Father is going to lock the doors soon.” I reply. I twist Icedust’s mane around my hand and swing onto his back. Icedust starts back towards the house. Floki reluctantly follows.

And indeed, Nyarlathotep is waiting in the doorway. “Stable your horse and go to bed.” He tells me. “Yes father.” I sigh and roll my eyes.

[vikingsarememes]

Pairing: Ubbe x Hvitserk x Y/N 

Summary: Y/N’s heart is broken by the way the Ragnarssons are treating Hvitserk, she tries to help him and in-process her own ghosts start haunting her with the memories of the man she once loved.

Warnings: mention of death.

Word Count: 1665

you sat and watched Ubbe remind Hvitserk how disappointed he is on how the younger turned out, you didn’t like it, but it wasn’t your place, you’re a friend of the family but yet, you and Ubbe were never close.

After everything that happened, after what Ivar did, the berserker was left broken, everything was taken from him, his love, his dreams, his hope, his reputation, his self-respect, the man who would stand once full of pride and confidence, who you’d see at every feast, smiling, flirting, laughing, that man was gone and all is left is the shadow of what he once used to be.

A reflection, so broken, so fragile, uncertain of anything, seeking numbness in herbs and booze, it made your heart shatter, you truly thought profoundly of the man but Ivar, he wrecked him just like he ruined everything else.

“You disappoint me brother, the thought that I spent my childhood, taking responsibilities just for you to grow up into men of greatness, that would make me proud... look at yourself! Is this what a Ragnarsson looks like? If father was alive he’d wish you would’ve been the one he took into the woods and left for the wolves! You deserve nothing! nothing!” Ubbe screamed for everyone to hear after he had a steaming conversation with his barely conscious brother.

“leave the hall, I don’t want the men to be disgusted by seeing you” with that the confused scared man ran out, stumbling into walls and people.

“That ungrateful bastard! I wish he’s the one who got killed by Ivar’s hands instead of Sigurd, Sigurd would never allow himself to be this fragile” he mumbled to himself, but the mistake he did was that he said it while passing by your table, you heard it, you felt your blood boil. 

it’s Hvitserk! How could he say such a thing about him? The little boy you played with? The little boy who once stole a banana for you to taste, who covered for Ubbe’s stupidity and took the punishment instead of him thousands of times! The kid who took it upon himself to push his cripple brother on a cart twice his weight all around Kattegat just so he would feel somehow normal! 

You didn’t really have much control on yourself at that moment, you got up from your seat and slapped Ubbe with everything you had on his cheek, you regretted it instantly, he is the king now and if he wants he can get you killed, but if you will die, then perhaps you should die like a true warrior and act brave, Ubbe blinked at you, shocked, incapable of comprehending what just happened for what seemed like hours even though it was for few seconds, his hand on the burning cheek.

“Y/N! What was that about?” he finally said, not as hostile as he seemed more of surprised “for Hvitserk! For treating him like shit when he needs you the most! If it was the other way around he’d take you in and look after you until you got better but you kicked him out! You abandoned him!” you replied, anger in your eyes with every word you said cause they only kept reminding you of how much better the blond man deserves.

“He’s a man, not a child! He doesn’t need my help, he needs to fix himself” he scoffed “he’s gone through so much, he watched everyone he loves die or leave him behind whenever he wasn’t useful for them, do you know what it’s like to lose a lover Ubbe? Do you know what it feels like to be completely alone, without a brother or a wife or a friend to lean on?” you asked, your voice getting louder each time, “of course I do! I lost as much as he did!” he replied, folding his arms “no you don’t, if you do, you wouldn’t treat him like this” 

You glared at him in the eyes, even though he was much taller than you, at that moment, you felt yourself the tallest in the hall like no one was a match for you, you pushed through him and walked out of the main hall, to find your friend.

You knew where Hvitserk would run to when he’s feeling the lowest, a barely standing house, water leaking everywhere with no one to fix it, every drunk man was there,  every tortured soul could be found there, as well as all kinds of nasty odors.

You found him alone in a corner, shaking and quivering, you frowned and stood in front of him “Hvitserk, come on, get up, let’s go home” you offered him a hand, he shook his head no without looking at you “I deserve nothing, Ubbe’s right, I deserve nothing” he repeated over and over again, you kneeled in front of him and tried to hold his hand, he flinched immediately “No, he’s not. Ubbe is afraid, he doesn’t know how to help you, he doesn’t understand” you said and reached for his hand once again, this time slower so it wouldn’t freak him out.

“Ubbe is right, he’s always been! I’m the one with bad decisions” he grumbled, rocking his body back and forth, “everyone makes bad decisions” you reassured him, but it was as if he forgot you were there.

You sat next to him on the dirty floor and kept quiet, thinking to yourself of a way to get him out of there “you come here to run away from ghosts no?” you finally asked, the red-eyed boy nodded “mine are home, haunting me whenever I’m home alone” you admitted “they don’t understand, Ubbe and Bjorn, all of them, they don’t understand us, but we were there, we lived it together” you continued, he finally looked at you for the first time since you entered, waiting to hear what you have next.

“would you return home with me? Stay with me, keep me free from my ghosts?” you questioned, he didn’t reply, not for a few minutes at least “alright” that was all he said.

You stood up first, then helped him to get up, you wrapped his arm around your shoulder so you can support his weight and dragged the both of you back to the small cottage that your father left you before he passed away many years ago, you entered and helped Hvitserk on the table then brought him a bowl of soup and bread, you didn’t have much in the place but you only wanted to put real food in his stomach.

A while after, you helped him clean up, he still drank so much but that wasn’t the main concern now as much as it was to make sure tonight he was well fed, clean and with a place to sleep, you helped him to your bed, under the fur, it wasn’t unfamiliar for you to sleep next to each other, that’s what you did in raids and that’s what you did when you were children.

“Do you see him?” he asked, both staring at the roof, he was clenching to the fur “of course I do Hvitserk, what he did was terrible and left me with nightmares” you explained “do you still love him?” he asked again, you were in love with Ivar as long as you could remember, Hvitserk was the only one who knew about it, he was the only Ragnarsson that you trusted.

“I loved the  person he was, before Ragnar showed up, before Sigurd, before everything, but Ivar broke my heart too many times, I wish if he was dead, at least I would’ve mourned him, instead of watching him turn into the monster he is now”

“You know… I always thought we would’ve been married by now, I didn’t mind if he couldn’t have children or please a woman, that wasn’t what drew me to him anyway, I liked his distinguished mind, I thought we’d live happily together, I filled my head with too many imagines that prevented me from seeing the truth, I miss him every day, I miss how the three of us would go to the baker at the end of the roads and irritate him until he gives us hot bread, and how we would sit and talk about gods for hours in the main hall, the little fights between him and Sigurd, I miss all of that”

“I told him, the first time he introduced me to Freydis, I told him she wasn’t good, she smelled rotten, he said I was jealous because I thought I’d be his queen, he said I was delusional, I was sure, part of me wishes if he was redeemable, but his eyes, they showed darkness, so deep, I don’t think anyone could get out of that, not him definitely, he’s gone for good”

“But you are here, I couldn’t help Ivar because I didn’t want to see him for the monster he became, you still have a chance,  a chance to heal, and make a life of your own someday, I can help you, or at least I will try, I’m not giving up on you Hvitserk, I can’t, you are the only person there who knows me, who’d care if I’m gone, without you I’m forgotten, broken and forgotten, I need you to fight this, you have to fight it, you must recover, promise me you will?” 

You finally turned to look at the damaged man by your side, he was far asleep, part of you was glad, Hvitserk didn’t need to worry about how you felt right now, you smiled a little as you watched him while you waited for your sleep to take you away, he looked so peaceful, as if nothing bad ever happened to neither of you, as if he was the same, only older, you closed your eyes and drifted into a dreamless night, just like every other night ever since Ivar left.

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius​

[jacksonroseroth]

Masterlist

Ivar:

Actions Speak Louder Series-

Actions Speak Louder-

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

For The Blood Of The Covenant-

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Is Thicker Than The Water Of The Womb-

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

In The Eyes Of the King-

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Epilogue

Bittersweet Revenge-

Chapter 1

All In The Family-

Chapter 1, 2, 3

Best Friend-

Chapter 1, 2, 3

Capture.jpeg-

Chapter 1, 2, 3

Captured-

Chapter 1

Change My Mind-

Chapter 1, 2

Child Of Mine-

Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

Daughter-

Chapter 1, 

Flicker Series-

Slow Hands

Gift From The Gods-

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Lights, Camera, Action-

Chapter 1, 2, 3

Road Trip-

Intro, Chapter 1

Seeing Red-

Chapter 1, 2, 3

Secrets Series-

Scripts & Sex

Sneaking Around

Caught In The Act

Sleepover Series-

Sleepover

Just Don’t Tell Them?

Sweet But Psycho-

Chapter 1, 2

Taken-

Chapter 1

The King’s Daughter-

Chapter 1, 2, 3

The Untitled One-

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

The Viking Princess-

Chapter 1

They Say You Only Get One Life-

Chapter 1, 2

Wolf In A Maiden’s Clothing-

Chapter 1, 2, 3

One Shots:

Betrothed

Elevated

Her And Him

After Party

Hvitserk:

Lost Silverware

Lost Silverware Part II

Alex:

Best Friend’s Brother

Picture Perfect

The Most Beautiful Thing

Sons Of Anarchy:

This Charming Life:

Chapter 1

Welcome To The Neighborhood - Collab w/ @badwolf-in-the-impala-

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Colson Baker/MGK:

Waste Love:

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Tales Of The XX:

Chapter 1, 2, 3

Broken Glass:

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

Baze:

Blind Date:

Part 1

One Shots:

Wake-Up Call

It’s Okay

Bad Omens:

The Price: Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, Epilogue

I’ll update as the fics get updated! If you’d like to be tagged in future fics/chapters, let me know! I’ll add you to the list!

Bonus!

Moodboards:

Ivar:

Ivar’s Soulmate

Halloween!Ivar

Daydreaming!Ivar

Bewitched!Ivar

Meeting Ivar In Roskilde For A Date

Alex:

Lazy Day With Alex

Alex and Marco Cheering You Up After A Rough Day

Ubbe:

Carnival!Ubbe

Comforting!Ubbe

Hvitserk:

St. Patrick’s Day With Hvitserk

Ragnar:

Lazy Day With Ragnar

Harry Potter:

Draco’s Crush On A MuggleBorn Slytherin

Ron And His Raven

Divergent:

Eric Coulter’s Love/Hate Relationship with His Fellow Initiate

Eric’s Loft

Hemlock Grove:

Roman Godfrey Falls For The New Girl

Lord Of The Rings:

Legolas and The Princess

Teen Wolf:

Derek’s Affair With Scott’s Older Sister

Harry Styles:

Gender Bent Harry Styles

Harry As A Dad

Niall Horan:

Niall As A Dad

Supernatural:

Haunted House Date With Dean

Hunting With Dean

Peaky Blinders:

Casual Love-Thomas Shelby Moodboard

John Shelby’s Partner In Crime

Star Wars:

Cute, Young Lando

[bonniebird]

Perfection

Hvitserk x Reader

This fic is kind of @honestsycrets fault tbh. Her gifs are to good.

He was tired. It had been such a long raid and the weather had turned against them on the way home. He knew he promised to pop in and see you in case you didn’t make it down to the docks on the day he returned. But he was glad you weren’t there.

His brother’s split off to find their respective beds to roll around in and he would normally follow Ubbe’s promise of more women than he could count. But he just wanted to sleep. He’d bathe tomorrow.

As he trudged up the path to his cabin, he was grateful for it being a little out of the way. Ivar would complain to no end that he had to leave his chariot because of the twisting path Hvitserk and Ubbe had cut into the mountain side as they’d built the cabin. Ubbe promised to widen the path but Hvitserk insisted it stayed. By now it was so worn down that only torrential rain washed it away. He didn’t worry about anyone struggling with the path as you were the only person who visited and had an irritating habit of sneaking up through the woods, meaning he could never tell if you were coming.

As soon as he barged into his cabin he flopped onto his bed, rolling to his side. He sleepily scratched at the dry blood that was tugging at his beard. He’d wash in the river after a quick nap, he decided as he dozed off. His eyes snapped open seconds later to the sound of someone in his house. Blearily he fumbled for his sword as he stood, sleep causing him to stumble around like a newborn deer.

He drew his sword and pointed it firmly in front of him as he shuffled forward. “Hvitserk!” You said cheerfully and hugged him. He dropped his sword and sucked in a deep breath.

“(Y/N).” He said and sighed, chuckling when you pulled away and he realised you’d lit a fire, sorted through his pack and neatly arranged his new bounty on the table. There was the scent of fresh bread and a plate of meat was sat on a stool beside a steaming bath. He blinked a few times as he realised it was dark outside so he must have slept longer than he intended, irritable Hvitserk batted your hand away from the chest plate you were trying to unfasten while blabbering on about something he hadn’t been paying attention too.

“And then when Ivar said he didn’t know where you were I had to go and find Ubbe who… Seven girls!” You finished with a gasp that made Hvitserk chuckle.

“He’ll be a little while then.” Hvitserk teased snickering when you shook your head.

“Surely it would be more fun with less?” You said as you took HVitserk by the hand and sat him at his table. “Maybe I’ll ask Ubbe about it tomorrow at the feast.”

“What feast?” Hvitserk asked as he looked up at you.

“To celebrate the success of the raid.” You said and pointed to the pile or treasure on the table. “Now get in your bath, the bread is almost ready.”

“Where did you get all of this?” Hvitserk asked, sure he’d had little food left and what had been in his cupboards had probably turned.

“It’s some of my food, I know you Hvitserk Ragnarsson you do not have a Thrall yet you do not lift a finger to help yourself.” You huffed and went back to tugging his cloak off and fumbling with the straps of his armour. “If you do not hurry Ubbe will turn up and I’ll be hard pressed to get a mouthful of the food I spent all afternoon making you.”

“You just want to see me undress.” Hvitserk teased as he finally started to tug his clothes off. You winced when he slopped them on the floor but it gave you something to do while he plodded, painfully slow over to the bath with the wickedest grin that had ever grace his face.

“Brother! Come on you cannot be so tired women and need are not on your mind!” Ubbe called out.

Ubbe and Aslaug slowly swayed into the room. Her delighted face fell as soon as she saw Hvitserk naked by the tub while you neatly organised what needed to be cleaned.

“Hvitserk! (Y/N) has been kind enough to tend to you in your state you could at least be respectful.” Aslaug scolded as she glanced around the cabin, assuming you hand kept it tidy while he was raiding. She never did understand why he refused to marry you. “Goodness knows you should look after her for a change.”

Hvitserk glanced at Ubbe who was staring at his feet so that his mother wouldn’t see the grin on his face. When Hvitserk’s brow furrowed in confusion Aslaug sighed. “Thank you?” Hvitserk said testitly. Aslaug rolled her eyes and with the grace of a valkyrie, snatched the damp cloth that was sat in a warm bowl of water on the table, flung it at Hvitserk who grunted, and rubbed at the red spot where her strike had landed, while covering himself with the other hand.

“I want you both at the main hall tomorrow afternoon. I shall be announcing a feast, please try to behave yourselves until then.” She said as she left, though as long as they were happy she never minded what they did.

“Thank you?” Ubbe hissed through a laugh as he shook his head.

“What was I supposed to think, this one sat at the river's edge while I swam naked, it is not like she was seeing anything for the first time.” Hvitserk said and they both laughed.

“It’s true.” You said and Ubbe turned to you with a fond smile while Hvitserk hopped into the bath and sloshed water everywhere. “Ivar and I saw him running to the main hall naked after the baker caught him with his daughters.” You informed him and Ubbe laughed warmly as he glanced at Hvitserk.

“Both of them?” Ubbe asked curiously and Hvitserk shrugged as he flung a hand out to becon you over.

“He only caught me because I was kissing his wife.” Hvitserk said cheerfully as he scrubbed his arms and hands having set you to work on his braids.

“Well once you are finished, meet me at my cabin, I have a treat.” Ubbe said with a grin as he swiped at the plate of meats that you tried to defend by flinging water at him.

“(Y/N) wanted to know how it is you pleasure so many women at one time.” Hvitserk said, grinning when he felt you freeze as you twirled the metal twists holding Hvitserk’s braid out of his face.

“Really? Perhapps Hvitserk should bring you with him and I’ll show you.” Ubbe said. His tone was different from the usual friendly tone, his eyes drifted up and down your body, when you met his eyes you felt like a trapped rabbit. Only Hvitserk heard the small whimper that slipped past your lips. With a quick glance at his brother Hvitserk realised the mistake he’d made in using him too tease you.

“Not tonight brother.” Hvitserk said in a tone that rumbled deeply in his throat as he leant back and wrapped his arms around your waist. He didn’t look at you as you started on his hair again but he knew from Ubbe’s gaze that the challenge he was posing in his brother’ attempt to bed you had missed you entirely.

“Perhaps another time.” Ubbe said as he winked at you. “You know where my cabin is, you ever need someone other than my brother to keep you company.”

Hvitserk clenched his fists under the water as he listened to Ubbe wonder out of his cabin as he whistled to himself.

“Hvitserk! He is going to start stealing me away! I cannot go to the feast.” You hissed as you grabbed the bowl from the table and gently ran your fingers through Hvitserk’s hair as you poured the content over his head.

“Ubbe won't be a bother.” Hvitserk assured you. His eyes fell shut as you combed through his hair. He must have dozed off again because when he sat up a set of clothes were on the stool where the plate had been. You’d added up again and candles lit the way to his bed while you slept by the fire, a log under your hand and an old broken sword Hvitserk had found in England and decided to keep it to stoke the fire.

He winced as he stepped out of the bath and drenched the floor that you must have scrubbed dry. As he finished dressing he shuffled over to you, scooped you up and carried you to his bed. “Hvitserk?” You mumbled sleepily and Hvitserk had to clear his throat and try to remind himself you were not one of the prey he and Ubbe chased to their beds. “Do you need more food?”

He grinned, ever a woman after his heart, he shook his head. “I was just getting you comfortable. Mother was right, I should take care of you.” He smiled as you let him loosen you dress and handed you one of his heavy shirts, it would keep you more than warm enough. When you made him turn his back as you changed he couldn’t help but laugh.

“After all of me that you have seen I cannot have something in return?” He asked as he tossed a few more logs on the fire and came back to the bed. He helped take off your jewelry that he had gathered in England and some that Aslaug had given to you for birthdays. He lay you down against the pillows he liked to burrow into, carefully un twining your hair until it was loose and he could brush his fingers through it.

“I am glad the Gods brought you home.” You said through a yawn as you rolled to face him.

“I am too.” He said with a cheeky grin. His smile faded when you leant up and kissed his cheek before snuggling deeper into his bed. You were perfect for him, everything he wanted, yet he just couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want you.

[blacknight1230]

Honeysweet - Hvitserk Imagine

(Y/n) is a young Saxon woman, working as a slave to Queen Aslaug. The Viking woman has tasked you with baking dessert for an upcoming feast. Unfortunately, a certain blonde haired prince is hungry, yet again, and lounging around the kitchen. But is he hungry for your honeysweet treats or your honeysweet body?

“Thrall, come over here!” the tall, skinny blonde woman sitting on top the throne shouted. You hastily got up from your scrubbing position on the floor of the Great Hall and rushed towards the powerful woman sitting at the end of the room. When you reached her, you bowed your head down, refusing to look into her eyes. “Yes, Queen Aslaug?” you asked in a hesitant voice. The blue eyed woman  was not only your master, but ruler of Kattegat and the rest of Norway. You’ve been her slave, or thrall as the Norsemen call it, for a little over a year now, having been captured in a raid on your unsuspecting village in England. Your mind flashed back to that moment over a year ago. 

~Flashback~

You were one of the lucky ones that wasn’t slain or raped by the barbaric Vikings. That was because you and several other woman gathered as many children and women as you could into a hidden room underneath the village’s church, made specifically for this reason. Sadly, while the Vikings were ransacking the church for gold and other valuables, after killing the priest and nuns, a Viking warrior found the door to the hidden room under an elaborate rug. 

Next thing you knew, you were bound and sailing on a Viking ship, the smoke of your burning village behind you. The moment you arrived in Kattegat, you and the other captives were roughly escorted off the boat, forced to walk down the dirt covered pathways. You traveled from the focks to the market square, vendors at the stalls talking in the brutish language of the men of the North. The large men then made your people get into a line. You then noticed a raised platform in the middle of the town’s market where a lanky Saxon man was standing, bound by the wrists, while a crowd of Norse men and woman looked on, calling out in their foreign language. After a minute or so, the man was led off the platform and handed to a bearded man. He gave the other man a pouch of what appeared to be coins. It was at that moment you realized you were going to be sold into slavery. 

The next person to stand in the raised platform was a woman holding her young, crying child in her arms. A Norseman went up to the woman and tried to take the child from his mother, causing the woman to scream and struggle with the burly man. It was fruitless though, as the man was taller and stronger than the thin, tiny woman. Her son was ripped screaming from her arms, causing the woman to fall onto her back, on the floor of the wooden platform. The slave master took a terrifyingly vicious looking whip from somewhere and stalked towards the defenseless woman in hysterics. 

Against all proper sense, you dashed out of the line of captives and towards the platform. One of the warriors standing guard noticed you running and called out to his fellow guards, most likely telling them to stop you. But you were too fast for the muscled giants, their armor and weapons slowing them down. You dodged one giant of a man and leapt onto the wooden platform just as the slave master raised his arm to hit the woman with the sharp tipped whip. You instictly stepped in front of the woman, arm raised to protect your face. You gasped as the whip lashed at your side, tearing clothing and flesh, leaving several deep cuts between your ribs and hips. The slave master yelled at you in his strange dialect, but somehow you were able to stand your ground. The man growled, fire in his eyes, as he raised his arm to strike at you again. You braced yourself for the strike, praying to God that this one wouldn’t hurt as much as the last one. 

But the string never came, instead, the slave master cried out in pain. You open your eyes that subsciously squeezed shut to see that the was on the ground a cut to his thigh. You saw a young man standing over him, his back to you. When he turned around his bright blue eyes caught your (e/c) ones. You felt a connecting to this young warrior, like you’ve almost meet before, or that you two were meant to meet each other. A female’s commanding voice stopped the little moment between you two, causing you both to break eye contact. A beautiful and thin woman, dressed in regal furs and jewelry stood between the parted crowd. She talked to the young blonde haired male standing over the wounded slave master. They started to talk, the female remaining calm and stern as the conversation went on, while the slave master’s tone was angry and frantic. 

The blonde woman turned to you unexpectedly, seeming to stare into your soul. “What is your name, thrall?” she said in the Saxon tongue. This shocked you as you believed the Vikings were unable to speak English. “I-It’s (y/n), my lady,” you stuttered, speaking as if you were talking to an English king or queen. “Why did you jump in front of the whip for this woman? Is she your mother?” the regal lady questioned, her stare piercing your very soul. “No, my lady. She’s just a fellow villager,” you explained as you kept eye contact with the woman. It was like you were enchanted, as you were unable to tear your eyes from her blue ones. “Then why would you so carelessly risk harm to your for her? She obviously holds no significant meaning to you.” “My lady, this poor woman was having her child forcibly taken away from her. Knowing that probably lost everything she ever loved beside her child, I couldn’t stand by to see her be beaten for trying to protect her child,” you said, trying to get her to understand the situation. 

A tense silence followed after you explained yourself, causing your anxiety to rise. The tall woman turned to the slave master, who was now being bandaged up by a young slave girl. They spoke back and forth for a while, until the woman pulled out a large pouch full of coins. She tossed it to the slave master, before she walked to stand in front of you. “I see you have a brave and kind heart, so I’ve taken the liberty to purchase you as my personal thrall. I have also chosen to purchase the woman you protected and her child to work in the Great Hall,” the blonde told you, her facial expressions never changing as she did so. You couldn’t help but smile; this caused the powerful woman to frown and she scolded you. “Do not think you will have it easy. You are still my thrall and I paid good coin for you, so I expect you to work for it. Seeing as that young mother has a child to care for, you’re going to have to work for two. Do you understand, thrall?” she said, talking down on you. “Yes, my lady,” you said, avoiding eye contact now. “From now on you will call me Queen Aslaug, or my Queen. I’m the Queen of Norway and I deserve to be called such,” your new master said. “Yes, my Queen.” 

Aslaug haughty turn away from you, her fur coat flapping around her form, “Come, thrall, I have work for you to do,” she said nonchalantly. You understand that she wasn’t a ver patient woman, quickly running to catch up to her. But before you did, you glanced back at the young mother. She was with her child, cradling him in her arms. The English woman looked up from the child clinging to her neck, her eyes meeting yours. She gave a slight nod a silent thank you being sent your way. A hand gripping your elbow made you tear your gaze from her intense meeting a pair of sharp, blue ones. It was the Viking that protected you from the slave master’s lashing! He didn't say anything and gently pulled you along. 

~End of Flashback~

“Thrall, are you even listening to me?” the voice of the Queen said, snapping you out of your stupor. You looked up at Aslaug, fear in your eyes for getting caught daydreaming. Aslaug sighed and repeated herself. “I said that tonight there will be a feast for the newly arrived Jarl and his men that have voyaged here for an alliance. I would like you to help the cooks prepare the desserts, since the ones you have prepared for the last feast were greatly received,” she ordered. A slight blush made its way to your cheeks for the indirect compliment given to you. Before becoming the thrall of Queen Aslaug, your family was the village’s bakers. From a young age, you were taught to make bread, sweet rolls, honey nut treats and so on. But your speciality was the dessert and sweets. You even experimented with different ingredients to create new desserts and sweets. Now that you were a slave, you didn’t have as much time to continue your hobby, but when you did, it left you in a positive mood. 

Queen Aslaug dismissed you and you harried to the kitchens, practically skipping away. When you reached the kitchens, two elderly servants were already preparing the main courses. One of them turned to you once she heard your footsteps. “Ah, (y/n), come to work your cooking magic again?” she said, a smile on her nearly toothless lips. “More like Saxon witchcraft, Grethe. If Queen Aslaug hadn’t order her to cook, I wouldn’t even allow her in my kitchen,” Ardys, the other elder said. Hag, you thought, but didn’t verbally insult the nasty woman. You were still a slave, despite being one of Aslaug’s favorite thralls, and if Ardys said something to the Queen, you could still get in trouble. 

Both old ladies were the two main cooks of the Great Hall, having worked here since Jarl Haraldson sat on the throne. Grethe was a sweet old lady,  a grandmother of a dozen or so grandchildren bore by her four adult children. Ardys, on the other hand, had no children of her own and was thrice widowed, know as the village’s nasty spinster. You ignored Ardys, as she did not like the English nor trust them, seeing the Saxon slaves as intruders in Kattegat. 

You ignored Ardys, instead you went to a wooden work table, noticing several different ingredients, such as berries and dairy products, were placed on top of it. Usually, you had to gather the ingredients from the barn and garden yourself before you official started cooking. “Grethe, Ardys, where did these come from?” you asked the cooks. “Oh, Brona’s son came by and delivered them for her. She bought some of them from the market earlier today after Queen Aslaug gave her some gold to pay for it,” Grethe said from her spot by the stone oven and huge fireplace, used to roost meats on a spit. In front of her was a pot of stew that was hung over the fire, her wrinkly arms constantly stirring the mixture inside. She turned to you and continued, saying, “Such a sweet woman and child they are. Reminds me of my Hilde and her youngest babe.” 

Brona was the woman you defended from the whip of the slave master a year or so ago. She was used as a simple servant, made to gather items and deliveries from the market, feed the farm animals, etc. Her son, also was made to do simple jobs like this. They both tried to help you as much as they could, almost paying you back for saving them, in a way. You smiled, making a mental note to thank Brona and her child before you go to sleep in the barn, along with the other slaves. 

You started to bake a pie for the feast, mixing the eggs, flour, and milk for the batter. As you continued, you got lost in your thoughts you knew by heart as you created desserts and sweets. Time passed quickly, which you only noticed when the sound of a cleaver hitting a wooden table stopped. You turned around seeing that Ardys no longer was butchering varieties of raw meat and Gretha was no longer standing by the stove. You also noticed you made several flavors of pies, sweet rolls, boiled creme treats, honey nut treats, and apple dumplings. (These probably aren’t accurately what Vikings ate, based om the treats in Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) Seeing as they were just raw batter filled with berries and so on, you started a new fire in the stone oven. The room started to get hot as you fed the fire, sweat started to form on your brow. 

As you wiped the moisture from your forehead, a voice spoke out over the crackling of the firewood. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” a masculine voice said. You turned around quickly to see Prince Hvitserk in the doorway of the kitchen. Your cheeks reddened, but not because of the temperature in the room. Hvitserk was one of the sons of Queen Aslaug, a son of the famed Ragnar Lothbrok. Not only was he a Ragnarson, but he was deemed the most available bachelor of the five Ragnarsons. You’ve heard whispers from the other slaves about the alone time they had with the attractive blonde haired prince. Not only that, but Hvitserk was the young man that saved you from the whip of the slave master when you first arrived in Kattegat. It’s no wonder you have a huge small crush on the Viking prince. 

“Prince Hvitserk, what brings you to the kitchen? Are you hungry again?” you asked, trying not to look like a fool on front of him. Hvitserk seemed to stalk towards you, eyes focussed on yours. “You can say that. But I’m not hungry for any food,” Hvitserk flirted. He was now standing in front of you, towering over your nervous frame. You quickly turned around, a blush on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, my prince, but I have to bake the deserts for tonight’s feast,” you said, your forehead now clammy because of the attractive man in front of you. 

You tried to look busy, glazing the rust of a peach pie with honey. You felt Hvitserk move to stand behind you, his chest pressed to your back. “Come on, thrall. I just want a little taste, that’s all,” Hvitserk whispered huskily into your ear. This caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on en, goosebumps raising on your arms. “I can give you a sample of some of the deserts for tonight,” you said, quickly trying to turn the subject around. You were somehow able to get away from Hvitserk, pulling out a couple of sweet rolls from the stone oven. You placed them in front of Hvitserk, who’s gluttony made him take a bite of one of them without complaining. Hvitserk’s eyes went wide as he slowly swallowed the bite he took. 

“My prince, are you okay?” you asked. Hvitserk didn’t say anything, just taking big bites from the remaining sweet roll in his hands. He tried to go for the other sweets but you stopped him. “Prince Hvitserk, save some for the guests at the feast,” you pleaded. “I can’t help it,” he replied, his mouth full of food. “It’s so delicious.” Your cheeks turned red at the complement, causing you to hide it with your (long hair/hands). “Your words are too kin, Prince Hvitserk,” you said, not used to the praise. “I’m serious, (y/n),” Hvitserk said, once he swallowed the food in his mouth. You looked at him in surprise; he had never said your name before! You didn’t even know that he knew it! 

The said man got closer to you, again standing over you. He was so close, you could see the short hairs on his upper lip that was the beginning of a mustache. His blue eyes seemed so bright and sparkled in the light of the fire from the stove. For once, those eyes held something else than hunger or lust; it seemed to be admiration. “I knew there was something different about you the moment I saw you in that slave auction,” he said softly. You felt all warm and fuzzy inside, feeling safe in the young prince’s presence. Hvitserk raised a hand to gently move a piece of your hair out of your face, placing it behind your ear. He then used that same hand to cradle your cheek, as he looked down on your shorter frame. Your hands now were gently resting on his chest, the tough texture of leather and roughspun tunic underneath your delicate fingertips. 

“You’re just saying that because you want something from me,” you mumbled, hoping Hvitserk wouldn’t hear you. “And what would I want from you, my sweet?” Hvitserk asked, his mood dampened by your words. “You want my body, but nothing else. You see me as a toy like all the other slaves, only here to quench your endless lust,” you said. Your sudden daringness shocked you, as was Hvitserk, since you were normally polite and quiet. Hvitserk started to chuckle, a smile on his lips, that eventually turned into boisterous laughter.  Your cheeks started to turn red in embarrassment, thinking he was making fun of you. You moved to leave, but Hvitserk caught your arm before you could. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” Hvitserk apologized, a warm smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, my prince. I don’t know what came over me,” you replied. 

You were nervously sweating again, but this time it was because of your fear for an impending punishment. The Vikings did not tolerate any form of insubordination in their servants and slaves quickly stamping it out with cruel punishments. Your biggest fear is that you were to be whipped repeatedly for back talking the young prince. “You don’t have to apologize, my sweet. But I do expect you to do something for me as a punishment,” Hvitserk told you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “I’ll take my punishment, my prince, for disrespecting you.” 

Please don’t whip me, you pleaded in your thoughts. “Good. Your punishment will be dealt with in stages. For now, you’ll be dealing with stage one,” Hvitserk said,  his voice low and giving you predatory eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and never in your life have you wanted to kiss someone this badly. “What’s my punishment?” you asked in a breathless voice, subconsciously drawing nearer to the blonde prince. It seems Hvitserk also was inversely leaning closer towards you, as you could smell the sweet smell of sweet rolls on his breath. Hvitserk smirked at you and said, “Your first punishment is to kiss me. And you have to mean it or else.” 

You gulped, nervous about the prospect of doing this ... personal act. But you had to do it; it wasn’t like he was forcing you to have sex together. Your hands shook a little as they rose to grasp the jawline of the man before you. Before the Vikings raided your village, you were never courted by the available young men there. So, that left you unexperienced in the romance department. In other words, you hadn’t had your first kiss yet. And as you were a strict Christian, you devantly didn’t lay in bed with a man before. Hence your nervousness at the current situation. 

You took a calming breath, then closed the gap between you and the blonde prince. Hvitserk quickly rolled you closer to him his hands on your waist. You made a noise at this action, but Hvitserk interrupted it as a pleasured moan. Although you insticated the kiss, Hvitserk was the one in control. Said prince was kissing you passionately, your lips becoming bruised from his ferocity. Oh God, this is not how I expected my kiss to be, you thought as the young prince caught your bottom lip in his teeth. Yet, you enjoyed it for some reason. Lewd sounds filled the kitchen as you both gripped each other tightly as you kissed. You pulled away from Hvitserk, gasping for breath, but Hvitserk wanted to continue. He pulled you back into the kiss, his tongue making his way into your mouth. Your fingers found their way into his golden locks, your nails scraping against his scalp. Hvitserk moaned into your mouth at the sharp painful sensation. 

Before Hvitserk could go any further, you two broke away, breathing heavily as you both tried to fill your deprived lungs with air. When your breathing started to get steady again, you rested your forehead against Hvitserk’s broad chest, basking in his natural scent. The young prince let out a short chuckle, then spoke to you. “You did good, sweetness. You’ve successfully gotten past the first stage of your punishment,” he said, his voice low and husky as he spoke into your ear. “Really?” you replied, raising your head and looking in the prince’s blue eyes. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” A grin broke out on Hvitserk’s lips, the smile reaching his eyes. “I would have thought otherwise,” he said, laying a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Now it’s time for stage two, little thrall.” You nodded your head, not fearful for what was about to come. If this stage of your punishment was anything like the one before, you were fine with it. “I’m ready, Hvitserk,” you said confidently. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, sweetness. I like it,” Hvitserk pointed out. You blushed, not realizing that you called him by his name instead of his title. Hvitserk smiled kindly and kissed one of your red cheeks. “In this stage, I would like to court you, to be my lover and possible wife, in the future,” Hvitserk said. “Court me?! Why me and not one of the prettier slave girls, like Margarthe?” you asked, appalled at the suggestion of courtship. “I’ve seen how selfless and hardworking you are, loyal to my mother and my family. And I love your cooking, it makes me feel like it's the closest point to Vahala I will get in my life,” Hvitserk explained, proceeding to give gentle kisses on your cheeks and jaw. Your heart fluttered at how your cooking, something you never bragged about or thought was special, could make Hvitserk feel like it was the closest he’ll get to the heavens, or the Viking’s version of it anyway. 

The Viking prince was very persuasive, you were very tempted to agree to his proposition. But not without getting out your own requirements. “I’ll only agree to this courtship on several conditions. One, is that no other woman may lay with you and you shall remain faithful to me. Two, I will be considered your equal in this relationship, so if I refuse to do something then you cannot force me to do something. Understood,” you commanded. Hvitserk bit his bottom lip and gave you sultry eyes. “Alright, my sweet. I say I quite enjoy you being more brazin, my dear. Makes me want to see how dominate you can be with me,” he said huskily. His hands moved to grasp your butt, his right leg positioning itself in between your legs. You gasped at the action, just as you heard someone shouting Hvitserk’s name. 

Said prince cursed in Norse, as you realized Aslaug was calling for her second oldest son. “I’m sorry, my sweet, but I have to go. Mother, needs for some damn reason. I’ll see you during the feast and I expect you to serve me some more of your delicious desserts,” he told you. “As you wish, my prince.” Hvitserk smiled and gave you one last passionate kiss, before moving to leave the kitchens. Just as the young warrior was about to leave the room, you remembered something. “Hvitserk wait!” you shouted. Said man stopped and turned around to look at you. “What’s the matter, my sweetness?” he asked. “You said there were three stages I had to face. What’s the third stage? When will I have to face it?” you asked, worried that stage three was actually a form of punishment. A naughty smile made its way to Hvitserk’s lips and he chuckled. “Oh, darling, that’s when I finally get to fuck you,” he said nonchalantly. 

Your mouth was agape when you heard this, no words able to make its way past your lips. Hvitserk’s grin grew even more at your shocked expression. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen right way. I think I’ll wait for a little while, maybe it will make the fucking you even better.” And without another word, the viking prince left you, standing shock still in the middle of the room. Your face was hot and you felt your core burn in anticipation. Oh God what have I gotten myself into, you thought as you tried to calm down. 

[uncomfortable-writers]

Lofn’s Blessing (Ivar x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Vikings

Character: Ivar the Boneless

Persona: Christian!Female

Word Count: 998

A/N - For this fic, (Y/N) will be a Christian. I kinda wanna make it a multi-series but idk, lemme know your thoughts? This is also my first time writing for Ivar so if he feels OOC or anything pls forgive me xoxo <3

Lofn - The Goddess of Forbidden Love, any that is forbidden, frowned upon by society, or disliked by families. She draws lovers together in addition to protecting them from others.

You felt sick to your stomach. The utter disgust at being placed on a boat and taken from your homeland to areas unknown was a horrible feeling. It caused a whole range of resentment to blossom in your mind; firstly at your father. He was a king who ruled over a reasonably large area in England and in order for safety from pillages, he’d offered you up in heartbeat. And sadly that offer had been accepted. The greatest resentment you felt was for your husband to be - a filthy heathen. How could your father trade you away like cattle to a bunch of uncultured brutes? You doubted they’d honour the alliance anyway but your protests fell on deaf ears. 

“We’re here my lady”, said your most trustworthy handmaiden, Rose. Not only was she a great helper, but a fantastic adviser and your best friend, thankfully your father had allowed you to bring her along, “Wear this my lady otherwise you’ll freeze”, she offered you a remorseful smile along with an extra fur coat. Rose saw the hesitation on your features, “Perhaps that would be for the best”, you answered. She tutted, shaking her head she draped the fur around your shoulders, “Without you here they’d surely kill me, I’ve got to keep you alive for my own sake”, she joked, making you smirk a little. “I knew there was a reason you liked me Rose”. She never had time to answer though as the boat docked in the station, the men who were accompanying you started to lead you off.

You were surprised when you saw that there wasn’t a big crowd waiting to welcome you, “Typical”, you muttered snidely to Rose as you walked gracefully, your head held high, “I see the heathens really do have no culture”. 

Rose bit her lip to stop a broad smile from developing on her face, “Behave (Y/N)”. A young man started to approach you and your ensemble, his light brown hair was pulled back into brilliant braids. You noticed there was sparse facial hair dashed across his features. Although you thought him to be quite handsome, you kept your compose as after all he was a Viking.

“Greetings Princess (Y/N), I am Prince Hvitserk. Welcome to Kattegat”, his smile was so wide that you couldn’t help reciprocating it as if it were contagious. You curtsied politely, holding up your skirts and bowing your head, “Greetings Prince Hvitserk, thank you for welcoming me. I am surprised you know my language”, you answered, rising up. You noticed that the young prince now wore a smirk, you tilted your head but didn’t ask questions. “We learnt it from our raids”, he stated, “Follow me, Ivar is waiting”. 

With this he turned on his heel, leaving you to trail behind him. 

Smoothly picking your skirts up once again you followed after Hvitserk, trying your best to stay collected as now the people of Kattegat were watching you as you made your way to the Great Hall. Each step became harder like there was a growing weight inside each of your legs, you could feel the increasing anxiety becoming more and more present the closer you got. 

Subtly you reached out and brushed Rose’s hand, sending her a worried glance. Rose smiled at you, giving you an encouraging nod although it did little to sate your nerves. Hvitserk was the first to enter the hall: the doors were opened for him and the heat from inside hit you like the warmth from a baker’s oven. You continued to follow Hvitserk and you couldn’t of been a few feet inside when he stopped, causing you to stop also. You watched as, (what you assumed were servants women), reached out and took the furs from his shoulders, they did the same for you.

“Ivar!”, Hvitserk suddenly called out heartily, “Your princess has arrived!”. The prince then turned to you and gestured for you to move forward.

Reluctantly you followed his instructions. You carried yourself like you would’ve back home as if you were walking in your father’s court. Your head was held high, your long (H/C) neatly framed your face, you crossed your hands and delicately held them in front of you as you coolly walked towards the young man sat on a throne, the seat next to him was vacant.

The first thing you noticed was his icy blue eyes that seemed to shine in the dully lit room. You could feel the cold coming from behind them, it was abundantly evident in his stare as he watched you approach. A blank expression was written on his face as he sat proudly in his throne, his hair was darker than his brother’s and shorter, but the braids were just as beautiful. You couldn’t deny it, he was wonderfully attractive, although this thought caused revulsion and you had to hold back an involuntary shiver. Clearly there was Pagan magic at work here, you reasoned. You noticed that he wore strange metal plates on his legs, but now was not the time to question as you were finally close to him. 

“My King”, you spoke clearly, greeting him with the same curtsy you’d offered Hvitserk, “I am Princess (Y/N) of England”. This seemed to amuse him as an unsettling grin took form on his face, “Welcome to Kattegat, Princess (Y/N)”, he repeated as if he were testing out the new name. You would never admit it, but somewhere deep down, you liked the way he made it sound. “We don’t do...that here”, he gestured to your curtsy, “Although maybe we should”. You smiled politely at him and that was all you offered, you were far too afraid to indulge him in conversation.

“I am King Ivar the Boneless, I hope you find your stay here enjoyable Christian”.

[vikingschristiansff]

Chapter Five

The next morning Ewan ordered his daughters to spend time with their husbands before they were to leave for France. He thought it'd be beneficial for them to bond with their new spouses, but the girls disagreed. Most of them attempted to avoid the men especially Leith, she wanted to spend as much time with James as possible before she had to leave for Kattegat.

Bjorn had been looking all over for his new bride, he finally found her midday. She was with James in the stables, they were dancing as James sang and Leith laughed at his off pitch tune. Bjorn scowled, watching them for a while before he cleared his throat getting their attention.

Leith gasped at her husbands sudden presence, she pushed James way from her and they all stared at each other for a while. No one wanted to be the first person to speak.

“Don’t you have work you should be doing? Baker.” Bjorn could not hide the distain in his voice. James simply nodded his head and ran past Bjorn and out of the stables.

Bjorn looked back at Leith and started walking towards her slowly. “You agreed to be my wife, I expect you to act as such.”

“I love James, I have for a very long time. I will not be unfaithful to you, but while I am still in Scotland I will be spending as much of my time with him as possible because once I leave with you I will never,” she voice broke, and tears began to well in her eyes. “I will never see him again. I know my father wants me to bond with you, but we will have the reset of our lives for that, so please, leave me alone while we are here.” With that Leith stormed out of the stables, her shoulder bumping into Bjorn in the process.

* * * *

Ubbe and Hvitserk were wondering the castle when Elsie and Isla came walking up to them with their father leading the way. Elsie was carried a wicker basket on her arm.  

“Ubbe, Hvisterk, the girls are where going down to the lake for lunch and they wanted to know if you would like to join them,” Ewan smiled at them. Looking at the girls, the brothers could tell that this invitation was not Elsie and Isla's idea.

“We would love too,” Ubbe smirked, and Hvitserk nodded his head.

“Wonderful!” Ewan pushed his daughters forward and retreated back the way he came.

The walk to the lake was silent, when they got their Elsie and Isla unpacked the food and sat, again without word. Ubbe and Hvitserk uncomfortably joined them.

“Someone should really say something,” Hvisterk said, breaking the silence.

“When are you leaving?” Elsie asked.

“The day after tomorrow,” Ubbe answered.

“Can’t wait,” Isla mumbled to herself but her comment was heard by all.

“We are going to have to start getting along,” Ubbe was addressing everyone. “There is no getting out of this situation, so I think that the best thing for all of us is to try to be kind to each other. Do we all think that we can do that?”

“Yes,” the other three said in unison, all nodding their heads as well.

The rest of their meal was spent in casual chatter, discussing the foods they like, stories from childhood, and their interests.

* * * *

Sigurd found Olivia in the castle’s tower. She was sitting at a small desk at was placed facing the window, she was drawing the landscape in front of her. She’s rather pleasant looking when she is silent, Sigurd thought. After a short while of just watching her Sigurd cleared his throat in order to announce his presence.

She glanced over her shoulder, then quickly turned forward again. “What do you want?” she snapped, not looking at him.

Sigurd walked closer to her, “Are you hiding from your father so he doesn't force you spend time with me?”

“He knows I'm always up here, I'm not hiding from anyone,” she continued her drawing, never looking to the Viking that now stood next to her.

“I saw him drag the twins and forced them to ask my brothers to go to the lake. Why do you get do whatever you want?” he asked with a smirk.

“My mother and father tend to forget about me. They have many children, one is bound to slip through the cracks,” her voice was flat, but Sigurd to hear the hurt.

“I understand that,” he told her.

“It’s fine, I like being alone, not having them controlling what I do everyday,” she said, then she turned to face him. “And if you don't mind, I’d like to be alone right now.” Sigurd simply nodded his head, and turned on his heels to leave, closing the door behind him.

* * * *

Ivar found Bridget brushing her horse in the field behind the castle. He took a seat on the stone bench behind her.

“What his her name?” his sudden question made Bridget jump.

“A stóirín” she answered coldly, turning back to the dark brown horse.

Ivar took a deep breath, this interaction was very difficult for him. “I…I wanted to thank you for last night. I know you said you did it for yourself, but…thank you anyway.”

“Well, I’ve bought us some time,” she continued to brush her horse. “This deal Bjorn and my father have requires that we have children, what will we do then?”

He hadn't thought about any of that. Since Bjorn had told the brothers about the arrangement he had with Ewan he was so angry he didn't even think of those things. “We will figure it out when the time comes,” he told her after a long pause.

“That sounds very ominous given your reputation.”

“And what is my reputation?” he inquired.

Bridget stopped brushing the horse, and mounted him. She looked at Ivar, “That you’re a mad man,” he didn't have time to respond before she was off.

* * * *

After breakfast Greer ran in the opposite direction whenever she saw Halfdan. She did not want to speak to him after the events last night. Contrary to what Ewan told her sisters, he agreed that Greer should avoid her new husband as much as possible. Unfortunately, he was able to sneak up on her while she was picking flowers in the garden, her favorite place.

“Your highness,” Peter, her guard, said when he noticed Halfdan approaching. When she looked up at him he pointed behind her. As she turned she came face-to-face with her Viking husband.

“Could be give us a moment alone?” Halfdan asked Peter, who began to leave.

“Peter, stay!” Greer snapped, something she never did to the servants. “You don't listen to him, you don't work for him.” Peter returned to the position he was in, holding a basket filled with the flowers Greer had already picked.

Halfdan sighed and tried to speak in a low voice so that Peter wouldn't be able to hear, “I wanted to talk about what happened last night.”

“Well, I don’t,” Greer turned away and went back to picking her flowers. Halfdan started to speak again, but was cut off by Greer. “My father told you not to speak of it, and you agreed. So, stop speaking about it!”

Halfdan walked up to her, so close their noses were almost touching. “We are married, you will have to tell me eventually,” he whispered. “And I want to know because you are my wife, I will not use it against you.” Greer remained silent, and Halfdan turned and walked away.

“He seems quite nice.”

“Shut up, Peter.”

************************************

A stóirín- little treasure

@-thatgirloverthere-